So what's your best Thanksgiving story? Here's mine:
I had been married a little over a year, but only just moved in with my wife about 4 months prior, because we had been assigned to two different bases. This was our first Thanksgiving together. To make it even more special, we had a two month old baby AND the in-laws were coming for the holidays! Oh Yeah!
So, I'm leaving the squadron for the day; I call my wife who is at home frantically cleaning for the arriving parents to see if she needs anything for the next day: Thanksgiving! She reminds me we still need a turkey, so I tell her, "Hey, no problem, I’ll run by the commissary (supermarket) and pick one up on the way home."
I run down the street, fight my way through the maddening holiday crowd to the meat section, and spot the freezer box still full of Turkeys. This is the age before cell phones, so I have to make a command decision on size and vendor, but I think,"Hey, how tough can this be?" We have four adults, and a baby, don't need nothing too big, so I grab a 17 lbs. Butterball and head for the check-out line.
An hour later I drive out the gate into the fading twilight of a late November evening. As I pull in the drive-way, I see my In-laws have arrived and can't wait to show off what a good job I've done providing for my family.
I walk into the kitchen with the Turkey, and all conversation comes to an abrupt halt. Everyone is not staring at me, they are staring at the frozen hunk of meat dangling from my tiring arm. I'm like, "What?"
"It's frozen," my wife whispers.
"Well, yeah, aren't they all?" I reply
"No!" is the chorus from wife and Mother-In-Law! A look of growing panic starts to spread over my wife's face as she starts looking into the future of tomorrow's meal and it is starting to look more and more like chinese food....
They explain to me that no one, NO ONE buys frozen turkeys the day before Thanksgiving because they take literally days to thaw. Everyone knows that. I've never even heard of this. As far as I know, I show up about mid day on Thanksgiving and there's a meal ready to eat. Preparation is not something anyone has ever bothered to explain before. College certainly didn't cover cooking turkey. Uh oh.
I start to sweat. I start to feel like a failure... but wait! Suddenly college DOES come to the rescue. I think back to thermodynamics, physics, and a little loved theory called entropy. I grab the hunka-hunk of frozen dove and head to the bathroom, where I fill the bathtub with luke-warm water. I tear the plastic off, pull out the gizzards, immerse the bird and start rubbing it down like a hypothermia victim.
By this time I have quite an audience: Wife, Mother- AND father-in-law are all in the doorway shaking their heads, obviously thinking I've gone totally crazy, but I assure them that the bird WILL thaw by morning and be ready for the oven on time. It's physics!!! I don't think they believed me, but since I was on a roll, and it was too late to do anything different we just went for it.
Cut to the Thanksgiving morning - there it was: the turkey, floating languidly in the bath, pink, rosy and supple to the touch... ready for it's date with destiny.
So... let this be a lesson to you... in a pinch.. when the pressure's on....you CAN thaw a 17 lbs. turkey overnight, NOT die of food poisoning, and survive the first visit of your In-laws mostly intact.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Head of Dean
One man alone can be pretty dumb sometimes, but for real bona fide stupidity, there ain't nothin' can beat teamwork.
Daylight broke cool and clear, but we had been up almost an hour. Our goal is to usually be on the trail by 0630 so we can get our hiking done in the cool of the morning. By 1100 or so, the sun starts baking the mountain trails, and if you're not under the trees, the hiking quickly gets miserable.
Breakfast is a pretty spartan fare: granola, gorp, beef jerky, and tang. Yesterday we had oatmeal and we boiled water to heat it up, but boiling water for 12 people takes time, and after reviewing the trek menu, we'll only do that one more time. For the rest of the mornings, its something dry and quickly consumed so we can get out on the trail.
We hike down the path back to the road and find Enos waiting right where we left him, munching on hay and flicking his ears around chasing away flies. This is a big test: will the boys remember how to re-saddle the burro so that everything stays safe and secure for the hikes ahead?
It turns out that it takes a couple of tries, but they get it much faster than I thought they would. Apparently it's impressive enough for Ranger Greg, because with that task complete, he wishes us good luck and takes his leave, heading back to base camp and a few days off. We're pretty impressed because the rumor we'd heard was that most rangers stick around for 3 full days. Either Greg has a hot date waiting, or he's satisfied we'll survive out on the trail on our own. The way the boys are working together leads me to believe it's the latter. Which is a good thing for us, because without "Administrative" supervision, we can relax a bit and enjoy the trek a lot more. And, we decide to put ALL of our remaining food into Enos' saddle bags... a bit more than the 25 lbs. we were limited to by the Wrangler, but probably not by too much: we've consumed three more meals since yesterday morning.
Our goal for this morning is to get on the road and back to Pueblano early enough to take advantage of the activities there, and then move on to our overnight camp, Head of Dean, in time to do some activities there too. Having already been to Pueblano the night before, it's a quick march for both us and Enos, and we arrive right around 0830.
As I mentioned before, Pueblano is a Lumberjack-themed camp, so the boys get to do some spar pole climbing. Spar pole climbing is how lumberjacks, (and probably some early telephone linemen) climb the tall trees and poles using the waist strap and spur-anchors hooked to the sides of their boots. The safety equipment is quite a chore to don, with a fairly complicated waist harness, safety rope, and tightly cinched ankle spurs. The ankle spurs take some getting use to, because you have spikes coming out the INSIDES of your ankles, and you have to drive them sideways into the pole, then put your weight on the spikes as you step up, moving the belt as you go to keep you in position. It takes a few tries to get the rhythm right, and it's a lot of work, but once you figure it out, you can quickly move up the pole.
Our task was to climb up far enough to kiss the eye-bolt at the top that the safety rope was fed through. We had a couple of boys who were a little skittish about the height thing, but after several boys scrambled right up, everyone else figured it had to be a safe operation and gave it a try. There were some very big smiles upon reaching the top!
Daylight broke cool and clear, but we had been up almost an hour. Our goal is to usually be on the trail by 0630 so we can get our hiking done in the cool of the morning. By 1100 or so, the sun starts baking the mountain trails, and if you're not under the trees, the hiking quickly gets miserable.
Breakfast is a pretty spartan fare: granola, gorp, beef jerky, and tang. Yesterday we had oatmeal and we boiled water to heat it up, but boiling water for 12 people takes time, and after reviewing the trek menu, we'll only do that one more time. For the rest of the mornings, its something dry and quickly consumed so we can get out on the trail.
We hike down the path back to the road and find Enos waiting right where we left him, munching on hay and flicking his ears around chasing away flies. This is a big test: will the boys remember how to re-saddle the burro so that everything stays safe and secure for the hikes ahead?
It turns out that it takes a couple of tries, but they get it much faster than I thought they would. Apparently it's impressive enough for Ranger Greg, because with that task complete, he wishes us good luck and takes his leave, heading back to base camp and a few days off. We're pretty impressed because the rumor we'd heard was that most rangers stick around for 3 full days. Either Greg has a hot date waiting, or he's satisfied we'll survive out on the trail on our own. The way the boys are working together leads me to believe it's the latter. Which is a good thing for us, because without "Administrative" supervision, we can relax a bit and enjoy the trek a lot more. And, we decide to put ALL of our remaining food into Enos' saddle bags... a bit more than the 25 lbs. we were limited to by the Wrangler, but probably not by too much: we've consumed three more meals since yesterday morning.
Our goal for this morning is to get on the road and back to Pueblano early enough to take advantage of the activities there, and then move on to our overnight camp, Head of Dean, in time to do some activities there too. Having already been to Pueblano the night before, it's a quick march for both us and Enos, and we arrive right around 0830.
As I mentioned before, Pueblano is a Lumberjack-themed camp, so the boys get to do some spar pole climbing. Spar pole climbing is how lumberjacks, (and probably some early telephone linemen) climb the tall trees and poles using the waist strap and spur-anchors hooked to the sides of their boots. The safety equipment is quite a chore to don, with a fairly complicated waist harness, safety rope, and tightly cinched ankle spurs. The ankle spurs take some getting use to, because you have spikes coming out the INSIDES of your ankles, and you have to drive them sideways into the pole, then put your weight on the spikes as you step up, moving the belt as you go to keep you in position. It takes a few tries to get the rhythm right, and it's a lot of work, but once you figure it out, you can quickly move up the pole.
Our task was to climb up far enough to kiss the eye-bolt at the top that the safety rope was fed through. We had a couple of boys who were a little skittish about the height thing, but after several boys scrambled right up, everyone else figured it had to be a safe operation and gave it a try. There were some very big smiles upon reaching the top!
From Pueblano we took Enos, left the roads we'd been hiking on the last day and a half, and headed out overland via trail. We encountered some rather steep hills, but with Enos marking the pace, it was slow and steady going and no one fell behind. I found that a periodic poke in the rear by a hiking pole kept Enos at a pretty constant pace. He turned out to be a good hiker and never really slowed us down.
After a stop along the trail for lunch, we rolled into Head of Dean around 1330, with lots of daylight left, and the hope that the boys could get the camp's activity, the Challenge Course, out of the way today so we wouldn't have to wait till the morning. As it turned out we were in luck, there were still a couple opening available, so we got our name on the schedule for 1500, and then went down to our camp site to set up for the night.
Set up by now had become pretty routine: identify the bear bag hanging area, the sump, and the cooking area, and then pick where we would set up our tents. Hang up the food, set the dishes and cooking gear over by the sump, set up the dining fly in case of rain so we had a place to keep the packs dry, and set up the tents. Oh yeah, figure out where we could get water, and most importantly, the location of the nearest latrine! Priorities, priorities, priorities!
The Challenge course was a typical team-building course that almost everyone in some organization or other has been through. I've done them a couple of times in my Air Force career, and as a ground school instructor at US Air. They are a lot of fun, they make you think, and you really do bond a bit more as a unit as you make your way through each challenge finding that everyone has different strengths and insights and all will eventually come out if you stay open to hearing everyone's ideas.
The Challenge course was a typical team-building course that almost everyone in some organization or other has been through. I've done them a couple of times in my Air Force career, and as a ground school instructor at US Air. They are a lot of fun, they make you think, and you really do bond a bit more as a unit as you make your way through each challenge finding that everyone has different strengths and insights and all will eventually come out if you stay open to hearing everyone's ideas. The activities of the course consisted of a series of senarios requiring the boys to use their problem-solving skills. They ranged from passing a hula hoop around a circle of bodies, to
climbing a ten-foot wall and getting everyone over it without use of tools, props, or other people. To make it interesting, the instructor levied penalties and handicaps on the boys, including making some of the participants mute, some blind, and some forced to say exactly opposite of what they intend. From an observer's standpoint it was very entertaining. From a leader's viewpoint it was extremely impressive that no matter what the obstacle, the boys doggedly worked their way through every problem and succeeded in conquering all their challenges. Again they demonstrated what a strong, cohesive unit they've become.
After dinner we had another Advisor's coffee.
climbing a ten-foot wall and getting everyone over it without use of tools, props, or other people. To make it interesting, the instructor levied penalties and handicaps on the boys, including making some of the participants mute, some blind, and some forced to say exactly opposite of what they intend. From an observer's standpoint it was very entertaining. From a leader's viewpoint it was extremely impressive that no matter what the obstacle, the boys doggedly worked their way through every problem and succeeded in conquering all their challenges. Again they demonstrated what a strong, cohesive unit they've become.
After dinner we had another Advisor's coffee. Once again the adult leaders took over the porch and enjoyed cookies, coffee and camaraderie. Unfortunately for some, the staff, which contained several girls, had decided to improve the traditional coffee recipe and actually added cinnamon to the brew! I thought it was a good move as the coffee was brewed pretty strong. Some of the really old-timers thought it was a sacrilegious desecration of some ancient outdoors tradition. Apparently camp coffee can only be made with the stalest of coffee and MUST be steeped in an old used sock. Finally, when ready to pour, it is filtered through an old pot scrubber to filter out the grounds. Any other method is new fangled, weak and contains shades of Brokeback Mountain... who knew?
Head of Dean camp sits at the very head of Dean Canyon. The staff cabin overlooks a long, open valley to the west where we watched the sun slowly set turning the sky all sorts of shades of oranges, reds and purples. It is said to be the best view at Philmont, and on the night we sat and watched the kaleidoscopic changes dance across the evening canvas, not one of us would argue the point.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Flume Canyon
“My favorite animal is the mule. He has more horse sense than a horse. He knows when to stop eating -- and he knows when to stop working.”
On day four we got an added bonus: the chance to spend three fun-filled days with a burro. Not that we wanted a burro, mind you, but we were given the opportunity none-the-less. It came with the itinerary we had picked out, and left us no choice in the matter.
We hiked back into Ponil and its' stables by 0800, determined to quickly pick up our beast of burden and get an early start on the day's hike. Unfortunately, every other trek picking up burros that day
apparently got the same memo, and all converged on the corral about the same time. What we didn't realize was that there was some training involved with saddling a mule and keeping it alive for the duration of our stewardship. Who'd have thunk it?
The morning quickly slipped by as we sat through about an hour long presentation of mule care by the local wrangler, followed by an extended wait while our boys chose just the right burro to cut from the herd; the adults stood at the fence rail and shouted suggestions, such as, "get one that's small enough to push!" or "find the one who likes to walk!" and a few other completely unhelpful hints. This was followed by an even longer wait while they struggled to saddle it with the multitudes of knots and lashings that would satisfy the wrangler before he would release the beast into our care. All told, it probably took the boys three complete attempts to get the halter, saddle, and saddle bags successfully situated and secured before they got their blessing to press on.
The interesting thing about getting a pack mule as a companion on this hike was that it wasn't allowed to pack much. For some strange reason, all we could shift to this animal was 50 pounds! We thought that was kind of limiting, but at least it would cover all the food we were hauling, so we could lighten our packs. Unfortunately the blanket, saddle and satchels together weighed well over 25 lbs.! So instead of carrying all of our food, it carried a couple of our dinner meals... Another reason we were left scratching our heads about the benefit of being saddled with this beast for the next three days.
Eventually we saddled up, grabbed the reigns, positioned adequate personnel both in front pulling) and in back (pushing), and set off on the trail. As we were leaving, another trek's burro, who had stubbornly refused to budge, caught sight of Enos (yes, we named our burro!) moving out, and slowly fell into step behind him. Luckily, the other trek was heading in our direction, so they followed along for the next several miles until their path diverged from ours.
This second day of the hike was another fairly easy day. Only about four miles, and almost all of it on the road. The road was steep, and very rocky, where even a 4-wheel drive vehicle would have a fun time getting up it, but it was still a road, wide enough for a couple of people to hike side by side.
Flume Canyon campsite was an interesting site. The camp itself is located on the top of a ridge. Reached only after we dumped the burro off in a holding pen situated down on the road, and a steep climp. There seemed to be one centralized tent area which was relatively flat and out in the open with three or four cooking areas arrayed around it located among the trees
It is a legacy camp, one of the original ranch campsites set up in the 20s and 30s by Waite Philips, the man who donated the property to the Boy Scouts. The campfire circles have rock chairs set up around them, which have been preserved over the years. One of the few places where it was more comfortable to sit on the ground (i.e. rocks) than on the camp chairs we brought with us.
It was while sitting around the campfire that the one truly uncomfortable moment of the trek occurred. Another group of scouts came into camp and started setting up tents. One of the things that really stood out was the prevalent use of the "F-bomb" by both the scouts and their leaders. That was shocking enough (I just think it very unprofessional to use profanity in front of kids you are supposed to be mentoring), but in their interactions with each other, the leaders and scouts cussed each other out! The real indication of the complete breakdown in unit dynamics came when they set up their tents. One of the leaders set his tent up, and then the scouts started setting their's up, only they did it 20 or 30 yards away!
The general rule for bear procedures is to cluster your tents closely together to present an obstacle to any large animal wandering around at night. No isolated tents, no tents all in a row: they are to be grouped together with in 4-10 feet of each other.
As we sat talking around the campfire, we noticed the tents being setting up against everything our Ranger, Greg had been preaching to us. One of us mentioned it to Greg, who rather reluctantly pointed out the need to re-arrange the tents. Instead of just listening and either acknowledging the critique, or ignoring it, the leader started yelling and screaming at Greg, accusing him of knowing they were setting their tents up wrong, and waiting till they were done before saying anything. Well for one, Greg had his back to the whole thing while we were talking. For the second, the tents were stand-alone and it would have taken all of one minute or so to pull the stakes, lift a tent up and move it some place. And for the third, Greg was right and the leader and his trek completely in the wrong. The two of them traded a couple more verbal spars, with Greg, who was maybe 22 or 23 and acting YEARS older than this adult leader. By this time our adults had wandered up behind Greg and the other leader basically backed down and in a pique of petulance ordered his kids to just tear down all the tents and pile them in a pile because they, "were late for a program." What a loser.
I made the comment that they must be from either New York or Philadelphia. We found out later they were from Long Island, and already "famous" among the staff.
We ate dinner and then decided to head back down the road about a mile to Pueblano Camp, where the camp staff staged a reknowned campfire program for whoever was in camp that night.
One of the nice things about staff camps is Advisor coffee. Most of the staff camps have a building with a big porch, and in the evenings the staff host all the adults onto the porch, providing coffee and cookies. No scouts allowed. Kind of our chance to relax, get some real coffee, meet other trek adults and compare notes.
While we smoozed on the porch, the scouts played a sort-of softball game called "Loggerball" against the camp staff. It is important to know, that just like the Harlem Globetrotters, the staff has never lost. Turns out the rules change as needed to keep the staff ahead. It's pretty funny to watch: 50 scouts taking the field against nine staffers. The yelling and protestations build to a fevered frenzy as the score gets more and more lopsided, never in the scouts favor.
Around 2030, the game was called using the Mercy rule, and we all filed down the hill to the campfire. Unfortunately, just as we all sat down and the first group of guys started playing guitars, the skies opened up and started pouring down on us. Everyone quickly beat feet back to the cabin, and huddled on the porch in an attempt to stay dry.
The staffers followed that old credo: "The show must go on!" so they pulled out their guitars and stood at the back of the porch and did their show as the rain cascaded down around us, periodically highlighted by flashes of lightning and crashes of thunder. A crowd favorite was the tale of Mighty Tore Torgeson, but trust me, you really had to be there to enjoy it! ("One Sving!")
The night ended with a hike back to camp in the dark. Tomorrow will be another day with Enos, some lumberjack activities, and Head of Dean. And in the distance Baldy Mountain looms...
~Harry Truman
On day four we got an added bonus: the chance to spend three fun-filled days with a burro. Not that we wanted a burro, mind you, but we were given the opportunity none-the-less. It came with the itinerary we had picked out, and left us no choice in the matter.
We hiked back into Ponil and its' stables by 0800, determined to quickly pick up our beast of burden and get an early start on the day's hike. Unfortunately, every other trek picking up burros that day
apparently got the same memo, and all converged on the corral about the same time. What we didn't realize was that there was some training involved with saddling a mule and keeping it alive for the duration of our stewardship. Who'd have thunk it?The morning quickly slipped by as we sat through about an hour long presentation of mule care by the local wrangler, followed by an extended wait while our boys chose just the right burro to cut from the herd; the adults stood at the fence rail and shouted suggestions, such as, "get one that's small enough to push!" or "find the one who likes to walk!" and a few other completely unhelpful hints. This was followed by an even longer wait while they struggled to saddle it with the multitudes of knots and lashings that would satisfy the wrangler before he would release the beast into our care. All told, it probably took the boys three complete attempts to get the halter, saddle, and saddle bags successfully situated and secured before they got their blessing to press on.
The interesting thing about getting a pack mule as a companion on this hike was that it wasn't allowed to pack much. For some strange reason, all we could shift to this animal was 50 pounds! We thought that was kind of limiting, but at least it would cover all the food we were hauling, so we could lighten our packs. Unfortunately the blanket, saddle and satchels together weighed well over 25 lbs.! So instead of carrying all of our food, it carried a couple of our dinner meals... Another reason we were left scratching our heads about the benefit of being saddled with this beast for the next three days.Eventually we saddled up, grabbed the reigns, positioned adequate personnel both in front pulling) and in back (pushing), and set off on the trail. As we were leaving, another trek's burro, who had stubbornly refused to budge, caught sight of Enos (yes, we named our burro!) moving out, and slowly fell into step behind him. Luckily, the other trek was heading in our direction, so they followed along for the next several miles until their path diverged from ours.
This second day of the hike was another fairly easy day. Only about four miles, and almost all of it on the road. The road was steep, and very rocky, where even a 4-wheel drive vehicle would have a fun time getting up it, but it was still a road, wide enough for a couple of people to hike side by side.
Flume Canyon campsite was an interesting site. The camp itself is located on the top of a ridge. Reached only after we dumped the burro off in a holding pen situated down on the road, and a steep climp. There seemed to be one centralized tent area which was relatively flat and out in the open with three or four cooking areas arrayed around it located among the trees
It is a legacy camp, one of the original ranch campsites set up in the 20s and 30s by Waite Philips, the man who donated the property to the Boy Scouts. The campfire circles have rock chairs set up around them, which have been preserved over the years. One of the few places where it was more comfortable to sit on the ground (i.e. rocks) than on the camp chairs we brought with us.It was while sitting around the campfire that the one truly uncomfortable moment of the trek occurred. Another group of scouts came into camp and started setting up tents. One of the things that really stood out was the prevalent use of the "F-bomb" by both the scouts and their leaders. That was shocking enough (I just think it very unprofessional to use profanity in front of kids you are supposed to be mentoring), but in their interactions with each other, the leaders and scouts cussed each other out! The real indication of the complete breakdown in unit dynamics came when they set up their tents. One of the leaders set his tent up, and then the scouts started setting their's up, only they did it 20 or 30 yards away!
The general rule for bear procedures is to cluster your tents closely together to present an obstacle to any large animal wandering around at night. No isolated tents, no tents all in a row: they are to be grouped together with in 4-10 feet of each other.
As we sat talking around the campfire, we noticed the tents being setting up against everything our Ranger, Greg had been preaching to us. One of us mentioned it to Greg, who rather reluctantly pointed out the need to re-arrange the tents. Instead of just listening and either acknowledging the critique, or ignoring it, the leader started yelling and screaming at Greg, accusing him of knowing they were setting their tents up wrong, and waiting till they were done before saying anything. Well for one, Greg had his back to the whole thing while we were talking. For the second, the tents were stand-alone and it would have taken all of one minute or so to pull the stakes, lift a tent up and move it some place. And for the third, Greg was right and the leader and his trek completely in the wrong. The two of them traded a couple more verbal spars, with Greg, who was maybe 22 or 23 and acting YEARS older than this adult leader. By this time our adults had wandered up behind Greg and the other leader basically backed down and in a pique of petulance ordered his kids to just tear down all the tents and pile them in a pile because they, "were late for a program." What a loser.
I made the comment that they must be from either New York or Philadelphia. We found out later they were from Long Island, and already "famous" among the staff.
We ate dinner and then decided to head back down the road about a mile to Pueblano Camp, where the camp staff staged a reknowned campfire program for whoever was in camp that night.
One of the nice things about staff camps is Advisor coffee. Most of the staff camps have a building with a big porch, and in the evenings the staff host all the adults onto the porch, providing coffee and cookies. No scouts allowed. Kind of our chance to relax, get some real coffee, meet other trek adults and compare notes.While we smoozed on the porch, the scouts played a sort-of softball game called "Loggerball" against the camp staff. It is important to know, that just like the Harlem Globetrotters, the staff has never lost. Turns out the rules change as needed to keep the staff ahead. It's pretty funny to watch: 50 scouts taking the field against nine staffers. The yelling and protestations build to a fevered frenzy as the score gets more and more lopsided, never in the scouts favor.
Around 2030, the game was called using the Mercy rule, and we all filed down the hill to the campfire. Unfortunately, just as we all sat down and the first group of guys started playing guitars, the skies opened up and started pouring down on us. Everyone quickly beat feet back to the cabin, and huddled on the porch in an attempt to stay dry.The staffers followed that old credo: "The show must go on!" so they pulled out their guitars and stood at the back of the porch and did their show as the rain cascaded down around us, periodically highlighted by flashes of lightning and crashes of thunder. A crowd favorite was the tale of Mighty Tore Torgeson, but trust me, you really had to be there to enjoy it! ("One Sving!")
The night ended with a hike back to camp in the dark. Tomorrow will be another day with Enos, some lumberjack activities, and Head of Dean. And in the distance Baldy Mountain looms...
Thursday, July 9, 2009
On the Trail: Sioux Camp
There is a destiny that makes us brothers -
None goes his way alone;
All that which we send into the lives of others,
Comes back onto our own.
It's finally the big day: the day we head out on the trail and start knocking down our 69+ miles. We woke early, excited about the big day ahead of us.
My first order of business is getting a shower. Seems kind of strange to mention that, but the next opportunity to get one is going to be FIVE days into the future. I've grown up spoiled and much too civilized; I'm not sure how I'm going to feel a day or two from now after miles and miles of hiking and not showering. Better get one in while I can.
After breakfast we have a couple things we need to do. One is a "shakedown," a Ranger-led activity where we pull our beds from out tents, empty our packs of all our gear, and watch as Greg goes through all the things we'll need for the trek, and offers suggestions on what we probably don't. There's the obvious (such as sleeping bags, water bottles, tents, first aid kits, etc.), and the not so obvious: matches, sun screen, bug spray, stoves, fuel, water purifiers... Some things he had issues with - everyone having a pocket knife, carrying a camp stool so that you don't have to always sit on the ground. All the adults had one, and I'm set on bringing mine - I'm sure it is well worth the extra weight. We end up ditching about hal
f the cooking pots, the dining fly poles (we'll use hiking poles) and a couple of the issued tents as almost everyone brought their own.
After the shakedown and repack, we made our way across the camp to a picture station where we had our group photo taken with the Tooth of Time in the background. This was a gaggle because three boys wandered off without saying anything, so we had to send someone back to find them, and they were all too cool to hurry. Pretty much this was the one time when they acted like little kids on the whole trip. However, when it was all said and done, it was a beautiful day with a crystal clear sky, so I'm sure the photo turned out spectacular.
So it's 1000 and we're ready to go. We've moved out of our tents, our packs are loaded, our extraneous gear is stored... unfortunately we have to wait for our scheduled bus time of 1300, as we're being dropped off about 10 miles from the Base Camp and there are only a couple of buses which are busy making drop off and pick up runs throughout the reservation.
There was one last cafeteria lunch, which killed about an hour, and we made a last tour of the trading post, but mostly we just had to hang out and sweat in the shade as the day got warmer and warmer.
Finally, our Trek was called and on to the bus we scrambled. The trip took about 30 minutes, passing through the nearby town of Cimarron, and then up a dirt road for several miles. One of the highlights of the ride was passing a herd of about 100 elk grazing next to the road. They didn't even lift their heads as we passed by. Guess they're used to people who don't threaten them in any way.
Our bus dropped us off at a place named "Ponil Turnaround" which pretty much matched it's name: a cul-de-sac at the end of the line. We tumbled out, grabbed our packs, and watched as the bus drove away in a trail of dust. Civilization was two weeks away.
The first order of business was some instruction from Ranger Greg: the proper way to cross a stream, the importance of sticking together, not getting too close or too spread out on the trail, and the proper use of the Red Roof Inns. Philmont has outhouses spread throughout the property, and though they are mainly clustered near the camping sites, they are located sporadically (though never strategically) along the trails. They can be identified by t
heir red roofs, hence the nickname. In providing his instruction on how to use the latrine (no urine, toilette paper and fecal matter only...) he showed how to use a stick to chase away any bugs or creatures that might be lurking in the privy seat before use. As he went to discard the stick with a mighty throw, he put his entire weight into the toss, but forgot to let go, and followed the stick right THROUGH the wall and out onto the ground outside!!! It was pretty spectacular! Luckily he wasn't hurt, just temporarily humbled as we all recovered from our initial shock and started laughing. Nice ice breaker!
After repairing the Red Roof Inn, we saddled up and started our hike. Today was a relatively easy walk... about 3 miles to get broken in. We followed a small stream for about a mile, then passed through Ponil Staff camp. We looked longingly at the cantina as we passed, but headed up a rocky road for about 500 yards till we found a side trail that took off steeply up the side of a ridge, until we eventually found our camp site for the night: Sioux.
Since it was still early, we had plenty of time to go through the lessons of setting up camp at Philmont: setting up the "Bear-muda" food triangle: cooking gear by a sump; food preparation area/cooking circle; and hanging the bear bags to put all our smellables out of
reach of any curious animals (i.e. bears). Finally, locating the tents in a cluster outside the food triangle to preclude bears from stumbling into us in the middle of the night.
Greg went over all these items and then coached the first set of chefs through the process of one-pot cooking. This is the concept of cooking all your menu items together in one pot. That means if you have soup and mashed potatoes and corn bread, you dump them all in the same pot, add water and cook them as one entree'. While this sounds easy (and it is), in practice this seldom worked out as a palate pleaser in a manner that Julia Child would approve! At Sioux we actually cooked a Mexican meal, where mixing it all together was actually pretty tasty. Rice, refried beans, sloppy joes were all mixed together and layered on tortillas. Probably the best meal of the trip, though we didn't know that at the time!
After dinner, our resident expert, Lynn, who had been at Philmont 4 or 5 times, suggested that we take the boys back down to Ponil where the staff put on a cantina show, and serve rootbeer for $1 a mug. The boys were all up for that, so Greg and I escorted them back down the trail about a mile to the cantina. Unfortunately, the place was packed and they had quit serving the rootbeer about 15 minutes before we arrived. The evening weather was cool and clear, and the music from inside the cantina filled the valley, so the boys all sat down and started playing cards and swapping stories, relaxing after two long days of preparation and anticipation.
I think this demonstrated the one thing that impressed me the most about this group of boys. They came from three different troops from diverse parts of the Pittsburgh area, and had never met before we started our practice hikes. Yet they came together, accepted each other at face value, and worked extremely well together as a group. I doubt any life-long friendships developed, but the fact that they all came together and worked well as unit so quickly, was a truly nice surprise.
The cantina show wrapped up around 2100, so we gathered the group up and herded them back through the dark to camp. Definitely a bit harder to follow the trail when you have nothing but a pen light to light the way.
Tomorrow we pick up the burro. THAT should be fun!
None goes his way alone;
All that which we send into the lives of others,
Comes back onto our own.
It's finally the big day: the day we head out on the trail and start knocking down our 69+ miles. We woke early, excited about the big day ahead of us.My first order of business is getting a shower. Seems kind of strange to mention that, but the next opportunity to get one is going to be FIVE days into the future. I've grown up spoiled and much too civilized; I'm not sure how I'm going to feel a day or two from now after miles and miles of hiking and not showering. Better get one in while I can.
After breakfast we have a couple things we need to do. One is a "shakedown," a Ranger-led activity where we pull our beds from out tents, empty our packs of all our gear, and watch as Greg goes through all the things we'll need for the trek, and offers suggestions on what we probably don't. There's the obvious (such as sleeping bags, water bottles, tents, first aid kits, etc.), and the not so obvious: matches, sun screen, bug spray, stoves, fuel, water purifiers... Some things he had issues with - everyone having a pocket knife, carrying a camp stool so that you don't have to always sit on the ground. All the adults had one, and I'm set on bringing mine - I'm sure it is well worth the extra weight. We end up ditching about hal
f the cooking pots, the dining fly poles (we'll use hiking poles) and a couple of the issued tents as almost everyone brought their own.After the shakedown and repack, we made our way across the camp to a picture station where we had our group photo taken with the Tooth of Time in the background. This was a gaggle because three boys wandered off without saying anything, so we had to send someone back to find them, and they were all too cool to hurry. Pretty much this was the one time when they acted like little kids on the whole trip. However, when it was all said and done, it was a beautiful day with a crystal clear sky, so I'm sure the photo turned out spectacular.
So it's 1000 and we're ready to go. We've moved out of our tents, our packs are loaded, our extraneous gear is stored... unfortunately we have to wait for our scheduled bus time of 1300, as we're being dropped off about 10 miles from the Base Camp and there are only a couple of buses which are busy making drop off and pick up runs throughout the reservation.
There was one last cafeteria lunch, which killed about an hour, and we made a last tour of the trading post, but mostly we just had to hang out and sweat in the shade as the day got warmer and warmer.
Finally, our Trek was called and on to the bus we scrambled. The trip took about 30 minutes, passing through the nearby town of Cimarron, and then up a dirt road for several miles. One of the highlights of the ride was passing a herd of about 100 elk grazing next to the road. They didn't even lift their heads as we passed by. Guess they're used to people who don't threaten them in any way.
Our bus dropped us off at a place named "Ponil Turnaround" which pretty much matched it's name: a cul-de-sac at the end of the line. We tumbled out, grabbed our packs, and watched as the bus drove away in a trail of dust. Civilization was two weeks away.
The first order of business was some instruction from Ranger Greg: the proper way to cross a stream, the importance of sticking together, not getting too close or too spread out on the trail, and the proper use of the Red Roof Inns. Philmont has outhouses spread throughout the property, and though they are mainly clustered near the camping sites, they are located sporadically (though never strategically) along the trails. They can be identified by t
heir red roofs, hence the nickname. In providing his instruction on how to use the latrine (no urine, toilette paper and fecal matter only...) he showed how to use a stick to chase away any bugs or creatures that might be lurking in the privy seat before use. As he went to discard the stick with a mighty throw, he put his entire weight into the toss, but forgot to let go, and followed the stick right THROUGH the wall and out onto the ground outside!!! It was pretty spectacular! Luckily he wasn't hurt, just temporarily humbled as we all recovered from our initial shock and started laughing. Nice ice breaker!After repairing the Red Roof Inn, we saddled up and started our hike. Today was a relatively easy walk... about 3 miles to get broken in. We followed a small stream for about a mile, then passed through Ponil Staff camp. We looked longingly at the cantina as we passed, but headed up a rocky road for about 500 yards till we found a side trail that took off steeply up the side of a ridge, until we eventually found our camp site for the night: Sioux.
Since it was still early, we had plenty of time to go through the lessons of setting up camp at Philmont: setting up the "Bear-muda" food triangle: cooking gear by a sump; food preparation area/cooking circle; and hanging the bear bags to put all our smellables out of
reach of any curious animals (i.e. bears). Finally, locating the tents in a cluster outside the food triangle to preclude bears from stumbling into us in the middle of the night.Greg went over all these items and then coached the first set of chefs through the process of one-pot cooking. This is the concept of cooking all your menu items together in one pot. That means if you have soup and mashed potatoes and corn bread, you dump them all in the same pot, add water and cook them as one entree'. While this sounds easy (and it is), in practice this seldom worked out as a palate pleaser in a manner that Julia Child would approve! At Sioux we actually cooked a Mexican meal, where mixing it all together was actually pretty tasty. Rice, refried beans, sloppy joes were all mixed together and layered on tortillas. Probably the best meal of the trip, though we didn't know that at the time!
After dinner, our resident expert, Lynn, who had been at Philmont 4 or 5 times, suggested that we take the boys back down to Ponil where the staff put on a cantina show, and serve rootbeer for $1 a mug. The boys were all up for that, so Greg and I escorted them back down the trail about a mile to the cantina. Unfortunately, the place was packed and they had quit serving the rootbeer about 15 minutes before we arrived. The evening weather was cool and clear, and the music from inside the cantina filled the valley, so the boys all sat down and started playing cards and swapping stories, relaxing after two long days of preparation and anticipation.I think this demonstrated the one thing that impressed me the most about this group of boys. They came from three different troops from diverse parts of the Pittsburgh area, and had never met before we started our practice hikes. Yet they came together, accepted each other at face value, and worked extremely well together as a group. I doubt any life-long friendships developed, but the fact that they all came together and worked well as unit so quickly, was a truly nice surprise.
The cantina show wrapped up around 2100, so we gathered the group up and herded them back through the dark to camp. Definitely a bit harder to follow the trail when you have nothing but a pen light to light the way.
Tomorrow we pick up the burro. THAT should be fun!
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Day Two: Base Camp
Spectacular achievements are always preceded by unspectacular preparation
Morning seemed to come quickly, but since we were actually two hours behind the east coast, 0500 seemed much later on our time-zone-challenged bodies. The adult's biggest worries centered around whether or not the boys would get up easily to make our departures on time. We were pleasantly surprised that everyone was up, ready and packed to go without any undo prodding. Sure hope it continues!
Breakfast was a dash through the Marriott buffet line, and then onto the tour bus for the three hour ride north. Another beautiful day broke as we pulled out of the parking lot at 0630 sharp. The city confines of Albuquerque quickly slipped behind us as we headed across the open expanses of the high New Mexico desert. A break in the scenery came as we zoomed through Sante Fe and Las Vegas, but other than those two pieces of civilization, it was wide open spaces with desert scrub and solitary buttes sprinkling the distant horizons.
We pulled into Base Camp just before 1000, in the midst of what we later learned was the typical controlled chaos of the intersecting paths of arriving, departing, incoming and outgoing trek groups. I checked in at the arrival office, and then herded our group to a shaded picnic area where we waited for our "Ranger" to arrive and lead us through the in-processing maze.Our Ranger, Greg (a Junior at the University of Kentucky), arrived after a short wait, and quickly immersed us in all the things we had to do to get into the Philmont "system." I went to the Registrar's office and settled our billing account, filled out paperwork, picked up meal tickets for our meals at base camp (both before and after our trek), and filled out security forms, including obtaining two lockers to store our extraneous equipment and gear that we weren't taking out on the trail.
Jack Cravener, our youth leader, had briefings of his own, finally meeting up with me at Logistics where we were given an overview of our route, and important info like which camps had water, which ones didn't, where bears had been sighted, and where we would reprovision along our journey.
Our first meal at Philmont was lunch. We gathered in a courtyard around a large bell, with all the other arriving treks, and watched as the Rangers, dressed in their red shirts, gathered at the center, climbed up into human Pyramid, yelled a Philmont chant, and then fell back into arms of waiting safety spotters. Pretty cool opening.When they announced our Trek's name (708-M: departing on the trail July 8th. M for our council name, Moraine Trails) we met at the door, paused to say a quick "Grace" and then entered for replenishment! Corndogs were the main entree, with salad and a small helping of fries. All in all, not too bad. Perhaps a bit spartan, but in retrospect it was ample. The boys went back for seconds, some a couple of times, so no one starved.
After lunch we made our way to the Quartermaster area where we went through equipment issue (cooking equipment, tents, dining fly, etc.) then over to the Commissary where we picked up four days of food. I thought going four days before a resupply was a bit much, but those were the cards we were delt with the trek we picked. The meals were packaged so that each one fed two people. As we were paired up with our tent partners, we each took six packages apiece. Dinners would be cooked as a group meal, but breakfast and lunches were up to each pair to determine which meal you ate when. My partner was another Dad, and we vowed to eat the heaviest meals first, thus making our packs as light as possible as fast as possible. I'm pretty sure most other pairs did the same.
Our final stop of the processing was the medical shack to go through one more physical check by the camp medical staff. Before we left home we all had to get fresh physicals and get our doctors to sign off that they were satisfied we could hack the trek. Philmont has pretty stringent weight restrictions and blood pressure limits geared to hopefully keep the oldsters safe. I had a clean bill of health from my Doc, but as a guy who has to get flight physicals every year to stay on flying status, I can tell you that it is always a nerve wracking experience to have a medical guy poke and prod you looking for little things that aren't quite right. As it turned out, I passed with flying colors. A couple of the other adults had some elevated blood pressures, but the only caution they got was, "Drink lots of water!"
We found our tents and dropped off our equipment. The tents were canvased platform jobs with actual mattresses on spring frames. They had nice zippered closures, which came in handy a bit later when we got hit with high winds and rain.
Scouts are reverent, so at 1900, after a hearty dinner, everything shut down so we could all attend "Vespers," religious services. Philmont actually has 4 or 5 chapels spread throughout it's campus, open air ampitheaters for Protestant, Catholic, Jewish and LDS services. There may be a Buddhist option someplace, but I didn't see it. The Catholic service was presided over by a Bishop from Chicago who was actually spending the summer at Philmont! I thought it was hilarious that with such a shortage of priests, the Boy Scouts rated a Bishop, but then with 20-25,000 boys and adults transiting through the camp each summer, it is actually pretty effective staffing.
The final event of the night was a Welcome campfire where members of the staff performed skits, told really bad jokes, sang songs off key, and related a bit of Philmont history; all geared to get the trekkers psyched for the next day's start. It was a fitting end in to a long, exciting, yet tiring day.Tomorrow brings the trail... and the start of the grand adventure!
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Philmont! The Adventure begins...
The big day finally arrived! We had a 6 am flight out of Pittsburgh International, so we had to leave the house at 3:30 am. Packing and repacking took until almost midnight, mainly because I couldn't decide if we had everything we needed. You only get one chance, so do you take the light sleeping bag and the heavy fleece jacket, or the warmer bag and the light-weight jacket... in the end I just went with the lightest weight stuff and hoped for warm weather. It's the middle of July for goodness sakes!
We timed our arrival to the airport perfectly, walking in the terminal doors right at 4:25 am, second to the last to arrive. Within a minute or so, the last of our party joined us and we were ready to go! A good omen for the trip ahead: 12 people from all over Pittsburgh, all arriving on time with no one forgetting anything... that NEVER happens!
And then we were off! Dressed in Scout uniforms, and lugging backpacks, we made our way to ticketing and baggage check. The goal was no one having packs weighing over 50 lbs, so we woudn't have to pay any extra fees, and again, everyone made it, though one kid had a pack weighing over 40 lbs., a bit excessive considering we didn't have our food or camping equipment yet. The scout uniforms helped move us through security, so suddenly we were waiting for our flight. Two boys had never been on a plane before, so there was a bit of apprehension in the air, but excitement seemed to rule the day.
Our plane was a tiny commuter jet, one seat on one side, two seats on the other, about 50 seats total. It was comfortable enough, but didn't handle very well in thunderstorms, which we encountered in Houston where we had to switch planes. We attempted to land in the middle of a severe downpour, and ended up going around when we were hit by wind gusts just before touchdown. We circled and tried it again, and though I had my doubts, the pilot eventually put it down mid-way down the runway. Our connection was delayed by the storms too, so we didn't miss it, which would have been a real nightmare getting straightened out.
The two hour flight into Albuquerque was uneventful, so we landed pretty much on time at 10:30 am in the midst of a gorgeous day. We were met at baggage claim by our tour guide, a guy named Robin, who hustled us and our packs out of the airport and off onto a whirl-wind tour of the city. Our local Council had contracted with a tour service, Blue Sky Adventures, to pick us up from the airport, get us fed, let us get some sightseeing in, and deliver us to Philmont the next morning.
Our first stop was food, which appeared via a local hamburger joint, Jake's Lottaburger. Not sure what the attraction was for this particular establishment, cuz it was pretty much just a typical fast food place. However, after flying five hours with nothing really to eat, the 12 of us were famished and the burgers were good enough, though a bit on the greasy side.
Next stop: the National Museum of Nuclear Science & History. This museum is still getting set up, so are some gaps, but it has a good start: it covers the subject of nuclear development both for military and civilian uses from the 1800s to the present. It covered Los Alamos and the Manhattan Project fairly extensively, and had replicas of all the weapons I used to sit alert with on B-52s back in the Cold War days. There's an air museum out back, but has very few planes yet, and the ones they have are still dismantled. Give it a couple of years, and it should be well worth the visit.
From the museum we headed into Old Town Albuquerque, where we walked around for an hour or so getting used to the 6,000' elevation and dry humidity. Old town is fairly quaint, with lots of tourist shops, but after browsing two or three, you quickly realize that they all have exactly the same merchandise, none of it worth purchasing and lugging around for two weeks in a backpack.
Our next stop was the Sandia Mountain tram. Apparently it is the longest single span Tram in the US, and runs from just east of the city to the top of Sandia Mountain, up to an elevation of over 10,000'. The ride up took about 20 minutes, but the view was spectacular, so you didn't even notice the time.
At the top we were awed by the beautiful vistas both of Albuquerque in the valley below, as well as the hundreds of miles we could see towards the e
ast off the backside of the mountain. Robin, our guide, did a great job of pointing out interesting sights and facts about both Albuquerque, as well as Sandia Mountain, the orgin of the tram and some local history going back to the Indians. He then led us on a mile and a half hike along the rim to a mountain cottage built back in the 30's by members of the Civilian Conservation Corps. The boys scrambled all over it, posed for pictures and enjoyed even more spectacular views of the wide open spaces. You don't see this far back in Pittsburgh... just too many hills and trees. Not a bad thing, but not the same as out in west, that's for sure.
Our final stop for the night was a local Marriott, where dinner and one last nice bed awaited. Dinner was a mexican buffet, which was attacked with a piranha-like frenzy by not only our scouts, but another group coming in from the Wisconsin area. There was a pool and a game room available for use, but at least for the adults, bedtime was early and dearly sought!
Tomorrow: Philmont!
We timed our arrival to the airport perfectly, walking in the terminal doors right at 4:25 am, second to the last to arrive. Within a minute or so, the last of our party joined us and we were ready to go! A good omen for the trip ahead: 12 people from all over Pittsburgh, all arriving on time with no one forgetting anything... that NEVER happens!
And then we were off! Dressed in Scout uniforms, and lugging backpacks, we made our way to ticketing and baggage check. The goal was no one having packs weighing over 50 lbs, so we woudn't have to pay any extra fees, and again, everyone made it, though one kid had a pack weighing over 40 lbs., a bit excessive considering we didn't have our food or camping equipment yet. The scout uniforms helped move us through security, so suddenly we were waiting for our flight. Two boys had never been on a plane before, so there was a bit of apprehension in the air, but excitement seemed to rule the day.
Our plane was a tiny commuter jet, one seat on one side, two seats on the other, about 50 seats total. It was comfortable enough, but didn't handle very well in thunderstorms, which we encountered in Houston where we had to switch planes. We attempted to land in the middle of a severe downpour, and ended up going around when we were hit by wind gusts just before touchdown. We circled and tried it again, and though I had my doubts, the pilot eventually put it down mid-way down the runway. Our connection was delayed by the storms too, so we didn't miss it, which would have been a real nightmare getting straightened out.
The two hour flight into Albuquerque was uneventful, so we landed pretty much on time at 10:30 am in the midst of a gorgeous day. We were met at baggage claim by our tour guide, a guy named Robin, who hustled us and our packs out of the airport and off onto a whirl-wind tour of the city. Our local Council had contracted with a tour service, Blue Sky Adventures, to pick us up from the airport, get us fed, let us get some sightseeing in, and deliver us to Philmont the next morning.
Our first stop was food, which appeared via a local hamburger joint, Jake's Lottaburger. Not sure what the attraction was for this particular establishment, cuz it was pretty much just a typical fast food place. However, after flying five hours with nothing really to eat, the 12 of us were famished and the burgers were good enough, though a bit on the greasy side.
Next stop: the National Museum of Nuclear Science & History. This museum is still getting set up, so are some gaps, but it has a good start: it covers the subject of nuclear development both for military and civilian uses from the 1800s to the present. It covered Los Alamos and the Manhattan Project fairly extensively, and had replicas of all the weapons I used to sit alert with on B-52s back in the Cold War days. There's an air museum out back, but has very few planes yet, and the ones they have are still dismantled. Give it a couple of years, and it should be well worth the visit.
From the museum we headed into Old Town Albuquerque, where we walked around for an hour or so getting used to the 6,000' elevation and dry humidity. Old town is fairly quaint, with lots of tourist shops, but after browsing two or three, you quickly realize that they all have exactly the same merchandise, none of it worth purchasing and lugging around for two weeks in a backpack.
Our next stop was the Sandia Mountain tram. Apparently it is the longest single span Tram in the US, and runs from just east of the city to the top of Sandia Mountain, up to an elevation of over 10,000'. The ride up took about 20 minutes, but the view was spectacular, so you didn't even notice the time.At the top we were awed by the beautiful vistas both of Albuquerque in the valley below, as well as the hundreds of miles we could see towards the e
ast off the backside of the mountain. Robin, our guide, did a great job of pointing out interesting sights and facts about both Albuquerque, as well as Sandia Mountain, the orgin of the tram and some local history going back to the Indians. He then led us on a mile and a half hike along the rim to a mountain cottage built back in the 30's by members of the Civilian Conservation Corps. The boys scrambled all over it, posed for pictures and enjoyed even more spectacular views of the wide open spaces. You don't see this far back in Pittsburgh... just too many hills and trees. Not a bad thing, but not the same as out in west, that's for sure.Our final stop for the night was a local Marriott, where dinner and one last nice bed awaited. Dinner was a mexican buffet, which was attacked with a piranha-like frenzy by not only our scouts, but another group coming in from the Wisconsin area. There was a pool and a game room available for use, but at least for the adults, bedtime was early and dearly sought!
Tomorrow: Philmont!
Monday, June 8, 2009
Babe and Buddy - Celebrating 50 years
Good parents give their children Roots and Wings. Roots to know where home is, wings to fly away and exercise what's been taught them.
My parents ended up driving up with my Uncle Bob about two weeks prior to the big day, and my siblings and I started trickling in last Thursday, with the actual party scheduled for Saturday afternoon.
I met up with my sister Sandy at the Seattle Airport, the two of us timing our flights to arrive within about a half hour of each other. We rented a car, stopped at a Starbucks for a snack, then drove the two hours north to Anacortes. It was a nice pleasant drive in beautiful clear weather, and gave the two of us a chance to talk and get reacquainted since we hadn't seen each other in probably a year or more. A lot had changed in both our lives, and the drive gave us a great chance to catch up.
My brother Dave and sister, Susan each made their way up to the house later that evening, so that by midnight, we had the entire family together for the first time since 2004. No spouses or children this trip, but since the event was focused on Mom and Dad, we had decided the fewer distractions the better.
Friday morning was kind of disorienting. I think the last time the six of us were all together and alone in the same house was a Christmas back in 1983 when I was at Navigator training down in Sacramento. The family dynamics were all back in play, only we were older, set in our own ways and struggling internally to find a way to make this new/old relationship work again. I'm sure this weekend would have made a great documentary by some twisted indie film maker.
In any event, we made our lists of things that needed done around the house and yard to get ready to host guests; followed by more lists of menu items and job tasks each of us would perform during the party. There were a couple disagreements, but I thought for the most part things went pretty smoothly; we had a common goal uniting us: letting our parents genuinely enjoy a celebration of their milestone with friends and family.
The house had not been lived in for several months, so there was lots to do. On top of that, re-modelers had been in the fall before, replacing the roof, remaking the master bedroom, one of the baths, new paint and wainscoting in the family room, and sprucing up a lot of the kitchen. The house is a work in progress, but it is such a beautiful piece of property that it would be a crime to let it deteriorate though lack of care or attention. Mom and Dad have made some serious changes to the place since the last time I saw it, and the results are truly amazing.
I tackled the lawn, taking the beat up lawn mower through about 8-10 inches of grass in a long, slow, arduous process to reclaim the yard for human use. Windows were washed and scrubbed, trash and debris were collected, bagged and eventually hauled off to the dump. Inside, the house was gone over with a fine tooth comb and made habitable again.
The four of us headed out to Costco to shop for the party menu items, and then stopped by a nursery for flowers and plants which later were planted in garden plots we prepared on the beach side of the house. By the end of the day, we had the place in pretty good shape, and even the most meticulous planner would have been fairly pleased to host relatives and friends.
Saturday morning we scurried around with final clean-up and setting things in place. Another run to the store for ice and last minute inspirations, and suddenly it was party time as the relatives started arriving. Since all of us were from out of town, Susan had asked the local family to help in the provisioning, so almost everyone showed up with drinks, snacks, salads or desserts. I think it was a good idea as everyone felt a part of the celebration, not just a visitor.
I was assigned grill duty, for whatever reason, and was faced with several slabs of Tri-tips, which having lived on the "east coast," I had never heard of before, but I figured, "what the heck, if it's meat, I can grill it!" We also had salmon, and dogs for the kids and faint of heart. Sandy tried to roast some brocolli on the grill as we were doing the prep work, but it didn't go over too well... something about wet pyrex and direct heat.... all of a sudden there was this big "POP!" under the grill hood and glass shot out the sides.... (luckily I had just turned away from the grill); when I lifted the lid, we found the glass baking pan had shattered into zillions of little pieces! Cool!
The goal was to be eating by 1400. I think we were close, but probably didn't hit it right on. But with the visiting and congratulations, I don't think it mattered much. Everyone just kind of made themselves at home, and started filling their plates as I pulled meat and fish off the grill.
At some point we had Mom and Dad pose with a beautiful silver tea service that my Aunt Bonnie brought to set up for the occasion, and then they posed with the Anniversary cake.
Naturally there were lots of pictures as this was one of those family reunion occasions that seldom ever happen once the kids have grown and moved away. I think we had all three of my Mom's sisters and most of their kids (my cousins) attend: Jocie had Dennis and his family in from Oklahoma, along with Loree and Cheryl and their families. Carolyn came with Cathy,
Ricky, and Becky with her husband Ken and grandson arrived later in the day. Bob and Bonnie came, but both cousins Mike and Lane (now Steven!) were unable to make it, living fairly far removed from Anacortes these days.
One of the neat things of the day was a boyhood friend of my Dad's, Ed Sarin, stopped by and regailed us with stories of my Dad's childhood in a very small, depression-era Glenwood, Minnesota. I had heard tales of this guy over the years, but never met him. All of us were thrilled to hear Ed's take on growing up with someon
e we only knew as an adult. I'm sure some of it was exaggerated for effect, but in every good story there's at least a hint of the truth buried somewhere!
Another highlight of the day was the lighting and release of a "hope balloon" that another friend of my parents, Anna, brought with her. It was a large paper balloon with a candle in the base. Dad lit the candle and let the hot air fill the balloon, then he and Mom released it into the air.
We all watched as it rose high into the late afternoon sky and sailed slowly out over the bay. It was an absolutely beautiful finish to a fun-filled day with family and friends!
Towards the end of the day several of Dave' and the girls' friends showed up, (I last lived on the beach when I was in Junior High, so I've lost contact with anyone I ever knew in Anacortes, but the other kids spent some or all of their high school years in the local area). It was great putting faces to names after all these years, and after we cleaned up, we decided to spend some time together as just siblings and friends. We drove into town and grabbed a table at the Brown Lantern Ale House, grabbed a few beers, and swapped stories with Sarah and husband, Chris, till the wee hours of the evening. It was a lot of fun, "why do you ask?"
Early Sunday, Susan departed the fix, having to be back to work bright and early Monday morning. The rest of us hung around the house for most of the morning, then slowly drifted off in different directions. Dave to visit his friend Brad, Sandy and I to tour a mostly shut-down Anacortes on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. We
had lunch at a local grill, window shopped, and generally just chatted about families and life. In the evening we all congregated back at the house for dinner and a bon fire on the beach where we cooked s'mores - just like the old days!
I love this house, the beach and everything about growing up here. Being an Air Force brat meant the visits were few and far between, but the times that we did spend here, immersed in family and the outdoors, was probably my most favorite times of growing up. I'd say I wish I could have stayed here always, except for the fact I would have missed out on living in such places as England, North Africa, Italy, Las Vegas or Phoenix... The wonderful thing was knowing that we always had this place to come back to.
Whether we keep this house in the family or not, it has produced a lot of good memories that I know my family will cherish for a lifetime. I can't wait till we come back in 25 years to celebrate my parent's 75th wedding anniversary, so the great grandkids can experience all that we have.
--Jonas Salk
One of the top events of the year was my parents' 50th Wedding Anniversary this past weekend at their home in Anacortes, Washington. My brother and sisters and I began discussing what to do and where to have this celebration a couple of months back, and though my parents were living in Lodi, California, it was pretty much decided by all parties that the best place to have a true family celebrations was up at the beach house on Fidalgo Island.
My parents ended up driving up with my Uncle Bob about two weeks prior to the big day, and my siblings and I started trickling in last Thursday, with the actual party scheduled for Saturday afternoon.
I met up with my sister Sandy at the Seattle Airport, the two of us timing our flights to arrive within about a half hour of each other. We rented a car, stopped at a Starbucks for a snack, then drove the two hours north to Anacortes. It was a nice pleasant drive in beautiful clear weather, and gave the two of us a chance to talk and get reacquainted since we hadn't seen each other in probably a year or more. A lot had changed in both our lives, and the drive gave us a great chance to catch up.
My brother Dave and sister, Susan each made their way up to the house later that evening, so that by midnight, we had the entire family together for the first time since 2004. No spouses or children this trip, but since the event was focused on Mom and Dad, we had decided the fewer distractions the better.
Friday morning was kind of disorienting. I think the last time the six of us were all together and alone in the same house was a Christmas back in 1983 when I was at Navigator training down in Sacramento. The family dynamics were all back in play, only we were older, set in our own ways and struggling internally to find a way to make this new/old relationship work again. I'm sure this weekend would have made a great documentary by some twisted indie film maker.In any event, we made our lists of things that needed done around the house and yard to get ready to host guests; followed by more lists of menu items and job tasks each of us would perform during the party. There were a couple disagreements, but I thought for the most part things went pretty smoothly; we had a common goal uniting us: letting our parents genuinely enjoy a celebration of their milestone with friends and family.
The house had not been lived in for several months, so there was lots to do. On top of that, re-modelers had been in the fall before, replacing the roof, remaking the master bedroom, one of the baths, new paint and wainscoting in the family room, and sprucing up a lot of the kitchen. The house is a work in progress, but it is such a beautiful piece of property that it would be a crime to let it deteriorate though lack of care or attention. Mom and Dad have made some serious changes to the place since the last time I saw it, and the results are truly amazing.
I tackled the lawn, taking the beat up lawn mower through about 8-10 inches of grass in a long, slow, arduous process to reclaim the yard for human use. Windows were washed and scrubbed, trash and debris were collected, bagged and eventually hauled off to the dump. Inside, the house was gone over with a fine tooth comb and made habitable again.The four of us headed out to Costco to shop for the party menu items, and then stopped by a nursery for flowers and plants which later were planted in garden plots we prepared on the beach side of the house. By the end of the day, we had the place in pretty good shape, and even the most meticulous planner would have been fairly pleased to host relatives and friends.
Saturday morning we scurried around with final clean-up and setting things in place. Another run to the store for ice and last minute inspirations, and suddenly it was party time as the relatives started arriving. Since all of us were from out of town, Susan had asked the local family to help in the provisioning, so almost everyone showed up with drinks, snacks, salads or desserts. I think it was a good idea as everyone felt a part of the celebration, not just a visitor.
I was assigned grill duty, for whatever reason, and was faced with several slabs of Tri-tips, which having lived on the "east coast," I had never heard of before, but I figured, "what the heck, if it's meat, I can grill it!" We also had salmon, and dogs for the kids and faint of heart. Sandy tried to roast some brocolli on the grill as we were doing the prep work, but it didn't go over too well... something about wet pyrex and direct heat.... all of a sudden there was this big "POP!" under the grill hood and glass shot out the sides.... (luckily I had just turned away from the grill); when I lifted the lid, we found the glass baking pan had shattered into zillions of little pieces! Cool!The goal was to be eating by 1400. I think we were close, but probably didn't hit it right on. But with the visiting and congratulations, I don't think it mattered much. Everyone just kind of made themselves at home, and started filling their plates as I pulled meat and fish off the grill.
At some point we had Mom and Dad pose with a beautiful silver tea service that my Aunt Bonnie brought to set up for the occasion, and then they posed with the Anniversary cake.Naturally there were lots of pictures as this was one of those family reunion occasions that seldom ever happen once the kids have grown and moved away. I think we had all three of my Mom's sisters and most of their kids (my cousins) attend: Jocie had Dennis and his family in from Oklahoma, along with Loree and Cheryl and their families. Carolyn came with Cathy,
Ricky, and Becky with her husband Ken and grandson arrived later in the day. Bob and Bonnie came, but both cousins Mike and Lane (now Steven!) were unable to make it, living fairly far removed from Anacortes these days.One of the neat things of the day was a boyhood friend of my Dad's, Ed Sarin, stopped by and regailed us with stories of my Dad's childhood in a very small, depression-era Glenwood, Minnesota. I had heard tales of this guy over the years, but never met him. All of us were thrilled to hear Ed's take on growing up with someon
e we only knew as an adult. I'm sure some of it was exaggerated for effect, but in every good story there's at least a hint of the truth buried somewhere!Another highlight of the day was the lighting and release of a "hope balloon" that another friend of my parents, Anna, brought with her. It was a large paper balloon with a candle in the base. Dad lit the candle and let the hot air fill the balloon, then he and Mom released it into the air.
We all watched as it rose high into the late afternoon sky and sailed slowly out over the bay. It was an absolutely beautiful finish to a fun-filled day with family and friends!Towards the end of the day several of Dave' and the girls' friends showed up, (I last lived on the beach when I was in Junior High, so I've lost contact with anyone I ever knew in Anacortes, but the other kids spent some or all of their high school years in the local area). It was great putting faces to names after all these years, and after we cleaned up, we decided to spend some time together as just siblings and friends. We drove into town and grabbed a table at the Brown Lantern Ale House, grabbed a few beers, and swapped stories with Sarah and husband, Chris, till the wee hours of the evening. It was a lot of fun, "why do you ask?"
Early Sunday, Susan departed the fix, having to be back to work bright and early Monday morning. The rest of us hung around the house for most of the morning, then slowly drifted off in different directions. Dave to visit his friend Brad, Sandy and I to tour a mostly shut-down Anacortes on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. We
had lunch at a local grill, window shopped, and generally just chatted about families and life. In the evening we all congregated back at the house for dinner and a bon fire on the beach where we cooked s'mores - just like the old days!I love this house, the beach and everything about growing up here. Being an Air Force brat meant the visits were few and far between, but the times that we did spend here, immersed in family and the outdoors, was probably my most favorite times of growing up. I'd say I wish I could have stayed here always, except for the fact I would have missed out on living in such places as England, North Africa, Italy, Las Vegas or Phoenix... The wonderful thing was knowing that we always had this place to come back to.
Whether we keep this house in the family or not, it has produced a lot of good memories that I know my family will cherish for a lifetime. I can't wait till we come back in 25 years to celebrate my parent's 75th wedding anniversary, so the great grandkids can experience all that we have.
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