Camping at McDonald Lake

My dad loved to fish. He would often spend the day working in the fields until just before sunset and head to the river to catch a walleye or northern. I never did enjoy the fishing as much as my dad. I suppose no one could. The mold was broken when he was born.
I said I did not enjoy fishing as much as my dad. That does not mean I had less fun on a fishing trip. Some of my antics probably disappointed my dad. I know he loved to tell the stories of his conquests to family and friends. I rarely stayed at my fishing post and caught as many as expected. Dad would flail the water until there was total darkness. Not me.
Nonetheless, I was often part of his fishing adventures. I would eagerly help load the car with our supplies. I would help get the boat into the water. One trip did not include the rest of our family. And, it was overnight. My dad and I were joined in our fishing camping trip by a family friend of my dad's. I think it was Leonard White.
This trip was really fun. Dad had made arrangements to camp next to McDonald Lake in a pasture. We were within walking distance of a regular campground about a quarter mile away. But, the campground probably cost more than we could afford. So, here we were, camped where you had to be careful where you stepped or your shoe would smell for a long time. The place had what I wanted. I could go for a stroll up into the trees and return with an armful of firewood. The lush green grass was a guarantee that a fire would not spread.
Dad went out fishing many times and left me at the campsite. Perfect with me be cause I could move about. Sitting in a boat was way to restrictive for me. I remember the pots and pans from moms kitchen. I remember the jars of produce from our pantry. This is the likely place that I learned to appreciate a personal fire. If you built a large fire, it was of little use for anything except warming one side of your body at a time. But, if you controlled your fire, you could move the fire aside enough to expose the coals. Then you could rest a pan on these coals.
I am sure dad caught many fish on this trip. I started figuring out some of life's important truths. The chief lesson was "More is not necessarily better".
KB

Camp Firewood

Kids and a dog! Boy does that bring back memories. But then, my dog, Bear was not your ordinary dog. Bear would do anything I wanted him to do. He would have killed himself to do things my daughters dreamed up for him to do.
As a young family, we often went camping. It is no different today that firewood is very expensive if you wait to buy it at the campground. To save that expense, I would always haul a supply with me in the back of the pickup. I pulled a travel trailer and Kathy followed with the car and boat. We liked to launch the boat with the pickup, so as soon as we got to our camping site, we would unload all the stuff from the back of the pickup.
I was amazed at how the two daughters could con Bear into carrying all the firewood from the pickup to their chosen spot to pile the wood. His tail would wag like it was the best thing ever. One daughter would be in the back of the pickup and the other at the wood pile. Bear would run to the back of the pickup and put his paws up on the tailgate. He would accept the wood in his mouth, turn and trot to the wood pile and drop the wood onto the ground. This played out until all the pieces were in the stack of wood.
Recently, I suggested that one of my daughters should write about this memory. I was surprised that they do not remember this story. Stephanie accused me of early stages of dementia in a recent blog, so I could be off. I think it makes a great story even if my memory is over active. I think both girls will acknowledge that Bear was a willing helper and a wonderful dog.
Kayak Bandit

Lawn Chair Sleeping

During our trip to Deception pass, we spent a lot of time around the campfire. Sadly, for the dogs, they had to be tied behind us with short enough leashes that they could not entangle the chairs. The dogs always seemed sad with this arrangement.
After a while, Bandit resolved that it was the way it was and he would lay down and curl into a snug little circle with his tail over his nose. To me, he looked like a sled dog. What are those? Malamute or Husky? Bandit would get all excited if he was released from his leash and could pick up stray popcorn or other dropped food pieces.
Well, one evening, the kids coaxed him into a child's lawn chair. It was much too small for him to fit into comfortably. Nonetheless, he had a look of contentment. His back end was hanging over on one side and his face was resting on the chair's arm on the other side. One of his front legs was helping balance by dangling to the ground. It did not look comfortable to me. Yet, he was so very happy to be in that chair.
The next evening, the kids again invited him to that chair. Bandit eagerly got into it. He stayed in the chair until time to go to be. The kids had long ago gone to bed and it was only adults around the fire discussing why the dog liked the chair so much. We supposed that he was honored to be where the action was.
We talked about it quite a bit. Eventually, I got a larger lawn chair and positioned it near the fire and invited Bandit to lie in it. He was likewise, eager to get into this chair. He could get comfortable in this chair and stayed until bedtime.
Well, when I got home, I brought the same chair into the house. I set it up at the foot of my bed. I invited Bandit into the chair. He did not even try to get comfortable. He just sat there until he thought I was not paying attention and got down onto the floor and curled up there. I again invited him to the chair and stayed with him to assure him it was okay to be up on furniture. (He normally does not get to be on furniture) Eventually, he laid his head down. But again as soon as he had a chance to get down he took the chance.
So, what do you think the psychology of all this is? Does he really like the chair when at the fire, or is it that he likes to be in the circle by the fire with us?
Kayak Bandit

Deception Pass - - Day Three

We nearly had a casualty a couple nights ago. Stephanie and I sat up late and looked at each other's letterboxing logbooks. I suppose the fact that she found four more boxes the next day and four more again today suggest it was not as serious as it looked. It was light out when we first started looking at log books, but completely dark when we were done. With the lantern light turned off, she forgot about this one very large rock and tripped on it as she was turning to leave for the tent. She skinned her leg and shin pretty bad. I am impressed with her toughness. She continues to do all, and I mean all, the fun stuff associated with camping.
It was very foggy this morning. It was foggy enough that the big cedar trees were dripping. We sat by a nice fire for most of the morning. The moms decided to bring out the fixin's for s'mores in the morning so that the kids could be cleaned up easier than when they were preparing to go to bed. It worked well. Greg made the most perfect s'more ever this morning. He roasted two marshmallows so perfectly that they were melted all the way through. Sadly, he did not offer a taste.
So far we have not unloaded even one kayak. It is not a problem at all. We are all having a great time. The weather forcast is for rain to move in tonight. I think I will be fine. I have a brand new little tent and I am sleeping on an air mattress. Wish me luck.
Stephanie wants the world to know that her nephew is a real letterboxer. Even after a long outing, Dylan was still anxious for more. I am thinking there will be another generation of letterboxers after we are all in letterboxing heaven. The sport is not likely to die out any time soon.
Kayak Bandit

Pie Irons

The subject of pie irons came up. I agree whole heartedly that pie irons are great. For those of you that do not know about these little wonders, pull up a computer and read about them.
A pie iron is actually two halves that come apart. I insist on cast iron, square ones. You always start with two slices of bread. Spray one side of a slice of bread with non-stick, butter flavored spray. Place this, buttered side toward the pie iron. Kind of tuck it in to the pie iron. Now repeat for the other half. If you are making toasted cheese sandwiches, then all you need is some cheese. Now fold the half without the cheese over the top of the half with the cheese.
Carefully and slowly heat the pie iron by holding the handles together and extending the cast irons over the fire. Every half minute or so, turn the opposite side toward the fire. After three or four minutes, check how brown the bread is by raising one of the handles away from the other handle to get a peak inside. When it is done to your liking, just turn the pie out onto a paper plate. Do not use Styrofoam plates because they melt.
Okay, now for other things to try in the place of cheese. Try:
*Pizza squeeze, cheese and pizza toppings of your choice
*Pastrami, Swiss cheese and sauerkraut on rye bread
*Left over spaghetti, but use garlic butter on the outside of the bread instead of spray
*sliced boiled eggs, ham and American cheese for breakfast
*pie filling of your choice, my favorite is peach

You get the idea. almost everything you have eaten hot with a fork can be made this way. It is the most important item in my camping supplies. Toilet paper is slightly more important.

Kayak Bandit

Long, Long Ride

My daughters love to help tell this story. It seems my perspective selectively dismisses some of my guilt in the good parent category. Their version always paints me as a slightly bad parent.
We had this very reliable older 1962 Chevrolet pickup. It had a shell canopy. I built a shelf at the front of the pickup bed as well as seats along each side of the bed. I upholstered them so they would be comfortable for sleeping or sitting. When we went camping, I would pull our trailer house with the pickup, and Kathy would pull the boat.
On this particular trip, we were camped at Pelton Dam, or Lake Simtustus. Lake Simtustus is created by Pelton Dam. The entire lake is very pristine. There are no homes along the edges of the lake. The fishing is fabulous at times and the rest of the time it is pretty good.
Shortly after this trip some of the campsites slipped into the lake. And for many years afterward, they canceled all camping at the lake. I see that they now have 71 camp sites. So, they must have resolved the problem.
Well, one nice day we decided to go for a drive. Kathy and I rode up front. Steph and Jenny always wanted to ride on the bed in the back. So after a little debate about the safety of that, it was decided we would only drive on secondary roads. No fast highways for us. Oh, and Bear would also ride in the back with the two girls.
So we set off, enjoying the view of the central Oregon desert overlooking the deep chasm of the Crooked River. Here is where the recounting of the story is tricky. It seems the girls were trying to get our attention. I suspect that we saw them waving their arms and interpreted there gesturing as appreciation for the fine ride. They contend that they were desperate to get our attention because Bear was having a fart attack. According to our indignant young girls, the farts were borderline lethal. And they agree that the frequency between farts was intolerable.
Well, if this was not bad enough for my little darlings, Kathy read the map and suggested a route that was long. We rode for much of an afternoon. My memory is all positive. It was a magnificent day. We crossed a bridge that I did not previously know about. Fun for everyone? Not quite.
If the situation with Bear's farts was not bad enough, the longer the trip went, the rougher the road got. So, these two girls, that were eager to start the trip were even more eager for it to end. I can only imagine how rough the road must have felt to those two very full bladders.
I have to ask. Girls, was the pain worth the memory? I sure hope so.
Kayak Bandit '(*!*)'