Picture of my rug from Sewing Rags
Picture of Bandit sleeping in a child lawn chair
Two grandsons fighting for glory
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Pictures
I should have included pictures with recent posts. Here are some of the pictures that I missed:
Picture of my rug from Sewing Rags
Picture of Bandit sleeping in a child lawn chair
Two grandsons fighting for glory
Picture of my rug from Sewing Rags
Picture of Bandit sleeping in a child lawn chair
Two grandsons fighting for glory
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Good Dog
Don't ask me to be your huckleberry guide. I am a total failure. Joanne and I failed to find even one huckleberry. Some would say our day was a total flop. Okay, but let me tell you some of the offsets to it being a flop.
We had no more than started out when Joanne started pointing and getting very agitated as we approached this sign beside the road. It was a rather rude sign posted at the end of a driveway to a beautiful home behind a iron gate. Joanne announced that she had always wanted a closer look at this home and the "Garage Sale" would serve as a good excuse.
I had to turn around to get pointed into the driveway. It was no time at all before Joanne and the wonderful ladies hosting the garage sale were best buddies. Joanne negotiated a good deal on a horse themed trellis. Before we left, we were allowed to pet their horses. They were gentle and polite horses. I believe they are for sale, if you are interested.
We continued on. Bandit was, sort of, coughing enough to convince us that he was thirsty. We stopped beside the Ponderay River, north of Newport. I pointed to the river and Bandit ran about half way to the water and turned around, obviously looking for me to throw a toy to him. He would not go on to the water without assurance I would throw a toy. So, I threw his ball out into the water many times. He had a blast, but did not drink once. I think he intentionally misled us so he could play. What a manipulator!
We continued on to Marshall Lake where we enjoyed the view of the lake and several nice conversations with people there for recreation. It seemed to those we talked to that the berry picking was over. So, we decided to find a spot to have lunch. We chose the Newport City Park. Here we enjoyed a nice lunch prepared by Joanne as Bandit endeared himself to everyone else in the park. He would go to a different person and solicit them to throw his ball. It was fun to watch him convince the new person to throw it. He would run to them and drop the ball at their feet. If they did not reach for the ball, he would nudge it closer to them with his nose. This tactic always convinced them to throw the ball. Amazingly, he did get tired enough to lay down and drop the ball.
We found two more garage sales, Joanne made new friends, and traveled new roads on our return trip to Spokane. At every stop, I would open the back door of my Jeep, and ask Bandit to "Stay!" This impressed Joanne and others. I was likewise impressed. I think Bandit is a VERY "Good Dog".
Kayak Bandit
We had no more than started out when Joanne started pointing and getting very agitated as we approached this sign beside the road. It was a rather rude sign posted at the end of a driveway to a beautiful home behind a iron gate. Joanne announced that she had always wanted a closer look at this home and the "Garage Sale" would serve as a good excuse.
I had to turn around to get pointed into the driveway. It was no time at all before Joanne and the wonderful ladies hosting the garage sale were best buddies. Joanne negotiated a good deal on a horse themed trellis. Before we left, we were allowed to pet their horses. They were gentle and polite horses. I believe they are for sale, if you are interested.
We continued on. Bandit was, sort of, coughing enough to convince us that he was thirsty. We stopped beside the Ponderay River, north of Newport. I pointed to the river and Bandit ran about half way to the water and turned around, obviously looking for me to throw a toy to him. He would not go on to the water without assurance I would throw a toy. So, I threw his ball out into the water many times. He had a blast, but did not drink once. I think he intentionally misled us so he could play. What a manipulator!
We continued on to Marshall Lake where we enjoyed the view of the lake and several nice conversations with people there for recreation. It seemed to those we talked to that the berry picking was over. So, we decided to find a spot to have lunch. We chose the Newport City Park. Here we enjoyed a nice lunch prepared by Joanne as Bandit endeared himself to everyone else in the park. He would go to a different person and solicit them to throw his ball. It was fun to watch him convince the new person to throw it. He would run to them and drop the ball at their feet. If they did not reach for the ball, he would nudge it closer to them with his nose. This tactic always convinced them to throw the ball. Amazingly, he did get tired enough to lay down and drop the ball.
We found two more garage sales, Joanne made new friends, and traveled new roads on our return trip to Spokane. At every stop, I would open the back door of my Jeep, and ask Bandit to "Stay!" This impressed Joanne and others. I was likewise impressed. I think Bandit is a VERY "Good Dog".
Kayak Bandit
Monday, August 4, 2008
Big Dog, Little Dog
Bear was a very large dog. We surmise that he was half Setter and half Newfoundland. His head was large, proportionally to the already large frame. I think he weighed about ninety pounds.
I think you already know that I took him with me to work most days. Well, I was remodeling a home for a friend of mine. They had this small, and I do mean small, miniature Chihuahua. I swear that you could have lain him on a dinner plate all stretched out and none of his body would have hung over the edge of the plate. The two dogs played endlessly. It was so funny to see Bear trotting, slow for him, behind this other dog that was running as fast as he could till his legs were blurry.
This one very hot day, I decided to go to the Orient Store for a pack of Pepsi. Since the store was easy to go into and back out in a hurry, I decided to bring both dogs along. I parked my Dodge Van, leaving both windows open and found what I wanted. As I was returning to the Van, I saw the most precious thing ever. I will try to paint a word picture to do it justice. I did not have a camera.
As Bear would always do, he was watching for my return. He was standing up with his front feet in my seat and his back feet on the engine hump. When he stood in my seat he had to lower his head from normal height in order to look out the side window. As I said earlier, his head was very large and it took up most of the window. What was so hilarious, was that every so often, this little tiny black head would pop up over the bottom of the door into view and then fall back away. You could see that this little dog wanted to see what Bear was looking at. He was so small that even standing on his tip toes he could not stay high enough to gaze out the window. Both dogs had this "glad you came back" look on their faces. It was so precious. A real Mutt and Jeff, if ever there was one.
Kayak Bandit
I think you already know that I took him with me to work most days. Well, I was remodeling a home for a friend of mine. They had this small, and I do mean small, miniature Chihuahua. I swear that you could have lain him on a dinner plate all stretched out and none of his body would have hung over the edge of the plate. The two dogs played endlessly. It was so funny to see Bear trotting, slow for him, behind this other dog that was running as fast as he could till his legs were blurry.
This one very hot day, I decided to go to the Orient Store for a pack of Pepsi. Since the store was easy to go into and back out in a hurry, I decided to bring both dogs along. I parked my Dodge Van, leaving both windows open and found what I wanted. As I was returning to the Van, I saw the most precious thing ever. I will try to paint a word picture to do it justice. I did not have a camera.
As Bear would always do, he was watching for my return. He was standing up with his front feet in my seat and his back feet on the engine hump. When he stood in my seat he had to lower his head from normal height in order to look out the side window. As I said earlier, his head was very large and it took up most of the window. What was so hilarious, was that every so often, this little tiny black head would pop up over the bottom of the door into view and then fall back away. You could see that this little dog wanted to see what Bear was looking at. He was so small that even standing on his tip toes he could not stay high enough to gaze out the window. Both dogs had this "glad you came back" look on their faces. It was so precious. A real Mutt and Jeff, if ever there was one.
Kayak Bandit
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Sleeping In
This is the latest that I have slept in a long time. Bandit woke me up about five and wanted outside. I got up and let him out. Usually, I will do that and then make a pot of coffee. But not today. I went back to the still warm bed and slept soundly until eight.
As I look outside, the sun is shining bright. I don't lower my eyes to the ground, because I would be reminded that my lawn needed mowing a week ago. I has gotten taller in the ensuing time. Let's see. If it is two months until the first frost- - -I guess I cannot use that as an excuse to let the lawn grow. But, I read somewhere that your lawn survives winter better is you do not cut it right before it freezes. Drat.
Okay, I have decided to attack my projects today and play tomorrow. I will put the last of the camping stuff away, clean up the kitchen, mow the lawn, throw the frisbee for Bandit, tie up my dahlias, set out my berry picking supplies and then go grocery shopping. That should be enough for one day. It may even leave enough time to visit with some neighbors.
Tomorrow, I and some friends are headed to the mountains north of Newport to get huckleberries. I hope the timing is right. I was too early for the huckleberries on my trip to the coast. It will be a fun ride whether or not we find berries.
Kayak Bandit
As I look outside, the sun is shining bright. I don't lower my eyes to the ground, because I would be reminded that my lawn needed mowing a week ago. I has gotten taller in the ensuing time. Let's see. If it is two months until the first frost- - -I guess I cannot use that as an excuse to let the lawn grow. But, I read somewhere that your lawn survives winter better is you do not cut it right before it freezes. Drat.
Okay, I have decided to attack my projects today and play tomorrow. I will put the last of the camping stuff away, clean up the kitchen, mow the lawn, throw the frisbee for Bandit, tie up my dahlias, set out my berry picking supplies and then go grocery shopping. That should be enough for one day. It may even leave enough time to visit with some neighbors.
Tomorrow, I and some friends are headed to the mountains north of Newport to get huckleberries. I hope the timing is right. I was too early for the huckleberries on my trip to the coast. It will be a fun ride whether or not we find berries.
Kayak Bandit
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Sewing Rags
My aunt Mary had a loom. I suppose she made other things, but I remember the rugs that she made on this loom. I was interesting how she would feed the varied supplies and shift levers and tamp things into place as she created these rugs.
Aunt Mary was related to me because my grandmother and Mary were sisters. And another way she is related is that her husband is a son of my grandfather's brother. In other words, two Dearholt sisters married Hess'. One Hess was the nephew of the other.
Back to Mary's rugs. Mary would make the rugs using homemade yarn. When someone wanted a rug made, Mary would make the rugs and keep half for herself and half would go to the person that made the yarn.
My mom taught me to sew the yarn. I loved doing this. We would use old clothes. First, you would cut away all the hems around the outside of the big pieces of cloth. Then you would figure out which way the remaining cloth would make the best strips and cut nicks into the edge about one inch apart. Next, you would tear at each of the nicks and the cloth would make these strips one inch wide.
The sewing came next. You needed to sew the ends together to make a continuous one inch strip. You would place one end over the other and fold a third of the overlap from each side to make three double layers. Next you sew onto the beginning of the overlap and sew to the end of the overlap, reverse to the beginning and then sew forward to the end again. When you got to the end, you would stop sewing just as you were about to go off the edge. This allowed you to sew from one joint to the next without raising the presser foot.
It was fun to keep going with more and more yarn pushed off the back of the sewing machine onto the floor. Some times the pile would get all the way up to the level of the sewing table.
After sewing the ends together, we had to tug at each place the sewing machine ran off the one seam onto the next to break the string. We would roll the end product into a big ball of yarn.
A few years ago, my mom pulled one of these old worn rugs from a drawer and presented it to me. She explained that it was the last one known to exist. She felt I was the person that deserved to keep it since I had sewed more rags into yarn than anyone else. It is one of my prized possessions. The last I know, my cousin Dorla ended up with aunt Mary's loom.
Aunt Mary was related to me because my grandmother and Mary were sisters. And another way she is related is that her husband is a son of my grandfather's brother. In other words, two Dearholt sisters married Hess'. One Hess was the nephew of the other.
Back to Mary's rugs. Mary would make the rugs using homemade yarn. When someone wanted a rug made, Mary would make the rugs and keep half for herself and half would go to the person that made the yarn.
My mom taught me to sew the yarn. I loved doing this. We would use old clothes. First, you would cut away all the hems around the outside of the big pieces of cloth. Then you would figure out which way the remaining cloth would make the best strips and cut nicks into the edge about one inch apart. Next, you would tear at each of the nicks and the cloth would make these strips one inch wide.
The sewing came next. You needed to sew the ends together to make a continuous one inch strip. You would place one end over the other and fold a third of the overlap from each side to make three double layers. Next you sew onto the beginning of the overlap and sew to the end of the overlap, reverse to the beginning and then sew forward to the end again. When you got to the end, you would stop sewing just as you were about to go off the edge. This allowed you to sew from one joint to the next without raising the presser foot.
It was fun to keep going with more and more yarn pushed off the back of the sewing machine onto the floor. Some times the pile would get all the way up to the level of the sewing table.
After sewing the ends together, we had to tug at each place the sewing machine ran off the one seam onto the next to break the string. We would roll the end product into a big ball of yarn.
A few years ago, my mom pulled one of these old worn rugs from a drawer and presented it to me. She explained that it was the last one known to exist. She felt I was the person that deserved to keep it since I had sewed more rags into yarn than anyone else. It is one of my prized possessions. The last I know, my cousin Dorla ended up with aunt Mary's loom.
Friday, August 1, 2008
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
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
Thursday, July 31, 2008
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
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
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Bridge Racing
The bridges of our farming community were almost all made the same way. They were not very long because our streams and rivers were not very wide. They could almost always be spanned from bank to bank. At the edge of each bank was a concrete wall called an abutment. The bride sat on top of these two abutments.
The bridge itself was made of many pieces of steel all riveted together in a crisscross arrangement. The sides of the bridges were rather high above the height of the roadway. Starting at the abutments, the sides went up at a steep angle. Once they got to the right height, they were level until they met the equal angle coming from the other abutment.
The really cool thing about this style of bridge was the flat surface on the top of the angle section and the level section. Both sides of the bridge were exactly the same. I found that this exactness of sides was perfect for competition. One boy could not complain that his side was longer or higher or more rough. I do not remember ever disputing the exactness of the race course.
Now parents had a problem with this form of competition. We solved the problem by never mentioning that we raced from one side of the river to the other by running across the bridge railing. I marvel at how simple it is to solve major problems.
I suspect, in retrospect, that the only way we would likely have gotten caught was if one of us died when we fell to our death. The one that died would be immune from punishment, and the survivor would not admit to racing. Simple. Yep, Stevie was just climbing up there. We all told him to stay off. With the problems associated with funerals, I doubt any of us would have gotten punished. I am not saying I would do it again. Actually, if asked to bridge race, I would say forcefully - - "Heck No!!!"
It is amazing the things we survived. This is not the worst thing we thought up to do. I hope my mom does not read this. She might still give me a good switchin'. Even at age eighty four. Did I mention that I was her favorite?
Kayak Bandit
The bridge itself was made of many pieces of steel all riveted together in a crisscross arrangement. The sides of the bridges were rather high above the height of the roadway. Starting at the abutments, the sides went up at a steep angle. Once they got to the right height, they were level until they met the equal angle coming from the other abutment.
The really cool thing about this style of bridge was the flat surface on the top of the angle section and the level section. Both sides of the bridge were exactly the same. I found that this exactness of sides was perfect for competition. One boy could not complain that his side was longer or higher or more rough. I do not remember ever disputing the exactness of the race course.
Now parents had a problem with this form of competition. We solved the problem by never mentioning that we raced from one side of the river to the other by running across the bridge railing. I marvel at how simple it is to solve major problems.
I suspect, in retrospect, that the only way we would likely have gotten caught was if one of us died when we fell to our death. The one that died would be immune from punishment, and the survivor would not admit to racing. Simple. Yep, Stevie was just climbing up there. We all told him to stay off. With the problems associated with funerals, I doubt any of us would have gotten punished. I am not saying I would do it again. Actually, if asked to bridge race, I would say forcefully - - "Heck No!!!"
It is amazing the things we survived. This is not the worst thing we thought up to do. I hope my mom does not read this. She might still give me a good switchin'. Even at age eighty four. Did I mention that I was her favorite?
Kayak Bandit
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Home Again
Some things will always be different than home. I could not have been happier than showering in my own shower. I know exactly where to turn the knob to get the right temperature water. And the shower aims where it gets you wet like you prefer. Nice.
But the most welcome part of returning home was sitting on my own toilet. I did not need to check if there was paper before I sat down. If for any reason the paper was all used up in the dispenser, I could reach into the close at hand drawer where the extra rolls are. I do not believe I have ever ran out of paper in a public rest room, but, imagine if you were to do that. What would you do? Hey mister, could you check in the next stall and round me up some toilet paper. How embarrassing. I think I will continue to check before I sit down. That is, away from the comfort of home.
It is not just the paper issue. Things work better sitting in a familiar spot. Don't you agree? A bathroom session just goes smoother at home. It may be the lack of embarrassment to the varied body parts.
All this to simply say. It feels good to be home. Vacation with the family was great, but it truly feels good to be back home.
Kayak Bandit
But the most welcome part of returning home was sitting on my own toilet. I did not need to check if there was paper before I sat down. If for any reason the paper was all used up in the dispenser, I could reach into the close at hand drawer where the extra rolls are. I do not believe I have ever ran out of paper in a public rest room, but, imagine if you were to do that. What would you do? Hey mister, could you check in the next stall and round me up some toilet paper. How embarrassing. I think I will continue to check before I sit down. That is, away from the comfort of home.
It is not just the paper issue. Things work better sitting in a familiar spot. Don't you agree? A bathroom session just goes smoother at home. It may be the lack of embarrassment to the varied body parts.
All this to simply say. It feels good to be home. Vacation with the family was great, but it truly feels good to be back home.
Kayak Bandit
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Deception Pass--as I see it...
Hello everyone! This is Stephanie of the Balladone Bunch. My dad (the Kayak Bandit) has been telling you all about our family camping trip to Deception Pass State Park. I thought I'd give you my side of the story. You know how those ol' folks with dementia setting in get...they can't remember anything correctly...or maybe it's the loss of hearing and/or seeing that prevents them from gettting the real story in the 1st place.
So about the near fatal accident. It is true that we were talking boxing (letterboxing that is), but what he failed to mention was that I'd almost single handedly got my family packed, loaded, and transported accross two states to get to our camping spot that day. I was flat out beat! But...I couldn't resisit dragging out my letterboxing stuff to show off my latest efforts (carvings, finds, trading cards, etc.) and when I couldn't keep my eyes open another second, I gathered my stuff and headed off to bed. I remembered that I needed to step over a huge log, but forgot about the big rock. Oops...that was one painful mistake. To add insult to injury, it was the same leg that had a skinned knee from when I dropped my cell phone in our swimming pool, and the same leg that I scrapped the side calf when hooking up the trailer. Needless to say, I've been wearing long pants ever since. I mean really, what grown woman can show her face with pathetic injuries like that. Worse yet, a few days later, I ran into some stinging nettles. And yep, the same darn leg again! I guess it must be cursed or something.
There's another thing that probably should be set straight and I'm the perfect person to do the job. You see, I'm impartial and a true & fair judge when it comes to animals. Now my dad might say that his dog, Bandit, is the best dog in the whole wide world, but then there's my sister and her husband who might say that their dog, Bailey, is the best. They are great dogs, that is certain, but the best dog is the imaginary dog that I hope to have someday. He never knocks over innocent kids, barks unnecessarily, whines about wanting a ball being thrown, shakes out stinky lake water onto logbooks, needs his poop scooped, or does other unmentionable acts. He is the perfect dog, at least he is until he actually comes into existance.
I love letterboxing, that is a known fact. My kids even love letterboxing, although not as much as me. I managed to convert my dad and now he's in as deep as me, but my brother-in-law thinks I'm absolutely crazy. He just doesn't get it. This wouldn't be a problem, except for the teeny-weeny fact that I've got his son hooked. He is the best letterboxing companion ever and I really wished he lived closer to me. I'd take him out "treasure hunting" any day. His latest obsession (and that's putting it mildly) is Indiana Jones. He doesn't go anywhere without his hat and bag, complete with a whip, notebook, and other important things. You can always tell where he is...just follow the humming. What is it that he's humming?...well, the Indiana Jones theme song, of course. Back in January, when I first introduced him to letterboxing, I carved him a stamp and made him a logbook. His trail name was DJ. But, when I learned that he had changed identities (if you ask him, he'd tell you he IS Indiana Jones) I realized he needed a new signature stamp and trail name. His new trail name is Indiana Jones of WA. I am SO proud.
Well, my time here is limited (time on the computer that is), because the camping-Nazi (aka Gregg--the city slicker) might accuse ME of being a computer geek/city slicker, so I best get to the highlights of my family vacation:
*Hiking at Fort Ebey with my dad and four kids. It was a beautiful day and we found 4 boxes.
*Watching my kids laugh and playing at the lake. They can build some awesome sand creations, swim like fish, and still have energy left for kayaking.
*Sitting around the campfire with my family...
*Learning that telling someone that he/she has "stinky" in their "winky" is the worst kind of insult.
*Seeing Gregg FREAK out over a stolen hat and the ruckus that insued.
*Snuggling with my kids in the dark during a raining night in the tent.
*Eating Aunt Jenny's to-die-for chili.
*Letterboxing on my own for an hour or so, while my dad watched my kids
*Creating and Planting an Indiana Jones series of letterboxes for my family.
AND last but most definitely not least
*Spending time with the best family in the world.
I'm already counting the days until next year's campout...Fort Stevens, here we come!
P.S. The highlights according to my kids, my niece, and my nephew:
So about the near fatal accident. It is true that we were talking boxing (letterboxing that is), but what he failed to mention was that I'd almost single handedly got my family packed, loaded, and transported accross two states to get to our camping spot that day. I was flat out beat! But...I couldn't resisit dragging out my letterboxing stuff to show off my latest efforts (carvings, finds, trading cards, etc.) and when I couldn't keep my eyes open another second, I gathered my stuff and headed off to bed. I remembered that I needed to step over a huge log, but forgot about the big rock. Oops...that was one painful mistake. To add insult to injury, it was the same leg that had a skinned knee from when I dropped my cell phone in our swimming pool, and the same leg that I scrapped the side calf when hooking up the trailer. Needless to say, I've been wearing long pants ever since. I mean really, what grown woman can show her face with pathetic injuries like that. Worse yet, a few days later, I ran into some stinging nettles. And yep, the same darn leg again! I guess it must be cursed or something.
There's another thing that probably should be set straight and I'm the perfect person to do the job. You see, I'm impartial and a true & fair judge when it comes to animals. Now my dad might say that his dog, Bandit, is the best dog in the whole wide world, but then there's my sister and her husband who might say that their dog, Bailey, is the best. They are great dogs, that is certain, but the best dog is the imaginary dog that I hope to have someday. He never knocks over innocent kids, barks unnecessarily, whines about wanting a ball being thrown, shakes out stinky lake water onto logbooks, needs his poop scooped, or does other unmentionable acts. He is the perfect dog, at least he is until he actually comes into existance.
I love letterboxing, that is a known fact. My kids even love letterboxing, although not as much as me. I managed to convert my dad and now he's in as deep as me, but my brother-in-law thinks I'm absolutely crazy. He just doesn't get it. This wouldn't be a problem, except for the teeny-weeny fact that I've got his son hooked. He is the best letterboxing companion ever and I really wished he lived closer to me. I'd take him out "treasure hunting" any day. His latest obsession (and that's putting it mildly) is Indiana Jones. He doesn't go anywhere without his hat and bag, complete with a whip, notebook, and other important things. You can always tell where he is...just follow the humming. What is it that he's humming?...well, the Indiana Jones theme song, of course. Back in January, when I first introduced him to letterboxing, I carved him a stamp and made him a logbook. His trail name was DJ. But, when I learned that he had changed identities (if you ask him, he'd tell you he IS Indiana Jones) I realized he needed a new signature stamp and trail name. His new trail name is Indiana Jones of WA. I am SO proud.
Well, my time here is limited (time on the computer that is), because the camping-Nazi (aka Gregg--the city slicker) might accuse ME of being a computer geek/city slicker, so I best get to the highlights of my family vacation:
*Hiking at Fort Ebey with my dad and four kids. It was a beautiful day and we found 4 boxes.
*Watching my kids laugh and playing at the lake. They can build some awesome sand creations, swim like fish, and still have energy left for kayaking.
*Sitting around the campfire with my family...
*Learning that telling someone that he/she has "stinky" in their "winky" is the worst kind of insult.
*Seeing Gregg FREAK out over a stolen hat and the ruckus that insued.
*Snuggling with my kids in the dark during a raining night in the tent.
*Eating Aunt Jenny's to-die-for chili.
*Letterboxing on my own for an hour or so, while my dad watched my kids
*Creating and Planting an Indiana Jones series of letterboxes for my family.
AND last but most definitely not least
*Spending time with the best family in the world.
I'm already counting the days until next year's campout...Fort Stevens, here we come!
P.S. The highlights according to my kids, my niece, and my nephew:
Kaitlyn--"singing around the campfire and walking the dogs"
Sophia--"not bringing a toothbrush"
Lillyanna--"playing at the beach"
Nicholas--"getting to roast marshmallows"
Dylan--"well, let's see...uh...playing with Nick"
Claire--"Popcorn!!!!"
Deception Pass - - Last Day
I am leaving in the morning to return to Spokane. We are in the middle of getting dinner before dark. I will probably not blog again until I am back in Spokane.
Stephanie said she will write something pretty soon, maybe tonight. Check back in a little bit.
Stephanie said she will write something pretty soon, maybe tonight. Check back in a little bit.
Friday, July 25, 2008
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
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
Deception Pass - - Day Two
Stephanie, Katie, Sophia, Lilyanna & Nick showed up last night. Stephanie is amazing at how quickly she can set up her camp. In no time at all, the camp took shape with a nice very large tent and a kitchen area.
The evening meal, one of my favorites, was pepperoni pizza. We use these little pie irons to make them. You put two pieces of bread inside the iron with pepperoni, cheese and pizza squeeze sandwiched between the bread. Sophia was first to make one. It turned out perfectly toasted.
After a meal of pizza, we had to have something for a snack. We make popcorn over the fire. It also turned out very good.
Thursday morning we had a hot breakfast and went letterboxing by Oak Harbor. We had a fantastic time. The view out over the Sound was a little foggy, but very beautiful. We grabbed some needed supplies and returned to camp just as Jenny, Greg, Dylan and Claire showed up. Our family is now complete. Steph made a delicious Spaghetti. And, the toasted garlic rolls were perfect. She also served Zuchinni. Yum!
It is now almost dark and we are about to have S'Mores and popcorn. I thought I would write a quick note tonight and hopefully write more tomorrow.
Kayak Bandit
The evening meal, one of my favorites, was pepperoni pizza. We use these little pie irons to make them. You put two pieces of bread inside the iron with pepperoni, cheese and pizza squeeze sandwiched between the bread. Sophia was first to make one. It turned out perfectly toasted.
After a meal of pizza, we had to have something for a snack. We make popcorn over the fire. It also turned out very good.
Thursday morning we had a hot breakfast and went letterboxing by Oak Harbor. We had a fantastic time. The view out over the Sound was a little foggy, but very beautiful. We grabbed some needed supplies and returned to camp just as Jenny, Greg, Dylan and Claire showed up. Our family is now complete. Steph made a delicious Spaghetti. And, the toasted garlic rolls were perfect. She also served Zuchinni. Yum!
It is now almost dark and we are about to have S'Mores and popcorn. I thought I would write a quick note tonight and hopefully write more tomorrow.
Kayak Bandit
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Deception Pass - - Day One
The last time I posted, I said I was going to Baker Lake to camp and pick berries. I lied. Strike me with a wet noodle for my deception. Ya get it deception - - - Deception Pass! Sometimes I amuse myself.
I did go to Baker Lake and look around. I checked with the locals who assured me that the berries were not ripe yet. I found a few thimble berries and a very few himalayan blackberries that were ripe enough, but that was it. As for the lake itself, it was covered with drift wood so far from shore that there was no place to put a kayak into the water unless you paid money to stay at a campground. The weather was very cool in the mountains, so I came back out of the woods.
I cut some branches from maple trees to make into treking poles. I always have a collection of them for anyone that wants one. I was looking for vine maple, but could not find any the right size and straightness to suit me. The maple tree as opposed to the vine maple are much straighter by nature. The vine maple is much stronger though.
I took several pictures of the lakes in the North Cascades. They are truly magnificent. I stopped and compared my wildflower guide with what I saw beside the road. It is amazing how many prolific species were brought to the Americas from Europe.
So, I arrived at Deception Pass State Park in the afternoon on Tuesday. This is a day earlier than I planned to arrive. As I was checking out my campsite, a couple from Moses Lake engaged in conversation. We enjoyed a conversation filled evening. He is orriginally from Germany and she was born in Spokane.
The noise from the Naval Jets are horrible here. Somehow, I got some sleep. This morning, as I was returning from the restroom, I engaged in conversation with a couple that have the site that Stephanie et al will stay in starting this evening. They are visiting here in the US for four weeks. They are from Germany. He is an attorney and she is a journalist. They are having a wonderful time traveling around the US. Their last stop was at Riverside State Park in Spokane, Washington. As you know, that is my home town.
Steph will arrive here shortly. She called to say she is still a couple hours away, but doing okay. Jenny will arrive tomorrow sometime. Life does not get better than this. I can hardly wait.
Kayak Bandit
I did go to Baker Lake and look around. I checked with the locals who assured me that the berries were not ripe yet. I found a few thimble berries and a very few himalayan blackberries that were ripe enough, but that was it. As for the lake itself, it was covered with drift wood so far from shore that there was no place to put a kayak into the water unless you paid money to stay at a campground. The weather was very cool in the mountains, so I came back out of the woods.
I cut some branches from maple trees to make into treking poles. I always have a collection of them for anyone that wants one. I was looking for vine maple, but could not find any the right size and straightness to suit me. The maple tree as opposed to the vine maple are much straighter by nature. The vine maple is much stronger though.
I took several pictures of the lakes in the North Cascades. They are truly magnificent. I stopped and compared my wildflower guide with what I saw beside the road. It is amazing how many prolific species were brought to the Americas from Europe.
So, I arrived at Deception Pass State Park in the afternoon on Tuesday. This is a day earlier than I planned to arrive. As I was checking out my campsite, a couple from Moses Lake engaged in conversation. We enjoyed a conversation filled evening. He is orriginally from Germany and she was born in Spokane.
The noise from the Naval Jets are horrible here. Somehow, I got some sleep. This morning, as I was returning from the restroom, I engaged in conversation with a couple that have the site that Stephanie et al will stay in starting this evening. They are visiting here in the US for four weeks. They are from Germany. He is an attorney and she is a journalist. They are having a wonderful time traveling around the US. Their last stop was at Riverside State Park in Spokane, Washington. As you know, that is my home town.
Steph will arrive here shortly. She called to say she is still a couple hours away, but doing okay. Jenny will arrive tomorrow sometime. Life does not get better than this. I can hardly wait.
Kayak Bandit
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Baker Lake
I spent last night at Early Winters Campground. I hiked into the mountains looking for some of the blue huckleberries. I did not find any, but picked some domestic raspberries that have gone wild.
I am sitting beside the highway jotting down a quick note. I passed the town of Concrete a few miles back. I am turning up into the mountains now and will likely not have internet again until tomorrow. I plan to stay at Baker Lake. I will check out the campgrounds and choose the one that I can paddle across to the east side of the lake to look for blue huckleberries.
I will post more in the coming days. I am having a blast. Bandit says Hi.
Kayak Bandit
I am sitting beside the highway jotting down a quick note. I passed the town of Concrete a few miles back. I am turning up into the mountains now and will likely not have internet again until tomorrow. I plan to stay at Baker Lake. I will check out the campgrounds and choose the one that I can paddle across to the east side of the lake to look for blue huckleberries.
I will post more in the coming days. I am having a blast. Bandit says Hi.
Kayak Bandit
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Methow Valley
Here I sit in the shade of a variety of tall trees beside the bank of the Methow River in the nice little town of Twisp Washington. The morning is just great. I have already made friends of two old bikers from Point Townsend, Washington and a couple from Wenatche. The couple from Wenatche are heading home from the Rythym and Blues Concert held over the weekend in Twisp, or was it in Wintrop? I am not sure.
Last night I camped for free at Leader Lake. It was not free by virtue of my skipping out from paying. It is intended to be free. As I was looking at the map, I say this lake very near Okanagon, Washington, beside the road that I would travel. Little did I know that it was free and a very nice lake. It is manmade to supply water to the are apple growers.
As I pulled in to the lake, I spotted some people with a dog. I asked what the deal is with the lake. She said it is free and you can camp whereever you want. She recommended the other side from where we were. After more conversation about letterboxing and huckleberries, I set up camp where she suggested.
As I was pulling into the spot, a young lad showed interest in my kayaks. His mom came closer to prevent him from becoming a pest to me. I assured her that he was not a pest. I offered to take him kayaking. It seemed his dad was ready to leave, and would not be able to. I suggested we all go kayaking since I had four boats. His dad said they could stay longer, but he declined to go. So. AJ, Diana, Bandit and myself went kayaking for about an hour. There were turtles, osprey, geese, ducks and much more.
When I returned to my camping spot, a Mexican couple were fishing right where I was camped. They spoke very little English. I got a beer and a lawn chair for myself and sat near them to watch. I sensed they were skeptical of me, but after I disarmed them by trying to remember all my Spanish, they accepted me. I said such things as cinco de mayo, senor, gracias and more. I think they were very impressed with my bilingual skill. It could have been that they liked when the wife caught a fish, I would take it from the hook. This allowed the husband to keep fishing and cast his line where his wife had hooked her fish. Men are still men in every culture.
Today, I plan to snoop around the rest of the Mehow. I wish I had much more time than the one day I set aside to spend here. It is a very nice place, indeed.
If I find another spot with reception, I will update you again later today. Bandit says hi.
Kayak Bandit
Last night I camped for free at Leader Lake. It was not free by virtue of my skipping out from paying. It is intended to be free. As I was looking at the map, I say this lake very near Okanagon, Washington, beside the road that I would travel. Little did I know that it was free and a very nice lake. It is manmade to supply water to the are apple growers.
As I pulled in to the lake, I spotted some people with a dog. I asked what the deal is with the lake. She said it is free and you can camp whereever you want. She recommended the other side from where we were. After more conversation about letterboxing and huckleberries, I set up camp where she suggested.
As I was pulling into the spot, a young lad showed interest in my kayaks. His mom came closer to prevent him from becoming a pest to me. I assured her that he was not a pest. I offered to take him kayaking. It seemed his dad was ready to leave, and would not be able to. I suggested we all go kayaking since I had four boats. His dad said they could stay longer, but he declined to go. So. AJ, Diana, Bandit and myself went kayaking for about an hour. There were turtles, osprey, geese, ducks and much more.
When I returned to my camping spot, a Mexican couple were fishing right where I was camped. They spoke very little English. I got a beer and a lawn chair for myself and sat near them to watch. I sensed they were skeptical of me, but after I disarmed them by trying to remember all my Spanish, they accepted me. I said such things as cinco de mayo, senor, gracias and more. I think they were very impressed with my bilingual skill. It could have been that they liked when the wife caught a fish, I would take it from the hook. This allowed the husband to keep fishing and cast his line where his wife had hooked her fish. Men are still men in every culture.
Today, I plan to snoop around the rest of the Mehow. I wish I had much more time than the one day I set aside to spend here. It is a very nice place, indeed.
If I find another spot with reception, I will update you again later today. Bandit says hi.
Kayak Bandit
Monday, July 21, 2008
Snapping Turtles
I am not very proud of my role in this story I am about to relate to you. I was quite young at the time and also times were different when I was a youngster.
I was a Huck Finn of sorts. I spent a lot of time on the Leaf River as well as Wing River. Our township drew it's name from the Wing River. The Horseagers lived right by the town hall meeting house. The road to town took a sharp turn and crossed the river here, and logically the bridge was know as Horseager's Bridge.
Mrs Horseager was a widow. She had a nephew my age that would come up from the Twin Cities to stay for the summer. I can't remember his name, but we hung out together on the river. I had a homemade boat that you could push up and down the river with the aid of a duckbill pole. The pole gets it name from the foot on the end of the pole. The foot opens as you push and retracts when you pull back. This allows you to push against mud and the pole will not sink into the mud more than you can pull it back out.
Upstream from the bridge was a wonderful fishing hole for northern pike. On this occasion, we had pushed our way up to fish and were returning when I spotted a very large snapping turtle swimming slowly along the bottom in about six or eight feet of water. I had a spear ready because there often were suckers in this stretch of river and they were very good smoked. My dad could make shoe leather taste good in his smoke house, so I don't know whether it was his recipe or the suckers that made for good eating.
Recently I had heard some old timers talking about snake meat. They agreed that snake meat tastes a lot like turtle. In general, I took it to mean that turtle was good eating. The turtle was swimming with his long neck fully extended. I took careful aim and speared the turtle in the neck. When I got the turtle to the side of the boat, he was huge and his head and mouth were very scary. My friend pushed the boat to shore and we drug the turtle up to the wood pile. Here it gets rather gory. We just wanted to dispatch this turtle so we could eat it. It was not easy. It did everything it could to keep it's neck pulled back into it's own shell. We kept trying to do the opposite so we could make a clean chop with the axe. We took much longer to complete this than I want to admit.
Once we succeeded, we left the turtle to succumb as a chicken always does. The turtle did not cavort around like a chicken. It just started crawling toward the river. This was so unnerving. We would pick it up and put it back on the grass, and again it would start crawling toward the river. Our patience ran out and we drove a nail through one of it's feet and hung it on the side of the woodshed. We left it and returned to the river. As evening descended, we parked the boat and checked on the turtle. To our amazement, it was still struggling. We agreed that we would leave it over night and clean it to eat in the morning.
In the morning, it appeared that life had left the turtle, but as soon as we started to handle it, it again started moving. We were very perplexed. The short version of a very long story is that eventually we gave up trying to clean this turtle. We dug a big hole and buried it.
What I marvel at is why we did not recruit someone to help us deal with this. As we began the whole ordeal, we had good intentions. But for goodness sakes, why we ended up wasting it, and dishonoring it's life, troubles me to this day. To come clean with the whole story would have been to tell that we got a second, but slightly smaller turtle later. I cannot remember if it was the same day or not. It sticks in my mind that they were nineteen and seventeen pounds.
I am intrigued by snapping turtles. They are virtually unchanged since prehistoric times. They catch their food by forcing their mouth open to a point that it locks open. Their tongue has an appendage that looks just like a worm. When a fish tries to feast on the worm, the turtles mouth snaps violently shut. The fish has no chance.
I doubt this story makes a lot of sense. The whole thing is hard for me. I just thought I would try to relate it to you for what it is worth.
Kayak Bandit
I was a Huck Finn of sorts. I spent a lot of time on the Leaf River as well as Wing River. Our township drew it's name from the Wing River. The Horseagers lived right by the town hall meeting house. The road to town took a sharp turn and crossed the river here, and logically the bridge was know as Horseager's Bridge.
Mrs Horseager was a widow. She had a nephew my age that would come up from the Twin Cities to stay for the summer. I can't remember his name, but we hung out together on the river. I had a homemade boat that you could push up and down the river with the aid of a duckbill pole. The pole gets it name from the foot on the end of the pole. The foot opens as you push and retracts when you pull back. This allows you to push against mud and the pole will not sink into the mud more than you can pull it back out.
Upstream from the bridge was a wonderful fishing hole for northern pike. On this occasion, we had pushed our way up to fish and were returning when I spotted a very large snapping turtle swimming slowly along the bottom in about six or eight feet of water. I had a spear ready because there often were suckers in this stretch of river and they were very good smoked. My dad could make shoe leather taste good in his smoke house, so I don't know whether it was his recipe or the suckers that made for good eating.
Recently I had heard some old timers talking about snake meat. They agreed that snake meat tastes a lot like turtle. In general, I took it to mean that turtle was good eating. The turtle was swimming with his long neck fully extended. I took careful aim and speared the turtle in the neck. When I got the turtle to the side of the boat, he was huge and his head and mouth were very scary. My friend pushed the boat to shore and we drug the turtle up to the wood pile. Here it gets rather gory. We just wanted to dispatch this turtle so we could eat it. It was not easy. It did everything it could to keep it's neck pulled back into it's own shell. We kept trying to do the opposite so we could make a clean chop with the axe. We took much longer to complete this than I want to admit.
Once we succeeded, we left the turtle to succumb as a chicken always does. The turtle did not cavort around like a chicken. It just started crawling toward the river. This was so unnerving. We would pick it up and put it back on the grass, and again it would start crawling toward the river. Our patience ran out and we drove a nail through one of it's feet and hung it on the side of the woodshed. We left it and returned to the river. As evening descended, we parked the boat and checked on the turtle. To our amazement, it was still struggling. We agreed that we would leave it over night and clean it to eat in the morning.
In the morning, it appeared that life had left the turtle, but as soon as we started to handle it, it again started moving. We were very perplexed. The short version of a very long story is that eventually we gave up trying to clean this turtle. We dug a big hole and buried it.
What I marvel at is why we did not recruit someone to help us deal with this. As we began the whole ordeal, we had good intentions. But for goodness sakes, why we ended up wasting it, and dishonoring it's life, troubles me to this day. To come clean with the whole story would have been to tell that we got a second, but slightly smaller turtle later. I cannot remember if it was the same day or not. It sticks in my mind that they were nineteen and seventeen pounds.
I am intrigued by snapping turtles. They are virtually unchanged since prehistoric times. They catch their food by forcing their mouth open to a point that it locks open. Their tongue has an appendage that looks just like a worm. When a fish tries to feast on the worm, the turtles mouth snaps violently shut. The fish has no chance.
I doubt this story makes a lot of sense. The whole thing is hard for me. I just thought I would try to relate it to you for what it is worth.
Kayak Bandit
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Back at the Nine Mile
Last year, Dick and I went back to Minnesota for Camp Jim's 75 year celebration, where his brother was to be the guest speaker. We camped out in Wadena with my "old" school buddy, Penny, and her sister, Judy. One of the days we took a tour of the country side. Here are a few of the pictures we took of the "Nine Mile." We discovered the bridge had been replace in 1999. The grass and weeds had already reclaimed the area. If you didn't know there had been another bridge there I don't think you would of even noticed the pilings where our beloved bridge once stood. The swimming hole and the sandy path to it was still well used. There were no kids enjoying it that day, just old friends remembering "the good old days." We snapped a few pictures and left. Thanks for the memories!
Steve's sister, Barb
Steve's sister, Barb
Swimmin Hole
I grew up in Minnesota, on a farm in the country. One of our favorite things to do was to go to the nearby swimming hole. We had a very nice swimming hole named "The Nine Mile". It got it's name from the name of the bridge. I suppose the name of the bridge came from how far the bridge is located from where the Leaf River joins the larger Crow Wing River.
Most evenings after the farm work was done, the neighboring families would go swimming. There were the Bakers, Daughterys, Whites, Crockers, Wells and others. The big tough guys, of which I was not a member, went straight for the top of the bridge. They would climb up the sloped end of the bridge to the top of the topmost big beam and stand over the deep water until everyone dutifully looked their way. Tough guys were mere mortals if no one was watching. If too few people were watching, they would start a conversation with someone far away so they had to make much noice to have the conversation, thereby drawing attention to themselves standing up there ready to jump.
The younger ones of us usually swam out and back from the sandy beach just downstream from the bridge. The moms usually spread a blanket on the sand and watched the very young. As for me, I spent a lot of time swimming in the deeper side of the water across from the sandy beach. I loved to swim slowly along near the bottom of the river watching ahead of me for fish and other things of interest. A couple times I saw a northern pike, but mostly I would see suckers and shiner minnows.
Another thing to do was to try and walk across the bottom of the river. To do this, you had to find a large enough rock to give yourself some weight. If you tried without the rock, you would be swept along with the current. With the rock, you could progress deeper until your head was about to go under and take a deep breath. You kept walking along until it shallowed out on the other side or you ran out of air. Running out of air was no problem, you could let go of the rock and spring to the surface.
I have many fond memories of the time we spent at the old swimmin hole.
Kayak Bandit
Most evenings after the farm work was done, the neighboring families would go swimming. There were the Bakers, Daughterys, Whites, Crockers, Wells and others. The big tough guys, of which I was not a member, went straight for the top of the bridge. They would climb up the sloped end of the bridge to the top of the topmost big beam and stand over the deep water until everyone dutifully looked their way. Tough guys were mere mortals if no one was watching. If too few people were watching, they would start a conversation with someone far away so they had to make much noice to have the conversation, thereby drawing attention to themselves standing up there ready to jump.
The younger ones of us usually swam out and back from the sandy beach just downstream from the bridge. The moms usually spread a blanket on the sand and watched the very young. As for me, I spent a lot of time swimming in the deeper side of the water across from the sandy beach. I loved to swim slowly along near the bottom of the river watching ahead of me for fish and other things of interest. A couple times I saw a northern pike, but mostly I would see suckers and shiner minnows.
Another thing to do was to try and walk across the bottom of the river. To do this, you had to find a large enough rock to give yourself some weight. If you tried without the rock, you would be swept along with the current. With the rock, you could progress deeper until your head was about to go under and take a deep breath. You kept walking along until it shallowed out on the other side or you ran out of air. Running out of air was no problem, you could let go of the rock and spring to the surface.
I have many fond memories of the time we spent at the old swimmin hole.
Kayak Bandit
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Kick the Can
Boy, it sure has been a long time since I thought about this old game. The way I remember it, is that one person is "It." A tin can is placed in an open area. Then everyone is sent away as "It" counts to an agreed number. "It" counts very loud so as everyone scatters to a hiding spot they can hear the counting. When done counting "It" yells "Here I come ready or not".
Okay, now "It" sneaks away from the can only far enough that "It" can still get back to the can before one of the others can kick it. As I remember, "It" has to tag someone trying to get to the can before they kick the can. If a person is tagged, they are now "It". If someone kicks the can without getting tagged, everyone is allowed in for free and "It" remains "It".
What games did you play as a child? Help me refresh our memory of childhood games.
I am trying to remember "Red Rover" and others.
Did you ever step in the middle of a vegetable can until it squeezed itself around your shoe? It was fun to do this to both feet and make weird tracks in the gravel driveway. The longer you walked around like this the better the can became affixed to your shoe.
Okay, now "It" sneaks away from the can only far enough that "It" can still get back to the can before one of the others can kick it. As I remember, "It" has to tag someone trying to get to the can before they kick the can. If a person is tagged, they are now "It". If someone kicks the can without getting tagged, everyone is allowed in for free and "It" remains "It".
What games did you play as a child? Help me refresh our memory of childhood games.
I am trying to remember "Red Rover" and others.
Did you ever step in the middle of a vegetable can until it squeezed itself around your shoe? It was fun to do this to both feet and make weird tracks in the gravel driveway. The longer you walked around like this the better the can became affixed to your shoe.
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