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
Thursday, July 31, 2008
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.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Oh, That Tractor
Have you ever lost a tractor? I have.
It all started when I was late to get the cows home from the pasture for milking. Most days you do not have to go get the cows, but some days, only known to why to the cows, they choose to stay out in the field. This day was one of them. We had them in a pasture that we did not often use. I was far away in the northeast corner of our farm.
To get to the spot where the cows were, you had to cross the swamp. Today I was not in the mood to cross the swamp on foot. A brainstorm. Since dad was away, he would not know that I had used the tractor to fetch the cows. After all, dad had this spot where he crossed the swamp. I had driven the tractor across that spot myself. And sure enough, the crossing went fine.
So I crossed the swamp and continued to where the cows should be. No cows. So I widen my search until I find them out in the swamp. I called for the cows, but they will have nothing to do with leaving the swamp. After a frustrating while, I chose to drive the tractor into the swamp after them. It seemed that if the cows were supported okay on their small feet, a tractor would also do fine.
The cows were slow to start moving. You know how cows are. Instead of hurrying out of the way, they just stand there with that cow look until the danger stops for them. Well, when I stopped for the cows to get moving, that was as far as the tractor would go. It was sitting there on slippery grass, but would go nowhere. Reverse did not help.
So, I shut the tractor off and followed the cows home. The milking went fine.
The next day, I went to school. As I got off the bus, returning home, my dad wanted to know where the tractor was. So I told him. He was not happy. I could see that he believed it was mired down. I tried to explain that it was not mired at all, but just sitting on slippery grass. To this day, I still can visualize the look of disbelief in his face.
Dad and Larry went and retrieved the tractor. All went fine, but to hear them tell how badly the tractor was stuck, was, and still is hard to accept. I wanted, but did not get, credit for shutting it down before I mired it.
Kayak Bandit
It all started when I was late to get the cows home from the pasture for milking. Most days you do not have to go get the cows, but some days, only known to why to the cows, they choose to stay out in the field. This day was one of them. We had them in a pasture that we did not often use. I was far away in the northeast corner of our farm.
To get to the spot where the cows were, you had to cross the swamp. Today I was not in the mood to cross the swamp on foot. A brainstorm. Since dad was away, he would not know that I had used the tractor to fetch the cows. After all, dad had this spot where he crossed the swamp. I had driven the tractor across that spot myself. And sure enough, the crossing went fine.
So I crossed the swamp and continued to where the cows should be. No cows. So I widen my search until I find them out in the swamp. I called for the cows, but they will have nothing to do with leaving the swamp. After a frustrating while, I chose to drive the tractor into the swamp after them. It seemed that if the cows were supported okay on their small feet, a tractor would also do fine.
The cows were slow to start moving. You know how cows are. Instead of hurrying out of the way, they just stand there with that cow look until the danger stops for them. Well, when I stopped for the cows to get moving, that was as far as the tractor would go. It was sitting there on slippery grass, but would go nowhere. Reverse did not help.
So, I shut the tractor off and followed the cows home. The milking went fine.
The next day, I went to school. As I got off the bus, returning home, my dad wanted to know where the tractor was. So I told him. He was not happy. I could see that he believed it was mired down. I tried to explain that it was not mired at all, but just sitting on slippery grass. To this day, I still can visualize the look of disbelief in his face.
Dad and Larry went and retrieved the tractor. All went fine, but to hear them tell how badly the tractor was stuck, was, and still is hard to accept. I wanted, but did not get, credit for shutting it down before I mired it.
Kayak Bandit
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Learning To Ride A Bike
Not one of us kids had a bicycle that I remember. I guess I was about eight and had never been exposed to a bike. This all changed one afternoon when we were visiting the Koranda family. Averil was my mom's best friend. They had several kids and we did too.
I always liked the name of the girl my age. Sandra Koranda. It has such a nice ring for such a nice girl.
But I digress. Someone had a bicycle and I was encouraged to try and ride it. I remember positioning the bicycle with the back tire on a slight hill. There was something next to this spot that was elevated enough for me to stand on with one foot while I straddled the bike. I would turn the peddles enough that the one on the far side of the bike was started on the down stroke. I would lean more and more away from my perch until the weight on the peddle and the slope of the little hill propelled me and the bike.
At first, I would crash instantly. Eventually I was able to go all the way across the back yard. This bike was much too big for me. I remember avoiding bottoming out on the crossbar. Stopping was the big issue. I could not reach the ground while the bike was vertical. I had to lean the bike all the way to one side. The problem was timing the lean to be in coincidence with stopping. Leaning over to the side at high speed was not good.
I was so proud to learn to ride a bike in just one day. The next problem was getting a bike of my own. We did not visit someone with a bike often, so I had to get one of my own.
I always liked the name of the girl my age. Sandra Koranda. It has such a nice ring for such a nice girl.
But I digress. Someone had a bicycle and I was encouraged to try and ride it. I remember positioning the bicycle with the back tire on a slight hill. There was something next to this spot that was elevated enough for me to stand on with one foot while I straddled the bike. I would turn the peddles enough that the one on the far side of the bike was started on the down stroke. I would lean more and more away from my perch until the weight on the peddle and the slope of the little hill propelled me and the bike.
At first, I would crash instantly. Eventually I was able to go all the way across the back yard. This bike was much too big for me. I remember avoiding bottoming out on the crossbar. Stopping was the big issue. I could not reach the ground while the bike was vertical. I had to lean the bike all the way to one side. The problem was timing the lean to be in coincidence with stopping. Leaning over to the side at high speed was not good.
I was so proud to learn to ride a bike in just one day. The next problem was getting a bike of my own. We did not visit someone with a bike often, so I had to get one of my own.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
All Wound Up
When I was young, it was fun to play in my grandparent's attic with my cousin Chuck. There were interesting things to snoop through. But the very most fun was the old wind up phonograph. Here are the words to one of the songs I remember:
There'll be Smoke On The Water
On the Land and the Sea
When Our Army and Navy over-take the En-e-my
There'll be Smoke on the Mountain
Where the Heathen Gods Stay
And the Sun that is Shinin'
Will go Down on that Day.
Here is one we all remember. Oops I am dating myself. So maybe you don't remember.
Way down upon the Swanee River,
Far, far away
That's where my heart is turning ever
That's where the old folks stay
All up and down the whole creation,
Sadly I roam
Still longing for the old plantation
And for the old folks at home
Chorus:
All the world is sad and dreary everywhere I roam
Oh darkies, how my heart grows weary
Far from the old folks at home
I sure wanted one of those phonographs. When we first started playing it, the top of the phonograph was about the same height as me. I would stand on my tip toes to put the record on the turntable. Then when we got it wound up, we would turn it on by throwing this one lever. The song would start out just fine, but by the end of the record, the tune would start to slow down.
Yep, just another day in grandpa's attic.
Kayak Bandit
There'll be Smoke On The Water
On the Land and the Sea
When Our Army and Navy over-take the En-e-my
There'll be Smoke on the Mountain
Where the Heathen Gods Stay
And the Sun that is Shinin'
Will go Down on that Day.
Here is one we all remember. Oops I am dating myself. So maybe you don't remember.
Way down upon the Swanee River,
Far, far away
That's where my heart is turning ever
That's where the old folks stay
All up and down the whole creation,
Sadly I roam
Still longing for the old plantation
And for the old folks at home
Chorus:
All the world is sad and dreary everywhere I roam
Oh darkies, how my heart grows weary
Far from the old folks at home
I sure wanted one of those phonographs. When we first started playing it, the top of the phonograph was about the same height as me. I would stand on my tip toes to put the record on the turntable. Then when we got it wound up, we would turn it on by throwing this one lever. The song would start out just fine, but by the end of the record, the tune would start to slow down.
Yep, just another day in grandpa's attic.
Kayak Bandit
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Fun on the Water Report
Well, my family did me proud. Here is the Link to tell you all about the rest of the weekend.
What can I add. Stop the applause. I know you are happy to read someone else' ramblings, but don't get carried away!
Kayak Bandit
What can I add. Stop the applause. I know you are happy to read someone else' ramblings, but don't get carried away!
Kayak Bandit
Monday, July 14, 2008
Spoiled - - Not Yet
So, I came home from work Friday evening. It has been five grueling days. I deserved a good meat and potato meal. I set my stuff down on the counter and go straight to the freezer in the basement. As I open the freezer door, I notice the puddle of water in the very bottom compartment.
That is not good. So, I check the cord. It is plugged in just fine. What about the thermostat? Yep, it is set at number seven where it is supposed to be set. Hmm. Next I switch on the washing machine to see if it works. Yep, works fine. So I plug the freezer where the washer had been. Nothing.
Okay, so now I have a whole freezer full of stuff to deal with. I took everything from the top shelf of the freezer to the bar-b-que. I fired the old girl up and stuck three beef chuck roast on the one end and on the other end, the eight pork cutlets. That filled the grill.
So I go back down stairs and realize I cannot cook up all the rest that is in the freezer. The lower shelves of the freezer are still mostly frozen. I call my friend Jim. He agrees to come over with a cooler and haul the frozen foods back to their home. Shirley is going to cook up this giant bottom round. I originally bought it to make into beef jerky. Someone stole the doors from my smoker, so I have to retool before smoking any more meet. I think they stole the doors for the value of the aluminum. I would gladly give the crook what he got for them, if only to have them back.
Tomorrow, I need to clean the vegetables from the mess. I plan to put them onto my compost pile. This is a sad way to be forced to thaw my freezer. I think I have had this freezer for about nineteen years. It has worked flawlessly the whole time. I hope there is some simple fix. Maybe, a reset button or something.
Wish me luck,
Kayak Bandit
That is not good. So, I check the cord. It is plugged in just fine. What about the thermostat? Yep, it is set at number seven where it is supposed to be set. Hmm. Next I switch on the washing machine to see if it works. Yep, works fine. So I plug the freezer where the washer had been. Nothing.
Okay, so now I have a whole freezer full of stuff to deal with. I took everything from the top shelf of the freezer to the bar-b-que. I fired the old girl up and stuck three beef chuck roast on the one end and on the other end, the eight pork cutlets. That filled the grill.
So I go back down stairs and realize I cannot cook up all the rest that is in the freezer. The lower shelves of the freezer are still mostly frozen. I call my friend Jim. He agrees to come over with a cooler and haul the frozen foods back to their home. Shirley is going to cook up this giant bottom round. I originally bought it to make into beef jerky. Someone stole the doors from my smoker, so I have to retool before smoking any more meet. I think they stole the doors for the value of the aluminum. I would gladly give the crook what he got for them, if only to have them back.
Tomorrow, I need to clean the vegetables from the mess. I plan to put them onto my compost pile. This is a sad way to be forced to thaw my freezer. I think I have had this freezer for about nineteen years. It has worked flawlessly the whole time. I hope there is some simple fix. Maybe, a reset button or something.
Wish me luck,
Kayak Bandit
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Fun on the Water
I am so very proud of my circle of friends and family. I think I will share a little about it right now. My sister, Barb, is my best friend in life. We really, really appreciate each other. Our kids grew up together. Many wonderful memories. Barb is an adventurous person. and this blog Surprise - Surprise is written by her husband Dick, "The Red Lion Man". Can you believe that my dear (sixty two year old) sister is going to ski in a tournament with her daughter and her granddaughter? Do you see why I am so proud of my family?
Dick has a sister named Galilee that works with a letterboxer named (Yiker) Angela. Angela may very likely convince Galilee and others to take up the hobby (addiction) of letterboxing.
The circle of friends and family is also connected through Susan ( KuKu ), another letterboxer. You see, Susan contributes blogs to this site under the name Sue KuKu. Well, Susan and Angela are long time best friends.
But that is not all. Susan and I became friends when we were both trying to get Atlas Quest to install a board for us to communicate on about my passion of kayaking and Susan's passion of Dragon Boat Racing. We did. eventually, get the board that we wanted. When I read a post by Susan wanting to share a ride to a letterboxing event that my daughter, Stephanie ( BalladoneBunch ) was planning to go to, I connected the two. They enjoyed each other a lot on that trip.
It is amazing to me how much smaller this World gets as we go through life. Our lives are many hundreds of miles apart, but we find ourselves together in spirit. I am so very grateful for the wonderful friends and family that I have.
I hope you write encouragement to my sister when you view her water skiing slide show.
Kayak Bandit
Dick has a sister named Galilee that works with a letterboxer named (Yiker) Angela. Angela may very likely convince Galilee and others to take up the hobby (addiction) of letterboxing.
The circle of friends and family is also connected through Susan ( KuKu ), another letterboxer. You see, Susan contributes blogs to this site under the name Sue KuKu. Well, Susan and Angela are long time best friends.
But that is not all. Susan and I became friends when we were both trying to get Atlas Quest to install a board for us to communicate on about my passion of kayaking and Susan's passion of Dragon Boat Racing. We did. eventually, get the board that we wanted. When I read a post by Susan wanting to share a ride to a letterboxing event that my daughter, Stephanie ( BalladoneBunch ) was planning to go to, I connected the two. They enjoyed each other a lot on that trip.
It is amazing to me how much smaller this World gets as we go through life. Our lives are many hundreds of miles apart, but we find ourselves together in spirit. I am so very grateful for the wonderful friends and family that I have.
I hope you write encouragement to my sister when you view her water skiing slide show.
Kayak Bandit
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
