Harvard educated Howard Elliot, a man born of affluence, was used to getting what he wanted. The president of the Northern Pacific Railroad, naturally reserved, patient, and moderate in his approach, decided against building his own private railroad car, however, opting instead to purchase an observation car from the Barney-Smith company. This railroad observation car, number 1787, served as the presidential car until it was replaced in 1931. Purchased by Frank Knight in Seattle, Knight transformed number 1787 into a diner that occupied a place of prominence in Seattle for sixty years. Eventually, the diner found its new home in Spokane and now it occupies an equally impressive position in that eastern Washington community. It routinely wins accolades for serving Spokane’s best breakfasts.
We can testify to that boast having sampled the incredible food Frank’s Diner serves while on a recent road trip through the upper West. Remodeled to reflect the sumptuous richness of the early twentieth century when Elliot used it as his presidential car, the interior of the diner is beautifully finished with inlaid red-brown paneling. Period stained glass fixtures shed a diffused light over the ornate wooden trim, paneling, and matching bartop.
And then there’s the grill. Just on the other side of the bar, Greg, one of the diner cooks cracks eggs by the basket ful while keeping one eye on the puddles of bubbling pancake batter and the mountain of butter-frosted hashbrowns. Beneath the paneled bartop, bacon and sausage sizzle and the aroma acts as an effective appetizer. Our mouths watered as the waitress squeezed past Greg and took our order.
Before we knew it our waitress had placed our meals on the counter along with our drinks and dinnerware and we were off and running. We were able to order our hashbrowns and eggs cooked just the way we like them and Greg didn’t disappoint us. Brown and crispy, the huge helping of hashbrowns nearly overwhelmed the rest of the meal. The sausage—not the ordinary slim little wrinkled brown black fingers of overcooked spicy meat—were also immense, cooked to a turn, and flavorful.
Stuffed to the brim, we paid our bill, chatted ever so briefly with the busy congenial waitress, and made our way through the line of patrons filling the space between the bar and the outside wall of the railroad car to the back of the diner. Pausing on the platform that serves as the unique entrance, we gawked at the incredibly packed former observation and presidential railroad car and marveled at the amount of food and tastiness of the “best breakfast in Spokane”.
Unquestionably, it was one of the highlights of our trip and well worth your time to look up Frank’s Diner in downtown Spokane, Washington.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Repairing Cast Iron Soil Pipe
Repair broken sewer pipe easily
Cast iron pipe rots. It will take a long time, but, eventually, cast iron pipe, the old bell and spigot type, will deteriorate to the point that it becomes punky and soft. You may discover that a section of the old pipe under your house is cracked and leaking. How do you remove and replace it?
Preparation – Choose The Right Tool
1. The first thing to do is rent a pair of soil pipe cutters. Most rental stores, and even some hardware stores, carry these specialized tools and rent them out to their customers. There are two types of soil pipe cutters. One operates with a ratchet handle. This type works especially well in tight places like crawl spaces and in between stud and joist spaces. You loosen or open up the cutter chain jaws with the knob, place the cutter chain around the soil pipe and engage the chain with the jaws, then tighten the knob. Once you have the chain in place and tight, you operate the ratchet handle until the cutter chain breaks the cast iron soil pipe. These tools require some experience to operate successfully. If you are unfamiliar with this tool, ask someone at the rental yard or hardware store to demonstrate it for you.
1. The second type is a large soil pipe cutter that looks somewhat like a pair of pliers with a cutter chain attached to the end of pliers. You need quite a bit of space to operate these cutters. They work great outside and in ditches. Once again, you loosen or open up the jaws with an adjustment handle near the jaws of the unit, place the cutter chain around the soil pipe where you want to cut it, tighten the adjustment handle which should open the handles of the soil pipe cutter far apart. Resting one handle on the ground or against yourself, press the other handle together toward the first one like closing a pair of pliers. If you have adjusted the soil pipe cutter properly the cast iron soil pipe will break cleanly.
The Problem
1. The problem comes in trying to cut that old deteriorated cast iron soil pipe. You have to keep cutting away at it until you find a section of the pipe that is solid enough to cut cleanly.
The Repair
Then clean the outside of the pipe well, slide your Fernco or Mission rubber coupling over both ends of the old cast iron pipe, cut a new section of ABS or PVC DWV (drain, waste, and vent) plastic soil pipe to fit and install the couplings.
Tips and Tricks
1. You can also use no-hub couplings of the proper size to make your connections.
2. The clamps on the couplings should be tightened with a special torque wrench or to 12-inch pounds. Do not over tighten the clamps or they will strip.
1. Note that DWV or drain, waste, and vent plastic pipe is the same or nearly the same outside dimension as cast iron soil pipe. But copper DWV pipe is a different outside diameter entirely and cannot be used in this instance.
Cast iron pipe rots. It will take a long time, but, eventually, cast iron pipe, the old bell and spigot type, will deteriorate to the point that it becomes punky and soft. You may discover that a section of the old pipe under your house is cracked and leaking. How do you remove and replace it?
Preparation – Choose The Right Tool
1. The first thing to do is rent a pair of soil pipe cutters. Most rental stores, and even some hardware stores, carry these specialized tools and rent them out to their customers. There are two types of soil pipe cutters. One operates with a ratchet handle. This type works especially well in tight places like crawl spaces and in between stud and joist spaces. You loosen or open up the cutter chain jaws with the knob, place the cutter chain around the soil pipe and engage the chain with the jaws, then tighten the knob. Once you have the chain in place and tight, you operate the ratchet handle until the cutter chain breaks the cast iron soil pipe. These tools require some experience to operate successfully. If you are unfamiliar with this tool, ask someone at the rental yard or hardware store to demonstrate it for you.
1. The second type is a large soil pipe cutter that looks somewhat like a pair of pliers with a cutter chain attached to the end of pliers. You need quite a bit of space to operate these cutters. They work great outside and in ditches. Once again, you loosen or open up the jaws with an adjustment handle near the jaws of the unit, place the cutter chain around the soil pipe where you want to cut it, tighten the adjustment handle which should open the handles of the soil pipe cutter far apart. Resting one handle on the ground or against yourself, press the other handle together toward the first one like closing a pair of pliers. If you have adjusted the soil pipe cutter properly the cast iron soil pipe will break cleanly.
The Problem
1. The problem comes in trying to cut that old deteriorated cast iron soil pipe. You have to keep cutting away at it until you find a section of the pipe that is solid enough to cut cleanly.
The Repair
Then clean the outside of the pipe well, slide your Fernco or Mission rubber coupling over both ends of the old cast iron pipe, cut a new section of ABS or PVC DWV (drain, waste, and vent) plastic soil pipe to fit and install the couplings.
Tips and Tricks
1. You can also use no-hub couplings of the proper size to make your connections.
2. The clamps on the couplings should be tightened with a special torque wrench or to 12-inch pounds. Do not over tighten the clamps or they will strip.
1. Note that DWV or drain, waste, and vent plastic pipe is the same or nearly the same outside dimension as cast iron soil pipe. But copper DWV pipe is a different outside diameter entirely and cannot be used in this instance.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
The Antiquarian Chronicles Book Trailer
Finally! The long-awaited The Antiquarian Chronicles book trailer has arrived! Buy your pre-release copy through Tate Publishing's online bookstore or through me. Just email me at: JerryL_Watson@hotmail.com. Only $18.99 while supplies last!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The Antiquarian Chronicles
My new novel, The Antiquarian Chronicles, is about to be released by Tate Publishing. It is finishing up the final review process and will then be sent to the printers. Be notified of the release date or to request your own autographed copy by sending an email to me at: Jerry.Watson09@gmail.com or JerryL_Watson@hotmail.com
Stay tuned in to find out when the sequel is coming out as well.
My next novel is well under way. It is the story of four young Mexican men working on a ranch in central Arizona during the Spanish American War. They struggle with violence, racism, unemployment, and whether or not to join the First U.S. Volunteer Cavalry, Roosevelt's Rough Rider Regiment, to go fight in Cuba.
Stay tuned in to find out when the sequel is coming out as well.
My next novel is well under way. It is the story of four young Mexican men working on a ranch in central Arizona during the Spanish American War. They struggle with violence, racism, unemployment, and whether or not to join the First U.S. Volunteer Cavalry, Roosevelt's Rough Rider Regiment, to go fight in Cuba.
Friday, November 02, 2007
The Hunting Trip from Hades
The air lately had felt crisp and cool and the primitive pall of hunting fever had overtaken me. I had been spending my waking hours thinking about hunting, and my sleeping hours dreaming about it. I had even gone so far as to purchase some cold weather gear and my hunting license.
I had also gone grouse hunting a couple of times to eastern Washington so I knew where I wanted to go deer hunting this year. The deer were thick in Okanagan county and the prospects never looked better so I made my plans for a third trip there for that once in a lifetime buck.
The time off finally arrived and my wife encouraged me to pack the pickup and take off for three days of hunting. I could hardly wait. My wife had even checked the weather for me and made motel reservations. She said the weather looked cloudy and wet but I had gear for that and knew that it rarely, if ever, snowed over there this time of year, at least in my experience.
So I left late on the first day, headed over the North Cascades Pass and arrived at my motel. My wife had made reservations there for two nights. It did look nasty out and the more I thought about it, the more certain I was that I should only stay for one night because I might get my deer and then I would have to head for home to arrange for a locker. Also, the weather just might possibly change and ruin any chances for me to bag some game. So, I asked the clerk if I could just pay for one night's stay. Of course, she was reluctant to allow that since my wife had made reservations for two nights and I hadn't given them forty eight hours notice. Well, we talked about it and she finally gave in.
I took my bags upstairs to my room, plopped them down on the floor, flipped on the tv, and laid across the bed to look at a book I had purchased about tree identification (another low key hobby of mine). I had taken off my glasses and was thumbing through the book while half listening to the tv when the bad aspects of the trip started in earnest. I rolled over on the bed and heard a crunching sound. I rolled back and found that I had rolled on my glasses. They were broken. The left temple hinge had pulled apart. I panicked. I had to have those glasses to see to drive, let alone see to shoot. I felt my temper rise as I tried to fix the glasses in the dim light. It was already seven o'clock and dark outside. I also needed the glasses in order to see to fix the glasses. It was one heck of a fix to be in. No spare glasses, and a long way from home. I was pretty sure I wouldn't find a place over there to get my glasses fixed so I puzzled over what to do. I finally remembered I had some fishing gear in the truck (in case I stumbled across a stream that looked promising and the deer hunting wasn't going too well) so I went uphill to the truck, dug around for a flashlight and realized I hadn't brought one. I felt through my gear until I found a spool of monofilament, took it back to the room, and spent the next four hours trying to bind the glasses back together. I finally got it about midnight but my spirits were getting gloomier by the hour. I went to bed and had the strangest dream. I dreamed that I had slid off the road up in the North Cascades Pass at a particularly precarious spot. I shook me pretty good and I couldn't get back to sleep so I flipped on the tube and watched tv off and on until daybreak.
I had gone to the store and purchased some fruit and stuff the night before so I had some oranges and snacks for breakfast and headed out to find a glass repair place. I had to drive to the next town and explore until I found one that didn't open until ten o'clock. So I had some time to kill. I stopped at a mini-mart type store for some coffee and a breakfast roll. When I took the stuff to the counter to pay, I offered the clerk my Visa card. She said it was three dollars and some cents and she couldn't take a Visa card for less than five dollars so I asked her to ring five dollars up and give me the change. She said they couldn't give change on debit transactions. It figured. So, I went without coffee or a breakfast roll.
Then I decided my glasses repair job were holding up very well and I would just go hunting and try to forget about all the inconveniences so far. I headed up into the hills where I had previously decided to hunt and it started snowing. Very lightly at first, almost a light rain with a little spitting snow here and there. I figured that might work to my advantage in that it might be snowing harder up higher in the hills and work to drive the deer down to lower elevations. But the longer I hunted that morning, the harder it snowed until I decided I had better bag the hunting and get back over the pass while I still could. It wasn't inconceivable that the DOT might close the pass if enough snow fell. So, I went back to town, checked out of the motel, and the new desk clerk scolded me for not giving forty eight hours notice of not using the second night's reservation. I apologized and left. I worked my way up into the pass and was about a half hour from town when my previous night's mare came true.
I was climbing a long grade in a regular snow storm, and wondering if my all season radials were enough to get me over the pass (I had totally forgotten to bring my snow chains and a shovel) when I was going around a curve in the road, and the pickup's rear end slid around to the left. I counter steered but just as rapidly the rear end whipped around to the right. There was a very deep steep canyon on the left side of the road and a mountain side rising up on the right. I was able to keep the pickup from spinning completely around but the rear end caught the shoulder of the road and the next thing I knew I was headed straight for the ditch. The front end of the pickup slammed into the mountainside, the pickup bounced, and spun, and the rear end hit the mountainside in the same place. I sat there for a minute taking stock. I was uninjured, I had survival gear in the back and lots of food in the front seat. The pickup was still running so I knew there had been no serious damage to the engine and I was grateful for that. I had actually been traveling about twenty five or thirty at the most when I hit the ditch. The snow was falling steadily now and there were just two tracks on the highway. It wasn't long before a vehicle came by. I was standing outside the truck as they passed and stared. In the next four hours I couldn't believe how many people passed me with the same response. No one stopped but an older man and his wife did slow down, she leaned out the window and asked if I was alright. I shouted I was and she asked if I wanted them to call for help. I shouted I did and thanked them. Then I got back in the truck and tried to keep warm and keep from worrying as I watched the snow fall harder and harder. Many more people passed me including a snow plow that veered slightly away from my vehicle but still managed to throw a lot of snow up over my truck. He not only didn't stop, as it turned out, he didn't even call in to the DOT to let them know someone was stranded in the pass.
I got out of the truck again to try to assess the damage to my vehicle and see if I could extricate myself since it was apparent I wasn't going to get any help from anybody else. I saw that my right front tire was blown. I couldn't get to my spare because it was under the pickup and you had to get to it from the back but the backend of my truck was up against the mountainside. Then I noticed around the curve where I sat and about three hundred yards up the highway, three vehicles had stopped in the middle of the road. Not having anything better to do and wondering if they needed help, I walked up there. A woman was kneeling beside her car putting chains on and I asked her if she needed any help with them. She was nice and chatty and said no, she had put her chains on twice that day already. So, I went up to the next car where two men were struggling to put their chains on. I asked them if they needed help and since the driver couldn't speak english, I just went ahead and put the chains on for him. None of the three people asked where I had come from, if I was alright, or if I needed a ride. So, I just went back after they left and resumed sitting in my pickup in my now-snow soaked coveralls. I took to turning on the hazard lights every time I saw a vehicle but no one would stop for a couple of hours. I was beginning to sweat a little with worry and wonder if I was going to have to spend the night or longer trapped when a large heavily loaded suv went past. I flashed my lights at them but they went on. Then, much to my surprise, they returned and stopped. I jumped out and talked with them. They were two older hunters and they offered me a ride into town. Of course, I jumped at the chance. Greatly relieved, I climbed in beside them and found out they were having transmission troubles. But we finally got down off the mountain. As we approached Mazama, a small little road stop off highway twenty, they talked about dropping me off there. I encouraged them to go on into the next town where there was a garage. They finally agreed to. So we all wound up at the Chevron station in Winthrop. The garage owner had two wreckers. I asked his wife who ran the station if he could go get my truck. I got another shock when she said he was awful busy and wouldn't be able to. We talked for awhile and it sounded like she was softening a little. She was surprisingly reluctant to help. It took me awhile to get to talk to him. He was out picking up a vehicle with his wrecker. When he finally did get back, he also didn't want to go up in the pass. I talked and talked with them both, offering to pay whatever they charged. I had no other idea how to get my truck otherwise. Finally late in the afternoon, he agreed if he could bring my truck back to his garage and fix it. So, I grabbed a bowl of soup and off we went.
When we finally got up in the pass to where my truck was and got it pulled out, I found the only damage was to the front bumper and the right front tire. The bumper was no big deal, and the tow truck driver helped me change the tire. Then he left and I drove, VERY SLOWLY, back down the mountain to town.
While we were working on the truck, the WSP stopped by. The trooper never even got out of his car to inquire after my health, he just rolled the passenger window down and scolded the tow truck driver for coming out to get me without being dispatched by the state patrol. Well, it turned out that no one had even contacted the state patrol about my wreck. I shudder to think how long I could have been stranded in that pass before someone might have come along who disregarded the "rules" and offered assistance. I cannot thank those two older gentlemen enough for what they did. I offered to pay them for their service and they refused all offers. They are true AMERICANS in my book. By contrast, I feel nothing but pity for people who are so concerned about themselves that they cannot stop to offer assistance to someone else in need. Even the Washington State Patrol is more concerned with following stupid, arcane, rules than implementing their mission statement which is to protect and serve.
Needless to say, I stopped at another town and bought a set of tire chains, then proceeded south to Wenatchee and then west to leavenworth. It was late that night and raining when I pulled into Leavenworth. I immediately checked the Stevens pass report and my heart sank. They were forecasting snow of all things and a traction advisory was in effect.
Well, I couldn't face the possibility of another snow bound incident like the one I had just been through only worse in the darkness and falling temperatures so I got a motel room for the night in Leavenworth. After a good night's sleep and talking with my wife over the phone, I was ready to tackle Stevens Pass the next morning. Thankfully, the snow had melted and the roadway was just bare and wet. So, I made it all the way home in a damaged truck after a long drive.
Of all the most frustrating moments I experienced in that miserable forty eight hours, one of the worst was all the deer I saw in the back of pickups. I just knew that I stood a good chance of bagging a buck. I was so prepared for the hunt with all the right gear. I had thought of everything . . . except bad weather, accidents, and spare glasses.
If I was to offer anyone going on a trip advice, it would be this. Stop, think, prepare for any and every contingency. Don't rely on anyone coming to your aid. Chances of that happening are remote at best. Your survival is up to you.
I had also gone grouse hunting a couple of times to eastern Washington so I knew where I wanted to go deer hunting this year. The deer were thick in Okanagan county and the prospects never looked better so I made my plans for a third trip there for that once in a lifetime buck.
The time off finally arrived and my wife encouraged me to pack the pickup and take off for three days of hunting. I could hardly wait. My wife had even checked the weather for me and made motel reservations. She said the weather looked cloudy and wet but I had gear for that and knew that it rarely, if ever, snowed over there this time of year, at least in my experience.
So I left late on the first day, headed over the North Cascades Pass and arrived at my motel. My wife had made reservations there for two nights. It did look nasty out and the more I thought about it, the more certain I was that I should only stay for one night because I might get my deer and then I would have to head for home to arrange for a locker. Also, the weather just might possibly change and ruin any chances for me to bag some game. So, I asked the clerk if I could just pay for one night's stay. Of course, she was reluctant to allow that since my wife had made reservations for two nights and I hadn't given them forty eight hours notice. Well, we talked about it and she finally gave in.
I took my bags upstairs to my room, plopped them down on the floor, flipped on the tv, and laid across the bed to look at a book I had purchased about tree identification (another low key hobby of mine). I had taken off my glasses and was thumbing through the book while half listening to the tv when the bad aspects of the trip started in earnest. I rolled over on the bed and heard a crunching sound. I rolled back and found that I had rolled on my glasses. They were broken. The left temple hinge had pulled apart. I panicked. I had to have those glasses to see to drive, let alone see to shoot. I felt my temper rise as I tried to fix the glasses in the dim light. It was already seven o'clock and dark outside. I also needed the glasses in order to see to fix the glasses. It was one heck of a fix to be in. No spare glasses, and a long way from home. I was pretty sure I wouldn't find a place over there to get my glasses fixed so I puzzled over what to do. I finally remembered I had some fishing gear in the truck (in case I stumbled across a stream that looked promising and the deer hunting wasn't going too well) so I went uphill to the truck, dug around for a flashlight and realized I hadn't brought one. I felt through my gear until I found a spool of monofilament, took it back to the room, and spent the next four hours trying to bind the glasses back together. I finally got it about midnight but my spirits were getting gloomier by the hour. I went to bed and had the strangest dream. I dreamed that I had slid off the road up in the North Cascades Pass at a particularly precarious spot. I shook me pretty good and I couldn't get back to sleep so I flipped on the tube and watched tv off and on until daybreak.
I had gone to the store and purchased some fruit and stuff the night before so I had some oranges and snacks for breakfast and headed out to find a glass repair place. I had to drive to the next town and explore until I found one that didn't open until ten o'clock. So I had some time to kill. I stopped at a mini-mart type store for some coffee and a breakfast roll. When I took the stuff to the counter to pay, I offered the clerk my Visa card. She said it was three dollars and some cents and she couldn't take a Visa card for less than five dollars so I asked her to ring five dollars up and give me the change. She said they couldn't give change on debit transactions. It figured. So, I went without coffee or a breakfast roll.
Then I decided my glasses repair job were holding up very well and I would just go hunting and try to forget about all the inconveniences so far. I headed up into the hills where I had previously decided to hunt and it started snowing. Very lightly at first, almost a light rain with a little spitting snow here and there. I figured that might work to my advantage in that it might be snowing harder up higher in the hills and work to drive the deer down to lower elevations. But the longer I hunted that morning, the harder it snowed until I decided I had better bag the hunting and get back over the pass while I still could. It wasn't inconceivable that the DOT might close the pass if enough snow fell. So, I went back to town, checked out of the motel, and the new desk clerk scolded me for not giving forty eight hours notice of not using the second night's reservation. I apologized and left. I worked my way up into the pass and was about a half hour from town when my previous night's mare came true.
I was climbing a long grade in a regular snow storm, and wondering if my all season radials were enough to get me over the pass (I had totally forgotten to bring my snow chains and a shovel) when I was going around a curve in the road, and the pickup's rear end slid around to the left. I counter steered but just as rapidly the rear end whipped around to the right. There was a very deep steep canyon on the left side of the road and a mountain side rising up on the right. I was able to keep the pickup from spinning completely around but the rear end caught the shoulder of the road and the next thing I knew I was headed straight for the ditch. The front end of the pickup slammed into the mountainside, the pickup bounced, and spun, and the rear end hit the mountainside in the same place. I sat there for a minute taking stock. I was uninjured, I had survival gear in the back and lots of food in the front seat. The pickup was still running so I knew there had been no serious damage to the engine and I was grateful for that. I had actually been traveling about twenty five or thirty at the most when I hit the ditch. The snow was falling steadily now and there were just two tracks on the highway. It wasn't long before a vehicle came by. I was standing outside the truck as they passed and stared. In the next four hours I couldn't believe how many people passed me with the same response. No one stopped but an older man and his wife did slow down, she leaned out the window and asked if I was alright. I shouted I was and she asked if I wanted them to call for help. I shouted I did and thanked them. Then I got back in the truck and tried to keep warm and keep from worrying as I watched the snow fall harder and harder. Many more people passed me including a snow plow that veered slightly away from my vehicle but still managed to throw a lot of snow up over my truck. He not only didn't stop, as it turned out, he didn't even call in to the DOT to let them know someone was stranded in the pass.
I got out of the truck again to try to assess the damage to my vehicle and see if I could extricate myself since it was apparent I wasn't going to get any help from anybody else. I saw that my right front tire was blown. I couldn't get to my spare because it was under the pickup and you had to get to it from the back but the backend of my truck was up against the mountainside. Then I noticed around the curve where I sat and about three hundred yards up the highway, three vehicles had stopped in the middle of the road. Not having anything better to do and wondering if they needed help, I walked up there. A woman was kneeling beside her car putting chains on and I asked her if she needed any help with them. She was nice and chatty and said no, she had put her chains on twice that day already. So, I went up to the next car where two men were struggling to put their chains on. I asked them if they needed help and since the driver couldn't speak english, I just went ahead and put the chains on for him. None of the three people asked where I had come from, if I was alright, or if I needed a ride. So, I just went back after they left and resumed sitting in my pickup in my now-snow soaked coveralls. I took to turning on the hazard lights every time I saw a vehicle but no one would stop for a couple of hours. I was beginning to sweat a little with worry and wonder if I was going to have to spend the night or longer trapped when a large heavily loaded suv went past. I flashed my lights at them but they went on. Then, much to my surprise, they returned and stopped. I jumped out and talked with them. They were two older hunters and they offered me a ride into town. Of course, I jumped at the chance. Greatly relieved, I climbed in beside them and found out they were having transmission troubles. But we finally got down off the mountain. As we approached Mazama, a small little road stop off highway twenty, they talked about dropping me off there. I encouraged them to go on into the next town where there was a garage. They finally agreed to. So we all wound up at the Chevron station in Winthrop. The garage owner had two wreckers. I asked his wife who ran the station if he could go get my truck. I got another shock when she said he was awful busy and wouldn't be able to. We talked for awhile and it sounded like she was softening a little. She was surprisingly reluctant to help. It took me awhile to get to talk to him. He was out picking up a vehicle with his wrecker. When he finally did get back, he also didn't want to go up in the pass. I talked and talked with them both, offering to pay whatever they charged. I had no other idea how to get my truck otherwise. Finally late in the afternoon, he agreed if he could bring my truck back to his garage and fix it. So, I grabbed a bowl of soup and off we went.
When we finally got up in the pass to where my truck was and got it pulled out, I found the only damage was to the front bumper and the right front tire. The bumper was no big deal, and the tow truck driver helped me change the tire. Then he left and I drove, VERY SLOWLY, back down the mountain to town.
While we were working on the truck, the WSP stopped by. The trooper never even got out of his car to inquire after my health, he just rolled the passenger window down and scolded the tow truck driver for coming out to get me without being dispatched by the state patrol. Well, it turned out that no one had even contacted the state patrol about my wreck. I shudder to think how long I could have been stranded in that pass before someone might have come along who disregarded the "rules" and offered assistance. I cannot thank those two older gentlemen enough for what they did. I offered to pay them for their service and they refused all offers. They are true AMERICANS in my book. By contrast, I feel nothing but pity for people who are so concerned about themselves that they cannot stop to offer assistance to someone else in need. Even the Washington State Patrol is more concerned with following stupid, arcane, rules than implementing their mission statement which is to protect and serve.
Needless to say, I stopped at another town and bought a set of tire chains, then proceeded south to Wenatchee and then west to leavenworth. It was late that night and raining when I pulled into Leavenworth. I immediately checked the Stevens pass report and my heart sank. They were forecasting snow of all things and a traction advisory was in effect.
Well, I couldn't face the possibility of another snow bound incident like the one I had just been through only worse in the darkness and falling temperatures so I got a motel room for the night in Leavenworth. After a good night's sleep and talking with my wife over the phone, I was ready to tackle Stevens Pass the next morning. Thankfully, the snow had melted and the roadway was just bare and wet. So, I made it all the way home in a damaged truck after a long drive.
Of all the most frustrating moments I experienced in that miserable forty eight hours, one of the worst was all the deer I saw in the back of pickups. I just knew that I stood a good chance of bagging a buck. I was so prepared for the hunt with all the right gear. I had thought of everything . . . except bad weather, accidents, and spare glasses.
If I was to offer anyone going on a trip advice, it would be this. Stop, think, prepare for any and every contingency. Don't rely on anyone coming to your aid. Chances of that happening are remote at best. Your survival is up to you.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Hobbies
I took up two new hobbies last year: fly tying and orienteering.
Most everybody knows what fly tying is. One takes an assortment of hooks, feathers, thread and other assorted bits and pieces and assembles them in a certain fashion on a particular size hook for a particular species of fish. I started doing it in hopes of making some extra money but, as so often happens, it was a scam, or if not an outright scam, an unethical enterprise. So I kept the tools and made myself an assortment of Woolly buggers. It was fun, relaxing, interesting and I can't wait to take them out on the water. Need to find a boat trailer first.
Orienteering is a not-so-new twist on a old hobby: Hiking. Only in orienteering you use a compass to find your way as opposed to following a well marked trail. One of the intriquing aspects to orienteering is you don't have to stick to trails anymore. After learning how to use a compass and a map, you can strike out across country, over hills, mountains, deserts, whatever terrain, comfortable in the knowledge that you can find your way home again.
After pouring through a couple of books, I bought myself a good compass and purchased a USGS map of a particular area in which I was interested in exploring for the purpose of hunting. I had passed this particular place not far from the Mt. Baker National Forest and always wondered what lay up in those hills. I was curious especially if there were any deer up there. It looked like prime deer hunting.
I took a backpack well stocked with emergency supplies and struck out through the woods on a weekend. I studied the map I had taken, picked a landmark and a corresponding compass heading and took off. At first it was fairly flat going but after half an hour or so, the ground became increasingly thick with brush and sloped uphill. The map I had indicated this so it was no surprise. After I had made my way upward for about an hour, I came across some unbelievably thick ferns, and I found that deer had been bedding down in them. It looked like a veritable deer park, they had been so thick in there.
I kept checking my map and compass and had to stop more and more often to rest. At one point, as I rested waist deep in the wet ferns, I looked around and discovered that I no longer had a point of reference in relation to where I had started from. I felt a wave of panic rise in my gut for just an instant, and then I remembered my compass and map. I took them out, reoriented myself according to my initial compass heading and felt immeasureable reassurance. After getting my wind back, I struck out again, left the thick fern beds, and made the top of a ridge where the underbrush was not quite so thick. I hadn't gone much further, however, before I came to an area that had been logged off many years ago. The loggers had taken the bigger timber and left the smaller stuff lay on the forest floor creating a false forest floor that was easy to step through. It was the worst to manuever through because it seemed like I was forever stepping off a log or branch and falling. It took lots of time to move around logs and brush piles I couldn't climb over but I used my compass to plot those diversions and it was a pleasure to me to discover that I could return to my original compass heading.
As I crested the final ridge I could see my destination far ahead. I didn't realize, however, and the map I had didn't show very well, that I had to cross a large flat meadow that was, in reality, a swampy area thickly covered with wild rose bushes and other prickly plants like that. That area took me longer to traverse than the whole rest of the trip but the whole time I could see my destination so it was no big deal to wander back and forth trying to find an easier route through it. Eventually I made my way up to a logging road which marked the top of my route. Everything from there on out would be downhill.
The whole trip was one big thrill. I learned that I no longer had to be afraid to be out in the deep woods as long as I had a map and compass and a backpack stocked with the proper emergency supplies and first aid. I can't wait for the weather to clear and the work to allow for me to get back out there again this year. I have one trip planned already and hope to get to go orienteering in Eastern Washington as well.
For those of you who find yourself bored with the routine of following well traveled and well marked trails, invest some time in the sport of orienteering and discover anew the thrills of self sufficiency and adventure in moving over unmarked and untraveled terrain.
Most everybody knows what fly tying is. One takes an assortment of hooks, feathers, thread and other assorted bits and pieces and assembles them in a certain fashion on a particular size hook for a particular species of fish. I started doing it in hopes of making some extra money but, as so often happens, it was a scam, or if not an outright scam, an unethical enterprise. So I kept the tools and made myself an assortment of Woolly buggers. It was fun, relaxing, interesting and I can't wait to take them out on the water. Need to find a boat trailer first.
Orienteering is a not-so-new twist on a old hobby: Hiking. Only in orienteering you use a compass to find your way as opposed to following a well marked trail. One of the intriquing aspects to orienteering is you don't have to stick to trails anymore. After learning how to use a compass and a map, you can strike out across country, over hills, mountains, deserts, whatever terrain, comfortable in the knowledge that you can find your way home again.
After pouring through a couple of books, I bought myself a good compass and purchased a USGS map of a particular area in which I was interested in exploring for the purpose of hunting. I had passed this particular place not far from the Mt. Baker National Forest and always wondered what lay up in those hills. I was curious especially if there were any deer up there. It looked like prime deer hunting.
I took a backpack well stocked with emergency supplies and struck out through the woods on a weekend. I studied the map I had taken, picked a landmark and a corresponding compass heading and took off. At first it was fairly flat going but after half an hour or so, the ground became increasingly thick with brush and sloped uphill. The map I had indicated this so it was no surprise. After I had made my way upward for about an hour, I came across some unbelievably thick ferns, and I found that deer had been bedding down in them. It looked like a veritable deer park, they had been so thick in there.
I kept checking my map and compass and had to stop more and more often to rest. At one point, as I rested waist deep in the wet ferns, I looked around and discovered that I no longer had a point of reference in relation to where I had started from. I felt a wave of panic rise in my gut for just an instant, and then I remembered my compass and map. I took them out, reoriented myself according to my initial compass heading and felt immeasureable reassurance. After getting my wind back, I struck out again, left the thick fern beds, and made the top of a ridge where the underbrush was not quite so thick. I hadn't gone much further, however, before I came to an area that had been logged off many years ago. The loggers had taken the bigger timber and left the smaller stuff lay on the forest floor creating a false forest floor that was easy to step through. It was the worst to manuever through because it seemed like I was forever stepping off a log or branch and falling. It took lots of time to move around logs and brush piles I couldn't climb over but I used my compass to plot those diversions and it was a pleasure to me to discover that I could return to my original compass heading.
As I crested the final ridge I could see my destination far ahead. I didn't realize, however, and the map I had didn't show very well, that I had to cross a large flat meadow that was, in reality, a swampy area thickly covered with wild rose bushes and other prickly plants like that. That area took me longer to traverse than the whole rest of the trip but the whole time I could see my destination so it was no big deal to wander back and forth trying to find an easier route through it. Eventually I made my way up to a logging road which marked the top of my route. Everything from there on out would be downhill.
The whole trip was one big thrill. I learned that I no longer had to be afraid to be out in the deep woods as long as I had a map and compass and a backpack stocked with the proper emergency supplies and first aid. I can't wait for the weather to clear and the work to allow for me to get back out there again this year. I have one trip planned already and hope to get to go orienteering in Eastern Washington as well.
For those of you who find yourself bored with the routine of following well traveled and well marked trails, invest some time in the sport of orienteering and discover anew the thrills of self sufficiency and adventure in moving over unmarked and untraveled terrain.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Weekend whispers
My son came home today for awhile and we had a cowboy dinner and watched a movie (True Grit) together. It was so nice to see him! My wife made a great dish of barbecued spare ribs and baked beans. My insides objected strenuously but that didn't diminish the pleasure I derived from seeing my boy and eating well. The only thing I like to do better is watch John Wayne movies while wearing my cowboy hat and holding one of my guns. Sounds corny I know, but it adds a lot to the entertainment value. (And yes, I do have a Bowie knife I like to play with while watching the old Jim Bowie tv series.)
My wife is at the tail end of a severe cold virus and I hope I am too, or rather that I am just experiencing some more allergy symptoms. Both she and I have been to the doctor already this year. I came away with a prescription I can't use because of adverse side effects; she came away with three prescriptions she could use and a good scolding.
A couple came to the house this evening with their real estate agent and asked to look at our home. They came in and looked at each room with the expected amount of interest. Apparently they are interested enough to seek financing. Unfortunately, we have been down this road before.
I am hoping to make some progress with writing next week. I've been thinking about trying to get up earlier than I normally would and try to do research and preliminary work on some magazine articles, get out some query letters, and find an agent to send my book submission to.
I've also been thinking a lot about the opening where I work for a marketing writer and communications coordinator. I don't have any formal training doing that but I'm confident given a chance I could do it, at least after an initial break-in period and some on-the-job training.
I already approached my supervisor about shadowing someone in marketing and she said she'd look into it but I haven't heard anything since.
I also have given some thought to just going up to marketing, introducing myself to the manager of that department and asking if I could do an internship (paid or unpaid) there like maybe one day a week.
Might be a great experience for me. I wondered, too, if it might not be better to try to do the shadowing first to get an idea if it's really even anything I want to pursue or not. I like the creative aspect to it. I'm not sure if I could cope with the deadlines and pressure there any better than I can at my present position but the idea behind all this is to try and prepare myself to go back to work for myself eventually. I'd feel more confident if I could only get something published in paper, even locally.
My wife is at the tail end of a severe cold virus and I hope I am too, or rather that I am just experiencing some more allergy symptoms. Both she and I have been to the doctor already this year. I came away with a prescription I can't use because of adverse side effects; she came away with three prescriptions she could use and a good scolding.
A couple came to the house this evening with their real estate agent and asked to look at our home. They came in and looked at each room with the expected amount of interest. Apparently they are interested enough to seek financing. Unfortunately, we have been down this road before.
I am hoping to make some progress with writing next week. I've been thinking about trying to get up earlier than I normally would and try to do research and preliminary work on some magazine articles, get out some query letters, and find an agent to send my book submission to.
I've also been thinking a lot about the opening where I work for a marketing writer and communications coordinator. I don't have any formal training doing that but I'm confident given a chance I could do it, at least after an initial break-in period and some on-the-job training.
I already approached my supervisor about shadowing someone in marketing and she said she'd look into it but I haven't heard anything since.
I also have given some thought to just going up to marketing, introducing myself to the manager of that department and asking if I could do an internship (paid or unpaid) there like maybe one day a week.
Might be a great experience for me. I wondered, too, if it might not be better to try to do the shadowing first to get an idea if it's really even anything I want to pursue or not. I like the creative aspect to it. I'm not sure if I could cope with the deadlines and pressure there any better than I can at my present position but the idea behind all this is to try and prepare myself to go back to work for myself eventually. I'd feel more confident if I could only get something published in paper, even locally.
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