Goat Rocks -- 2005

It was the first week of August and summer had settled down to a calm laziness. The sky was clear and peaceful. The weather had turned and we entered a period of warm, dry weekends. It was the perfect time to enter the mountains of the northwest; in particular, the beautiful Cascades.

On the fourth day of the second week, we put together those things we felt compelled to take on our annual backpacking trip into the beautiful Goat rocks Wilderness. Tomorrow morning, at first light, we would load up our vehicles for the three hour drive to our trailhead, just south of Packwood, Washington.

It is always difficult to know what to take. We needed to be mindful that with each passing day, the weight of the pack appears to grow heavier with each step. Our intentions were good but we still managed to exceed those plans and we began the hike with the same weight that we wanted to avoid. Maybe this year will be different, we thought. Maybe we will be stronger. These thoughts, and others like them, darted in and out of my mind like spring Swallows foraging food for their young.

Being a year or two older since our last trip certainly couldn’t make our legs stronger. Each year seems to take its toll on our health. We find ourselves wondering if our strength will be enough. I wondered about what drives our motivation, but later, once we are making camp the first night, we only need to look around and view the scenic wonders of the mountains, to know.

The evening draws to a close. We must get some sleep because tomorrow will be a long day. I am also concerned that the longer I stay up, the more I keep finding to put into my pack, believing that I “need” this stuff.

Morning arrives early. We are eager to dress and get started. We are taking two vehicles this time and we have passengers to pick up. I put on my traveling clothes of blue jeans and sandals so the trip out of town would be more comfortable.

Finally we had everyone and our gear was loaded. We drove across the I-205 Bridge that connects Washington to Oregon. A hazy sky towards the east, up the mighty Columbia River, provided a clear view of the 11,240’ Mt. Hood, rising high above the Oregon Cascades. It’s going to be a great day for hiking.

....................to be continued

My early years were incomparable to any year of today's time. A country bumpkin, a hillbilly poor boy, and other descriptive words were indeed, us. At the time we didn't know we were poor because we lived in the mountains with poor folks who had no more than we did. I was about eight when electricity came along. After that, the only time we used the old coal oil lamps was during a power outage.
The radio was our mainstay of entertainment during those early years. After doing my school homework and chores that lasted until dark, I listened to the radio. If you ever hear about "old time radio shows", or see them on Cassette Tape, that's what we had, although at that time, they weren't "old timey".
My favorites were the Westerns. I can't remember all of them, but we enjoyed the likes of Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, Gabby Hayes, and several others. We couldn't "see" them, of course, but we had our imaginations to use and there were no limits! We knew the good guys wore white hats and had names for their horses, dogs and jeeps.
It was a good time to be raised. I miss those good old days.....

CHANGE: Is this the new Air Force One?

I realize that a lot of people don't care much for "Dubya" Bush. I also realize that a lot of people don't care much for ANYBODY!

Armchair Quarterbacks always make the touchdowns happen.....they NEVER lose, they NEVER quit, they NEVER faint under pressure and they NEVER throw a game. They ALWAYS win, ALWAYS do it right the first time, ALWAYS do it better than anyone else, and ALWAYS criticize everyone except themselves.

There was a time when America pulled together. There was a time when Americans got where they were going because of hard work, unity and perseverance. But today we sit back in our laziness and demand our rights to be served by our government with "hand-out" programs like welfare, free medical, housing subsidies, and our "rights" to always be rescued from our own ignorance.

It doesn't matter WHO the President is, Americans are not a respector of persons. Whooeee! We don't even respect the OFFICE of the Presidency. What man could leave the White House after 4 t0 8 years of serving as President of the United States WITH dark hair? Why does it turn white? Do you have to ask?

The President gets blamed for all the mistakes the government makes. Rightly so, because he's supposed to be Superman! He is supposed to know all of the answers BEFORE the questions are asked, do EVERYTHING right, and PLEASE EVERYBODY! AND, as we all know, he is the one who makes all the decisions that direct our government. Congress.....uh oh.....now we must have forgotten about the "Congress". What is it they do? I've heard of checks and balances, where one single solitary individual absolutely CANNOT control our government or what we do as a Nation, by himself. That must mean......the majority rule? Wow! What a concept! You wouldn't know it by the whining the minority do!!

Now, to THINK that America is a better place than any other place in the world, staggers the imagination! I have been all around the world and visited dozens of countries. There is no other place that I would rather live than the "Land of the free and Home of the Whiners".

But sometimes.....I wish it could be better.

Reminiscing

Having been raised in the good ‘ol South, back in the 1950’s, things were much simpler and laid back; not so much chaos like we have today with drugs, disrespect and degradation. My first school-house, for example, was a one-room school that taught five or six grades how to do the reading, writing and ‘rithmetic. I was 5 then. I distinctly remember one of the “upper grade classman” reading to me from a kids book about a Little Yellow Taxi” . It had a picture inside the book of a little kid getting into the old Taxi to take a ride. The “upper grade classman”, in his “role model” role, made a “funny” by pointing to the little kid’s butt and making some comment, trying to get me to laugh, I suppose. I don’t know why I remember that particular day, except to think I probably DID think it was funny!

It’s an irony that even today; guys are still pointing to “backsides” and making jokes of it. In some ways we haven’t quite grown up, have we?

Next to the school was a cow pasture that bordered the intersection of two dirt roads. When the summers were hot and dry for too long, a passing car would stir up the dust so much that it would take half an hour to settle it down. The trees growing along these dirt roads would have their leaves coated with so much dust that it hid most of the “green”. The “big boys”, shirtless farmer’s kids in their bib overalls, straw hats, barefoot and bare handed, would gather in that pasture and play baseball. Rarely would any one of them own a leather baseball glove, as these were “poor folks”. It was always funny to me to watch one of the basemen catch a line drive, then juggle the ball into the air for a quick shake of his hand and a quick blow from his mouth to attempt to cool down the “hot catch” before burning it to first or second base for the “out”. All the “cool” guys used to chew on a piece of dry Johnson grass, like a toothpick today. I always imitated them by doing the same things, as I stood back out of the way watching the big boys play ball.

I suppose those days are gone except for the memories. To me they are still “alive”, in my mind. On occasion I relax and drift back in time to replay those old ball games. I can still see the field, the road, the grass, and the overalls; hear the sounds, feel the sun and watch the, now, faceless, players shaking off that “hot catch”.

The good ‘ol days of baseball….nothing like the game you would see today.

When Graphic Artists get bored......

I do find a certain amount of humor in these pictures. Some of the things we take for granted can be "brought to light", unusual though they may be, by looking at them through the eyes of another person, especially a person with strange ideas.......

THANKSGIVING

I have always loved the Thanksgiving Holidays. It’s a time of joy of having family come together to share a table of wonderful food, the smell of the baking turkey and dressing that has been cooking in the oven all day, the excitement of everyone sitting down together to eat and reminisce and the nap that followed after we gorged ourselves to pieces. It’s a wonderful holiday that prepares us for things yet to come. It’s also the beginning of more; a kick-off for Christmas, if you will. It’s a day where many stores begin Christmas sales to officially welcome the holiday shoppers. Tree lights are lit and familiar songs are being played.

I especially enjoy Thanksgiving as it reminds me I’m home. It was on Thanksgiving Day 1969 when I arrived in Phu Cat, Vietnam. That particular day felt so much less a holiday than any other time in my life. It was worse than spending Christmas in the tropics. The Mess hall did serve up carved turkey and the usual side dishes, topped off with Pumpkin Pie. The only thing missing was the soothing smell of home cooking and the noise and laughter of family conversation.

It was great to come back from Vietnam three weeks before the next Thanksgiving. Boy! Was I ready!

GOAT LAKE

This is called Goat Lake, in August. It rests on the side of a mountain in southern Washington in the Goat Rocks Wilderness. It can be viewed from the Pacific Crest Trail 2000 south of Old Snowy Mountain. The lake is usually frozen over or piled high with so much snow that it gives the appearance of being frozen. In years past, my view of this lake was very typical. I would expect it to be white...and it was! However, for the past 4 years and 3 trips into the Wilderness, the lake has been thawed. The result is a strange color of green. This year, as 8 of us approached the lake, it looked inviting enough to take a dip. That's exactly what Brian and Josha did! However, the water was still very cold, as there was yet snow on the opposite bank. It didn't take them long to be "refreshed", shivering until they dried out!

Veteran’s Day

This is the day we celebrate and honor those who have fought in foreign wars to keep this country free, as well as to protect the cause of freedom in other places. The ideals of freedom ring different tunes for different people. Like a pendulum swinging from left to right, we have extremes when it comes to war and our perception of how far we should go to protect those freedoms. Many are ready for battle at a moment’s notice while many others would beg for another peace pipe to discuss the issue further, again and again.

We are not always given the time to wait and talk terms of peace. Oftentimes we are dealing with an opposing team who has opposing values. The street bully is not easily convinced that he should not get his way. Dictators and little generals out there are nothing more than glorified street thugs who enforce “their way or the highway” in the only way they know how. When their way invades America’s turf, they may find that the Paper Tiger has teeth.

It is a sad time when our Nation stands divided by politics and is more obsessed with whose side is in power. When the floodwaters rise, many are quick to point blame and make excuses. When the Hurricanes blow and destroy, instead of assessing the damages, pitching in and helping, we are politicking, blaming and hindering.

The street value of freedom is diminished in a divided nation. Those of us who put our lives on the line to preserve freedoms understand what it means to be fragmented. Many came back from Vietnam to find an uncaring nation. They looked for the tickertape parades and found the streets empty. They looked for the “welcome home” signs and found “no trespassing” signs instead. They looked for jobs and found theirs had been filled by those who avoided enlistment and “stayed on the porch”.

Many of us came home with no anticipation of fanfare at all and were not disappointed. It is a matter of perspective. Those who are “part of the team” of protecting this Nation can find peace within. It is good to wake up each morning in a Nation waxing free of the violence that disturbs the sleep of those in other places. To be vigilant is who we are and we can be proud of that. But we could be so much more as a unified Nation.

I take my hat off to all of the men and women who have put their lives on the line to preserve our freedoms. Those of the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave are a blessed group of people. When tested, this nation has come together like no other, pushing back the violence to whence it came. How unfortunate it is that the unity we share during catastrophes dissipates like fog under the noon sun, and we find ourselves back at each other’s throats by evening.

May we stop to reflect upon our great fortune of living in such a great nation, as we celebrate Veteran’s Day, 2005. May we also shake the hand of those who helped to shape our country. God HAS blessed the USA.

Remembering my friend, Michael Ray Conner, Pleiku, Vietnam 1970.

Expectations.

The path of life often begins with a journey of plans and expectations. We start out having a pretty good plan of where we are going and how we will arrive. The only problem is the uncertainty of what the middle will look like. Life has a way of dropping those uncertainties into our path when we least expect it.

We began our life together with anticipation. The only thing I knew is that I had just met this cute girl and my heart began swaying to a tune I had never heard before. As it turned out, we hit it off so well that we met everyday to go out and have fun getting to know each other.

One day ran into the next with anticipation. Time was of the essence because I had orders for Vietnam. Our four weeks together passed by at mach speed. Time had never gone by that fast for me before, nor has it ever since then. Before I knew it, I was looking out the window of a 747 as it taxied toward the runway, bound for Travis Air Force Base, gateway to the Far East.

I arrived in Phu Cat, Vietnam on Thanksgiving Day. The following twelve months were long, drawn out days filled with sights, sounds and smells of things that were new to me. The things that happen in a war zone are things that you can never adequately prepare yourself for; similar to the uncertainties that life itself, at any other place, has to offer.

The next twelve months were over in about 5 years, or so it seemed. I landed back in the States on the 4th of November 1970. Marriage, school, work, children, and church filled our lives with a myriad of sights, sounds and smells.

One day ran into the next until 34 years passed by at almost mach speed. Each day began with one expectation, yet ended up with the sun going down on another. So it was as one year ran into the next.

The cool thing about life is that no matter what the expectation, good things can be discovered in it all. Sometimes you must search with more eagerness, or through tears caused by the bad, but it is there; found by those who diligently seek the Lord.

Looking for a short, adventurous hike close to the Portland area? One of my favorite is Wahclella Falls, on the Oregon side of the Columbia River close to Bonneville Dam.

Wahclella Falls is an easy to moderate one mile hike from the trailhead. There is a short uphill walk for about 500 feet, but the rest of the trail is quite easy. The falls is nestled in a box canyon at the end of a loop trail where Tanner Creek plummets into a rocky pool in the Cascade Mountains. The trailhead can be reached by taking Exit 40 off I-84, the Bonneville Dam exit. The parking lot is to the south of the exit. Trail parking fees apply so be prepared to display your US Forest Pass or purchase a Day Pass for the customary $5.00 fee, available at the trailhead.

The trail begins by walking south along a normally closed access road to a small diverting dam where water is diverted through a waterway to feed fresh water into the Fish Hatchery. The remaining excess water flows out of a pipe and back into the creekbed. A small low water dam has been created to increase the depth for diversion. From there the trail proceeds south and crosses the first of 3 foot bridges. A few hundred yards farther the trail splits. This is a loop trail so you can take either side. My personal favorite route is to keep to the right and walk downhill. It is the most scenic view.

This is one of those hikes where you can see something new and different each time you go. The wild flowers change with the elevation and season. Wildlife is not abundant due to the popularity of this hike, but it can be seen. One of my favorite birds can be viewed along this hike. It is called the American Dipper, a small, dark gray colored bird about the size of a Jay. The Dipper enjoys feasting on underwater plankton. It's quite common to see it dart underwater and walk along the rapids, against the current and emerge unscathed and dry, only to do it again.

This hike is best enjoyed on a hot summer day where the temperature drops 10 to 15 degrees as you approach Wahclella Falls. Enjoy.