Don Meldrum: March 25, 1927 - February 17, 2011

Donald Jess Meldrum was born in Payson, Utah, March 25, 1927. He passed away February 17, 2011. He was 83.  Don's Family moved to Mesa in 1929.  Don liked to tell the story of how he crossed the Navajo Bridge at Lee's Ferry just after it opened for traffic in January 1929.  Don grew up in Old Mesa when it still resembled a small, agricultural pioneer farm town.  He told stories of how the Indians came to town each week in horse drawn wagons and camped just off of Main Street.  Don had many wonderful stories about his childhood in Old Mesa.  Don graduated from Mesa High School in 1945.  He went immediately into Army basic training.  He belonged to several Mesa organizations.  Don's Family was in the mortuary business and Don knew right away that he, too, would become a mortician.  He was very proud of his lifelong career.  Don and Carl Heath started Mesa's Chapel of Prayer Mortuary in 1975.  Don bought out Mr. Heath in 1978 and from then until 1991, the facility was operated by Don, his beloved wife, Doris, and Meldrum Family members.  In his retirement years, Don enjoyed traveling with Doris to many far flung places.  He was a a member of the Methodist Church and a devoted student of The Bible.  Don was an excellent cribbage player.  He will be remembered for his rock steady, even-keeled personality and for a smile which always seemed to beam straight from his heart.

He is survived by Roger Schmuck, Susun McCulla, Linda Liesch, 5 grandchildren and 5 great grandchildren. A Memorial Service will be held at 2:00 PM, Tuesday, March 1, 2011 at Hansen Chapel of Prayer Mortuary, 108 N. 56th St. Mesa, AZ, 85205. In Lieu of flowers, contributions may be sent to Premier Hospice, 3737 N. 7th Street, Phoenix, AZ 85014.

Leftovers

I forgot to post this panorama photo of this morning's sunrise.  Also, I forgot to post up a photo of the New Rabbit On The Block.  Here they are.

And here's Da Rabbit!

A memorable Thursday

The 2nd blog post below is a short note about the passing of Susun's "Pop," Don Meldrum.  I kept that blog post short in honor of Don.  Susun is at peace with Don's passing and she seems to be handling everything well.  Her brother, Roger, made the arrangements late yesterday.  Services will be held March 1st so Susun can attend.  I will print Don's full obituary as soon as it becomes available.  If you would like to offer some words of condolence for Susun, you may send a card to PO 21583, Sedona, AZ 86341 or you may email them to either of our personal Gmail addresses.  If you wish to use this blog for your words, please post your comments on the blog post below entitled "Vaya Con Dios, Don."  Thank You.


Life is for the living, as they say, and so to paraphrase the most common entry in the Lewis & Clark 1805 journals, "We shall proceed on."

Susun and Stasea spent yesterday bike riding, sewing and gardening.  We will learn more soon when Susun makes her morning call to the Mainland.

Our Thursday got off to an interesting start with "The Paddle That Stayed Up The Creek."  That's such a long story it has its own blog post below.  After the dust settled on that saga, we headed over to the Village of Oak Creek (VOC) to pick up our mail.  VOC has an identity problem.  First, it's nowhere remotely near Oak Creek.  And then the Postal Service makes matter worse by calling it Sedona.  It's not Sedona, either, but all of the mailing addresses in VOC say "Sedona."  Meanwhile, some people insist on calling VOC "Big Park."  It's not a park and actually never was a park.  Most of the time we call it simply "The Village."  However, that implies a bucolic hamlet populated with people in bib overalls who carry pitchforks and such.  That's clearly not the case with snooty VOC as the place is definitely a rich man's enclave.  Who knows what to call that place?  Heck, we might as well throw in the towel and use our postal address and call it Sedona.  Whatever works.  But I digress.

Anyway, by coincidence, the final tax document we'd been waiting for showed up.  So, we hot-footed it back to Straw Central and assembled all of our tax docs and then swooped down on H&R Block in Camp Verde.  Our tax person, Helen, is always really busy this time of year and you generally can't drop in on Helen unannounced.  So, I reached deep and started visualizing Helen having a break in her schedule.  Sure enough, as I pulled into the parking spot in front of HR Block's office, Helen was walking to open the front door just like she had been planning on my arrival.  I love it when that visualization stuff works!  Helen and I had a fun visit.  She is really nice and professional and it's so nice not to have to mess with all that tax stuff.  Give it to Helen and it's done.  Poof, just like that.  Whatever she charges is the best bargain of the whole year.

Then I shuffled off to Basha's and got lucky and caught Ken Reynolds during a rare free moment for him.  Ken is the Energizer Bunny's Coach.  Ken is on the move constantly.  he never slows down, sits down, stops or anything like that.  He's hustling 101% of all his waking moments.  He makes the Energizer Bunny look like a total slacker.

Years and years ago, Ken decided to write his life story, complete with hand-drawn illustrations.  I think it was in the early 1990's when he began this epic project.  He would write up a whole chapter of his life into a little book.  For some reason, he'd give those chapters to me to read.  Well, most of them are so flipping hilarious they have you fall-on-the-ground laughing.  Anyway, last November when we showed up I told Ken I wanted to re-read his stuff from the beginning.  Ken finally got around to bringing in some of the chapters.  He gave me chapter 2 yesterday.  It's about when he went to work for Phelps Dodge in Ajo, Arizona back when he was a teenager.  As soon as I got back home, I dropped everything and re-read it from cover-to-cover.  Naturally, I was belly laughing all the way through it.  Good Ol' Ken can sure cast a spell with his writing.  HILARIOUS!

I have to attempt to tell one of Ken's stories.  One of his Ajo relatives was a retired cop.  So, one day the whole Beverly Hillbilly family decides to go down to Cholla Bay in Mexico.  But they get close to the border and realize the ex-cop has a gun so they freak out and decide to hide it in the desert.  They pull off the road and the guy runs out into the desert to hide it in a hole in a big saguaro cactus.  He reached in and leaps back, dumbfounded.  There was already a gun stashed in the very same hole!  Naturally, Ken takes a few pages to tell this story and it's so danged funny that I am still chuckling about it.

On the way back home, I stopped off at Pat's Place and asked him about getting an appointment to put a new serpentine belt on the big truck.  Pat gives me his classic depreciating look and says, "I won't make no stinkin' appointment to swap out a serpentine belt, John, just bring in the truck and I'll do it whenever you show up!"  Well, I hot-footed it right back with the truck and Pat put in the belt for free.  Of course, the belt with tax was $65 so it wasn't exactly a cheap job but, hey, peace of mind has a price, ya know?

Gary came over for the campfire and we both were dazzled by the moonrise.  We hatched a newly minted idea and before the night was over, The Copper State Mint was born!   You can click here to see our rootin', tootin' new business idea. 

It was definitely a very memorable day!

Cheers!

The Paddle That Stayed Up The Creek

As anyone who runs rivers knows, mistakes happen.  Actually, there's another word for it that can't be used here on this G-rated family blog.  Most river runners will readily admit they make mistakes, although some resort to blaming the river for causing their mistakes.  It's not fair to blame the river for your mistakes.  It's important to point the finger at yourself and say, "I messed up."  That's the way it should be done according to Roberts Rules of The River Order.

OK, well, I messed up Tuesday.  I lost track of a very important, vital element of a successful canoe trip: the spare paddle.  Opps.  We launched at 11:20 and along about 12:45 we decided to sit in the boat out in the middle of the river below I-17 and eat some snacks and tell some stories.  Lo and behold, I looked down and there was no spare paddle.  It had vanished without a trace or a clue!  I just about upchucked my turkey sausage.  Sheepishly, I kind of looked skyward and up and down and around as I turned a full 360, hoping perhaps the paddle had merely taken its own lunch break and might come skittering back down to earth to rejoin our little trip.  Nope, no such miracle happened. 

We remained without a spare paddle.  That sinking feeling of being a clueless nitwit began to creep in on me.  It's one thing to lose a paddle the right and proper way while clawing your way through some bodacious chunk of whitewater.  It's quite another thing to realize you lost something and have absolutely no idea where it might have gone.

Josh, of course, is just getting a brief introduction to River Rules and so the impact of this embarrassing event were largely lost on him.  He wondered how much a new one would cost.  I guessed $50 but it's not the money that's "the thing" here.  One simply doesn't lose paddles while on the river.  It's a huge and major faux paus of the highest order.  Perhaps the only thing worse would be losing your lifejacket without knowing how you lost it.  Or perhaps your boat.  Unfortunately, there's no hole to crawl into and hide on the river so we continued our trip.  The Goatherder (Dad of Josh) ran our shuttle and he was as perplexed as us when he learned the news.  You see, in a past life, GH used to run the equivalent of large commercial trips up on the San Juan in Utah.  So GH knows about spare paddles and oars and such.  Ironically, GH had closely watched us rig the canoe at the put-in and said positive things about our rigging.  The spare paddle had been securely wedged into the very tip of the canoe's stern.  It's not like it could sprout legs and suddenly flee the boat.

As soon as we parted ways at Wendy's, I sped home, changed clothes and jumped in SuziQ.  I knew of one place the paddle might have been left behind.  It might have been near a riffle we portaged at the top of the long gravel bar above the interstate bridge.  Luckily, there's a way to four wheel all the way to the top of that gravel bar.  It was actually kind of fun driving through the water of the river's side channels.  After bouncing upstream through rivulets and big cobbles, I was able to reach the riffle in question.  I scurried up and down the river bank looking for any sign of the paddle.  Nope.  No luck.  Some beer drinking Bubba was nearby and I interrupted his reverie to ask if he had seen a bright yellow paddle.  He looked mighty perplexed and you could tell he was almost ready to spring some crude "up the creek, huh?" kinda comment.  Fortunately, he abstained from making fun of me and between swigs of Bud Lite said, "Nah, I ain't seen no paddle."

So, I put my tail between my legs and ambled back across the gravel bar and drove home in a funk.  The whole situation was clearly and completely MY responsibility.  I could not rest until I had exhausted ALL alternatives and options for finding the paddle.  Wednesday I began thinking the paddle might have decided to stay upstream at our portage of the Verde Ditch diversion dam.  So, I hatched a hair-brain plan to some wade across the river and then bushwhack a half mile downstream to attempt to find the paddle.  I assembled everything I thought I needed to ford the river at Newton Lane and drove back down there.  I took one look at the ugly, jagged concrete of the Newton Lane diversion dam and dropped that idea on the spot.  No way would I risk life and limb for a mere paddle.

So it was back to the drawing boards as another day passed in the (so far) fruitless search for the wayward paddle.  I mulled all my options, even broaching the unthinkable: a frank admission that I lost the paddle and would receive a lifelong sentence to river runner purgatory.  Since it was actually Arizona State property, I knew that I would be needled relentlessly for the rest of my life by State Parks Staff.  I simply couldn't bear to even imagine how utterly painful that scenario would be so I forged on and made a new plan.

This time I took the canoe back to Newton Lane Thursday morning.  Now, mind you, this is one of the most difficult river access points on the entire 30+ mile stretch through the valley.  The access road is rutted and there's a steep, loose gravel hill that drops sharply down to a bench near the river.  There's yet another steep, slippery drop to the river bank.  Dragging a boat DOWN these steep slopes is no problem.  Dragging a boat UP them is quite another matter.  It's a daunting task even for two people and it's double dog daunting for a Senior Citizen with an achy back and dubious knees.

Oh, well, as GH is fond of saying, "If you're in it for a dime, you're in it for a dollar."  It didn't help matter that my cell phone rang just as I was getting ready to turn down the narrow dirt two-track to the river.  It was Susun breaking the news to me of Don's passing.

So, I rolled the dice and put it on the line and drove down the rocky slope to the last bench, huffed the canoe off the truck, slid it downhill into the river and jumped in and took off.  Solo canoe paddling is actually a lot of fun, if one is doing it for fun.  However, when one is simply trying to get from Point A to Point B in the shortest possible time, solo canoe paddling can be "less fun," shall we say.  As I rounded one bend, two river otter stretched their necks high out of the water to peer at me.  That certainly lightened my mood and brightened my day!

As I paddled toward the ugly diversion dam, I kept wondering WTH I would do if the paddle wasn't there.  Imagine my delight when I spotted the paddle.  I felt almost like Little Ralphie getting his Red Ryder BB gun for Christmas.  If I could have leaped for joy there in the canoe, I would have done so.  Luckily, the paddle was close enough to the water that I could reach out from the canoe and grab it.  I didn't even have to get out.  HA!  I threw the paddle back in the canoe and said, "STAY" and took off back upstream.  There actually is some fairly substantial current in this location so it took awhile to get back to Newton Lane.  And it took a lot longer to drag the boat back uphill to the truck and wrassle it up on top of the truck.  It's always real "iffy" whether a two-wheel-drive truck will make it back up the loose gravel cobbles of the Newton Lane hill.  I figured luck and paddle karma were on my side yesterday and gunned my way back to the top.  Whew.  I was so excited to have the paddle back, I even stopped a short distant away to double check the back of the truck to make totally certain sure that it was really sitting there.  Yep, it was.  I toodled home happy as a river clam and the rest of the day sailed along smoothly.

I suppose the real question here is this: Would I have told this story if I had not found the paddle?  Um...probably not.  A Happy Ending sure changes things.  I tell this story today as a form of penance for my egregious mistake Tuesday.  A Trip Leader should never lose any gear, let alone a paddle.  This story is my way of making amends for my mistake and will serve as a constant reminder to do a double beach check at every point of contact with land whether it's a put-in, a take-out, a lunch stop, a scout, a lining route or a portage.  We will never again assume that all our stuff is back in the boat until we double check it each and every time we are out of the boat for any reason.

Now I will go say my ten "Hail Mary's" and sit in the corner with my dunce hat on.

Cheers, jp

Vaya Con Dios, Don

Susun's Beloved "Pop," Don Meldrum passed on late Wednesday night in Mesa, Arizona.  Somehow it was fitting last night to witness perhaps the most spectacular full moon rise we've ever seen here at 2nd Chance Ranch.  As the giant white orb slowly climbed above the Mogollon Rim and into that deep, dusk-blue sky, so many fond memories of Don flooded my heart and spirit.  The power of that incredible moon rise last night was an apt tribute for the bright light of Don's long life.

As we stood at Don's bedside last Sunday morning, I made him laugh his last time.  The sadness in his eyes turned to a twinkle and he laughed as hard as a dying man could.  It was really my goofy, floppy hat that made him laugh. 

Yesterday and this morning, my hat's off to Don Meldrum.  "Ya dun good," Don!  Sunday morning I also gave thanks to Don for doing such a great job raising three children.  His weary eyes turned to Susun and he said, "She was the easy one." 

Many Happy Trails, Don, Your Spirit will Live Forever with us!

Three in a row

Above is last night's sunset. It was the third "sun show" in a row.  The streak broke this morning as the sun rose with no hint of anything spectacular.  Interestingly, I had written off last night's sunset.  As the sun neared the horizon, it was totally blah, bland and boring.  Honest.  Even as it was going below the horizon, all it did was make a blog of light (shown in top small thumbnail).  Then, quite suddenly, everything changed.  (See second small thumbnail.) We had a wonderful light show that lasted quite some time.  As usual when these awesome light shows begin, they change their hue, depth, tint and saturation almost with each passing second.  As the minutes pass, it is almost as if time stops while us mere humans stand mute and transfixed awed by their utter beauty.  The campfire takes a backseat while the Sun Show Goes On!

The wind blew pretty stiff all day but laid down about campfire time so we enjoyed another flickering episode.
As the embers and coals ebbed, we put on a dutch oven full of Idaho Russet Burbank potatoes for Thursday breakfast.  Eggs & Taters here we come!  Yum.

Sparky came rather late yesterday but being the frenetic, hyper electrician that he is, he had the 30 amp service installed in well under one hour.  He really chose a creative mounting for the all-weather unit.  He's a great guy.  Afterwards, he helped me realize how easy it would be to wire up the inside of the house.  I had a major breakthrough with this realization and we will probably proceed soon in that direction.

The Old Field swarmed with people yesterday.  Most of them were Camp Verde High School Cowboys.  You can always tell kids from CVHS--the young males were black cowboy hats and tight fitting jeans and all try to look like George Strait or Clint Black.  The kids planted bazillions of small native species.  The NPS must think our house is an eyesore as they really loaded up on plants right smack dab in front of our place and right smack dab snugged right to the fence line.  Ah, well, it will be many years and untold hundreds of Happy Hours before they obstruct our view.

After Sparky departed, I headed overta Cottonwood.  Probably wouldn't have gone except we were out of drinking water.  We buy all our culinary drinking water from a "water store" over there.  It's 30 cents a gallon and well worth the time and trouble to get it.  Fifteen gallons generally lasts nearly two weeks.  We use our own well water for everything except for drinking.

We didn't do much notable in Cottonwood except for getting yet another spare tire for SuziQ.  Big news, huh?  We bought five tires and wheels Sunday for twenty bucks total from a guy in Anthem, a suburb of Phoenix.  Turns one that one of the wheels and tires matched SuziQ's specs perfectly.  All it needed was a re-bead and it's good to go.  So now we have THREE spare tires for SuziQ.  Cool!

On the way back, we ran into Gary at the gas station.  He had loaded 350 firre bricks into the back of his truck.  That's probably 2000+ pounds.  They are pristine and amazing fire bricks with quite an interesting backstory.  Maybe we will tackle an earth oven afterall.

Susun and Stasea had a fine day yesterday.  The photos below was from the beach walk and the train ride.  Here's the text of a note Susun sent early Wednesday:

"Just returned from a 3 mile walk to the Spouting Horn,  passed Baby Beach and the 
beautiful Allerton Gardens. The weather was mostly sunny and a delicious light breeze.

Came home had a shower and a great breakfast including some really great soy sausage.

Going to Lihue to by kitchen curtain fabric and take a TRAIN RIDE!

 Tonight meeting Stasea's old roomie Sarah and a friend for Happy Hour before going to Dr Larry and Carolines for Dinner."


Have a great day and Many Cheers! jp

Back-to-back

This morning's sunrise sure compliments last night's sunset!

The pendulum swings

Our faux summer is coming to an abrupt end.  The past week has been amazing.  The little graph says it all--temps have been rising each day.  The past few days we have been in the mid-70's, peaking out yesterday here at 76!  That was only 3 degrees "cooler" than the official high at Phoenix of 79.  It actually felt downright HOT in Mesa Monday.  I forgot to put the sunshade in the truck Monday and the cab was too hot to get into.  Pretty amazing.  Well, that's all just history now.  The winds will pick up today and temps will drop.  By this weekend the high country might get a foot of snow while lots of rain will fall here at our 3500 foot elevation.  The daily high temps will struggle to reach 50 this weekend.  There's a saying in these parts, "Dust to mud in minutes."  It seems that the weather pendulum swings even more wildly these days.  It also seems that the "new normal" is no normal.

Josh & I had a great river trip yesterday.  Josh did a superb job paddling.  Thanks, Goatherder, for running the Shuttle With a Smile.  We will soon write up a longer narrative of the trip and post it on the river project guide.

The morning target shooting session was far more fun that I expected.  About fifteen guys get together each Tuesday to have a genuine target shooting extravaganza.  Everyone brings a variety of heavy duty metal targets as well as numerous paper target stands.  It's all very well organized.  They have formal Shooting Range Rules and everyone looks out for each other and makes certain no one violates the rules.  Everyone wears expensive ear protection and some of them use electronic bullet speed monitoring devices.  There's an impressive array of pistols in usage and the marksmanship is outstanding.  The oldest shooter is 87 and the youngest is perhaps 13.  Dear Friend Tom B. was my host and Mentor yesterday.  Tom's a lifelong shooter and exceptionally good.  He's been inviting me to this event for quite some time. Tom's old sidekick, Wes G. was there as well.  It was great to get to visit with him.

Frankly, I haven't gone because I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of career shooters.  Well, guess what?  I did pretty good yesterday and could definitely hold my own.  I might not be Annie Oakley but I can at least hit the targets.  Tom let me shoot one of his famous 1911 .45 automatics and I definitely did OK hitting the metal targets.  I also did pretty good with my .22 long barrel H&R 9-shot revolver.  (There's a huge long story about that pistol we will tell one of these days.)

I told one of the guys that I had been reluctant to come because of the quality of marksmanship on display and he said, "You're not shooting against anybody but yourself--you're hear to improve your own marksmanship."  He made me feel welcome and everyone helped me feel comfortable. One shooter passed on some welcome tips on how to improve my grip.  Everyone obviously really enjoys everyone else's company and it was the great fun.  It reminded me of the shooting events I went to with my Dad so long ago. There's a great camaraderie among shooters who know and love their sport. I regret not going sooner this winter and I look forward to attending every week until we head north.  THANKS, Tom!

Gary called last night while I was milling around the campfire.  He's down in Stansfield, a fly speck place in the Lower Sonoran Desert.  He's attending a re-enactor event with over 400 participants.  They are all learning and practicing the use of primitive skills like starting a fire with sticks or making arrowheads from rocks--that sort of stuff.  Anyway, we got to talking about the Tuesday Target shooting event and we both decided to bring something special next week.  No, not a .38 Special--we're gonna set up a breakfast bar, make hot coffee and have donuts and such for everybody.

Sparky The Electrician is coming today to install a 30 amp RV circuit.  Maybe once we get legit RV power here Dear Friend Nancy McC will bring her Rialta down for an overnight visit.  We waffled between 30 and 50 amp but settled on 30 amp after I quizzed some RV salesmen this past weekend.  They told me 50 amp would be mostly needed if someone was running two air conditioners and a washer and dryer in their RV.  Um....I kinda doubt that's gonna be the case here at 2nd Chance Ranch.  Anyway (hopefully) we will be feng shui with 30 amp service later today.

Our neighbor--the National Park--is turning what they call "The Old Field" next door into was seems like a sea of multi-colored plastic flagging.  It's been a hub-bub of activity all week.  They even had heavy machinery out there augering deep holes near some of the flagging.  Some guy has been walking around with a space age big GPS unit while other people have been unloading huge piles of wire cages.  Whazzup?  This Saturday they think they are going to put in 1200 native plants out there.  They want to screen out our house and other houses around their western NPS periphery.  It's a long story that's not worth retelling.  Anyway, wouldn't you know that the weather is gonna be downright inhospitable Saturday when all this comes down?

Speaking of Saturday, it looks like we're gonna cross paths with two of our favorite people--DFs & LBRs Maggie and her daughter, Kelli.  We will also get to meet Kelli's fiancé, Mike.  The trio will be in Cottonwood to secure a tent for Kelli and Mike's June wedding.  I was already planning to go to Cottonwood to attend an LDS "emergency preparedness" open house.  So, no matter what the weather, we're planning on having a great time Saturday.

We haven't heard Susun's Tuesday report yet.  When we do, we will post it up here, too.  We trust she and Stasea are having a wonderful time together.

Have a great day & Many Cheers!  jp

Mid-February update

Short blog post this am. We had a three-day whirlwind visit to Mesa. Susun's Dad, Don, is still with us and it is day-by-day for him. Susun left for Hawaii yesterday morning. She and Stasea had a great Valentine's Dinner last night in the restaurant where Stasea works--crab legs, fillet mignon and scallops. Roger and I met at the Dobson Ranch Golf Course yesterday for some lessons. It was a nice break for him and a great gift for me. He gave me his prized Ping driver.  THANKS, Roger!

Josh & I will be on the river again today. You can visit http://verderiverguide.blogspot.com/ to check out our Flight Plan.  The Goatherder will be doing our shuttle.  THANKS, GH!

This morning I have to be at the Camp Verde shooting range by 9 am to meet with Tom B.  We should have a real "hoot & shoot."  More on that later.

Had a real nice campfire last night and enjoyed the solitude to reflect on events of the past few days.

Do you ever feel like you are caught up in a desert dust devil?

Have a great day & Cheers!  jp

Down Mesa Way

We're in Mesa--came down yesterday. Susun's Pop, Don, isn't doing well. Please wish his Spirit well and God Speed his journey.

Way Up North

Our neighbor, Jana, took a photo this morning of our house Way Up North. This is one of those pictures that's worth 1000 words. THANKS, JANA!!!!!!

Cheers, jp

Speaking of Way Up North, this time of year there's not much going on and it doesn't take much to create a "stir" or make the evening news. We received an email this morning from The Spudboater entitled, "Excitement in the neighborhood not far away." Click here to see the "excitement" that made it into Boise's major daily newspaper.

SuziQ's 3rd road trip

We spent yesterday in the back country with SuziQ.  She got us out and back just fine.  We started yet another blog to chronicle our Zuki Trips (ZITS).  It's here:  http://zukitrips.blogspot.com/  You can read all about yesterday's trip there.

Dawn of a New Desk

We spent pretty much the entire day yesterday dragging a "new" desk into The Straw House.  (Click on the thumbnail for a larger view.)  As visitors here know, we've been using a 6-foot plastic folding table for a desk since late in 2009.  Not only was the plastic truly ugly but is was a "stuff magnet" and that compounded its ugliness.  Susun finally hit the wall with the plastic table a few days ago and demanded change.  She had a plan to put a board over two file cabinets.  I protested that such a plan was simply trading one form of ugliness for another form.  Meanwhile, I decided I better find a real desk PRONTO! Where to turn?  Craigs List, of course.  Much to our mutual surprise, the Flagstaff Craigs List is literally littered with desks of all types, sizes, prices and descriptions.  We spotted this one immediately and it sounded perfect.  Little did we know it was BETTER than perfect.

The desk is solid wood and built like a tank.  It weighs a ton, well more than 100 pounds--there's no way both of us can lift and carry it.  The desk was purchased new sometime back probably in the late 1950's or early 1960's.  It stayed in the same family since then.  We found it sitting in a garage of a resident state employee at the Page Springs Fish Hatchery.  The couple who sold it told us the desk's whole pedigree spanning roughly 50 years. We bought it for $40. Not everyone would want a desk this big and heavy.  It takes a LOT of effort to load a desk like this into a pickup truck and a lot more effort to get it safely out of the truck and inside a house.  We're talking a MAJOR moving experience here.

  We even had to take the camper shell off the Nissan to haul the desk.  Here's at least a partial list of all the tools we had to use to haul and install the desk: 50 feet of cam buckle straps, a Harbor Freight furniture moving pad kit, back braces, rebar and baling twine to secure the dismounted camper, two partial sheets of plywood, a tarp, various foam pieces, a one-ton automotive floor jack, wrenches, pliers, a strap wrench, a 500-pound capacity moving dolly, and a down parka.  A down parka?  Say what?  Well, the parka went over the top of the dolly to keep the desktop from getting marred.  The process started about 10 am when we began work to dismount the camper shell.  It ended at 3 pm when we had the desk installed and some of its contents in place.  Meanwhile, remounting the camper shell and the cleanup of all of the flotsam we used to mess with the desk took another 90 minutes.  So, all-in-all, the whole process was a 6.5 hour gig or roughly 13 "person hours."

We're both totally pleased with this new addition to our life.  We emailed the above photo of the desk to the sellers and they are also very happy that their beloved desk found an appropriate "good home."  This desk is so stout it's amazing.  We once had an old wood desk for nearly 25 years.  It had been the Santa Fe railroad station master's desk in Flagstaff.  It seemed stout, too, but NO where near as stout as this one.  Well, now we can stash all of our flotsam in its various drawers and keep the place looking so much more tidy.

It was a very good day.  Cheers!  jp

Ten Years Ago Today

For some unknown reason last night, I pulled out our Rocky Point Journal from ten years ago.  I looked up what we did ten years ago today.  It was a special day and I read the entire entry to Susun as she fell asleep.  Tha day's entry has been haunting me all night.  This morning Susun said she really loved hearing that story.  It's long and it's going to take forever to transcribe it from the printed pages.  However, I'd like to give that day's story some enduring legs.  No one's ever going to see it buried in a ringer binder in our archives.  At least a few DFs and LBRs will get a chance to read it here.

As usual for our 2001 Journal journal, the entry is simply titled with the month, day and year: "February 11, 2001."

We coordinated our signals with Tim Saturday at sunset and kept an eye on the little clock all through the night.  We got up about 6:15 to make sure we would be ready for his arrival.  He seemed a few minutes late but the Red Rocket can definitely make up for lost time on the washboards of the Cholla Road.  I've never enjoyed such a perfect vehicle for washboards.  The Red Rocket can do 70 mph on the washboards and  you really don't feel like an endangered species.  They've changed all the roads around near Cholla and there were some new berms and roads just since Thursday evening.  So we got lost trying to find the right "two track" to the base of Competition Hill and that further delayed our appointment with the sunrise.  Just as we topped out on the base approach dune, I caught a glimpse of the top of the sun in Tim's rear view mirror and called, "ALTO!"  We piled out of the Toyota and took pictures and sang Happy Birthday and gave a Rimrock salute to our Buddy, Tim.

Then Tim hunkered down and shot the Rocket to the top of the dune and in two winks we were drinking hot coffee with a wonderful view of Cholla Bay, the Pinacates and the sleepy little city of Rocky Point.  We milled around and made forgettable small talk.  I repeated the story of Godfrey Sykes and how he stood on the top of his head on the top of Santa Clara Peak and other goofy anecdotes from Skyes wonderful life.  We all laughed again about the Laguna Del Mar scam just as we had laughed about it Thursday night.  And then we skittered down the dune and hustled off to the bakery that one arm guy runs in Old Port.  We bought Tim his favorite pastries and then returned to an RV park where everyone was just beginning to fire up their generators and drink coffee and smoke cigarettes, walk dogs, scratch their navels and generally looks like sleepy Americans standing around near a beach.

The weather Sunday was the best we have had yet since our arrival here January 11th.  Some friends had planned to visit Sunday but they listened to too much BS from airhead weather people on Phoenix TV and blew off their trip because of "The Big Storm."  As so often happens when people actually BELIEVE weather forecasts, there was no such BIG STORM and the weather was perfect.  The moral of this sermon is to plan your trip and just go.  Don't worry about the weather.  Bad weather always gives you better stories anyway and good weather is just a nice bonus.  In this case we missed our friends and they missed one of the best weekends of the new year.  Such is life.

Susun and I hustled up our morning chores and then headed out to spend 100 pesos for some beer, shark, tortillas and water.  It was surprisingly busy at the Fish Market. Lots of wealthy Americans werer buying great big shrimp by the bushel basket full.  The vendors were happy.We decided to make it the morning we would feature Victor and Jose so we took a lot of digital pictures of them and had them write out their full names so we could get the spelling correct.

When you drive up to the fish market, vendors will jump into the street and practically block your car's path to try to pester you into buying their shrimp.  They always carry the largest shrimp they can find and have mastered a particular technique of squeezing it is just the right way to make it look alive.  The shrimp arcs up and back and looks like it is wriggling in their hand.  We call it "The Squeeze."  We figure the shrimp guys get up each morning and double check their "squeeze" technique to make sure they still have the "right stuff" before heading out to do battle for American dollars.  I suspect they teach "The Squeeze" in the schools and all able-bodied Peñascan men know and appreciate each other's "Squeeze" technique.  I've tried it and I sure can't get it right.  Anyway, we bought a couple of pounds of shark and shared some pecans with our buddies, Victor and Jose, and headed back to camp.

I hadn't been paddling since last Sunday and really needed some sort of excuse to get back into the water again.  There were no dolphins around to provide the best excuse and so time passed.  Finally, I used the Plan B "fallback" excuse: a shrimp boat.  From time to time, shrimp boats will sit at anchor some distance from the mouth of the harbor.  They do this for a variety of reasons too detailed to recount here.  So, I had my eye on one of them and decided to go for it.  On this trip I decided to carry the two-way radio so I could talk to Susun and keep her posted.  We set our watches and agreed to listen every 15 minutes.  I paddled straight out for about a half mile and then checked the tidal influence.  The tide had moved me about 3/8th mile laterally during the half mile paddle out.  So I pointed toward San Felipe and after about 40 minutes I came alongside of the Carranza.  The Carranza is one of the older style shrimp boats, very classic lines and a battered, rusty hull with old worn rigging and tired looking nets hanging over a deck strewn with the flotsam fishermen need to ply their trade.  There were six Mexicans hanging out on the aft railing drinking Tecates and giving me a real blank stare like shrimp guys always do when some stupid American comes paddling up in a funky boat filled with air.  Most of the shrimp guys I have had the pleasure to visit aren't exactly rude but they are pretty darn close to it.  Most shrimp guys have a mean and sea-hardened look to them.  They almost never smile and most of the time they just grunt like some primitive sea creature that learned to walk upright and breathe air instead of water.  I'm always a little hesitant to approach a shrimp boat but it's good for a decent adrenalin buzz and so I keep being drawn to them like a moth to the fatal flame.

None of these guys spoke any English at all and, as you know, my Spanish sucks.  But I gave it the good old college try and somehow we were actually communicating.  At least we all thought we were. They let me take their pictures and much to my amazement, they offered me a canned Tecate beer!  Beer to a fisherman at sea is one of the most valuable commodities known to mankind and I was amazed and profusely thankful.  In fact, they all got a belly laugh out of my attempts to be profusely thankful.

The crew was quite curious about my blue waterproof bag and wondered what it was used for.  I showed them my radio and hailed Susun and we carried on a lively little conversation and the crew was thoroughly amused.They wondered how much my boat would cost.  I asked them how long they would be out for and they told me 7 days.  They were just sitting at anchor waiting for the tide to turn and for the time to be right for catching shrimp.

By and by, I decided to hit the road, so to speak, but they motioned me back.  I didn't have a clue why they wanted me to paddle back and I hoped it wasn't so they could gaff my little inflatable and get a REAL laugh!  But NO!  Lo and behold, one of the crew had gone down into their larder and came back with TEN POUNDS of fish fillets from their own food stash!  Well, I was shocked and really tried hard to be thankful and we gingerly worked to get the fish stowed in the blue bag.  They each introduced themselves by first name and proudly pointed out their captain and smiled and waved and treated me nicer than any shrimp guys have ever treated me.  It was touching.  So I waved and paddled off.  By this time the afternoon breeze had picked up considerably and the tidal forces had changed and the sea was working overtime to carry me far, far from Palmar. It took quite a long time and a lot more work than I desired to expend to paddle back to Palmar.  Even though the Carranza was anchored a little more than a mile offshore, I figure I had to paddle more than 3 miles to get to and from the boat.

Upon my return there was a general hustle and hubbub to get down to Tim's Big Birthday Party.  I was the last arrival there and had already missed the lighting of the candles and the cutting of the cake.  Mini bought a wonderfully done cream cake and it was decorated beautifully.  She did a special hand made card and went around the park having all of Tim's friends sign the card.  Anna's little "restaurant" was filled with about 20-25 people (who's counting?) enjoying cake and tequila and beer and friendship.  RG sat around with a bizarre snile on his face.  I figured he was dreaming about his road grader.  The Aussie wore a Route 66 T-shirt.  I couldn't hear people say much of anything because the acoustics in that place were terrible.  But we all did spend some time plotting a fish fry using all the booty from the shrimp guys.  It was a fun and memorable time.


It's an unspoken but well known reality of this lifestyle that such moments are rare and special and are never to be replicated again.  The circumstances and chemistry and people and places and the ebb and flow and mix of all the permutations and combinations which permeate transient retiree roosting places preclude repeats.  Everyone knows they are enjoying a "one of a kind" experience in an event such as Tim's Birthday Party.  Hell, he could easily be dead next year this time.  But we all party on.  Who knows WHO will be here or there or anywhere next year this time?  And so it's the unspoken rule that no one mention the uniqueness and rarity of this or any other such magical moment.  We just all enjoy it and savor it and go home and go to sleep and wonder what tomorrow will bring.

--------------------end of 2001 Journal Entry------------

It was Tim's last birthday party.  He was dead less than six weeks later.

Enjoy every day with Many Cheers!  jp

Ketchup

Seems like it's been awhile since we merrily meandered mindlessly around the various activities and topics of our lives. So, 'tis time for some ketchup once again.

Susun is mostly packed for her Hawaii trip. It's been years since she visited daughter Stasea in Kauai. She'll be flying off Valentine's Day morning and returning early on February 25. We bought the ticket during a sale way back last summer. Believe it or not, Susun gets to fly non-stop from Phoenix to Kauai for $500. I,m sure Stasea has all sorts of incredibly fun stuff planned for her Mom.

The reality of Stasea's planning is what motivated me to get Susun's San Diego videos processed yesterday. Susun had never used a video camera before her SD trip in late January. I thought she did a great job of capturing little vignettes that make an endearing 2 minute production. Susun's challenge now is to bring back a lot of video from Hawaii. I am encouraging her to "tell a story" of the trip with here tiny camera. Susun's really good at story-telling with a still camera so I think she will be great with the video. I promise to get her Hawaii video stuff up and running not later than 3 days after her return (that would be before the end of this month).

Getting Susun's video processed and posted took much longer than anticipated--it actually took most of the day yesterday. Next time around it won't take as long (we hope).

The Goatherder parted with two of his beloved goats yesterday. It was a "herd reduction" move. They went to a good home but it still hit The Goatherder hard. He has our sympathies and we hope he's feeling much better today. GH is our official Apple Coach. Whenever we get pinned to the wrassling mat by Apple's arcane operating system, we hit the panic button and call GH and he always calmly gets us out of trouble.

Josh is up to his eyeballs in high school stuff so we can't go paddling for awhile. Hopefully next week we can wrap up the field work for the river guide project. In case you haven't checked lately, we've added a bunch more stuff to the blog for that project. Click here to see it.

Susun created her own "Spa Day" yesterday--the second of our trip so far.  She goes to a friend's house in Sedona and does all of the spa stuff that females love.

We might finally get a real desk today.  We've been using a plastic 6-foot folding table as a computer desk since late 2009.  It looks ugly and it's a clutter magnet.  Craigs List is full of desks and there's a nice old solid wood desk at the Page Springs Fish Hatchery for $50.  Hopefully, we will bring it home this afternoon.

The campfire was quite cold last night--temps dropped quickly into the 30's.  We still managed to stay out almost two hours--that's about par.  This morning's low temp here as +9 degrees. Brrrr--chilly! Even though it feels cold (and IS cold), spring is right around the corner.  You can feel it numerous ways--the shifting angle of the sun; the changing coloration of the grasses and weeds; the expanding size of the weeds; and the appearance of some of the migratory birds.  The cottonwood tree buds are beginning to swell and there's an anticipation of spring in the air.  Spring typically comes early here after a dry winter, usually in early March.  There's almost never any rainfall of consequence after April 1 here and that's basically only six weeks away.  We were talking around the campfire the other night about how spring comes to Arizona.  It's as if someone flips a switch one day and--BAM--the temps are up everything is growing, buds are popping, birds chirping,. bees buzzing, the whole shtick.   It could happen on any given day and the odds this year are that it will happen sometime in the next 2-3 weeks.

When I went out just now to open our window shutters, there were 3 whitetail does just across the Monument fence.  They stared at me like doe deer always do and then went casually on about their own little deer routine.  We're glad there are at least some deer still here.  Urbanization has reduced the herb size over the past 20+ years.  We once would often see 10-15 deer at a time.  Now we're lucky to see these three on a fairly regular basis.

Well, that's enough rambling this morning.  C-YA later.  Cheers, jp

Susun's San Diego video on hold

(Video has been temporarily removed until we can edit Nancy out of it--she doesn't want herself shown on the video. Opps, sorry, Nancy)

Well, here'tis. I apologize for taking so long to get it up and running. Frankly, I was dreading the use of the iMac. I'm a PC guy through and through. However, Apple's iMovie program is SO HOT that it's impossible to avoid. I love that program and will tap dance to Apple's tune anytime in order to be able use iMovie.

OK, here's a caveat and a disclaimer. I had to set up a new YouTube account in order to upload this--my older accounts wouldn't sync with YouTube. I used the "Enhanced Privacy Mode" so YouTube won't be placing cookies on your computer. To avoid see a bunch of what YouTube calls "related videos" click GENTLY on the play arrow. If you double click, it will take you to a You Tube page with a bunch of those annoying "related" videos. If that page does happen to come up, simply close it and refresh teh blog page and click GENTLY!

Cold Front

They said it was going to be a cold front today.  Yep, they were right.  The high temp dropped from 69 to 60 degrees today.  Dang, that was COLD!  Well, anyway, as usual we had our campfire and since we thought it was a Cold Front, we bundled up.  Below, Susun shows how to stay warm in an Arizona Cold Front!

Two Thumbs Up

Monday was a real "get up and go" kinda day. Josh and I made a plan over the weekend to do our second canoe trip.  Since Josh had to work at 5:30 pm, everything was shifted a littler earlier in the morning.  We didn't even have time to clean up after the Game Day party Monday morning.  We threw our river stuff together and hustled out of the house by 9 am.  We got to the Wal-Mart parking lot about 9:30 to meet Josh.  After another "duffle shuffle," we headed for Bignotti.  Suzi's Shuttle Service dropped us off and left in a cloud of dust. 

Josh and spent quite a bit of time using bow saws, loppers and hand clippers making a much better pathway for from the parking area to the river bank.  Just as we got on the water about 11 am a bald eagle flew very low right over our heads.  We both knew that was a great omen for our day.  We started downstream about 11:15.  It was a real "adventure" type of day.  We had 5 portages.  One was actually a "line job" and wasn't all that difficult.  Two of the portages were a lot of work.  One was a big load of work and involved tandem-towing the canoe maybe 300 yards across a dry wash alluvial fan.

I'd forgotten there is an actual Class 2+ rapid in this stretch.  We were lucky to run it and remain upright and dry. The trip was considerably longer than I had thought it would be.  I was thinking it was in the 5-6 miles distance but it turned out to be over 9 miles.  I told Josh we would be to the take out no later than 3 pm and almost made it on time--arriving at 3:15.  All-in-all, we both agreed it was a "two thumbs up" kinda day. Thanks to Suzi's Shuttle Service prompt and professional service, we were able to pack up in a hurry and got Josh back to his car a few minutes earlier than promised at 4 pm. 

Then Susun and I skee-daddled back to the 2nd Chance Ranch and had to hustle just to get a campfire up and running before sunset.  Gary came over and we three enjoyed a fine Monday evening until the last embers died down in the dark.  Susun fixed a fine dinner of what we call "kyoto bowls" and we went to sleep pretty late.  'Twas a LOONG day!  THANKS, Josh, you did an awesome job Monday!  THANKS, Susun.  Without Susun's cheerful and happy shuttles, what we're doing on the river would be impossible.

Cheers, jp

PS--The photo was captured at the take out at Newton Lane.  That's a small redneck diversion dam in the background.  (No, it doesn't divert rednecks--it was BUILT by rednecks.)

Perfect Weather

We had a Great Game Day in every way.  Fine Friends, Food and Fun.  There's lots to tell.  We will amend this post in the morning.  We just wanted to say an early THANKS to everyone who came.  Ya'll made this day truly Special!

Meanwhile, the weather was just about as good as it can get.  The temperature at noon was 58 degrees.  It rose to 67 at 3:30 pm and then fell back to 58 at 6 pm.  There was no wind all afternoon.  It was simply perfect weather.

Have a great evening & Many Cheers, j&s

New view of The Hogans

Dear Friend Bill C. keeps an eye on eBay for anything relating to The Hogans over in Chambers.  He alerted us to this view less than an hour ago.  This is an unusual view of The Hogans.  Normally, the photographer stood across the highway.  This view was taken on the west side looking east. As DFs and LBRs well know, The Hogans are a Major Life Icon in the lives of Susun and her daughters, Sarah & Stasea (S&S).  We've lived there ourselves for a spell in 2006-2007.  S&S love these old photos of The Hogans as they appeared on Route 66 sometime in the 1930's or early 1940's.  We will bid on this one and attempt to win it.  (NOTE: Click on the image above to see the full size version.  You can then scroll back and forth for more detail.  Right click the larger image to save it to your hard drive.) THANKS, Bill.  "Ya dun good!"  Cheers, jp

Forever Sunset

Last night's sunset was unusual.  It started out as one of the most dull, lackluster sunsets of the winter.  It then did complete change and ended by being one of the most spectacular sunsets of the winter.  In total, the sunset lasted over one full hour.  The last light shown above kept turning deep pastel colors that covered the entire western sky.  This lame photo only captures a small portion of the light show.  The final red glow seemed to last forever.  The middle of winter is either February 4th or 5th.  We figured this sunset was Mother Nature's tribute to being halfway to "official spring" on March 21st.

We enjoyed a nice day of this and that.  We headed over to Myron's Place (AKA: Zukies Off Road) to meet Sam from Dewey.  Sam sold us a spare tire and a hood prop rod for $25.  Then we went to Cottonwood and ran a raft of the usual errands.  Upon our return, I installed a new fire extinguisher and carbon monoxide detector in the pop-top.  Then I headed over to Camp Verde for some more food shipping for Game Day.  As you know, I have this long-running mental game I play at grocery store.  If I save over 50%, I win.  If it's under a 50% savings, they win.  Yesterday at Basha's, I spent $31 and saved $37 so I won.  The way my mind works, that's a final game score of 37-31. Fitting for Game Day, doncha think?

Over in Cottonwood, I had struck out looking for the correct size spare tire to fit the Zuki wheel.  I even had a Mexican tell me the tire that was on it was worthless.  Oh, the indignity of it all.  Meanwhile, I went to perhaps the Verde's most gnarly tire shop there in Camp Verde.  The guys that run it would put the cast of Deliverance to shame.  They are the meanest, gnarliest looking people you ever saw.  Anyway, the guy wanted $30 to put on an old beater tire of the right size.  I conned him real good and said I thought my existing tire was real valuable and I wanted some money for it as a "trade in."  Oh, that toothless Bubba Boy in the totally greased covered t-shirt went over that tire like it was a CSI episode.  Finally, he says, "How 'bout ten bucks?"  YES!  SO I got the new spare for $35 total (15 for the wheel and 20 for the tire.)  We're really "good to go" now in the Zuki since it finally has two spare tires.

We put together a real nice evening campfire and Susun filled the house with the aromatherapy of roasting chicken.  Hey, speaking of aromatherapy, we thought you might enjoy yesterday's Pickels Cartoon.  Nuf said--Cheers, jp

An Inspirational Story of The First Order

We do love to tell stories.  Some long, some short, stories all.  By definition and necessity 99% of our stories relate to "we, ourselves and us."  Hey, it goes with The Game.

Well, tonight, we're going to tell a story about someone.  Natalie's her name.  Writing's her game.  She ROX.  Her life is an Awesome Long Story all by itself.  She's a great writer in her own right.  She can tell a story and spin a yarn 'round your brain to keep you captivated no matter what the topic.  She well knows how to craft a story and keep it well told.  She lives in a long yonder wide spot on the Salmon River deep in The Heart of MOAN Country.

Tonight, we thought we'd turn the tables on Miss Natalie and tell a story of our own about her.  Yea, verily, you got your own first clue about the topic of this story by the photo above this blog post. Ah, the telling of a story is SOOO FUN!  My fingers sit perched excitedly on the keyboard.

Way back before 57 Chevies had yet to be invented, Miss Natalie won $10,000 in a cookoff!!!!!!!  Let's that sum reverberate in your brain.  Ten thousand dollars in 1950's money is like $80,000 in today's economy according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics Inflation Calculator.  (Click here to do the math yourself.)

Natalie was a 15-year-old freshman when she won this award.  Maybe she pioneered the concept of a "10K!" Her prize money paid for college educations for both her and her sister.  How good is that?  Very good!

We only learned about all of this stuff because of our Clayton Chili post last night.  We encouraged Natalie to enter next year and she sent a note about her cookoff history. Now, Friends, it's a whole new ball game!  Life won't ever be the same at the Clayton Heritage Days Chili Cookoff.

We'll let Natalie tell her own story. First, we asked her if we could post the above photo.  She said "yes" and sent this email:

"Sure you can. You can use my full pen name, too. I post the recipe every year in October with Natalie Neal Whitefield fully displayed (although that was not my name at the time. I avoid using my maiden name since there are so many identity theft problems these days.)

Those little Hoot Owl Cookies are favorites with Moms & kiddos for Halloween parties.

There is even a group of bird census takers that keep track of the owl populations in Canada who make up a batch every year and take 'em into the field to enjoy as they look for owls! I still get letters from all over the world from people who love those cookies!

Yes. I suppose it's time to write the how's and why's of that experience.  Very 1950's. It was lots of fun.

And gee. Not every kid in the whole wide world got to spend a whole week at the Waldorf Astoria in New York City being wined and dined...at least dined, since I was too young to taste the wines that were served at the banquets. A whole week! Broadway shows! TV interviews. Doing radio spots with Ronald Reagan (who was there representing GE electric ranges being featured in the cook off), appearing on Arthur Godfrey's show etc, etc. The contest was administered by the Pillsbury family in those days, and everything was FIRST class. Quite the adventure for a 15 year old high school freshman!

Art Linkletter was the MC who announced the winners at the awards banquet. There were 100 contestants in three divisions. Three prizes for each division.

(As prize 9 was being given out Mother leaned over and whispered in my ear: "Don't be disappointed. We've had a wonderful time!)

Then came the Grand Prizes---Oh, boy! Good ol' Art. He wanted to draw out the suspense so he started reading out the recipe of the person who had won the 2nd Grand Prize, and asked the originator to stand up as soon as she recognized her own recipe. My darling mother nearly fainted! What fun it was. I should dig out those old clippings from the front pages of all the NYC papers and scan them before they crumble to bits. Will put that on my "to do" list.

55 years ago on Dec 13 of this year. It seems like yesterday.

We were assigned numbers for our entries, too. My number was 13. Always has been my "lucky number"....

Thanks, John. I've enjoyed recalling what happened all those years ago.

Love, ~N"

Well, Thank YOU, Natalie!  Your story is awesome.  MUY KUDOS 2 U!!!!!

Many Cheers, jp

Long Story

WARNING: This is a long story.  If you don't like long stories, stop here.  Here's the short version of the long story: "We found a kayak for The Spudboater to paddle in the March 26th Verde Canoe Challenge."

This story actually starts way back in a freezing, ridiculous February 1979 snow storm in Chicago--almost as bad as the one that made the news this week. That storm led directly to my moving to Tucson on Valentine's Day, 1979.  Early in 1980, I took a job as Night Production Manager for The Arizona Daily Wildcat, the UofA student newspaper.  There I learned of a UofA club called The Whitewater Explorers.  Naturally, I joined right away and that little step changed my life and started a chain of karmic events that led to last night's finding of the boat for The Spudboater to paddle March 26th.

OK, NOW do you realize this is truly going to be a really L-O-N-G Story?

Back there in early 1980, "the thing" was to learn how to roll a kayak.  They used to call it the Eskimo Roll.  (That's not to be confused with the Kokomo Roll.) Right away I would meet two people who singlehandedly changed my life: Bryan T. Brown (BTB) and Martin Binder.  BTB and I bonded the very moment we met and continue to be Dear Friends today.

Martin's son (whose name I can't recall) was President of the Whitewater Explorers and the best kayaker in Arizona at the time.  He was definitely a BMOC (Big Man on Campus).  Martin worked out at the Kitt Peak Observatory but was fanatically devoted to kayaking and whitewater sports in general.  He helped me buy my first two kayaks.  Martin even made custom foot pegs for my brand new plastic Holloform.  Martin was German through-and-through so we hit it right off, what with me being half-German from my Mom's totally German (Klooz) side of the family.  Martin took a liking to me because of the relentless diligence I put into learning the Eskimo Roll and then mastering the Salt River's renowned day stretch.

By and by, Martin invited me to go on Idaho's legendary Middle Fork of the Salmon River on July 4th, 1980.  This was a huge and big major honor to be invited by Martin to go on such a trip.  Well, at first, I had to decline.  I had made a personal vow in 1967 never, ever to set foot inside the city limits of Flagstaff again as long as I lived.  Obviously, a trip to Idaho would take us right through Flagstaff.  (The story of this vow is another Long Story far too long to tell here.)  Anyway, the vow was more important to me than the trip, if you can believe that.

Well, Martin was a natural born salesman plus he was 101% German and you know how persistent and stubborn those people can be.  He wouldn't give up.  Finally, he pulled out his best BS line, "John, we'll go through Flagstaff in the dark, you can put on a hood and you will never know you were there."  Somehow, this BS actually worked and I agreed to go up to the Middle Fork with Martin's Totally Tucson Trip.  Well, Martin pulled a fast one on me.  We arrived in Flagstaff in the dark but we didn't leave until well into daylight.  I had been suckered into breaking my vow.

Meanwhile, in the near middle of the night, we pulled onto West Aspen Street and pulled up in front of some duplex apartments--the type of joints they rent to NAU students.  One of our trip members, Joni Bosh, knew some guy named Duncan Orr and Duncan had said we could all crash on his floor.  So, all these Tucsonians fell asleep spread all over the little apartment.  And that's the night I met Duncan's roommate--yet another person who's changed my life in so many ways--Gary W. (AKA Chuckwalla and/or Lizard).

Well, for some reason, Gary and I hit it right off and have been Dear Friends ever since.  As you know, Gary is a near nightly visitor to our campfires because he and Robin live right across the wash from us in their adobe homestead.  Duncan and Gary were such gracious hosts that my aversion to Flagstaff began to mellow.  Duncan and Gary were not like any other Flagstaff people I had ever met up to that point.  They were friendly and kind and nice.  I didn't think anyone fitting that description lived in or near despicable Flagstaff.  As we drove off, both Duncan and Gary extended an invitation to "come back anytime."

Meanwhile, we went on up to Idaho's Disneyland River--The Middle Fork and I had a wonderful time and even got to met Old Man Tappan at Tappan Falls.  I didn't swim once and it really boosted my confidence in my Eskimo Roll.

On the way back south, we paid a courtesy call to Duncan and Gary's Place and my attitude about Flagstaff really turned the corner.  Even though I was still "on guard" and wary of the city in general, at least I could visit it without looking over my shoulder (much).

Meanwhile, back in Tucson, BTB was happy to see me and hear my stories about the Middle Fork.  And that's when he sprung the All Time Invitation that truly changed my life in a single swoop.  He said in that Louisiana accent of his, "Well, John, how'd ya'll like to come on a Grand Canyon trip with me this fall?"  Well, I was simply stunned and floored and dumbstruck all at once.  You mean the Holy Grail of river running?  THE Grand Canyon?  "Well, shore, John, we'd love to have ya," BTB said, noting "There will be some other kayakers on the trip that you will sure enjoy."  Boy, was that an understatement or what?

So, time passed and by-and-by we headed once again to Flagstaff, this time surfing ashore at 711 North San Francisco Street to meet the famous royal court of Wayne's World.  It's amazing to think that I met so many life changing people at Wayne's in such a sort period of time.  King Wayne himself, of course, has been one of the most life-changing people I've ever known.  But what about George?  And Bill?  And Jennifer, too?  Geeze, it was a veritable tsunami of life-changing people.

Meanwhile, we headed off on our 18-day fall Canyon trip and that's where I met The Spudboater (AKA: Marti B.). She was a hot rod kayaker from Idaho and definitely walked the talk in the Colorado's Big Water Waves.  She was the life of the party around camp, too, and we got along great.  It was a life-changing trip in every way, shape and form.  Why?  Because after the trip, I was completely changed and wanted to actually LIVE in Flagstaff and somehow connect my life to the Grand Canyon.  What a change from a few mere months earlier when I had to be convinced to go through the city in the dark of night with a hood over my head.

On our way back through Flag (as it's fondly called) I received offers of help from Wayne's World and also Duncan and Gary.  Back in those days I drove an old Holsom Bread truck--an old four cylinder diesel that might climb a hill at 30 mph (or not).  I came toodling back up to Flag not long after the trip and parked my little RV out behind Duncan and Gary's Place.  I looked around the city and made a firm decision to move from Tucson to Flag as soon as possible.  But where to live?

I placed an ad in the Daily Sun saying I wanted to live with an athletic-minded roommate on the edge of the city.  I asked Gary for permission to use his phone number and asked if he would scout out the locations of those who might reply.  That's how I wound up living for a few years at 912 W. Grand Canyon Ave. in Flag.  Gary actually went and looked at the place and told me it was OK.  I rented it sight unseen on his recommendation.  It was a hundred bucks a month and my roommate was a Mormon Lake Hotshot, Mark J.  (There's a huge amount of backstory here, too, but that's another Long Story far too long to tell here.)

Thus began my Flag Life.  I tried to make friends with the Grand Canyon river guide crowd but they were all far too snooty and aloof and shined me off.  So, being the natural-born organizer, I founded a river club in Flagstaff in March 1981.  It was named NAZPAC--The Northern Arizona Paddlers Club--and it became known far and wide as a welcome and viable alternative to the snooty Grand Canyon boaters.  All sorts of experienced and wannabe boaters came out of the woodwork to sign up and attend monthly meetings at Wheeler Park.  Gary, of course, was one of the first members.  Through NAZPAC I met many wonderful people, some of whom continue to be Dear Friends to this day.

One of the first things I wanted to do was establish a competition between the Whitewater Explorers and the new kid on the block--NAZPAC.  Martin and his son were all too eager to show those upstarts up north how skilled teh Whitewater Explorers were.  We agreed to stage a downriver kayak race and slalom on the Salt River's day stretch.  On a day I will never forget, I won the downriver, beating Martin's son by a few boat lengths and our club members also smoked the Tucson crowd in the slalom.  My last vision of Martin was him giving me an evil stare while his son threw his potato chip kayak into the air in frustration.

Well, meanwhile, Gary had decided he really wanted to be a kayaker, too.  So, he went down to Tucson with Duncan one day and met Martin.  Martin had a kayak for sale.  Martin ALWAYS had kayaks for sale.  So, Gary bought one for $150 and brought it back home to Flag. The boat was a nearly new Phoenix Cascade in pristine condition.  Gary and I paddled together on several trips.  In fact, one of our most memorable was on the Little Colorado below Grand Falls.  That's where Gary lost his expensive sunglasses where Dinnebeto Wash joins the LC.

Meanwhile, everyone's lives changed and proceeded on as lives are wont to do.  And, meanwhile, the swirl of "all in a day's karma" brings the above Long Story back to relevance in today's world.

Our Dear Friendship with The Spudboater was resurrected on 7-7-7 out at Bowery Guard Station.  Quite a few weeks ago, The Spudboater decided to come down here to 2nd Chance Ranch for a March visit.  She booked her flight and it's a done deal.  She will be here March 24th for about 6 days.  Meanwhile, during research for the Verde River Guide project, I happened to notice that the annual Verde River Canoe Challenge will be taking place March 26th.  We contacted The Spudboater and offered to be her Support Crew if she would want to enter the race.  She enthusiastically agreed.  Meanwhile, we then set out to find her an appropriate boat by placing a "want ad" in the Phoenix Craigs List.  Well, yesterday, a boat popped up on CL down there and I spent a goodly portion of the day talking with Dean from Chandler about his old Phoenix Cascade kayak.  He wanted $100 for the boat, paddle, sprayskirt and float bags.  The Spudboater and I swapped a lot of emails on the subject.  When she learned the boat was a Cascade, The Spudboater even said, "Ya hoo. The Cascade is the boat I used to own with Scott, my husband. I paddled it, too. And it was one of the first fiberglass boats run on the North Fork Payette...and yes,this baby will surf and track."

Well, it turned out that for some unknown and mysterious reason, Dean's Cascade in Chandler weighed 40 pounds, NOT the 27 pounds that it's supposed to weigh when it came out of the factory in Berea, Kentucky.  I was pretty bummed as I thought I had found the perfect boat.  But I soon got over it and built a nice campfire to help celebrate the First February Friday.  By and by, Gary and Robin came over to share the flickering flames and swap some stories.

Somehow, something prompted me to tell the tale of woe I had encountered earlier during the day regarding the Cascade.  That's when Gary dropped the bombshell.  He said, "Well, John, I have a Phoenix Cascade hanging inside over at our place--I bought it from Martin Binder back in the 1980's--it's the one I paddled when we used to paddle. It weighs 27 pounds."

I was completely stunned and thunderstruck by this news.  All of those events of the early 1980's swirled in my mind and heart.  I barely knew what to say and all I think I said was something like, "Are you kidding me?"  Sure enough, we began chattering like meadowlarks and Gary has it all--a pristine Cascade, a spoon blade graphite paddle, you name it, he's got it.  He hasn't kayaked in perhaps 20 years but he has faithfully kept all the gear in tip top shape!  Totally amazing but totally true.

Gary quickly agreed to join The Spudboater's Official Support Crew.  And last night, standing around that fire, we decided she's gonna WIN that race, coming in first overall.  We started scheming how to make the Cascade even more of a hot rod boat.  I read on the web yesterday that you can duct tape an arrow under the stern to act as a skeg.  We're gonna give it a try and get that boat in ripping shape!

Who knew that all of these things could somehow come back together once again March 26th when The Spudboater sprints downstream to fame and glory?

I am still completely dazzled by this chain of events.  As the King of Wayne's World is fond of saying, "All In A Day's Karma."

Thanks, Gary!

Cheers, jp

If it's July 23rd, we're gonna be in Clayton

We just got the news a few minutes ago.  Yes, we are "ON" once again for being Chili Cook Off Judges for one of The Clayton Heritage Days signature events.  This will be our third year as judges.  The first year was pretty sketchy--people weren't real "dialed into" our style and form of judging.  Of course, we'll call a spade a spade any ol' day.  And when someone opens up a can of Hormel Chili and thinks they're gonna win a contest, well, "Houston, we gotta a problem!"

We laid down The Law with those people in 2009.  We said, "Hey, you wanna have chili, THIS is how you do it."  Believe it or not, people actually took our advice.  The entries in the 2010 contest were light years better than the previous year.  The guy that won it was amazing.  His chili was off the charts in every way, shape and form.  But the rest of the entrants were equally almost as good.  Everyone put their hearts into it and the results really showed.  We'd have to say that Clayton produced the best overall chili we've ever eaten.

We're pretty good at making chili ourselves.  But we sure "got a lesson" from those folks in Clayton last year.

We emailed the Honcho today asking if we were still "ON" to be judges for the event.  He gave us "two thumbs up" and we're good to go.  If it's July 23rd, we know we're gonna be in Clayton! Frankly, we are pleased to learn and know about this.  It's great to have Friends, especially Friends who keep inviting you to tell them just how badly they made their chili!  How good is that?  VERY good!

Life is good, too.

Cheers, jp

PS--That's Clayton, IDAHO.  Click here to see their awesome website.  CLAYTON ROX!

PPS (#2)  I went back through last year's blog records and found this account of our Chili judging in July 2010.  It' obvious we combined it with the BLM Salmon River Guide Project.  Gee, multi-tasking, anyone?  How 'bout paddle yer brains out the day before, the day of and the day after?

OK, without further ado, here is last year's blog excerpt:

"Friday, we met with Jeff in his Challis office during the late morning.  We finally managed to get on the water about 1 pm and floated 13 miles.  After running the shuttles and so forth, we were back in camp by 6 pm.

Saturday, we flew out of camp by 8:45 am and arrived in Clayton precisely at 10 am.  Judging the chile thing was a real hoot.  Mike slipped me a hundred dollar bill and that was nice, too!  He invited us back again for 2011 and the entrants and spectators really seemed to love our schtick--we wore matching red, white and blue aprons and used our digital laser thermometer to really ham it up.  They had prize money this year and so I got to pass out ribbons and money and that livened up the scene considerably.  We got to perform in the replica livery stable and it was really a memorable moment.  Much to my abject surprise, some guy dressed up like a mountain man came over and asked me to participate in the black powder shoot.  I told him I didn't have a rifle and hadn't shot black powder in maybe 40 years or more.  He said, "No problem, you can use my .54 caliber Hawken."  I about fainted dead away.  Sure enough he had this awesome Hawken and refreshed my memory on how to charge it and I got to get off 8 shots and hit the target on four of them.  It was a true hoot!

We finally got out of Clayton about 2 pm and were on the water again by 3 pm and got off about 5 pm.  Once again were back in camp about 6 pm and enjoyed a real nice evening Happy Hour there on the banks of the Salmon.  There was a huge wedding going on in the day use area and Susun danced her booties off for a few hours.  She really got to exercise her Social Muscles to the Max Saturday night.

Sunday was a real slow moving morning. and we didn't get back on the water until 1 pm.  We had a great run through Royal Gorge--lots of fluffy whitewater and some rocks to dodge, too.  We were off a little after 3 pm and this time got back to camp about 5:30 pm.  In total, we ran about 27 miles of river in 3 days.  Our volunteer agreement targets a 15 mile per day average so we need to play catchup on our next trip. The boat is now nicely rigged and performs very well.  We can rig and derig very quickly and we have everything we need for the short day trips we are taking."