The next few hours passed in a blur as he stood watch over the fragile body. He wanted to be there when his son awoke, be there when he was confronted with what happened. he didn’t blame Mary for the accident, but he believed it wouldn’t of happened had he been there. That night the bed was left cold and the dinner unmade as the two grieving parents buried their only daughter. It was 2 fretful nights of waiting for their son to recover. Shirking their duties as light-keepers when Jules stepped in and tended to the beacon. Finally on the third day Billy awoke, his father sleeping in the chair next to him, his head resting on the bed with an outstretched hand across his sons leg.
“Dad” Billy said weakly.
“Yes” he said after a long sigh of relief. He fought to stave off the oncoming flood of tears, but the dam was breaking with every breath and blink of his sons eyes.
“Wheres Sis?”
At this he could hold it back no longer, no more the stoic man, he wept into his son[']s bedsheets. He couldn’t bring himself to say that awful word, the one that would explain it all, dead.
“We buried her under the Madrona[,]” he sobbed. His son reached down and placed his hand upon his fathers and said[,] “She loved you”.
The waters behind the dam burst forth and tears streamed down his face as he looked his son in the eye. How was it that Billy knew this was what he needed to hear, when did his son finally become a man. He turned his gaze towards the window pane as the rain began to fall.
The next day it was apparent that Billy's condition had taken a turn for the worse. Mary first noticed it when mary changed the bandages on the open amputation wound. The amount of yellowish green fluid oozing from deep within had grown in quantity. This could only mean one thing, an infection had set in. Later that day he had slipped into a coma and fears of losing him completely were rising [passive here again-say instead, Their fear of losing him rose.]. They originally planned to await the arrival of the Coast Guard Cutter, but the current situation forced him to decide to take his son by boat to the mainland 20 miles away. He ran down to the boat and made all the preparations to get underway while Jules and Mary prepared a stretcher and gave him another dose of quinine.
He shoved off from the dock and headed straight for the St Joe’s dock as fast as he dared to go with such precious cargo on board. He radioed ahead to the marine dispatch and explained his situation. They in turn ringed the hospital and were able to have an aid car at the wharf ready to receive him. He left his boat at the city dock and jumped into the back of the ambulance, his face showing how worried and distressed he felt. Although the drive took a matter of minutes, it felt like an eternity as with every second he saw his son slip farther and farther away. The emergency room was a blur as his son was whisked off down some unanimous hall and he was corralled into a room with a nurse with a clipboard. She was asking him medical questions and he could hear himself answering but he was intent upon watching the door behind which his son had disappeared.
He awoke from his dream, as a few rays of morning sun were dancing on the window pane. The ice cubes in his glass, long since melted leaving a ring of condensation on the table. The only reminder of yet another drink gone bad. He swilled the watery booze, allowing it to rest on his tongue, yet no matter how hard he tried he could never wash away that taste. Only bourbon could burn it out of his brain. He walked over to the phone and dialed the car service.
“Bye and Byes Drivers, how may I help you” came the sweet voice of a young girl.
“Yes, I need a car for one passenger to the airport in an hour” he said.
“Ok sir, will you need a return pick up?”
“No, it’s one way” he replied.
As he gave the young woman the address he realized this was the end. He knew where his wife was going, he knew that he had moved there after that fateful year. He ceased to care, and as he hung up the phone, he ceased to exist.
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Chapter 7
The next morning as he cast off the mooring lines and turned the boat out of the protected cove, he saw his now extended family standing at the edge of the dock waving. Although the clouds had opened up and showers now poured down upon them, the children stood there smiling and waving furiously as the boat rounded the corner and was out of view. The next few days were bliss for the family. Another family from one of the neighboring lighthouses stopped over on their return from a supply run Visits from fellow light-keepers were always well received, as there were so few people in this world that understood the trials and tribulations of the lifestyle. The details were never made clear to him, but a day before he was set to return the children were out in their customary fashion exploring the island. The two children were climbing in one of their favorite trees near the beach, when there was a thunderous crack as the crown of the tree separated and crashed down amongst the rocks.
Mary heard the crash and instinctively, as only a mother can feel, felt something had gone terribly wrong and dropped the basket of fresh flowers and took off running. The petas of the delicate blooms barely had settled to the ground before she let out a blood curdling scream. There, lying still and lifeless amongst the debris, lied her two precious babies. She lost the ability to function, her legs collapsing out from underneath her, barely able to crawl across the rocks to where Bridgette lay pinned under a massive branch. A shard of which had peeled off and was firmly secured in her abdomen. Hopelessly she splashed some of the incoming sea water on her precious girls face, mindlessly trying to wash away the blood. Sobs violently racked her body and she was unable to fight the urge to vomit. As she lay there weeping into her own bile she hear something. A whisper at first, then a whimper and the soft cry of her son “mama”.
She rushed over to him and grabbed him, hugging him closely as she collapsed about him, rocking back and forth as the tears stung her face.
“Oh my god, thank god.” she stumbled over her words between each sobbing fit. It wasn’t until she felt her sons body go limp that she realized the severity of the situation. There trapped under the trunk of the tree were the mangled remains of her sons leg. Although most of his leg remained unseen, bits of broken bone and flowing blood could be seen above his knee cap. She started screaming “Help” as she removed her bandana and fashioned a crude tourniquet above the wound. Calling upon all of the angels of mercy and all that is good in this world she placed her hands underneath the log and began to lift. That was her flesh and blood under there and she would die before giving up. Just then Jules arrived and she was barely able to grunt out between gritted teeth “Get him”
Jules quickly reached down and scooped the boy up in his arms, being careful to raise his legs higher than his heart. Mary dropped the log with a resounding crash. She walked over to where Bridgette was lying, now blue and cold, and removed the offensive piece of wood. She gingerly lifted her into her arms, her face now numb, and walked past Jules towards the house. Her once pink and white floral dress streaked with crimson. When they arrived at the house she directed Jules to take Billy into the kitchen as she carried her darling girl up to bed. She gently laid her down, nestled the blankets up around her and laid her favorite stuffed rabbit next to her. She stared at her daughters once beautiful alabaster skin and freckled nose, kissed her on the forehead, and tucked her in for her final rest. She knew time was short for her son, and mourning could be saved for later. She walked down the stairs, grabbed her medicine bag and rolled up her sleeves. She stopped outside the kitchen door, took a deep breath and let out a sigh before proceeding. Quickly her brain switched into clinical mode and she no longer saw her son on the table, but just another trauma patient on the operating table. She walked over to the sink and began scrubbing her hands and arms, watching as the suds turned to a foamy pink before washing down the drain. She heard the back door slam shut and figured Jules had lost his nerve, but as she finished scrubbing she turned around to see him carrying a smalle stick, a leather strap and the new ax. He too had realized the severity of the injury. They stared at each other, preparing themselves for what they were about to do. They didn’t notice the boat pulling up to the wharf.
He had found it odd that his family was not waiting for him at the dock. He was a day early, but he had blown the horn three times before he arrived. Surely Billy would have heard it. He tied his boat off and started unloading supplies on the dock. From the last box he removed a brand new porcelain china doll, and as he walked towards the house he was careful to hide it behind his back, lest his daughter caught him unawares. As he approached the house he noticed there was a lot of lights on in the kitchen. He opened the back door and saw Mary’s back holding something on the table, and Jules swinging and ax down hard. Mary felt his presence and turned, and there, just a glimpse, he saw his son laying on the table. He felt a deep pit form in his stomach, the precious doll sliding from his fingers and crashing upon the floor. The tinkling of the individual pieces now filled the deathly silent room. Mary ran to him, her once clinical resolve melting away as she hugged him tightly. Between her whimpers he could hear the words he dreaded ‘she’s dead’. He hugged his wife close and gently pushed her away as he walked towards his son[']s now deformed body. Jules grabbed a piece of cloth and wrapped up the now dismembered leg and placed it beneath the table before dressing the wound. Here his son lay, sticky with sweat, cool to the touch. A stick marked deeply with teeth marks, now lay limply across his mouth. He removed the wood, and wiped his boys face, wiping away the sweat, and wiping away the now free flowing tears.
“My boy, my beautiful boy” he kept repeating over and over as he laid his head upon his sons chest. He could feel that somewhere deep within, his sons heart was beating and there was still hope.
Mary heard the crash and instinctively, as only a mother can feel, felt something had gone terribly wrong and dropped the basket of fresh flowers and took off running. The petas of the delicate blooms barely had settled to the ground before she let out a blood curdling scream. There, lying still and lifeless amongst the debris, lied her two precious babies. She lost the ability to function, her legs collapsing out from underneath her, barely able to crawl across the rocks to where Bridgette lay pinned under a massive branch. A shard of which had peeled off and was firmly secured in her abdomen. Hopelessly she splashed some of the incoming sea water on her precious girls face, mindlessly trying to wash away the blood. Sobs violently racked her body and she was unable to fight the urge to vomit. As she lay there weeping into her own bile she hear something. A whisper at first, then a whimper and the soft cry of her son “mama”.
She rushed over to him and grabbed him, hugging him closely as she collapsed about him, rocking back and forth as the tears stung her face.
“Oh my god, thank god.” she stumbled over her words between each sobbing fit. It wasn’t until she felt her sons body go limp that she realized the severity of the situation. There trapped under the trunk of the tree were the mangled remains of her sons leg. Although most of his leg remained unseen, bits of broken bone and flowing blood could be seen above his knee cap. She started screaming “Help” as she removed her bandana and fashioned a crude tourniquet above the wound. Calling upon all of the angels of mercy and all that is good in this world she placed her hands underneath the log and began to lift. That was her flesh and blood under there and she would die before giving up. Just then Jules arrived and she was barely able to grunt out between gritted teeth “Get him”
Jules quickly reached down and scooped the boy up in his arms, being careful to raise his legs higher than his heart. Mary dropped the log with a resounding crash. She walked over to where Bridgette was lying, now blue and cold, and removed the offensive piece of wood. She gingerly lifted her into her arms, her face now numb, and walked past Jules towards the house. Her once pink and white floral dress streaked with crimson. When they arrived at the house she directed Jules to take Billy into the kitchen as she carried her darling girl up to bed. She gently laid her down, nestled the blankets up around her and laid her favorite stuffed rabbit next to her. She stared at her daughters once beautiful alabaster skin and freckled nose, kissed her on the forehead, and tucked her in for her final rest. She knew time was short for her son, and mourning could be saved for later. She walked down the stairs, grabbed her medicine bag and rolled up her sleeves. She stopped outside the kitchen door, took a deep breath and let out a sigh before proceeding. Quickly her brain switched into clinical mode and she no longer saw her son on the table, but just another trauma patient on the operating table. She walked over to the sink and began scrubbing her hands and arms, watching as the suds turned to a foamy pink before washing down the drain. She heard the back door slam shut and figured Jules had lost his nerve, but as she finished scrubbing she turned around to see him carrying a smalle stick, a leather strap and the new ax. He too had realized the severity of the injury. They stared at each other, preparing themselves for what they were about to do. They didn’t notice the boat pulling up to the wharf.
He had found it odd that his family was not waiting for him at the dock. He was a day early, but he had blown the horn three times before he arrived. Surely Billy would have heard it. He tied his boat off and started unloading supplies on the dock. From the last box he removed a brand new porcelain china doll, and as he walked towards the house he was careful to hide it behind his back, lest his daughter caught him unawares. As he approached the house he noticed there was a lot of lights on in the kitchen. He opened the back door and saw Mary’s back holding something on the table, and Jules swinging and ax down hard. Mary felt his presence and turned, and there, just a glimpse, he saw his son laying on the table. He felt a deep pit form in his stomach, the precious doll sliding from his fingers and crashing upon the floor. The tinkling of the individual pieces now filled the deathly silent room. Mary ran to him, her once clinical resolve melting away as she hugged him tightly. Between her whimpers he could hear the words he dreaded ‘she’s dead’. He hugged his wife close and gently pushed her away as he walked towards his son[']s now deformed body. Jules grabbed a piece of cloth and wrapped up the now dismembered leg and placed it beneath the table before dressing the wound. Here his son lay, sticky with sweat, cool to the touch. A stick marked deeply with teeth marks, now lay limply across his mouth. He removed the wood, and wiped his boys face, wiping away the sweat, and wiping away the now free flowing tears.
“My boy, my beautiful boy” he kept repeating over and over as he laid his head upon his sons chest. He could feel that somewhere deep within, his sons heart was beating and there was still hope.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Off to Stuart Island
Well, the time is finally here, I am off to Stuart Island tomorrow afternoon, and the first 'vacation' I have is on the 16th for the family reunion. If anyone needs to get a hold of me you can always call my grandma's house, or you can call my voicemail call button. I wont be able to check emails until I get back on the 16th, so I hope everyone has a great 4th of July. Thinking of all of you and missing you!
Nic
Nic
Chapter 6
He awoke from his memory with a jolt, a bruned aftertaste on his tongue. Why do I torment myself this way, why must I relive this, he thought to an empty room. The sun was now hiding on the other side of the world, and in its absence was the cold and dark night, forbidding yet comforting. He reached for his glass and walked to the bottle resting ont he bar. He tapped off his glass, watching the amber liquid cascade about in the confines of the crystal . He drank that one and poured himself another. He saw his whole life crumbling about him and he felt powerless to stop it. A cold shiver ran down his spine and he placed a few more logs on the fire before returning to the residual warmth in his chair. Outside the trees shuddered against one another, a rogue limb was was scraping across the window pane. Tap Tap, tap tap, Papa, tap tap, Papa, the voice of his son lured him back into a fitful slumber.
His dream took him back to the lighthouse, only now it was a year later and the situation had changed . He gazed out across the cove and saw his son waving at him from a boat and holding up what looked to be a salmon. He smiled and waved back before turning about and heading towards the house. there sitting outside the back porch sharpening the aces was hi new assistant light-keeper, Jules. It was almost a year ago this day that he nearly arrested this man. mary was right all along, and after squaring things away with the Coast Guard, Jules asked to stay on the island to repay his gratitude. To date Jules had been one of the hardest working and able bodied men to serve alongside him. He came up next to him and admired the progress before saying “the new fresnel is coming in today”.
“I will go make sure the old one is ready to be moved before they get here” replied Jules.
“I’ll come and get you when they come in.”
At this he walked inside and found Mary washing the morning dishes. She was looking through the kitchen window and her gaze was focused on something outside the back door. He walked up to her, wrapped his arms around her waist and nestled his face amongst her locks. She moved her head slightly and cooed “Hell there handsome, what brings you by my door at this hour?”
“You” he simply replied.
He was enjoying the feeling of her tight in his arms pressed up against him. A growing warmth was building deep inside him. As he nuzzled her neck and breathed in the sweet aroma of her hair, he finally caught sight of what it was that was occupying her gaze. The once passionate heat suddenly froze over as he saw Jules grinding away outside the kitchen window. He lifted his lips to her ear and whispered “I love you” before pulling away and going to the washroom. He always felt he could trust Mary, he knew she wouldn’t be unfaithful, had he not tried to give her everything? He tried to put the thought out of his mind for the rest of the day, but there was always that incessant reminder. She had seemed more cheerful these past few months, more then usual.
That evening at dinner, as the family st laughing about another on of Jules stories, he remained silent, awaiting a lull in the conversation. As dessert was being served he finally found his chance and announced “I received a letter last week, I need to go to Astoria for a meeting of the light-keepers.” The silence was palpable, and he could feel his heart beat thunder inside his chest in sync with the tick tock of the grandfather clock on the mantle.
“I will be gone for a week or so, but I promise to pick up supplies before I return. Mary, Jules you must always watch the beacon in my absence” he said.
At the mention of supplies and therefore possible treats, a smile returned to the childrens’ faces before spreading infectiously to the rest of the tables occupants.
His dream took him back to the lighthouse, only now it was a year later and the situation had changed . He gazed out across the cove and saw his son waving at him from a boat and holding up what looked to be a salmon. He smiled and waved back before turning about and heading towards the house. there sitting outside the back porch sharpening the aces was hi new assistant light-keeper, Jules. It was almost a year ago this day that he nearly arrested this man. mary was right all along, and after squaring things away with the Coast Guard, Jules asked to stay on the island to repay his gratitude. To date Jules had been one of the hardest working and able bodied men to serve alongside him. He came up next to him and admired the progress before saying “the new fresnel is coming in today”.
“I will go make sure the old one is ready to be moved before they get here” replied Jules.
“I’ll come and get you when they come in.”
At this he walked inside and found Mary washing the morning dishes. She was looking through the kitchen window and her gaze was focused on something outside the back door. He walked up to her, wrapped his arms around her waist and nestled his face amongst her locks. She moved her head slightly and cooed “Hell there handsome, what brings you by my door at this hour?”
“You” he simply replied.
He was enjoying the feeling of her tight in his arms pressed up against him. A growing warmth was building deep inside him. As he nuzzled her neck and breathed in the sweet aroma of her hair, he finally caught sight of what it was that was occupying her gaze. The once passionate heat suddenly froze over as he saw Jules grinding away outside the kitchen window. He lifted his lips to her ear and whispered “I love you” before pulling away and going to the washroom. He always felt he could trust Mary, he knew she wouldn’t be unfaithful, had he not tried to give her everything? He tried to put the thought out of his mind for the rest of the day, but there was always that incessant reminder. She had seemed more cheerful these past few months, more then usual.
That evening at dinner, as the family st laughing about another on of Jules stories, he remained silent, awaiting a lull in the conversation. As dessert was being served he finally found his chance and announced “I received a letter last week, I need to go to Astoria for a meeting of the light-keepers.” The silence was palpable, and he could feel his heart beat thunder inside his chest in sync with the tick tock of the grandfather clock on the mantle.
“I will be gone for a week or so, but I promise to pick up supplies before I return. Mary, Jules you must always watch the beacon in my absence” he said.
At the mention of supplies and therefore possible treats, a smile returned to the childrens’ faces before spreading infectiously to the rest of the tables occupants.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Chapter 5
As his kids took off running for the beach he followed the path to the garden and the cow pasture. There seemingly wreathed by her beloved irises stood Mary. he thought of the old nursery rhyme every time he saw her in the garden. He could never bring himself to think of her as ‘quite contrary’. He unlatched the gate to the cow pasture and grabbed the wheelbarrow and shovel alongside of the fence. Regardless of all of the old wives tales about how to make your garden grow, he had always stuck to his own adage of ‘feed the cows well, and they will make great fertilizer’. As he went about the enclosure shoveling one cow paddy after the next into the wheelbarrow he hummed the old sea shanty about the Black Ball Ferry Line. He pushed the now half full wheelbarrow out of the gate and to the edge of the garden, still humming along. Mary turned around at him, smiled, and opened the garden gate.
“Coast Guard will be here tomorrow” he said, watching her smile fade.
“I am going to hand our guest over to them when they get here” he added.
She looked at him, silent for what felt like an eternity and said “you really ought to talk to him”
“Hmpfh” he grunted in response as he tipped the wheelbarrow, spilling its contents upon the compost pile.
That night during dinner he sat at the head of the table watching his family eat, and there opposite him, eating his wifes’ cooking from his plates with his silverware sat Jules. An interloper to their nightly ritual. he started cutting into his steak watching his knife slide back and forth across the tender meat and said “Nice to see you feeling better”.
“Thanks only to your lovely wife” Jules replied as he smiled at Mary. Was that a wink he just gave her, did she just blush he thought to himself. The once delicious food quickly tasted of bile, but he continued to chew the piece of meat. He would not allow this intruder to affect him so. After swallowing the offensive piece of food he looked across the table at Jules and asked “Exactly why are you here?”
Jules set down his silverware and proceeded to tell him how the Coast Guard hospital supply ships were being routinely attacked by opium smugglers and stealing the morphine supplies on board. In an effort to assure the safe delivery of the much needed medicine, the Coast Guard had hired several trusted fishboat captains to deliver the supplies. he finished his story by saying “Some of the bastards caught up with me just outside of Vancouver and shot up my boat. I was able to slink away in the night, but one of their bullets passed through my leg and a terrible infection set in. A few days later I drifted up on your shores and the Angels of Mercy smiled upon me”.
He had sat there silent, listening and thinking through Jules story, and he slowly felt his anger ebbing away. The smugglers and the pirates in this area had become particularly brutal and his story did seem to have a ring of truth about it.
“The Coast Guard cutter will be here tomorrow and we will sort this whole mess out” he said as he stood up pushing his chair back. The adults left the table for the children to tidy up and headed off to their respective parts of the house.
The next morning after a silent breakfast, the family dropped what they were doing at the sound of a long blast from a horn. As was tradition the family ran to the dock to greet the incoming cutter. Although they were only supposed to bring replenishment supplies for the lighthouse, they often brought over much needed supplies for the family and treats for the kids. Before the family could issue their customary greeting, Jules came limping down the dock, his footsteps shuddering the planks before he came tot he gangplank and disappeared onboard the cutter. Mary turned to her husband and shrugged with a smile before walking towards the sailors at the first bollard. He followed her a few steps behind and walked to the gangplank in preparation for receiving the captain. As he stood there waiting Mary moved to the next batch of sailors and offered them cookies and fresh coffee from her basket.
“Coast Guard will be here tomorrow” he said, watching her smile fade.
“I am going to hand our guest over to them when they get here” he added.
She looked at him, silent for what felt like an eternity and said “you really ought to talk to him”
“Hmpfh” he grunted in response as he tipped the wheelbarrow, spilling its contents upon the compost pile.
That night during dinner he sat at the head of the table watching his family eat, and there opposite him, eating his wifes’ cooking from his plates with his silverware sat Jules. An interloper to their nightly ritual. he started cutting into his steak watching his knife slide back and forth across the tender meat and said “Nice to see you feeling better”.
“Thanks only to your lovely wife” Jules replied as he smiled at Mary. Was that a wink he just gave her, did she just blush he thought to himself. The once delicious food quickly tasted of bile, but he continued to chew the piece of meat. He would not allow this intruder to affect him so. After swallowing the offensive piece of food he looked across the table at Jules and asked “Exactly why are you here?”
Jules set down his silverware and proceeded to tell him how the Coast Guard hospital supply ships were being routinely attacked by opium smugglers and stealing the morphine supplies on board. In an effort to assure the safe delivery of the much needed medicine, the Coast Guard had hired several trusted fishboat captains to deliver the supplies. he finished his story by saying “Some of the bastards caught up with me just outside of Vancouver and shot up my boat. I was able to slink away in the night, but one of their bullets passed through my leg and a terrible infection set in. A few days later I drifted up on your shores and the Angels of Mercy smiled upon me”.
He had sat there silent, listening and thinking through Jules story, and he slowly felt his anger ebbing away. The smugglers and the pirates in this area had become particularly brutal and his story did seem to have a ring of truth about it.
“The Coast Guard cutter will be here tomorrow and we will sort this whole mess out” he said as he stood up pushing his chair back. The adults left the table for the children to tidy up and headed off to their respective parts of the house.
The next morning after a silent breakfast, the family dropped what they were doing at the sound of a long blast from a horn. As was tradition the family ran to the dock to greet the incoming cutter. Although they were only supposed to bring replenishment supplies for the lighthouse, they often brought over much needed supplies for the family and treats for the kids. Before the family could issue their customary greeting, Jules came limping down the dock, his footsteps shuddering the planks before he came tot he gangplank and disappeared onboard the cutter. Mary turned to her husband and shrugged with a smile before walking towards the sailors at the first bollard. He followed her a few steps behind and walked to the gangplank in preparation for receiving the captain. As he stood there waiting Mary moved to the next batch of sailors and offered them cookies and fresh coffee from her basket.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Leaving Patos
I am leaving Patos this am on the water taxi. Chateau de odo'r and all of its contents have been packed away and I am sitting here watching the waves once more. It's like leaving a lover and boarding a plane. I say to my lover I will write and try to visit, but it does little to curb the hurt deep within us both.
Tomorrow I will drive to Omak so I can do ... you guessed it... more camping, with my Mom and Jeff in Idaho.
Here is a map of today and tomorrows travel. The straight line on the far left is the water taxi, where as the squiggly line will be the actual driving to Omak.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Chapter 4
Upon entry into the kitchen he was greeted by the smiling faces of his children happily occupied by their sandwiches, and a plate already laid out for him.
“Where is your mother” he asked his children.
“With Jules” his daughter replied through a mouthful of bread.
“Who?”
“The man you rescued” his son piped in.
“Hmmm” he grunted as he bit in to his sandwich. He loved the way the lettuce crunched and how the mayonnaise tasted. No matter what meat or bread she used that day, mary always put the right amount of Mayo and the crispiest hearts of lettuce on his sandwich. He finished off the last scraps of his meal and left the table.
“Come with me” he said to his son. Father and son walked out of the kitchen leaving the cleaning to his daughter as today it was her chore to do so. They walked down the hall in silence and upon reaching the spare room, they heard voices drifting through the door. He watched as his son continued on down the hall, then he placed his hand on the door knob. He leaned in to open the door and caught himself as he heard Mary say “I am sure he will believe you, you are a good guy and I can see it”
“I enjoy having someone to talk to, its been so lonely on the boat, for so long, I started talking to the seagulls on my long runs. Nobody could know what I was doing, so any stops I made were straight forward and to the point. A lot of ‘yes sir here is the cash, I need this much gas now, yes sir, 9 am, yes sir a gale coming in, yes sir pirates sighted in the straits.”
“Why did they pick you” she asked.
“ I owed them” he replied. At this he yawned and Mary tucked the blankets up about his chin. She moved around the room picking up the leftover dishes and the soiled bandages and was shocked to find her husband standing outside the door when she opened it.
“Oh” she gasped “how long have you been here?”
“Long enough to hear him sucker you in with that story of his” he said curtly.
“If only you had really listened you wouldn’t feel that way” she spat back at him vehemently, as she turned on her heel to walk down the hall. The anger in her footsteps was evident as the dishes rattled about with each fall of her foot. He turned to the still open door and saw Jules looking back at him clearly awake.
“I know you heard all of that, and I will not pass judgement on you, that is for the Coast Guard to decide.”
“How soon will they be here, I need to speak with the Captain” Jules said, now sitting upright, returning the stare.
“Soon enough” he said as he shut the door to ‘Jules’ room. How odd, he thought, that a criminal would want to see the Coast Guard. He put the thoughts in the back of his mind and continued down the hallway to the front porch where his son had been waiting for him. He walked to where the boy was sitting on the steps, and standing next to him gazed out across the property. From here he could see the gardens and the barn, and farther down the slope, just beyond view was the shore. The sound of the unseen waves reached up to him, and he followed along as the wave crashed on the shore. He stepped off the porch, his son quietly falling into step behind him. It was Wednesday, therefore it was the day to polish all of the bright-work in the lighthouse. It didn’t need to be done every week, but he took pride in knowing that it was. The two of them walked into the beacon house and headed for the tower. There underneath the stairs was a built in cabinet that stored all of his polishing gear. He handed a rag and a can of polish to his son, and grabbed some for himself. In silence they both set off to different areas and started on their task at hand. Each knew his place and where he was expected to clean. To the son, all of the detailed parts and hand railings, for his fingers were still small enough to polish the smallest of cracks. To the father, the area around the lens and the 6 foot foghorn. Areas that could be quite dangerous, and therefore not suited for his child. Neither stopped till the brass-work was shiny enough that one could inspect their wrinkles in its reflection. It was a valuable lesson he was trying to teach his son. Work hard, and you will have a bright future. Only once had his son complained. After sustaining a nasty fall in the rose thicket, he had a 2 inch scratch across his palm. That afternoon they were polishing, and after an hour his son came to him with tears in his eyes and said “Papa, my hand hurts”
His father unwrapped the cloth from around his sons palm to find the polish had seeped into the wound and was forcing it to bleed. He was proud of his son that day, he had shown him that he could work through the pain, he would make a fine man when he grew up.
As they neared the completion of their task, he looked out the beacon windows and saw his daughter come skipping down the path. In her hand swinging ferociously back and forth was an old flour sack weighted down with something. He made it to the bottom of the stairs at the same tim e she came in the door singing an unknown tune in an unknown language known only to her.
“Where you off to” he asked as she danced circles around the room.
“I came to get Billy so we can get some muscles” she said as she made a fantastic impression of flexing her arms. He sat down on a stool in the main engine room and she climbed up on to his lap, “well” he said “what’s in the bag”.
“Muscles”
“What?” he said with a puzzled look on his face. He reached for the bag and opened it up to find a pound of fresh blue mussels.
“Oh” he said trying not to laugh, “Mussels darling”. He lifted her up off his knee and shooed her out of the engine room, “alright you two get along now” he said as he sent them out the door and locked it.
“Where is your mother” he asked his children.
“With Jules” his daughter replied through a mouthful of bread.
“Who?”
“The man you rescued” his son piped in.
“Hmmm” he grunted as he bit in to his sandwich. He loved the way the lettuce crunched and how the mayonnaise tasted. No matter what meat or bread she used that day, mary always put the right amount of Mayo and the crispiest hearts of lettuce on his sandwich. He finished off the last scraps of his meal and left the table.
“Come with me” he said to his son. Father and son walked out of the kitchen leaving the cleaning to his daughter as today it was her chore to do so. They walked down the hall in silence and upon reaching the spare room, they heard voices drifting through the door. He watched as his son continued on down the hall, then he placed his hand on the door knob. He leaned in to open the door and caught himself as he heard Mary say “I am sure he will believe you, you are a good guy and I can see it”
“I enjoy having someone to talk to, its been so lonely on the boat, for so long, I started talking to the seagulls on my long runs. Nobody could know what I was doing, so any stops I made were straight forward and to the point. A lot of ‘yes sir here is the cash, I need this much gas now, yes sir, 9 am, yes sir a gale coming in, yes sir pirates sighted in the straits.”
“Why did they pick you” she asked.
“ I owed them” he replied. At this he yawned and Mary tucked the blankets up about his chin. She moved around the room picking up the leftover dishes and the soiled bandages and was shocked to find her husband standing outside the door when she opened it.
“Oh” she gasped “how long have you been here?”
“Long enough to hear him sucker you in with that story of his” he said curtly.
“If only you had really listened you wouldn’t feel that way” she spat back at him vehemently, as she turned on her heel to walk down the hall. The anger in her footsteps was evident as the dishes rattled about with each fall of her foot. He turned to the still open door and saw Jules looking back at him clearly awake.
“I know you heard all of that, and I will not pass judgement on you, that is for the Coast Guard to decide.”
“How soon will they be here, I need to speak with the Captain” Jules said, now sitting upright, returning the stare.
“Soon enough” he said as he shut the door to ‘Jules’ room. How odd, he thought, that a criminal would want to see the Coast Guard. He put the thoughts in the back of his mind and continued down the hallway to the front porch where his son had been waiting for him. He walked to where the boy was sitting on the steps, and standing next to him gazed out across the property. From here he could see the gardens and the barn, and farther down the slope, just beyond view was the shore. The sound of the unseen waves reached up to him, and he followed along as the wave crashed on the shore. He stepped off the porch, his son quietly falling into step behind him. It was Wednesday, therefore it was the day to polish all of the bright-work in the lighthouse. It didn’t need to be done every week, but he took pride in knowing that it was. The two of them walked into the beacon house and headed for the tower. There underneath the stairs was a built in cabinet that stored all of his polishing gear. He handed a rag and a can of polish to his son, and grabbed some for himself. In silence they both set off to different areas and started on their task at hand. Each knew his place and where he was expected to clean. To the son, all of the detailed parts and hand railings, for his fingers were still small enough to polish the smallest of cracks. To the father, the area around the lens and the 6 foot foghorn. Areas that could be quite dangerous, and therefore not suited for his child. Neither stopped till the brass-work was shiny enough that one could inspect their wrinkles in its reflection. It was a valuable lesson he was trying to teach his son. Work hard, and you will have a bright future. Only once had his son complained. After sustaining a nasty fall in the rose thicket, he had a 2 inch scratch across his palm. That afternoon they were polishing, and after an hour his son came to him with tears in his eyes and said “Papa, my hand hurts”
His father unwrapped the cloth from around his sons palm to find the polish had seeped into the wound and was forcing it to bleed. He was proud of his son that day, he had shown him that he could work through the pain, he would make a fine man when he grew up.
As they neared the completion of their task, he looked out the beacon windows and saw his daughter come skipping down the path. In her hand swinging ferociously back and forth was an old flour sack weighted down with something. He made it to the bottom of the stairs at the same tim e she came in the door singing an unknown tune in an unknown language known only to her.
“Where you off to” he asked as she danced circles around the room.
“I came to get Billy so we can get some muscles” she said as she made a fantastic impression of flexing her arms. He sat down on a stool in the main engine room and she climbed up on to his lap, “well” he said “what’s in the bag”.
“Muscles”
“What?” he said with a puzzled look on his face. He reached for the bag and opened it up to find a pound of fresh blue mussels.
“Oh” he said trying not to laugh, “Mussels darling”. He lifted her up off his knee and shooed her out of the engine room, “alright you two get along now” he said as he sent them out the door and locked it.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Chapter 3 Lighthouse story
Ok this isn't really chapter 3, but it is the 3rd installment. here goes:
He proceeded to the kitchen and found the beef stew from last night still in the pot on the stove. As he was heating it up, he helped himself to a few spoonfuls. ‘Mmmm’ he thought, as good as it was last night. his wife could make a gourmet meal out of a few potatoes, an onion and a piece of shoe leather.
“A watched pot never boils” he said to the empty kitchen. So he stepped outside, habitually gave a short ‘come here’ whistle, and started down the walk to the beacon. Not three feet rom the steps he came upon his old dog Pilotis, and the two of them trotted of together, Owner and Best Friend. Upon assurance that everything was in working order at the beacon he returned to the house, his faithful sidekick returning to his spot on the back door porch. He did as he was asked and ladled two steaming spoonfuls of stew into a bowl and grabbed a bits of bacon and bread. he was careful to leave a few of the tastiest morsels for Pilotis.
The kids were perched outside the door to the spare bedroom, intent on listening to whatever tidbits of conversation floated their way. So enthralled were they by the quiet murmurs from the other room that they didn’t notice him till he was standing behind them.
“Well, make yourselves useful and open the door why don’t chya” he said.
His son promptly lept to his feet and turned the knob, pushing the door open as he scooted back into the hall with his sister. Whatever it was that happened to the man inside, they knew he was trouble and wanted to stay just far enough away to still fuel their curiosity.
“I brought you some grub” he said as he placed the tray of food down on the bed.
“Eat up, my wife and I have duties to attend to and we will return shortly”
He guided his wife out into the hall and sent the kids once again scurrying into the shadows. With a worried face he looked at her and said “This man is no good, I think that was opium he was smuggling in his boat, as soon as he is well, I am taking him to the officials on the mainland and they can deal with him”
“He seemed like a good man, albeit one who lost his way” she replied.
“Regardless, I will not let him stay here and endanger my family, anyways, if the Coast Guard or the Borders and Customs finds him here and I haven’t reported his arrest, it's my ass on the line Mary, and its a charge like-amount to treason” at this he turned back towards the kitchen, grabbed the last bit of food he was saving for Pilotis and walked out to where the day lay on the porch.
“Here you go boy” he said as he fed him a few pieces of bacon. After a few good scritches behind the ears he stood up, dusted off his jeans and walked out to the carpenter shop. There was a project he had been working on for some time. A wooden box for their upcoming anniversary. A few months back he had eyed a large madrona tree that had fallen over at the edge of the cove. He walked out there with a saw and after several hours of cutting away at this dense log, he removed a sizeable chunk and rolled it back to the shop. Mary would never think to look in here for her gift, but just in case, he had hid the pieces behind the workbench. Today was a special day, after countless hours of sanding, cutting, and planing, today was the day he was going to start the detailed carving on the lid. He needed no drawing, the image was seared in his brain. He picked up a large chisel and started to chip out an outline of the lighthouse. He could think of nothing better to represent their happiness, then the shining beacon of their paradise.
He loved the way the wood curled up, and the feeling in his left hand every time he tapped the chisel with the mallet. Things quickly fell into a rhythm as he worked around the face of the box. Tap, tap, tap, brush the hand across the wood, tap, tap, tap, brush, tap tap tap. It continued on till he had outlined the lighthouse structure and cleaned up the frame of the carving. He could hear footsteps outside the shop, so he placed the piece behind some tools on the workbench. Mary, opened the door, the light of the sun set her hair all aglow. Instantly he was taken by her beauty and when her lips parted, the angel said “Lunch is ready”
“Right away dear, let me hang my tools up” He replied.
She turned and shut the door, and he pulled out the carving, was this good enough for her. He placed the gift back in its hiding place behind the workbench and straightened up his tools before heading towards the house.
He proceeded to the kitchen and found the beef stew from last night still in the pot on the stove. As he was heating it up, he helped himself to a few spoonfuls. ‘Mmmm’ he thought, as good as it was last night. his wife could make a gourmet meal out of a few potatoes, an onion and a piece of shoe leather.
“A watched pot never boils” he said to the empty kitchen. So he stepped outside, habitually gave a short ‘come here’ whistle, and started down the walk to the beacon. Not three feet rom the steps he came upon his old dog Pilotis, and the two of them trotted of together, Owner and Best Friend. Upon assurance that everything was in working order at the beacon he returned to the house, his faithful sidekick returning to his spot on the back door porch. He did as he was asked and ladled two steaming spoonfuls of stew into a bowl and grabbed a bits of bacon and bread. he was careful to leave a few of the tastiest morsels for Pilotis.
The kids were perched outside the door to the spare bedroom, intent on listening to whatever tidbits of conversation floated their way. So enthralled were they by the quiet murmurs from the other room that they didn’t notice him till he was standing behind them.
“Well, make yourselves useful and open the door why don’t chya” he said.
His son promptly lept to his feet and turned the knob, pushing the door open as he scooted back into the hall with his sister. Whatever it was that happened to the man inside, they knew he was trouble and wanted to stay just far enough away to still fuel their curiosity.
“I brought you some grub” he said as he placed the tray of food down on the bed.
“Eat up, my wife and I have duties to attend to and we will return shortly”
He guided his wife out into the hall and sent the kids once again scurrying into the shadows. With a worried face he looked at her and said “This man is no good, I think that was opium he was smuggling in his boat, as soon as he is well, I am taking him to the officials on the mainland and they can deal with him”
“He seemed like a good man, albeit one who lost his way” she replied.
“Regardless, I will not let him stay here and endanger my family, anyways, if the Coast Guard or the Borders and Customs finds him here and I haven’t reported his arrest, it's my ass on the line Mary, and its a charge like-amount to treason” at this he turned back towards the kitchen, grabbed the last bit of food he was saving for Pilotis and walked out to where the day lay on the porch.
“Here you go boy” he said as he fed him a few pieces of bacon. After a few good scritches behind the ears he stood up, dusted off his jeans and walked out to the carpenter shop. There was a project he had been working on for some time. A wooden box for their upcoming anniversary. A few months back he had eyed a large madrona tree that had fallen over at the edge of the cove. He walked out there with a saw and after several hours of cutting away at this dense log, he removed a sizeable chunk and rolled it back to the shop. Mary would never think to look in here for her gift, but just in case, he had hid the pieces behind the workbench. Today was a special day, after countless hours of sanding, cutting, and planing, today was the day he was going to start the detailed carving on the lid. He needed no drawing, the image was seared in his brain. He picked up a large chisel and started to chip out an outline of the lighthouse. He could think of nothing better to represent their happiness, then the shining beacon of their paradise.
He loved the way the wood curled up, and the feeling in his left hand every time he tapped the chisel with the mallet. Things quickly fell into a rhythm as he worked around the face of the box. Tap, tap, tap, brush the hand across the wood, tap, tap, tap, brush, tap tap tap. It continued on till he had outlined the lighthouse structure and cleaned up the frame of the carving. He could hear footsteps outside the shop, so he placed the piece behind some tools on the workbench. Mary, opened the door, the light of the sun set her hair all aglow. Instantly he was taken by her beauty and when her lips parted, the angel said “Lunch is ready”
“Right away dear, let me hang my tools up” He replied.
She turned and shut the door, and he pulled out the carving, was this good enough for her. He placed the gift back in its hiding place behind the workbench and straightened up his tools before heading towards the house.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Back On Patos
It's been beautiful here on Patos. Then again, when is it not. Even on stormy days this island has something to offer. I wanted to share some more photos with you all.
After the Orcas Island Fired Dept came out last time I was out here, they made myself and Nick (BLM guy) official members of the Patos Island Fire Dept. I love the T-shirt, freaking sweet.
Here I am writing yet more into my journal. It's an addiction I know. I can't help it.
and of course I am going to leave you with yet another beautiful sunset. More from the now edited lighthouse story will follow shortly. I have yet to finish typing it all out.
After the Orcas Island Fired Dept came out last time I was out here, they made myself and Nick (BLM guy) official members of the Patos Island Fire Dept. I love the T-shirt, freaking sweet.
Here I am writing yet more into my journal. It's an addiction I know. I can't help it.
and of course I am going to leave you with yet another beautiful sunset. More from the now edited lighthouse story will follow shortly. I have yet to finish typing it all out.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Back on Patos
Well folks, I am back out at 'Paradise' aka Patos. Tom and the crew were surprised to see me come off the boat, as they thought that I would be on Stuart Island by now. The little Patos family greeted me with hugs and smiles all around, it was like coming home. Patos waved to me as we pulled up, and.... I brought sunshine with me, the whole time I am here it is supposed to be nice and sunny!
Nic
Nic
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Patos Island Lighthouse pictures and story continued
For those of you that dont know I am planning on making a book of all my stuff this summer, so I wont be posting all of my stuff on here. I will give copies to friends and family, but I am also planning on gathering a few copies together, publishing them myself, and possibly selling them at some of the local bookstores. My intention is to have all of the profits go to the historical preservation of the settlers families in the San Juan Islands..... i.e. photo archiving, interviewing, and capturing the stories of the last children of the pioneers that are still alive, and keeping that way of life alive for future generations.
On that note what follows is the second installment of my 'lighthouse story' along with another Picture from Patos island. Oh yes, and the schedule for this summer, since several people have been asking me, is
June 11-18th back to Patos Island
June 20th Head to Omak and then Idaho
June 29th Return to Orcas,
----- prepare, possibly head to Stuart for minor work -----
July 4th weekend Stuart Island
July 17th-22nd - Orcas Island for family reunion
July 23rd Stuart Island
Aug 16th, Patos Island for 100 year anniversary birthday bash
Aug 22nd, leave Orcas and head back to Boulder.
All my love to everyone
Chapter 2.
The next morning as they were all sitting down for breakfast they heard the dog barking erratically and the distant sounds of a boat pulling ashore. Instinctively the father checked his revolver and grabbed his oilskin coat from the hook in the hall as he dashed outside. People only pulled up on his shores if they were the Coast Guard cutter, in need of help or opium smugglers. As he ran to greet the boat, he noticed that instead of pulling to the wharf, they had run aground and were listing dangerously to the side. A hole the size of a mans head was quickly filling with sea water, it would be a matter of minutes before the boat would capsize and become unrecoverable.
“H’lo, is anybody hurt?” he cried out as he approached the point.
“Yes” a man yelled from deep within the boat.
“Come out and I will help you”
“I can’t, I can’t move.... my legs.... oh Lord the pain” came the panicked voice from inside the wreck.
“Alright, no funny stuff or my men will shoot you” he yelled hoping the intruder wouldn’t call his bluff.
He made fast of his footwork and threw lines aboard the foundered vessel, in the hopes that tying it to the rocks might prevent it from slipping away while he was on board. As he sloshed through the water now knee deep in the cabin of the boat, he thought to himself ‘light keeper drowns at lighthouse’ sprawled across tomorrows headlines. What a morbidly ironic way for him to die. He laughed inside and pushed a floating cushion and some strange bags of white powder.
“Where are you” he called out into the pitch black interior.
“A few feet in front of you, in the forward hold” the invalid said as he slapped his hand on the water a few times for emphasis.
He found the injured man laying in the forward berth, a white ghastly face gazed back at him in the glow of the lantern.
“Alright, lets get you out of here” he said as he reached down placing his hands underneath the wraith of a man. After what felt like an eternity he laid the man down in the grass above the beach.
“Mary” he cried out, “bring the medical kit and some blankets”. She ran down to where the man lay, desperately trying to hold on to her composure, however the small gasp that escaped her lips upon her first sight of the man was unavoidable. The smell of rotting flesh reached her nostrils as she knelt down unfolding the first blanket.
“Jesus, where did you fish this one out of” she said as she pulled out the bottle of morphine.
“His ship ran aground on that seal rock, help me get him inside.” They fashioned a stretcher out of two pieces of driftwood and the remaining blankets, and afterwards with her at the head and him at the rear they proceeded to make their way to the house.
She was minding her thoughts and counting how many more feet it was to the back door, her skirt folds swishing back and forth between the two handles. One edge was infuriating her as it continued to snag ever time she stepped with her left foot. She was mulling over the impending tear in her new dress when the kids came running out of the house. They stopped midstep at the edge of the sidewalk when they saw what lay between their parents.
“Here papa, let me help” the boy said as he ran to grab the side of the stretcher.
“NO!” their parents screamed in unison.
“This man is very sick, how about you go in and put the kettle on for some hot water” Mary said to her frightened children. They carried the stretcher and its cargo into the spare room, trying their best to be gentle going up the outside stairs. After placing him on the bed she started to remove his wet clothes.
“He is done fainted away” she said, while she sorted through her medicine kit for some ammonia capsules. The capsules effect was instantaneous and the man sat upright like he was rising from the grave.
“That’s okay, lie down and rest a bit, your safe now” she said as she placed more pillows behind his head.
“Darling would you fetch me some of last nights soup and bread?”
“Sure” he replied as he turned smartly out the door.
On that note what follows is the second installment of my 'lighthouse story' along with another Picture from Patos island. Oh yes, and the schedule for this summer, since several people have been asking me, is
June 11-18th back to Patos Island
June 20th Head to Omak and then Idaho
June 29th Return to Orcas,
----- prepare, possibly head to Stuart for minor work -----
July 4th weekend Stuart Island
July 17th-22nd - Orcas Island for family reunion
July 23rd Stuart Island
Aug 16th, Patos Island for 100 year anniversary birthday bash
Aug 22nd, leave Orcas and head back to Boulder.
All my love to everyone
Chapter 2.
The next morning as they were all sitting down for breakfast they heard the dog barking erratically and the distant sounds of a boat pulling ashore. Instinctively the father checked his revolver and grabbed his oilskin coat from the hook in the hall as he dashed outside. People only pulled up on his shores if they were the Coast Guard cutter, in need of help or opium smugglers. As he ran to greet the boat, he noticed that instead of pulling to the wharf, they had run aground and were listing dangerously to the side. A hole the size of a mans head was quickly filling with sea water, it would be a matter of minutes before the boat would capsize and become unrecoverable.
“H’lo, is anybody hurt?” he cried out as he approached the point.
“Yes” a man yelled from deep within the boat.
“Come out and I will help you”
“I can’t, I can’t move.... my legs.... oh Lord the pain” came the panicked voice from inside the wreck.
“Alright, no funny stuff or my men will shoot you” he yelled hoping the intruder wouldn’t call his bluff.
He made fast of his footwork and threw lines aboard the foundered vessel, in the hopes that tying it to the rocks might prevent it from slipping away while he was on board. As he sloshed through the water now knee deep in the cabin of the boat, he thought to himself ‘light keeper drowns at lighthouse’ sprawled across tomorrows headlines. What a morbidly ironic way for him to die. He laughed inside and pushed a floating cushion and some strange bags of white powder.
“Where are you” he called out into the pitch black interior.
“A few feet in front of you, in the forward hold” the invalid said as he slapped his hand on the water a few times for emphasis.
He found the injured man laying in the forward berth, a white ghastly face gazed back at him in the glow of the lantern.
“Alright, lets get you out of here” he said as he reached down placing his hands underneath the wraith of a man. After what felt like an eternity he laid the man down in the grass above the beach.
“Mary” he cried out, “bring the medical kit and some blankets”. She ran down to where the man lay, desperately trying to hold on to her composure, however the small gasp that escaped her lips upon her first sight of the man was unavoidable. The smell of rotting flesh reached her nostrils as she knelt down unfolding the first blanket.
“Jesus, where did you fish this one out of” she said as she pulled out the bottle of morphine.
“His ship ran aground on that seal rock, help me get him inside.” They fashioned a stretcher out of two pieces of driftwood and the remaining blankets, and afterwards with her at the head and him at the rear they proceeded to make their way to the house.
She was minding her thoughts and counting how many more feet it was to the back door, her skirt folds swishing back and forth between the two handles. One edge was infuriating her as it continued to snag ever time she stepped with her left foot. She was mulling over the impending tear in her new dress when the kids came running out of the house. They stopped midstep at the edge of the sidewalk when they saw what lay between their parents.
“Here papa, let me help” the boy said as he ran to grab the side of the stretcher.
“NO!” their parents screamed in unison.
“This man is very sick, how about you go in and put the kettle on for some hot water” Mary said to her frightened children. They carried the stretcher and its cargo into the spare room, trying their best to be gentle going up the outside stairs. After placing him on the bed she started to remove his wet clothes.
“He is done fainted away” she said, while she sorted through her medicine kit for some ammonia capsules. The capsules effect was instantaneous and the man sat upright like he was rising from the grave.
“That’s okay, lie down and rest a bit, your safe now” she said as she placed more pillows behind his head.
“Darling would you fetch me some of last nights soup and bread?”
“Sure” he replied as he turned smartly out the door.
Saturday, June 07, 2008
Back for a mini-vacation from Patos
I came back from Patos on the 4th and I am headed back out there on the 11th. I wanted to share some of the amazing photos that I took while I was out there, along with the first installment of the story I was writing while I was out there, it is a relatively short story, but a tragic one. tell me what you think.
The story begins here:
“I am going to Shaking Rock” she said with her back turned to him. “I don’t expect you to follow and I don’t know what I will find.” He sat there staring through the rain streaked window pane, his fingers running back and forth across the brass brads on the underside of the chairs arm.
“I expect to write, but don’t count on it” her words drifted to him across the room. Merely ghostly words with little meaning passed through him like the breaks of sunlight on the edges of the clouds. “Should I take the black chiffon?”
“Sure” he mumbles, as the ice cubes in his bourbon appeared as ships in the fog. His mind was drifting back to the time spent on the island, a time of peace and quiet and hard work. he never expected to be here, now, childless and without focus. He wanted to go back to the lighthouse, to gaze once again upon the shapeless horizon full of possibility. Somewhere in the distance lurked a monster, rearing its head as it smashed its waves at the steps of the house. Kept at bay when the sky was bright and the breeze was light.
“Darling will you call for a car to pick me up in the morning” she said, her voice a whisper in the ether.
“Sure Sweetheart”
The rain on the window brought back memories of the monster knocking at the door. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, “goodnight, I love you” she said. He mumbled a barely passable “and I you”. She sat there with her hands on the arm rests and gazed at his profile. She knew deep inside that he was lost, and the apparent indifference towards her affection was because he was too involved with his own internal demons. She aslo knew that this stalemate in their marriage had made her question her love and affection for him. With one last sigh and a parting pat on his knee, she exited the room. He had barely noticed her leave but he listened intently as she climbed the stairs for the bedroom. Each footstep was like a cro-bar prying open the lid of his dreams, each creak brought back the faint memory of the sound of that one cedar split in half dancing with the douglas fir with the broken limbes. A cacophony of sounds flooded over him as he allowed himself to drift back in time.
There he was on the banks of Rosario Strait watching as the tide ripped past in a series of whirlpools and boiling water. he heard someone yelling ‘papa’ on the edges of the wind and he turned to see his wife folding the laundry off the line, and his two children running towards him. Their mother was yelling something about slowing down, but her words were lost on the children. He opened his arms and scooped his daughter into the air, giving her a big hug as she threw her arms around his neck.
“Dad guess what we found” his son said, brandishing an object wrapped in a handkerchief. The gleam in his childs’ eyes told him that whatever treasure lay within those blue checkered folds was the greatest find of his sons life. Gingerly he reached down and picked up the object, carefully unwrapping it. It felt light and fragile in his hands, and he was not surprised to find an egg tucked into the folds of the handkerchief. It was a blue egg, about the size of a chickens, with a curious mottling of brownish spots.
“Children come look closely, do you know what this is?”
“An egg!” they both chimed in together.
“But what kind of egg is it?” he asked.
“A special one” his daughter said.
“Why yes, this is a special one, it’s an Oyster Catchers egg, and it’s still warm, so you better rush back and put it back in its nest before the parents find it missing.” he said as he wrapped up the precious cargo and returned it to his sons open hands. He watched as his children ran off to the beach. This was paradise, and his wife looked like a queen. He walked up to where she was standing, swooped her up in his arms, and took her inside intent upon showing his gratitude for this magnificent woman.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
On Patos Island
Just an update for now, and I will fill every one in later, as I am currently posting from beautiful sunny Patos Island in the San Juan Islands. and the sunset is about to start. (the highlight of our little patos family). But I wanted to tell everyone that from a week ago, and until June 4th I am on Patos Island, helping to document all of the historical bits. A monumental task, and I am absolutely LOVING IT!!!. I hope everyone is having a great summer, and I will send an update replete with journal excerpts and pictures as soon as I am back on one of the big islands, or maybe the mainland.
All my love and best wishes
Nic
All my love and best wishes
Nic
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Off to Orcas Island
Well I am leaving out of Omak this morning, I was going to take off over Hwy 20, but the pass is closed for a week or so due to the really high amount of avalanches and landslides. It turns out that there has been so much movement on the passes up there that the water and the soil has dumped ut across the road, which of course is not safe driving conditions. Unsure of when it will all be cleared up. So now I am headed down Hwy 97 to Hwy 2 and up over Snoqualmie pass. It doesn't help that my mom is currently telling me about all the deaths and accidents at this one little spot on Hwy 97. Eh... oh well... I am pretty sure we will make it over safe.
It's time for island time.
It's time for island time.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
First writing assignment
Ok, so i just finished my first writing assignment for my creative writing class. I was supposed to either write about a person I saw in passing or about an overheard conversation. This is the product:
The young guy at the marble shop.
I had arrived in Omak the day before, after driving a day and a half from Denver. I had been eager to visit my mom for several months and now I was sitting in the new bistro talking about my next few months as a lighthouse keeper with my mom and Jeff. During a casual pause in the conversation, i glanced out the window across the street at a half filled marble and granite store. Its not uncommon to find stores in such condition here in Omak, a farming town on the edge of the reservation. As my mom starts discussing generators and estimated fuel consumption, a guy, no more than 25 steps out of the marble shop. He is dusty and covered in contruction grime, the odds and ends of his work have left specialized markings on his outfit. I quietly chuckle that people pay a hundred dollars for a pair of jeans that look like his. His hair is a dirty blond, or is that only the dust clinging to his locks.
The three of us finish our meal and walk over to the marble shop, my mom is hoping to find ideas for a kitchen makeover. As her and Jeff discuss proper colors and edges, I find myself drawn to a yellow lab laying in the corner next to a 12 inch circulr saw. I am staring at him as this young man walks between us towards a work bench. Behind him trails the cologne of cigarettes, sweat, and lumber. He seems to have the eyese of a 'drifter', one who does a job long enough to experience it before mvoing on. I wonder if his gypsy spirit has brought him to Omak, or this is where he is from, but has yet to find home. We walk past a slab of thulite, native only to this region, and I imagine the story of his life and its future drawn out in the features. Although upon close inspection one sees cracks, dents, rust stains, or unappealing lins, the beauty is only striking when you see the whole slab. It makes me think of how I was at first turned away by the smell of cigarettes, but now found myself romatacizing him as a gypsy.
This particular chunk of embedded rose quartz is craggy and spotted, its edges well defined. This spot represents his time when he will be on the volunteer fire lines for the wildfires that rage through this area. He says he does it out of duty, or to save lives, however he is really trying to define his own boundaries. Trying to find that distinct line between what he is and what he shouldn't be. This dark green smudge speckled with black dots is from his youth, cooking meth and 'finding' himself. The white waving line that fades in some spots and is bold in others represents the common thread he held on to since a child, to beat another man for an offense is acceptable, to strike an animal or child is unforgiveable. The black and brown splotches thrown about seemingly at random are his reminders of intentional malice and feigned ignorance. He neglected his sisters cries for help to save her from their father. He claims that baby isn't his, but he knows the truth inside and it scares him. He spent the last of the hundred dollars he stole from his boss on a fifth of whiskey.
Although the dark and brooding parts are overwhelming at first, I am amazed by his life as a whole. I believe it was Aristotle that said one must not judge a person to be flourishing or not by glancing at only aspects of their life. Instead to judge if one has truly 'lived' you must examine the whole of their life, including the way they died.
My fingers, previously tracing the lines of the granite now run off the course hewn edge.
The young guy at the marble shop.
I had arrived in Omak the day before, after driving a day and a half from Denver. I had been eager to visit my mom for several months and now I was sitting in the new bistro talking about my next few months as a lighthouse keeper with my mom and Jeff. During a casual pause in the conversation, i glanced out the window across the street at a half filled marble and granite store. Its not uncommon to find stores in such condition here in Omak, a farming town on the edge of the reservation. As my mom starts discussing generators and estimated fuel consumption, a guy, no more than 25 steps out of the marble shop. He is dusty and covered in contruction grime, the odds and ends of his work have left specialized markings on his outfit. I quietly chuckle that people pay a hundred dollars for a pair of jeans that look like his. His hair is a dirty blond, or is that only the dust clinging to his locks.
The three of us finish our meal and walk over to the marble shop, my mom is hoping to find ideas for a kitchen makeover. As her and Jeff discuss proper colors and edges, I find myself drawn to a yellow lab laying in the corner next to a 12 inch circulr saw. I am staring at him as this young man walks between us towards a work bench. Behind him trails the cologne of cigarettes, sweat, and lumber. He seems to have the eyese of a 'drifter', one who does a job long enough to experience it before mvoing on. I wonder if his gypsy spirit has brought him to Omak, or this is where he is from, but has yet to find home. We walk past a slab of thulite, native only to this region, and I imagine the story of his life and its future drawn out in the features. Although upon close inspection one sees cracks, dents, rust stains, or unappealing lins, the beauty is only striking when you see the whole slab. It makes me think of how I was at first turned away by the smell of cigarettes, but now found myself romatacizing him as a gypsy.
This particular chunk of embedded rose quartz is craggy and spotted, its edges well defined. This spot represents his time when he will be on the volunteer fire lines for the wildfires that rage through this area. He says he does it out of duty, or to save lives, however he is really trying to define his own boundaries. Trying to find that distinct line between what he is and what he shouldn't be. This dark green smudge speckled with black dots is from his youth, cooking meth and 'finding' himself. The white waving line that fades in some spots and is bold in others represents the common thread he held on to since a child, to beat another man for an offense is acceptable, to strike an animal or child is unforgiveable. The black and brown splotches thrown about seemingly at random are his reminders of intentional malice and feigned ignorance. He neglected his sisters cries for help to save her from their father. He claims that baby isn't his, but he knows the truth inside and it scares him. He spent the last of the hundred dollars he stole from his boss on a fifth of whiskey.
Although the dark and brooding parts are overwhelming at first, I am amazed by his life as a whole. I believe it was Aristotle that said one must not judge a person to be flourishing or not by glancing at only aspects of their life. Instead to judge if one has truly 'lived' you must examine the whole of their life, including the way they died.
My fingers, previously tracing the lines of the granite now run off the course hewn edge.
Thinking about kayaking
Alright, while I sit here in Omak I am contemplating which rivers to go run. This is primo flood season for a lot of the ones around here, so I have to be careful. Oh yeah, and aside from the planned trip to run down and see my rafting budy in Wenatchee, I am prolly going to stick to simple floats like the Okanagon river and the Methow. Less likely to encounter any issues.
Anyways, back to staring at the stats for the irvers.
Nic
Anyways, back to staring at the stats for the irvers.
Nic
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Excerpts from my Drive
So later on I will update this replete with pictures, however here is some of my journal enterings during the day and a half drive up here.
First off, some of the tallies and notes I made along the way:
7 Antelope Herds Wyoming, with 3 individual males
Metal statues I saw on ridges or out in the middle of nowhere:
Colorado: a Buffalo
Wyoming: Horse, Horse and Rider, Sleeping cowboy on a horse, uhm... a sitting elk?, an upright cowboy on a horse with an American flag, the best one would have to be the triceratops located between a massive power plant, oil fields, and a Dinosaur museum
Montana: none....unless you count the derelict tractor left on the ridge.
Idaho: a Miner with a raised pick and a headlamp
Washington: 2 mules with hats in the middle of the town of Reardon, and my two favorites are the 6 native american figures dancing on the plateau and the sasquatch on the hill.
Alright, now to the various journal entries:
Wyoming
- For all of the bad drivers in the city limits, I am always thankful when I am back to sharing the blacktop with Semi's, Rv's, and farm equipment.
Montana
- followers of Jack Kerouac may have a special place in their hearts for route 66, however, that place in my heart is reserved for I90.
- Following the yellowstone river with the kayak on top makes me want to do a big trip kayaking it.
May 13th, Lewis and Clark Caverns State Park
It's 5 am and the dogs are agitated. Soft low grumbles come from deep within their bellies. I wipe some condensation off the window and there, about 200 yards off, silouhetted by the early dawn are a few elk. At first I can barely discern what they are, black ghosts shifting in the prairie, then a male raises his head high. Of course my walk with the dogs scares the last of them off, and now I am left gretting the morning to the soft coo of the mourning dove. There are clouds creeping in from the west over the mountains..... It's amazing to think that I may be looking at the same sunset, or sitting in the same spot as the Lewis and Clark expedition, this is why I live, not for the cities.
First off, some of the tallies and notes I made along the way:
7 Antelope Herds Wyoming, with 3 individual males
Metal statues I saw on ridges or out in the middle of nowhere:
Colorado: a Buffalo
Wyoming: Horse, Horse and Rider, Sleeping cowboy on a horse, uhm... a sitting elk?, an upright cowboy on a horse with an American flag, the best one would have to be the triceratops located between a massive power plant, oil fields, and a Dinosaur museum
Montana: none....unless you count the derelict tractor left on the ridge.
Idaho: a Miner with a raised pick and a headlamp
Washington: 2 mules with hats in the middle of the town of Reardon, and my two favorites are the 6 native american figures dancing on the plateau and the sasquatch on the hill.
Alright, now to the various journal entries:
Wyoming
- For all of the bad drivers in the city limits, I am always thankful when I am back to sharing the blacktop with Semi's, Rv's, and farm equipment.
Montana
- followers of Jack Kerouac may have a special place in their hearts for route 66, however, that place in my heart is reserved for I90.
- Following the yellowstone river with the kayak on top makes me want to do a big trip kayaking it.
May 13th, Lewis and Clark Caverns State Park
It's 5 am and the dogs are agitated. Soft low grumbles come from deep within their bellies. I wipe some condensation off the window and there, about 200 yards off, silouhetted by the early dawn are a few elk. At first I can barely discern what they are, black ghosts shifting in the prairie, then a male raises his head high. Of course my walk with the dogs scares the last of them off, and now I am left gretting the morning to the soft coo of the mourning dove. There are clouds creeping in from the west over the mountains..... It's amazing to think that I may be looking at the same sunset, or sitting in the same spot as the Lewis and Clark expedition, this is why I live, not for the cities.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Today is the day
Well it's about 630 on the morning on my departure, the sun is shining brilliantly through the window, nearly blinding me, Percy is at my feet, Tom is snoring in bed, and all of my packing and prepacking and checking and rechecking is complete. All I have left to do in the next hour or so is enjoy my cup of coffee, write this post (which happens to be my 100th post!!) and say my goodbyes to Tom and Lisa.
I am somewhat looking forward to the drive to Omak, but I am definitely not looking forward to the driving aspect. Aside from following the Rockies for a while and then crossing them, I will be spending the majority of my time on flat prairie. I have planned to make a stop every two hours for the dogs, and for myself to run around.
Tom pointed out something interesting yesterday while we were flying the stunt kite, first off it was a beautiful day, the sun was bright, the grass was green and lush, the temperature was just right... it was a perfect moment. Anyways, he pointed out that although I have taken quite a few road trips across long distances, even cross country, this is the first trip that I will be taking by myself. I thought about it, and aside from a few cross state trips, this will be the first long distance trip that I have taken by myself. I am somewhat indifferent when I think about it, yes I am excited this is my first solo trip, but also, it really doesn't matter to me, since all major trips have been just as exciting for me. If anything I would rather have company, that way we could talk and split the driving.
Well, I am going to go have my last breakfast in this house for the next 4 months. Play with the dogs, and wake up Tom and Lisa.
Love always, and I am wishing you all safe travels.
Nic
I am somewhat looking forward to the drive to Omak, but I am definitely not looking forward to the driving aspect. Aside from following the Rockies for a while and then crossing them, I will be spending the majority of my time on flat prairie. I have planned to make a stop every two hours for the dogs, and for myself to run around.
Tom pointed out something interesting yesterday while we were flying the stunt kite, first off it was a beautiful day, the sun was bright, the grass was green and lush, the temperature was just right... it was a perfect moment. Anyways, he pointed out that although I have taken quite a few road trips across long distances, even cross country, this is the first trip that I will be taking by myself. I thought about it, and aside from a few cross state trips, this will be the first long distance trip that I have taken by myself. I am somewhat indifferent when I think about it, yes I am excited this is my first solo trip, but also, it really doesn't matter to me, since all major trips have been just as exciting for me. If anything I would rather have company, that way we could talk and split the driving.
Well, I am going to go have my last breakfast in this house for the next 4 months. Play with the dogs, and wake up Tom and Lisa.
Love always, and I am wishing you all safe travels.
Nic
Friday, May 09, 2008
Turn Point Light station Update
Alright, so I am leaving on Monday from Boulder and driving to Omak, I am hoping to make it in two days. But I am leaving time and space for 3 days. So the picture above will be my 'home' for the next 4 months. Granted my view is going to be more like this:
As I will be staying on the camp host pad just above the lighthouse.
Funny, during a dinner with Marc, Julie, and Tom last night, we were talking about me writing a novel or a travel essay etc... and of course the topic of titles came up. For some reason we found the following hilarious and catchy "Drunk at the Lighthouse"
hahahahaha... all that that implies is kinda funny, especially since I most likely will not have any alcohol on the island.
Alright... back to packing. Okay that's a lie, I have been packed for some time, so now I am just at the point of re-arranging all of my packed materials.
~Nic
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
New motto
Thought about this when I finally found that new journal I had been looking for for 4 months... one that I can use for my Trip to Turn Point.... and I wrote this on the front page inscription:
I am headed to Turn Point, what will be your Turning Point
I am headed to Turn Point, what will be your Turning Point
Friday, May 02, 2008
Summer Reading List
Suggested reading sent in from friends, and if you look closely a few from some of my respected professors.
"Persian Fire" by Tom Holland, about the Persian point of view of the battle featured in '300'
"The Invisible Cure" by Helen Epstein, book about HIV/AIDS epidemic and the race for the cure
"Making Race and Nation" by Anthony Marx, book about the Apartheid in South Africa with a comparative perspective
"Global Capitalism" by Jeff Frieden, the history of Globalization
"Talons of the Eagle" by Peter Smith, US and Latin American relations
"the Mystery of Capital" by Hernando De Soto, economic development
"1776" and "John Adams" by David McCullough
"The Founding Brothers" by Joseph Ellis
"The Battle Cry of Freedom" by James McPherson
"Theodore Rex" by Edmund Morris
"The Devil in the White City" and "Isaac's Storm" by Erik Larson
"The Coldest Winter" by David Halberstram
"Supercapitalism" by Robert Reich
"The Great Risk Shift" by Jacob Hacker
Now of course the chances of me really reading all of these this summer is slim, plus i am supplementing the list with a few of my own titles. I will let everyone know on here as I finish one and move on to the next. Ok.. actually chances are I will be reading 2 or 3 at the minimum at any given time, but eh... that's alright.
Best Love and Wishes.... only 9 more days!
"Persian Fire" by Tom Holland, about the Persian point of view of the battle featured in '300'
"The Invisible Cure" by Helen Epstein, book about HIV/AIDS epidemic and the race for the cure
"Making Race and Nation" by Anthony Marx, book about the Apartheid in South Africa with a comparative perspective
"Global Capitalism" by Jeff Frieden, the history of Globalization
"Talons of the Eagle" by Peter Smith, US and Latin American relations
"the Mystery of Capital" by Hernando De Soto, economic development
"1776" and "John Adams" by David McCullough
"The Founding Brothers" by Joseph Ellis
"The Battle Cry of Freedom" by James McPherson
"Theodore Rex" by Edmund Morris
"The Devil in the White City" and "Isaac's Storm" by Erik Larson
"The Coldest Winter" by David Halberstram
"Supercapitalism" by Robert Reich
"The Great Risk Shift" by Jacob Hacker
Now of course the chances of me really reading all of these this summer is slim, plus i am supplementing the list with a few of my own titles. I will let everyone know on here as I finish one and move on to the next. Ok.. actually chances are I will be reading 2 or 3 at the minimum at any given time, but eh... that's alright.
Best Love and Wishes.... only 9 more days!
Shout out
I just want to give a shout out to those of you that have been using my webcall button. hopefully I have called back to you in timely manner, I am sorry if I haven't... that means I am an idiot.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Planned driving route
Alright here I go again, I am going to drive out of Denver on May 12th and make my way to Omak Washington. How perfect that I will be hitting up that old familiar stretch of I90 that my mom and I drove on twice when we moved to and from Wisconsin.
Right now I am trying to decide where I am going to make my stops etc.... and where I will make the overnight stop. I know that I will stop in Spokane and see some friends... but other then that I don't know.
Possibly sleep over in : Lewis and Clark Caverns or the Missouri Headwaters near Billings. Montana. That would put me there after roughly 10 hours of driving. Now in truth that would be leaving at or around 7 am, 2 stop overs for fuel and 2 hours worth of stopping for doggy walking etc.... that would hopefully put me in the campground around 7pm. Which this is pressing so my back up is Cooney State park that is 8 hours from Lafayette
If I stop in Cooney, then I have an 11 hour drive the next day, which I might just split into two days because I really do not want to drive for that long. Maybe I will stop in my old stomping grounds of Kellog Idaho before driving the long boring drive to Omak. From Spokane to Omak is a really rough drive through the Native American Reservation, 2 and 1/2 hours of straight, flat, grassland with no features. So easy to fall asleep... so hard to drive. Anyways, it's more that I have to think about, especially in reference to my trip back. If it's going to take three days to get to Omak, I need to plan on at least 4 days back from Orcas Island.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
Feeling under the weather
Alright, so a quick update to my friends and family that watch this blog. I have finally come down with whatever it is that Lisa and Paul had, although I dont think that it is going to hit me as hard. It is just poor timing, because in the next three weeks, I not only have 7 finals, but I also have to make sure that everything is done and ready for my departure to the Turn Point Light Station. I am hoping that this summer will be the kick in the pants that I need for all of the little things that are an issue.
Anyways, hope that everyone is doing well....
Nic
Anyways, hope that everyone is doing well....
Nic
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Turn Point/Patos Update
well they just went and made my day... here are some excerpts from the email. I am smiling from ear to ear and jumping up and down like a retard.
"...During phase 1 BLM can offer a primitive camping experience with no running water, minimal electricity and a vault toilet nearby...."
"... must demonstrate proficiency with VHS marine radio... maintain daily radio contact... "
"...should work towards developing a SOP for further volunteers/docents/lightkeepers"
OH MY GOD!!! I can't wait.. I have to admit that the day I left Turn Point last year i started writing up a packing list of what I would need for a month or so on the island. Truth be told... I have been making more and refining those lists nearly every week since the new year. The thought is too amazing that I might just try and get a job next year (or not) so that I might be able to come back up the next summer and do it again. I have been thinking about all sorts of different things that I need to do before hand.. and I AM SO EXCITED!
Have a good one all.
"...During phase 1 BLM can offer a primitive camping experience with no running water, minimal electricity and a vault toilet nearby...."
"... must demonstrate proficiency with VHS marine radio... maintain daily radio contact... "
"...should work towards developing a SOP for further volunteers/docents/lightkeepers"
OH MY GOD!!! I can't wait.. I have to admit that the day I left Turn Point last year i started writing up a packing list of what I would need for a month or so on the island. Truth be told... I have been making more and refining those lists nearly every week since the new year. The thought is too amazing that I might just try and get a job next year (or not) so that I might be able to come back up the next summer and do it again. I have been thinking about all sorts of different things that I need to do before hand.. and I AM SO EXCITED!
Have a good one all.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Summer trip update
I have been talking to Nick from the BLM district that is in charge of the light stations etc. up in the San Juan Islands. Turns out, there is a bigger need for me at Patos Island. Oh darn.. have to go to an island that is close to Orcas (about 5 water miles) and live in a campsite. Those that know me will understand when I say that the following passage from the email I received made me giddy:
"So far, all things look like it will be a very primitive summer experience.
I am leaning towards a back-country ranger type of experience, very
primitive with lots of logistics to wrestle with."
Tee hee, I loved the following words in that last passage : primitive, back-country, ranger, logistics, wrestle.
mmmmmmmmmm conflict and planning all while living out of a backpack! MMMMMMMM
If anyone has any ideas for what I should bring with me, shoot me an email...
Love you all
Nic
"So far, all things look like it will be a very primitive summer experience.
I am leaning towards a back-country ranger type of experience, very
primitive with lots of logistics to wrestle with."
Tee hee, I loved the following words in that last passage : primitive, back-country, ranger, logistics, wrestle.
mmmmmmmmmm conflict and planning all while living out of a backpack! MMMMMMMM
If anyone has any ideas for what I should bring with me, shoot me an email...
Love you all
Nic
Thursday, February 28, 2008
I LOVE GOOGLE!!!
Ok so here is the deal. From now on and forever you only have to remember the one phone number to get a hold of me no matter where I am in the WORLD! You can even click that nice button i put on the top of my page that will auto call me. See here is the thing, you call 720-204-3118, and it will call me where ever I am/want it to. Say I am sitting in the coffee shop on my computer and I don't have my cell phone... well.. I can still talk to you through my computer!, or... if I am at my mom's house and have no cell reception, no worries call the above number and it will automatically direct you to my mom's phone! Oh yeah, did I mention it's all free!
Anyways you can call me at 720-204-3118 and try it out.. no more remembering numbers now!
Nic
Anyways you can call me at 720-204-3118 and try it out.. no more remembering numbers now!
Nic
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Summer Kayak/Climbing trip
Alright, I am in the beginnings of planning out a very long all summer long kayaking and climbing trip in Washington state and maybe BC. I am making an overall tick list of places I want to go and things I want to see. THE major ones on the list are my visits with family and friends. A family reunion in July, and spending some time in June with my mom in Idaho.
Other then that here is Version 1 of the tick list.
Near Spokane:
Kayaking
Hangman creek II-III+
Rock Creek II-III
Spokane River II-III
Possibly Sullivan creek, Sherman Creek, and Kettle creek up near the BC Border
Climbing
Kettle Falls 5.8+
Deep Creek 5.9-5.14
Dishman Rocks 5.8-5.12
Granite Point (near pullman) 5.7-5.13
McLellan Rocks V3-V8
Metaline Falls 5.10-5.12
Minnehaha 5.4-5.10
Paradise Point (near pullman) V2-V6
Pullman Rocks (near pullman) V2, 5.8 and 5.10b
The Rocks of Sharon 5.12c
The Zoo at Mirabeau point park v2+ 5.9+
Tum Tum V0-V13
Near Omak, Washington
Kayaking
Chewuch Creek II
Chiwawa III
Entiat Creek III-IV
Little Wenatchee III-IV+
Drake Creek to Methow IV-V
Methow River II-III
Peshastin Creek III-IV
Stehekin creek into Lake Chelan II-III
Twisp River II-III
Wenatchee River II-IV
Possibly Rock Creek near Yakima. Ingalls Creek near Leavenworth. Nason Creek on hwy 2, Sand Hollow creek outside of Vantage, and Beckler creek where it dumps into the Skykomish
Climbing
Banks Lake
Frenchmen Coulee near the Gorge at George MASSIVE AMOUNTS HERE
Omak Lake, still needs development
Peshastin Pinnacles
Near Orcas Island/San Juan Islands and Anacortes.
Kayaking
Breaking out the Ocean Kayak and toodling around the islands, just because I can.
Bacon Creek II+-IV
Baker River II
Canyon Creek IV-V
Cascade Creek II-V
Climbing - on the island at the private quarries?
Other then that here is Version 1 of the tick list.
Near Spokane:
Kayaking
Hangman creek II-III+
Rock Creek II-III
Spokane River II-III
Possibly Sullivan creek, Sherman Creek, and Kettle creek up near the BC Border
Climbing
Kettle Falls 5.8+
Deep Creek 5.9-5.14
Dishman Rocks 5.8-5.12
Granite Point (near pullman) 5.7-5.13
McLellan Rocks V3-V8
Metaline Falls 5.10-5.12
Minnehaha 5.4-5.10
Paradise Point (near pullman) V2-V6
Pullman Rocks (near pullman) V2, 5.8 and 5.10b
The Rocks of Sharon 5.12c
The Zoo at Mirabeau point park v2+ 5.9+
Tum Tum V0-V13
Near Omak, Washington
Kayaking
Chewuch Creek II
Chiwawa III
Entiat Creek III-IV
Little Wenatchee III-IV+
Drake Creek to Methow IV-V
Methow River II-III
Peshastin Creek III-IV
Stehekin creek into Lake Chelan II-III
Twisp River II-III
Wenatchee River II-IV
Possibly Rock Creek near Yakima. Ingalls Creek near Leavenworth. Nason Creek on hwy 2, Sand Hollow creek outside of Vantage, and Beckler creek where it dumps into the Skykomish
Climbing
Banks Lake
Frenchmen Coulee near the Gorge at George MASSIVE AMOUNTS HERE
Omak Lake, still needs development
Peshastin Pinnacles
Near Orcas Island/San Juan Islands and Anacortes.
Kayaking
Breaking out the Ocean Kayak and toodling around the islands, just because I can.
Bacon Creek II+-IV
Baker River II
Canyon Creek IV-V
Cascade Creek II-V
Climbing - on the island at the private quarries?
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