Book Reviews - American Buffalo

I frequently pick up random books off the "new" shelf at the library. This one caught my attention because it has a photo of a buffalo. I mean, when have you ever seen that on a book cover? The liner notes made me question why I thought I should take it home since it's written by a hunter about hunting. But I drug it home anyway and let me tell you, it's about so much more than hunting buffalo. This is a stunning work by a marvelous writer that is a mix of anthropology, adventure, history and science. I strongly recommend it."

Book Reviews - Travels in the Greater Yellowstone

Travels in the Greater Yellowstone
by Jack Turner

Jack Turner is, like me, one of the old geezers who has been around long enough to remember how "it used to be". The value of that, in spite of the skepticism of the youngsters making their way through life now, is that of perspective. Turner is a guide and the president of Exum Mountain Guides in Jackson Hole, and as such knows a thing or two about adventure. He has lived in the Yellowstone area for so long that he can see the changes - both good and bad - that have come with time. He also knows a thing or two about fishing. This is a beautiful work that views the enormity of the Yellowstone ecosystem from mulitple angles, providing a real sense of the challenges facing both the land and the people who live there. Whether you have wandered the country around Yellowstone or not, this book will leave you with a sense of the fragility of the earth and how we can soften our impact on it."

Yellowstone

Given the popularity of Yellowstone National Park and the news that this year was the busiest on record, Suzanne and Jamie and I opted to make a trip over the last few days of summer and, perhaps, avoid some of the congestion. It also would put us on the ground as the weather cooled in hopes of seeing an increase in wolf activity which was, ostensibly, the real justification for the visit.

The fact is that wolves, and wildlife in general, are only one aspect of a visit to this place. The park itself is primarily a geological preserve. The wildlife is there only because the land has been protected. That protection, and the arbitrary boundaries established when the reserve was set aside in 1872, have created more than a unique and remarkable island of wilderness, it has allowed us to view the changes to the ecosystem created by development and advanced the science of biogeography while allowing us to view both the minute changes and the massive impacts of our interaction with the natural world.

The term "island Yellowstone" has come to be applied to both the park itself and those protected areas adjacent to it. There are wilderness areas abutting the boundaries. There is Grand Teton National Park to the south; but there is also an abundance of unprotected land consisting of National Forest and private holdings. The term "island" becomes meaningful if you consider the impact to the biota of Yellowstone; boundaries mean nothing.

We typically view the health of an ecosystem based on the obvious. In a place like Yellowstone, that would be the apex predators - the grizzly and the wolf. Both these animals are well known to be walking a fine line between survival and disappearance. As noted in the news headlines of late, wolves, following the success of a reintroduction program begun in the fall of 1995 havebeen deemed so abundant that hunting has been allowed in Montana, Wyoming and Idaho this year. That might imply there is no longer a need for concern, that we have somehow managed to correct the wrongs of past decades and all is well once again. Nothing could be further from the truth.

There are wolves in Yellowstone again. And the grizzly, after teetering on the edge for years, seems once again to be re-established. The news that there are many other species facing serious threats might come as a surprise, but as I said, the top of the food chain seems to be the headline grabbers. What of the Yellowstone Cutthroat Trout? Almost gone. What of the Whitebark Pine? Dying in frightening numbers. There are others as well, pressured by development and grazing and logging on the adjacent lands. And before dismissing these as insignificant, understand that the trout might be viewed as the canary in the coal mine - a harbinger of changes on a scale that escapes our immediate notice. The Whitebark Pine, on the other hand, is essential to the survival of the grizzly as well as the Clark's Nutcracker to say nothing of the squirrels. As one goes, others will follow.

Yellowstone Park is magnificent. Both as a place and as an idea. It also serves as an example of the Law of Unintended Consequences in that it simply will not allow us to ignore the toll taken on the land by runaway development. Wyoming has the good fortune of being home to both Yellowstone and the Grand Teton parks, and the misfortune to be the home of massive amounts of natural gas - maybe fifteen trillion cubic feet - as well as oil, oil-shale, coal-bed methane. Guess what's going to be happening in Wyoming....

While the energy industry salivates at the opportunity to extract this reserve, others are stepping back saying , "wait a minute...what does this do the the land?". And, of course, to the water, and to the less obvious populations of non-apex animals and to the plantlife. Nothing gets off this train unharmed.. Ironically, money was at the root of the establishment of Yellowstone when the railroads saw an opportunity to cash in on tourism, and money may well be the cause of the death of the place if we stand idly by.

There are clearly polarized positions in the Northern Rockies. A biologist we spoke to in West Yellowstone at the Wolf and Grizzly Discovery Center, told us that if you want to get into a fight pretty much anywhere in Idaho, Montana or Wyoming, just mention wolves. There are the adoring legions of followers sitting on hillsides in the Lamar Valley of Yellowstone, spotting scopes trained on the distant treeline across the river, and there are the gun-toting-Sara-Palin-like-shoot'em-from-helicopters folks who think the only good wolf is one with a bullet in the brain. There seems to be very little middle ground on this. Unfortunately, the same can be said about grizzlies and coyotes and oil and gas. In the words of my old buddy Dubya, "if you're not with us you're against us". Devisive. The middle ground on this one is very, very hard to find.

The national treasure which is the Yellowstone River is 671 miles of free-flowing, undammed river. The longest such unencumbered river in the 48 states. I mentioned trout earlier - the numbers there may well tell the story of all that is wrong in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem, which is the park and all the land, wild and tame, that surrounds it.

Pelican Creek empties into Yellowstone Lake which is both fed by the Yellowstone River and then empties into the Yellowstone River. Pelican Creek is considered some of the finest wildlife habitat in the region and maybe in the world. In the 1980's, Pelican creek had around 30,000 spawning cutthroat trout. In 2004, fisheries biologists found nine. Yes - 9 - fish. Other streams in the area are much the same. We are walking on thin biological crust here, not unlike wandering through the geyers basins of the park and risking breaking through the thin crust and falling into a thermal pool. We'd best tread lightly.

This is the grim news, but in the midst of it all is much to be hopeful about. First is the fact that many, many people are aware of the tenuous state of affairs in Yellowstone and are not standing idly by waiting. Then there is the undeniable success of the wolf reintroduction program. In spite of the convtroversy, and in spite of massive resistance, there are now mulitple successful packs living within the protected confines of the park boundary. After decades of "wildlife management", some semblance of normalcy has returned to the wildness of Yellowstone.

There is also the undeniable fact that, as I mentioned, record numbers are visiting the park. People are aware of just how remarkable place this is and the more folks we get with an interest in preservation the better.

There is conservation and there is preservation. Conservation, the supposed mantra of most government land management agencies, requires them to follow the US Forest Service mulitple use approach in one way or another. These agencies have the misfortune of having to please the loggers, the miners, the hunters and fisherman, the hikers, the RVers, mountain bikers, the motorcyle riders all at the same time. An impossible task. The unfortunate side effect of this approach is that in the end, no one is satisfied. Everyone gives up something of what they want and ends up with less. The Park Service has a slightly different mission in that preservation is the key. At times it feels like the restrictions placed on us by the Park Service as excessive and you'll often hear me complaining, but in truth, preservation is what we need. We simply need to stop cutting and bulldozing and drilling and grazing on massive amounts of land in the Greate Yellowstone. Easy for me to say, since I don't live there and don't own any of it. But then, maybe that's what's needed - people like me who can offer an outsider's perspective without having to juggle my own personal financial impact.

Given our government's propensity for handing out tax dollars, perhaps a good approach would be to stop giving milliions to millionaires, and start spending that money to buy up vast tracts of this land before it's too late. In the end, some people would have to move so at least compensate them for it, but Yellowstone needs it more than AIG execs.

If you haven't visited Yellowstone, you should. It's unlike anyplace else on the planet. It's an idea and a reality. It's a gurgling geological wonderland and a wilderness of animals that can hurt you. It's bitterly cold and miserably hot. It's packed with RVs and it's utter emptiness. But mostly, it's yours. Take care of it.

Rock Mtn - Sept 12

I'm not sure how this particular lump of rock was awarded the generic name, but Rock Mtn it is. And, like virtually all the other summits in the Cascades, it's rocky.

Once the site of a Forest Service lookout, the 12 x 12 summit foundation is now home to some sort of unpleasant flying red ants that seem intent on maintaining absolute control of the summit. One need only step slightly to the side and they were no problem, but I figured this out only after dropping my pack on the summit and standing to take in the view. At that point an attack was mounted and I had to retreat a few feet.

The views are incredible. Glacier, Baker, Pugh, Sloan, the Monte Cristo massif, and on and on and on. Spectacular. We arrived via four and a half miles of trail and a gain of about 3250 feet - which is the easy way up. Climb from highway 2 and you'll need to add another thousand feet. We also added in a trip down to Rock Lake, just the other side of the summit ridge, and managed to tack on another three miles as well as the thousand feet so it ended up being about a dozen miles for the day. The tough part is that at least half (or more) of the gain is in the last couple of miles so it's a grunt but well worth it.

We made the exit at about 7pm on some very sore feet - how many times can you shove your toes against the front of you boot until the pain ceases to get your attention? I don't know, because I never achieved that blissfull state. I'm all better now, but when I reached the truck I was convinced I'd never hike again. I think I need to fill my boots with some of that expanding foam insulation you inject in your walls - maybe that will prevent this from happening next time.

On the drive out we turned a corner on the gravel road just as dusk was settling in and the biggest black bear I've ever seen popped onto the road in front of us - paused and gave us a good look before he lumbered up the cut bank and "hid" behind a tree. Too dark for a real photo, we had to be satisfied with a staring contest between us. A big bear!

We head out on Wednesday for a trip to Yellowstone. This will be the first visit for Suzanne and Jamie. In addition to the usual sites of geyers and mudpots we'll be taking in an organized wolf inpsection tour with "Bearman" - http://www.yellowstone-bearman.com/

I'll report back on the outcome of this much anticipated adventure.

Willard’s Principles of Software Engineering

Willard’s First Rule of Programming
Adding more engineers to a late software project makes it take longer.

Willard’s Second Rule of Programming
Effort estimates will always match exactly the number of days management makes available to complete a project.

Willard’s Third Rule of Programming – (aka Occam’s Antithetical Razor)
When you have two competing programming solutions that produce the exact same results, the more complex one is the most likely to be coded.

Willard’s Fourth Rule of Programming
The relative skill of a coder is inversely related to the amount of time said engineer expends in telling you how talented they are.

Willard’s Fifth Rule of Programming
Complexity and grace are not mutually exclusive.

Willard’s Sixth Rule of Programming
Success is in the eye of the beholder.
Willard’s First Corollary – Facts are for people with small imaginations.

Willard’s Seventh Rule of Programming
Newer does not mean better. Better means better.
Willard’s Second Corollary – Older may actually be wiser.

Willard’s Eighth Rule of Programming
Documentation is for people with weak memories.

Willard’s Theory of Software Estimation
Time and engineering staff are flexible only to the extent that there is never enough of either.

Willard’s Enduring Principle of Initial Development
Real Programmers don’t invent, they copy.

Willard’s Principle of Divergent Convergence
The Principle of Divergent Convergence defines the ability of an individual to maintain conceptual agreement with two distinctly dissimilar and antagonistic views.

This requires the individual to develop an internal explanation supporting the Postulate of Harmonious Recombination – a non-logical axiom in which these opposing views are in some fashion explained as either unrelated or, in the most egregious of cases, actually forced to coexist in a new framework of reality that redefines the expected outcomes in an acceptable (to the individual) way.

Both the Principle of Divergent Convergence and the Postulate of Harmonious Recombination are observed within the definition that exists only to the individual supporting the concepts. It is typically blatantly obvious to the non-participant that facts do not support either the thought process supporting such naturally opposing perspectives or resultant behavior.

A trip to Colorado - Part Deux

The Historic Stanley Hotel. I think that is what they officially call it. And the street sign as you approach announces you are entering the "Stanley Hotel Historic District". Estes Park, just on the eastern boundary of Rocky Mountain National Park, is a beautiful location with stunning views of Long's Peak from the veranda of the hotel that overlooks the small and very appealing town. This is rather like Leavcnworth, Wa without the Bavarian theme. And with better shopping.

The hotel is a result of FO Stanley, inventor of, among other things, the Stanley Steamer. His fortune from his creative pursuits allowed him to build this spectacular structure in what was, at the time, a near wilderness and equip every room with not only electricity (unheard of at the time) but also a private bath in each room. At the 100th anniversary of the hotel - this past July - it still remains an elegant and appealing destination. All the more so given the rather unbelievable activities within.

I attempt to remain somewhat skeptical of paranormal activities, although I can't really say why, given the number of things I've experienced in my life. In any event, I usually make great fun of Suzanne and Royce as they sit around the house watching Ghost Hunters on tv. In spite of that, it was mostly me, not Suzanne, that encountered the unexplainable at The Stanley.

She does have a camera full of pictures with hard to comprehend grey and white and black shadows over the scenes. I watched as she took a series of photos of the same subject and one would be a perfect representation of what I was looking at and the next would be half covered with a misty looking veil that was then gone for the next shot. Over and over she did this. Something is going on in this place.

Our first night in the stuffy fourth floor accomodations I got up to try and get some air through the tiny window of the gabled room and sat next to the screened opening, sitting in a small, overstuffed chair. Moments after sitting, while Suzanne snoonzed peacefully just a few feet away, I received four sharp smacks on my backside. While I was sitting in the chair. Behind me was the wall, next to me was my suitcase, shoved next to the chair because of the lack of space. Yet something was clearly smacking me. For several minutes afterward I had recurring sensations of my entire body tingling from head to toe - rather like the sensation of the hair on the back of your neck standing up, but all over my body. It would wash over me and I'd look around the room half expecting to see someone. Something is going on in this place.

The following day we spent hiking around town and in the mountains and before dinner I got into the shower to freshen up. Due to my techincal incompetence, I was unable to get the water hot so it ran and ran and ran while I waited in vain for it to warm up. (Turns out I needed to not turn the handle all the way to the left but about three quarters of the way to get hot, but I digress). I finally gave up and amidst much complaining I got in and begain railing about my "tepid shower" and how I should complain to the management. While in the midst of this low level tirade, while facing into the cool stream, my neck and shoulders were suddenly hot, as if a heating pad were laid across my shoulders. The cold water continued to run over the very part of me that was the hottest. I was shocked. It only lasted a few moments and then, cold water again. Something is going on in this place.

Dinner was in the small private dining room where we had watched Senator John McCain eating the night before. (And no, he did not ask my opinion on either the war in Afghanistan or my opinon on health care.) The room was a bit cooler the second night but we still had the fan running when I was wakened at about 2am by a pounding on the wall just opposite my head. Four or five good whacks and then footsteps running down the hall. I was up in an instant and put my eye to the peephole in the door. Its fisheye lens let me see the end of the hall in both directions. A long hallway both ways, but nobody there. Back to bed and about fifteen minutes later the same thing although this time the pounding sounded like it was on the opposite side of the hallway. Up in a flash and looking at the door as I still heard the running footsteps - nothing. Something is going on in this place.

The night we got home Suzanne put in a dvd she had purchased at the gift shop in the hotel and in it was a series of interviews of hotel workers. One of the things they reported were frequent phone calls from guests on the fourth floor complaining about the children banging on the wall and then running away.

You can draw your own conclusions. Maybe the place is rigged ala-Disneyland for these effects. Or maybe there really is something going on in this place. I can only report that what I felt and heard was real for me. I would suggest you book a trip and find out for yourself. Just be prepared for anything !!!

A trip to Colorado - Part 1

On Thursday the 20th Suzanne and I flew into Denver and rented a Hertz-mobile for the drive to Winter Park. I've been through this town before but so many years ago I can't really remember anything other than that I've been there. Prior trips to the state have been mostly in the winter for skiing so it was fun to be there in the summer for a change. At my neice's insistence we booked into a bed and breakfast along with a collection of other relatives of hers and her now-husband Craig. This gave us a chance to meet the rest of the family as well as catch up with my other neice Wenny and nephew Ryan as well as my sister Pat. Good times.

The wedding that was the reason for the trip was between my niece Rachel and her new husband Craig. The event was at a really cool place called Devil's Thumb Ranch which was highly reminiscent of the spot Suzanne and I had our wedding at. A nice ceremony (if I do say so myself) and great food at the following reception. It was very nice to reconnect with everyone and meet the new folks that are now in my family list.

We also managed to visit the Winter Park ski hill while there - another Intrawest property (like Whistler) so it's very nicely done. The hill was smothered with mountain bikers the day we visited. Based on the fact that they were all dressed like darker versions of the Star Wars storm troopers (i.e. shrouded in plastic protective gear) I've determined that I have little interest in pursuing this sport. It's clear that some portion of your time is spent in crashing into the rocks and gravel, else why all the plastic shin and knee and arm protection?? Think I'll stick to walking.

We also tried the summer "tobaggan" run on the mountain which was fun. It consists of what seemed to be some sort of plastic track which contained the wheeled sled you ride to the bottom. Pulling back on the center mounted "stick" caused the wheels to retract and skids to come in contact with the track, thereby slowing you down. Forward on the stick results in wheels descending and speed increasing very quickly - much the same as the effect experience by pushing your stick forward in the airplane! Good times.

It's raining outside for the first time in twenty-some days. That's unusual for this part of the country. As I look out my office window at the clouds piled up over the Olympic Mountains, I am reminded of a time there - when it was raining for real.....

The Bear

The Olympic Peninsula. The most northwestern land of the continental US. Still isolated by lower 48 standards, even today. Roads surrounded it. US highway 101 encircles it on the East, north and west sides. There is no way across this mountainous region except by walking. Or flying. Light plane pilots tend to avoid flying over the center of the area because of the problem that a forced landing would entail. Having flown often over the Cascades - following one of the highways that provide ground passage - I feel reasonably secure in that an unexpected landing could be effected within a reasonable distance of a highway or at least a logging road, and with some reasonable hope of success. Not so on the Peninsula.

From my earliest arrival in the Northwest I had been drawn to this remote area and had made the car trip around the Peninsula several times. My foot ventures had been extremely short and by way of trails, never more than a mile or two from the road, so I was very unfamiliar with the terrain. I had, however, been working in the woods for six years - in the Cascades of Washington and Oregon - when I arrived for my first taste of life in the Olympic Mountains. My trusty partner Dan had followed me once again on a contract job with the Forest Service, this time to examine stands of timber that ranged in age from about ten years up through old growth. It was in one of these younger stands of ‘reprod’ that we found ourselves this particular day.

Even if I tell you, it’s hard to believe what things are like off the road in the western reaches of the Olympic Peninsula. To say that it rains here is a ridiculous understamement. It rains here most of the time. There are times in the summer when you may get weeks of good weather, but this was not the case the summer that I was here. The result of this moisture and of the relatively mild climate that exists in proximity to the ocean is one of extreme vegetative growth. Let me put it another way; it’s a jungle out there. Move this terrain a few degrees to the south and you’d expect to see toucans and monkeys in the trees. This nearly impassable tangle of growth must be described in more detail to be fully understood.

Anyone who has traveled in the Northwest has seen the dense underbrush alongside whatever road they happened to drive - assuming of course that the traveler ventured off the freeway or away from the strip-mall development. I had spent several years of forestry work negotiating my way through this vine maple and devils club infested areas in search of timber. I’ve seen many a hillside where the vine maple was so dense and tall that I couldn’t quite make out the trees above my head. I’ve battled my way uphill through head high (and higher) huckleberry patches that invariably seem to point downhill while I invariably seem to need to go uphill. In all cases, my determination has prevailed and although I often spent long minutes extracting devils club thorns from my hands (and various other places) I always managed to get to where I was headed. Then I experienced the Olympic Mountains.

I recall stepping into a second growth stand of about ten years of age and walking no more than five feet into the brushy tangle before I came up against a wall. A wall of branches of the cascara tree. The cascara is a hardwood that grows throughout the Northwest, reaching small tree size at best, that provides an herbal laxative extract from the bark. This area was taken over by an aggressive group of these trees that were about five to ten feet tall. It seems that the young cascara tree begins branching about a foot or so off the ground and sends out additional lateral branches at about one foot intervals. This usually presents little problem because the trees are not typically found in more than ones or twos. This stand was decidedly different. This was a cascara plantation. Unable to move forward through the tangle of branches, I moved to one side and attempted to work my way through. Again, I was literally stopped against a wall of interwoven branches. With the base of the trees only a few feet apart, the branches all but wove a fence that started at ground level and extended to head high. I tried again and was stopped. I lay down on my belly and attempted to crawl underneath, believing that the clump was only one or two trees deep and I could break through on the ‘other side’. I was trapped on my belly, crawling under the trees as though I were a soldier in the fields of France crawling under concertina wire trying to get through the enemy lines. I never did make it. I backed out, literally, and made my way back to the truck on the road, not two hundred feet away. There stood Dan. Grinning.

“You couldn’t get through that either, could you?” We never did do that particular item of work, telling the Forest Service that it was inaccessible. I don’t know what they thought. With this explanation in mind, I now return to the tale at hand.

While my current location did not rival the density of the cascara plantation, it was incredibly dense with the typical brush. It additionally offered a lovely plant known as the evergreen blackberry, a species of the tasty fruit bearing bush that was particularly hardy due mostly to its inch thick stems that liked growing horizontal. The fat stems contained appropriately sized thorns that inflicted memorable wounds on the unwary. Due to this, both Dan and I were forced from time to time to revert to the “crawlin’ on my belly like a snake” mode of travel in order to maintain a reasonably straight line of travel as we surveyed the contents of this southeast facing slope. We were doing our usual cross slope travel, following parallel lines about three hundred feet apart when I began smelling a foul odor. Rotting fish. I looked to the bottom of the hill where the clear cut area reached toward the timbered bottom. I saw no river down there, but given the quantify of rain in the area, every ravine, draw and low spot had some sort of water moving through it so I supposed the smell could be related to that. The smell came and went as I continued on my way, walking, climbing over logs, crawling under blackberries, wet from the drizzle, cold, and examining my motives for doing this kind of work.

I continued to wonder about the odor as I moved. It had become stronger and seemed to hang in the air, not fading in and out as before. As I rose from crawling under a downed log, I heard a tremendous crashing and commotion in the brush below me, followed in just moments by a sudden blur of dark and whoosh - past me raced a medium sized bear on a mission to get to the top of the hill in as short a time as possible. The bear passed directly in front of me, about ten feet away, not so much as glancing my direction. I don’t think it even knew I was there. It happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that I never began to think of danger or fear or other bear-related emotions. Mostly I was just surprised.

The smell that had been hanging in the air was from the bear. That much was clear as it fled uphill past me, leaving in its wake a sickly, rotting aroma. Whatever that critter had eaten for breakfast did not smell appetizing. I continued on my line of travel as I heard the bear break out of the brush above me, probably onto the road that ran parallel to us, and went on his way. In a few minutes I reached the timber on the opposite end of the clear-cut and broke into relatively clear terrain on the old fire trail that had been cut alongside the clear-cut, providing a holding line for the crew that burned the slash left after the logger departed. I followed this line down the hill to intercept Dan where he and I would continue down to the next line of travel and begin the return trip for our next line of survey. As I neared Dan, standing on a stump, I could see a grin.

“Imagine my surprise,” he bellowed at me as I came into view, “when, crawling on my belly through the brush, I looked up and into the eyes of a bear! Not two feet away from me mind you! There was no way I could get away, I was pinned to the ground. The bear looked at me, I looked at him. I don’t know whose eyes were the biggest.”

“So did he eat you?” I asked.

“He woofed at me and left in such a hurry that he kicked dirt into my face.”

I guess if I encountered Dan crawling on his belly through the wet underbrush of an Olympic Mountain morning, then I, in the manner of the bear, would have run for my life as well.

Another trip back in the time machine...

- i wrote this in about 1980....

By the time April arrives in the Cascades most people have hung their skis back in the garage and are dragging out the bicycles and kayaks and backpacks, getting ready for the next season’s worth of outdoor sports. For me, that’s the time of year when the skiing is at its best. The crowds have thinned out and the days are longer. It also warms up enough to be able to shed a few of the layers of clothes needed in the colder months. All those things were part of the reason Erik and I chose to take one particular April weekend and use it for one of our backcountry trips.

At about midday, we shouldered our packs and climbed into our skis. Erik chose to slog along in a pair of downhill skis with climbing skins. I had a pair of mountaineering skis with fishscale bottoms and the old fashioned Silvretta bindings, a cable affair that would attach or detach at the heel. For climbing, I’d disconnect the heel and could climb with relative ease. For downhill, I needed only to reattach and I had almost the same control as with a rigid binding. The problem with them was the need to use a leather climbing boot as opposed to a plastic downhill ski boot. Uphill I easily outdistanced him. His more rigid boots gave him much greater control on the downhill.

We climbed for about two hours and reached a sheltered and flat spot at the end of the ridge which was the perfect spot for camp. We unloaded our gear, set up the tent and tossed out our sleeping bags. Freed from the burden of shelter, food and water, we felt light as feathers as we stepped back into our skis and headed for the edge of the ridge. It was a glorious sight. All around us were the fiercely rugged peaks of the North Cascades. The sun was intense, so much so we were able to strip to sweaters before we dived into the bowl in front of us. For the rest of the afternoon we dived into untracked bowls of shaded, powdery snow. By staying in the shadows we avoided getting into snow that had thawed and refrozen. As soon as we’d reach the bottom, we would painfully climb to the top of the ridge and look for another way down, once again claiming first tracks in the isolated basin all the while yelling and laughing. Erik was by far the better skier and filled the long, painful climbs with stories of ski patrol rescues and dynamiting cornices before the resort opened. Gradually, the sun sank lower and our energy finally gave out.

Just below the tent, we paused alongside a great, house-sized rock needing to take a rest in order to make the last few hundred feet back to camp. Erik kicked off his skis, leaped onto the boulder and climbed to the top where he peeled off his sweat soaked shirt and proceeded to absorb what heat was left in the sun. I disconnected my clingy cable bindings and planned to do the same. As I approached the rock I noticed the melt gap between the heated rock and the snow. I crouched to jump the distance so as to clear the short void as Erik had, but as I did so I broke through the crust and my right leg dropped into the gap with an audible noise. As I heard a loud tearing, popping sound I experienced rather intense pain in the vicinity of my ankle followed by pain in several other parts of my body as I crashed face first into the rock.

Erik heard me yelling and soon he was pulling me out of the snow hole. After a brief examination revealed nothing dangling or broken, we decided it was best to head immediately for the tent.

As soon as I arrived at our weekend home, I unlaced and removed my boot to see what sort of ding I had received. Although it was painful, things didn’t seem too bad and there was no real visible sign of damage. The most pressing question was one we didn’t even ask as we watched the sun go down and Erik started the stove. That question was, what kind of shape was I going to find myself in tomorrow?

(part deux…after the fall)

I got my answer the next day. In spite of having spent hours the night before with my foot shoved into the snow outside the front of the tent, my ankle was horribly swollen. I was hopeful that by icing (in this case “snowing”) my injury I would minimize the problems. Wrong. I managed to pull a sock over the melon sized appendage and when I attempted to stand I realized for the first time, I was in serious trouble. There was no way I was going to be able to ski out from our camp. I couldn’t even put weight on my foot. That was not too big an issue since I was never going to be able to get my boot on anyway, so attaching myself to the ski was out of the question.

While making breakfast of hot coffee and tea and oatmeal and a generous helping of cookies, Erik and I discussed the problem. The first option was for me to sit tight and for him to ski out and get help. We figured the most likely scenario to be a few ski patrollers from the Stevens Pass ski area dragging in a stretcher to retrieve me. The terrain between where we were and where we needed to be contained a couple of extremely steep segments that would be a problem with a stretcher, even for experienced rescuers. There was also the possibility of having to use a helicopter to reach me where we sat at the end of the ridge. Neither of these options was particularly appealing to me. I think it must have been a combination of stupidity, stubbornness and embarrassment that affected me as we tried to decide. The longer I thought about it, the less interested I was in involving anyone else in my “rescue”. I’d gotten myself into this fix because of my own stupidity, so it somehow seemed to make sense to try and extricate myself without involving anyone else. Except, of course, Erik.

As I mentioned, he was an exceptional skier, so when I first proposed getting out ourselves, he thought it was a marvelous idea. It was just wacky enough to appeal to a guy whose idea of fun consisted of tossing half sticks of dynamite into the air above a freshly snowed face so as to blow out any likely avalanches. We still had three good legs between us, so we decided to go home on three skis.

While I pulled on every leftover sock we had, Erik broke camp and packed us up. I stuffed my unused ski into the sleeve of the pack and hung my extra boot off the back. We hefted out packs and headed up the slope to the top of our ridge, just a short distance away. Fortunately, the uphill part was very short, since there wasn’t much Erik could do to help me there. I mostly hobbled and shuffled as I made my way to the top. Once there we had a gentle downhill for the better part of a mile in which we could develop a technique for three-legged skiing. It wasn’t pretty. Or even very effective since there were rocks and trees scattered along our route, but I somehow managed to hang onto Erik’s pack frame with one hand while balancing on one ski with my spare foot in the air between us. Having extremely good edging skills is a must for this sport since single ski travel requires all turns and all control to be focused on the one foot. I wasn’t particularly good at that so I spent a lot of time crashing into my buddy, knocking us both down numerous times. We finally established enough proficiency that we were able to travel for considerable distances between crashes. Luckily for us, the steeps didn’t come until we had a chance to practice.

At the first of these exposed crossings, we stopped to rest and consider our chances. It appeared likely that if (more likely when) I fell, I’d be able to stop myself if I acted quickly. The slope angled steeply, and went for a long way before ending in cliffs and trees. I would be skiing with my good leg on the ski that put me on the downhill side of Erik. If I fell, at least I wouldn’t take him with me. By what must have been sheer will, we crossed both of these exposed areas without so much as a slip. By this time we were atop the last ridge and the parking area along the highway came into view. The rest of the trip was a simple exercise in pain as I made my way down through areas that were simply too steep and broken for us to “three leg” ski.

Erik is no longer with us, having succumbed to a cancer that was discovered when he visited the doc for x-rays of a few broken ribs sustained in another ski adventure later in our lives. His memory remains alive with me for this trip and for others we took.

Living on the edge of the continent......

Saturday at about 11:30 we took off from KPAE, full fuel and all seats filled, only about sixty pounds under gross. I had three of my four kids with me on a planned lunch trip to Friday Harbor, taking advantage of Zeke being in town from Boise and both Liz and Steph free for the afternoon. The plan was to zip up and enjoy a bite and some scenery, then fly back home where we'd load up for a trip to Pine River Cabin for a weekend of beer and sun and revelry.

As I've learned, loading a Cessna 172 to gross weight allows one to simulate the performance of a 152. Takeoff was a while in coming and holding five hundred feet a minute uphill was a challenge only met by sacrificing some airspeed in favor of climb. Temps were comfortable at about seventy degrees but the humidity was high. As the ship labored up into the smooth air, I imagined trying to get off the ground with a similar load at Fish Lake. I'm thinking I don't want to try.

There was a fair amount of radio traffic while flying through Whidbey's Class C airspace, but we only saw a couple of other airplanes in spite of that. It's a comfort to have everyone in that corridor on radar, knowing you've got someone on the ground watching for you. We made good time northbound, reading between 134 and 140 groundspeed the entire time. Lunch was quiet and pleasant and followed by a stroll to the marina for some gawking at the incredible wealth floating around there. By the time we were walking back up toward the airport, a very light drizzle was underway but the sky was of no concern since it appeared the ceiling was probably about six thousand feet. This perception remained with me until the Skyhawk lifted off the runway at Friday Harbor International and I was able to get a good look around.

To the east and southeast - my intended direction - was a wall. The clouds and sheets of rain falling from them merged into an indiscernible gray with the water. No telling where things were in there. I have no idea where all this weather came from. As I lowered the nose a bit, I could see south across the Strait to the shoreline between Port Townsend and Port Angeles. There was a layer of some sort inland but I could see the shoreline. I held that thought in reserve as I rolled left and aimed toward the clouds to the east. The radio was alive with traffic as I dialed in 118.2 and listened to Whidbey Approach. It seemed as if every light plane in the San Juan Islands was airborne at the same instant, all headed the same direction as me, and all asking for flight following. I heard the Whidbey controller asking several pilots "able to maintain VFR at 2200? (or 2500 or 3000)". I also heard multiple requests for filing in-flight IFR. That was when I became a bit uncomfortable with the state of things. By this time I was over Lopez Island and the wall of cloud and rain was no more than a mile in front of me. I could see the runway at Lopez below me; I could see north to Orcas, and glancing over my shoulder I saw it was still clear at Friday Harbor so I knew my situation was fine but it was time to make a decision. I turned around without calling Whidbey.

My initial thought was to get a little altitude and head south for the open water transit to the north shore of the Olympic Peninsula, but the weather seemed to be growing less friendly there all the time. Meanwhile the radio chatter continued and one airplane was asking for a diversion from Paine to Port Townsend. Another airplane was enroute from Oak Harbor to Port Townsend and called with a request to return to Oak Harbor since there was nothing ahead but zero/zero. In spite of what I thought, things weren't looking good to the south either. At this point I found myself in an airplane with three non-pilots, all of whom were beginning to look a little uncomfortable and it seemed to me that my job was to do something that would not cause them to feel uneasy. If they weren't happy with my explanations then perhaps my decisions were not quite right. As we headed back to Friday Harbor, I told Stephanie, "looks like you're gonna be late for work". I don't think she minded. I now had in mind one additional option I wanted to explore before putting us back on the runway. Remember this; if you're really down to only one option, you're truly in trouble. I had one "additional" option besides landing at FHR.

If you look at a chart of the San Juan Islands, you'll see why it is technically not an island chain, but instead is an archipelago. Heading due east from San Juan Island and the Friday Harbor area, you can follow the crests of the underwater mountain chain that leads directly back into Skagit Bay just north of Anacortes. It occurred to me that we might be able to navigate our way east while maintaining at least minimal VFR by simply flying from one of these islands to the next. Since every one of them (almost) has at least one runway on it, the worst that could happen would be we'd set down on one of these out of the way strips and wait the weather out. I turned east again at the north end of Lopez, explained to the "crew" what I was going to do, and we started descending to a "Commander-Emery-approved" altitude of 1000 feet. The plan worked well and I was able to always see ahead to the next piece of real estate before leaving the safety of the strip below me. What surprised me, however, was how completely disoriented I became in this little jaunt, even though I was navigating with a combination of chart and eyeball and the GPS. I knew where we were by the screen on the GPS but I could not look out the window and make myself see the same thing. We finally broke into the clear just northeast of Anacortes and turned back to the south, calling Whidbey and requesting additional "eyes" as we headed once again toward home.

To the east now I could see the freeway and a wall of rain just beyond it. The weather seemed to be improving to the west, however, so it seemed like we'd pulled it off. I was still hearing a flood of radio traffic to the southwest and south of Whidbey so I remained guarded and kept one eye back to the field at Skagit / Bayview and another at the runways around Oak Harbor. If all else failed I figured we'd simulate being a Navy jet and land at NAS Whidbey. We had to skirt the shoreline along the east edge of Port Susan, between the mainland and Whidbey, because things remained solid to the east. No following the freeway this trip. I was able to get high enough now to pick up the VOR at Paine and pointed us between the clouds while heading in the direction indicated on the OBS. After a few minutes I dialed in the ATIS at Paine and was treated to "visibility three miles, broken fifteen hundred, thunderstorm, lightning". The intercom in the Skyhawk was filled with four voices simultaneously saying "Lightning!!". We laughed at the common reaction and at that exact instant hit our first bump of the day. It was a good one, the cosmos apparently trying to emphasize this new news and make up for the smooth ride to that point.

As I cleared the patch of scud running along the shoreline just north of the Ritts ILS Outermarker, I could see ahead for the first time and noted thick patches of scattered cloud between us and home base with a ceiling about a thousand feet above the water. There were ways through, however, and I could see Hat Island dead ahead and Camano to the west. I heard one airplane inbound on the ILS to the left of us, and two more somewhere in the soup west of us, all of us aiming for the same place and clearly interested in getting on the ground right away. Paine Tower cleared us for the straight in at about the same time the ILS traffic reported breaking through the clouds so I turned a bit west to stay clear of his approach. At the same time we had a Bonanza and a Cessna converging from the right. Everyone was faster than us so the crowd cleared out in time for me to fall in behind and pick up a modified clearance to fly a right base. We zigged and zagged and jigged around a whole collection of clouds, all the while watching an ominous squall line crossing the Sound and just reaching Possession Point at the south end of Whidbey. It was close. And full of lightning. I kept the throttle almost to the firewall all the way to the runway threshold. Fast and high I slipped hard and executed a not-bad landing and then raced for the taxiway.

As we attached the last tiedown chain, the storm reached us with torrential rain, booming thunder and exciting flashes. Exciting, at least from the safety of the inside of the truck.

23 April 2009

Greetings all. I'm in the midst of one of those times of life when the day to day seems to keep me completely occupied and unable to slow down long enough to even communicate. Things are basically good right now with a strong sense of relief over the feeling of calm that describes things for me right now. After the past several months, this period of quiet is both much appreciated and very welcome.

Spring is on the way - flowers are starting to bloom around here and the cherry tree in the backyard is loaded with blooms. I have moved into a mode of ignoring more news than I read and find that my anxiety level has decreased substantially. At times it feels like the media deeply desires the most tragic of news in order to capture our attention on tv. It's nice to be paying less attention to the perceptions of gloom and doom and more to the arrival of longer days.

When I rise at 5am I'm now able to see the mountains in the east. I check the calendar and realize that the truly long days of the year are rapidly approaching. It makes me want to pull out my hiking gear, get my tent ready and hit the trails. Visit Mark's blog for info on the early season trips he is enjoying now that he is freed from the corporate world -http://markwhitesell.blogspot.com/
I hope to be joining him soon. Think positive - enjoy life.

How has so much time passed..????

When I graduated from high school way back in nineteen hundred and sixty six, I essentially lost track of everyone in my class. Not long after I finished school I was off on the adventure that has been my life and I spent very little time looking back. Even though my daughter Jenney still lives in my old hometown, I've not gotten back a lot to visit.

Monett is still a small town, it was even less forty years ago when I left. From that small population that was my high school class, it seems almost cosmic that I would find one of my classmates living literally down the street from me, but that's what happened when I stumbled back into contact with Steve Bohnemeyer.

He and I got together for the first time in four decades tonight. That's a lot of time to cover so we were forced to provide one another with the condensed version, but even that provides a fascinating summary of our two very different, yet still intertwined lives. Now that we've reconnected I look forward to getting together again soon so we can delve into more details. I'm also looking forward to pulling the old fly rod out of the PVC tube in which it's stored and seeing if I can still tie a fly onto the line for some stream fishing with STeve this summer.

I'm glad to welcome Steve back into my life!

March 19 2009

On March 20, 2009 at 0744 EDT (that's 4:44 am here in the Wet Northwest) the Sun will cross directly over the earth's equator. This is known as the vernal equinox in the Northern Hemisphere (autumnal equinox for Spencer B down in Coffs Harbour Australia) - and spring 2009 begins.

I'm unclear, as usual, as to how the entire winter has managed to race past me and once again I have failed to ski every single lift in the state of Washington. I'll put it on my calendar for next winter.

We still have a good four weeks of skiing left, more if we venture into B.C, but it's time to pull the backpack and tent out of the closet and start making plans for those hiking trips. In the meantime, pack a few more snow adventures into your weekends.

Update 16 March

I've been out of touch for a bit while enjoying a trip to Utah for SkiPalooza2009. We had outstanding conditions for this trip and sampled the skiing at four different resorts. I can see why people move to Salt Lake City just to have access to the incredible number of ski hills.

This year's trip had six participants - Martin from Leavenworth, Zeke from Boise, Blake from Boise, David from West Seattle, Steve from all the way back in Pennsylvania, and me. We rented a house on the eastern edge of Salt Lake City that provided enough room for all of us although we could use a bit more space for future trips.

We started the trip with a visit to Solitude - a beautiful day with lots of new snow, this is a very nice location with a nice variety of terrain and lots of steeps and was quite exciting. When the sun is shining as much as it was on this day, it would be hard to find problems with anyplace.

On Sunday we made a bit of a drive to SnowBasin - I simply can't say enough about this place. From the incredible experience of skiing the Grizzly Downhill - from the 2002 Winter Olympics, to the widely varied terrain, and with the nicest on-mountain lodges I've ever visited, this place will most certainly be on the list for next year's visit. It also has the nicest restrooms I've ever seen on a ski hill - maybe anywhere. The food on the mountain was incrediblely good and unbelievably well priced. You must try this place !!!!

Monday we went to Deer Valley and hooked up with my friend Bill Drummond who is working there as a ski instructor this winter. The snow was falling so hard I never even pulled my camera out of my jacket pocket. We were lucky to have Bill along because with the poor visibility we would have been lost pretty much the entire time. It was hard enough with the foot or so of new snow and with trying to keep up with Bill as he led us down the steeps and through the trees. A great day - thank you Bill! Getting home that afternoon was also a challenge since the road back to Salt Lake was plugged from the snowstorm.

Our last ski day was at Snowbird, a place we also visited last year. What started out as a bit of a frustrating day, with delays and a lost ticket that had to be repurchased, turned into a fabulous experience with terrific snow, lots of sun, and thanks to 5 hour energy, a full day of endless skiing that didn't include stopping for lunch. We got to ride through the tunnel that connects the front of the mountain to Mineral Basin - an interesting experience -


Everyone made it home on Wednesday without incident - a great end to a great trip.

I can't wait for 2010!!!!!!

Jamie's Current Status - VERY GOOD!!

Greetings All. I apologize for being somewhat tardy in this latest posting, but once we managed to get Jamie out of the hospital and home, life seemed to run away from me a bit and I've been somewhat busy.

The short status is that she is doing very, very well. She seems pretty much exactly like the same little girl we took to the hospital a week ago and is healing nicely from the extensive incision across her scalp. At some point she's going to view this scar with some pride - those of us who have a few can appreciate that - but right now she is still self conscious about it.

A visit to the doc this morning provided a positive review although he does want her to continue to lay low for another week. She should be back in school by the 16th of the month.

Thanks again to everyone for all your incredible support for all of us this week.

Friday 11AM

A better morning today. Jamie was moved out of the Intensive Care Unit late yesterday and now is resting well in a quiet room. Reports from the medical teams are all pretty good with a positive prognosis.

She goes for some physical and cognitive testing today to determine if there are any issues lurking in the shadows that we've not yet identified. Initial results from that should be coming later today. She's had a lot of company and seems to be improving but is still pretty beat up from a very invasive surgery. Keep the good thoughts coming.

Suzanne told me about an encounter she had yesterday that was, in her words, "a moment". I thought I'd share it with you.

In the ICU was a young man in the next bed who was terribly injured from a gunshot. The bullet made a long trip through him and caused massive damage internally. For the entire time we were in the ICU, he was there, unconscious, on a ventilator, surrounded by family. It was a large group that appeared to be brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and probably friends. There was always a big group present; he was strongly supported and obviously much loved. Suzanne and his mother were both at the bedsides of their respective children for much of the time.

At one point, Suzanne said she looked up and into the eyes of the other mother standing next to her son. They don't speak the same language so nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said. The look in their eyes revealed what was in their hearts - revealed how hard this was. A mother's love for her child is like nothing else. In that instant, between them, they shared the same physical and emotional space. It is so hard to watch your child suffering. So hard to be so powerless. For only the space of a few seconds - and without words, all the space between people and cultures and politics and beliefs was spanned. For that instant it was clear that whatever you see on the outside, there is no difference on the inside. That most basic of human emotion - love - knows no division. Neither age nor race nor spiritual belief matters. One, and the same. It was a moment...

Thursday 10am

The bad news today seems limited to Seattle area traffic caused by a teeny snowfall. In the hospital, reports are much more favorable. Although I can't say how much, I do know that both girls managed to get some sleep last night. For Suzanne it was the first since this episode began on Tuesday morning so they both seemed much happier today.

Jamie is experiencing some predicted mood swings which make for a very interesting time for Suzanne. Although I've never seen it (it almost appears to be reserved for her mom) Jamie will bounce from one emotional extreme to the next in a matter of moments. We have been told that his is to be expected and will subside over the next few days. Overall, Jamie seems to be improving and as of yet shows no outward signs of bruising. We have been advised that this will still come along with some swelling - it just hasn't shown up yet.

Suzanne's sisters Christine and Audra left this morning to return to their lives back east. Their presence here was a real blessing so things for all their help and positive energy. For all the calls and emails and cosmic good wishes from all of you - thank you very much.

Jamie Update Wed 10am

Jamie has been roused from her lengthy sleep and a bit earlier this morning had the vent turned off and the tube removed. She responded by giving me a pouty lip and saying "the only thing that will make me feel better is if you get me a new puppy". I think she's going to be ok.

Suzanne was also visibly more relaxed and animated today after an exceedingly stressful day yesterday. The cause of all this problem - the AVM in the brain - has been completely removed. Things are looking pretty good.

Jamie will stay in the ICU for a while longer since there are still things that need to be monitored and she will need to stabilize, but we're feeling pretty confident right now.

To all you who have expressed your concern and support - thank you. For the prayers and positive energy sent our way - thank you. We have a wonderful family and fabulous friends. I count myself a very rich man as a result.

Jamie Update 5:45 PM

We just talked with the docs after they looked at the angiogram. Everything is looking very good - the entire AVM was removed. Jamie is still intubated and will remain sedated through the night. They plan to awaken her in the morning, allowing them to maintain a high degree of stability overnight and enabling her to rest. So far, this has gone completely according to plan.

Jamie Update - 3:50

We had a visit from the neurosurgeon a bit ago and received good news regarding removal of the AVM. Jamie is still being put back together but the prognosis is good. Once they have closed things up she'll get a follow-up angiogram to take a look from the inside and then another MRI. She should be in the unit by early evening.

Jamie is in Surgery - 0820

Greetings All - They trundled Jamie off about 7:30. By now I imagine she is well on the way to being ready to start. Prep involves getting her plugged in to the various IVs and doing some sort of haircut to allow for the incision across the scalp. We have been told that our first update will be upon completion of the "main part" of the surgery - it's unclear when that will be but I'm expecting it to be some hours away.

For now, Suzanne has calmed down after a very teary few moments after they rolled Jamie down the hall. Her sisters Christine and Audra are both here and are providing plenty of distraction. Royce is also on hand, along with a cast of several more. We've pretty much taken over the small waiting room here at Harborview.

I'll update once we get word from the docs.

A Real Touch of Class

Once in a while you come across truly noble, selfless actions. Here is a story that's worth a read:

By TIM DAHLBERG Associated Press Columnist
The coach never considered any other option.

It didn't matter that his DeKalb, Ill., High School basketball team had ridden a bus two and a half hours to get to Milwaukee, then waited another hour past game time to play. Didn't matter that the game was close, or that this was a chance to beat a big city team.

Something else was on Dave Rohlman's mind when he asked for a volunteer to shoot two free throws awarded his team on a technical foul in the second quarter. His senior captain raised his hand, ready to go to the line as he had many times before. Only this time it was different.

"You realize you're going to miss them, don't you?" Rohlman said.

Darius McNeal nodded his head. He understood what had to be done.

It was a Saturday night in February, and the Barbs were playing a nonconference game on the road against Milwaukee Madison. It was the third meeting between the two schools, who were developing a friendly rivalry that spanned two states.

The teams planned to get together after the game and share some pizzas and soda. But the game itself almost never took place.

Hours earlier, the mother of Milwaukee Madison senior captain Johntell Franklin died at a local hospital. Carlitha Franklin had been in remission after a five-year fight with cervical cancer, but she began to hemorrhage that morning while Johntell was taking his college ACT exam.

Her son and several of his teammates were at the hospital late that afternoon when the decision was made to turn off the life-support system. Carlitha Franklin was just 39.

"She was young and they were real close," said Milwaukee coach Aaron Womack Jr., who was at the hospital. "He was very distraught and it happened so suddenly he didn't have time to grieve."
Womack was going to cancel the game, but Franklin told him he wanted the team to play. And play they did, even though the game started late and Milwaukee Madison dressed only eight players.

Early in the second quarter, Womack saw someone out of the corner of his eye. It was Franklin, who came there directly from the hospital to root his teammates on.

The Knights had possession, so Womack called a timeout. His players went over and hugged their grieving teammate. Fans came out of the stands to do the same.

"We got back to playing the game and I asked if he wanted to come and sit on the bench," Womack said during a telephone interview.

"No," Franklin replied. "I want to play."

There was just one problem. Since Franklin wasn't on the pre-game roster, putting him in meant drawing a technical foul that would give DeKalb two free throws.

Though it was a tight game, Womack was willing to give up the two points. It was more important to help his senior guard and co-captain deal with his grief by playing.

Over on the other bench, though, Rohlman wasn't so willing to take them. He told the referees to forget the technical and just let Franklin play.

"I could hear them arguing for five to seven minutes, saying, 'We're not taking it, we're not taking it," Womack said. "The refs told them, no, that's the rule. You have to take them."

That's when Rohlman asked for volunteers, and McNeal's hand went up.

He went alone to the free throw line, dribbled the ball a couple of times, and looked at the rim.
His first attempt went about two feet, bouncing a couple of times as it rolled toward the end line. The second barely left his hand.

The Madison team stood and turned toward the DeKalb bench and started applauding the gesture of sportsmanship. Soon, so did everybody in the stands.

"I did it for the guy who lost his mom," McNeal told the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. "It was the right thing to do."

Franklin would go on to score 10 points, and Milwaukee Madison broke open the game in the second half to win 62-47. Afterward, the teams went out for pizza, two players from each team sharing each pie.

Carlitha Franklin's funeral was last Friday, and the school turned out for her and her son. Cheerleaders came in uniform, and everyone from the principal and teachers to Johntell's classmates were there.

Basketball is a second sport for the 18-year-old Franklin, who says he has had some scholarship nibbles and plans to play football in college. He just has a few prep games left. It hasn't been the greatest season for the team, but they have stuck together through a lot of adversity.

None so good, though, as the moment a team and a player decided there were more important things than winning and having good stats.

A Brief History of Skipalooza

Back in 2004, my friend Martin and I decided we needed to make a road trip to a ski area. We chose to go to Schweitzer Ski Resort in Idaho - just outside of Sandpoint. The weather was great, we stayed on the mountain and enjoyed a very uncrowded few days. Not a lot of snow that year so a few things were unavailable, but there was more than enough to have a great time. It was so much fun, in fact, that we decided we needed to do the same thing the following year.



In 2005, we headed to Canada, in part to take advantage of the positive (for us) exchange rate. Being fiscally prudent fellows, we saw great advantage in being able to pay seventy bucks for a lift ticket that actually only cost us fifty. In return for that we visited Silver Star - near the B.C town of Vernon, and Big White just outside of Kelowna. It's beautiful country in that central part of the province and the skiing was quite nice. For a second year, snow cover was low and as a result we were unable to get to a number of areas on both mountains. That only means it's just that much more likely we'll return in the future!


It became clear that we'd established a tradition by 2006 so we launched yet another March expedition, once again planning to take advantage of the generous exchange rate. This time we went north to Kamloops B.C. to sample Sun Peaks Resort. I can only say - WOW - there is a reason it's called "Sun" Peaks. Fantastic weather as we arrived on the heels of a nasty storm. The snow was cold, dry and fast. We had a very nice condo with an on-deck hottub for muscle therapy. We skied to exhaustion - this place is definitely on the list to re-visit.

By 2007 Bush-o-nomics had eliminated any advantage of the US dollar so we found it possible to make our annual trip to a US destination. We ended up in Montana at The Big Mountain just north of Kalispell. It's since been renamed to Whitefish Mountain Resort - I'm sure the prices went up to go along with that. Day one there was driving rain. The groomers got to the mountain overnight after the rain finally stopped but what we found early the next day - in nice sun - was a beautifully groomed boiler plate beyond anything I've ever encountered. It was like skiing on the deck of an aircraft carrier - except listing at forty degrees to starboard. Eventually it warmed up enough that you could actually set an edge, but in spite of this rock-hard start it proved to be a great trip. We added two new members this year with Rich from Wenatchee and Blake from Boise. The SkiPalooza Crew was growing.

For 2008, in the face of continuing financial dominance by the Canadians, we opted for yet another domestic destination. This time it was to be my first trip to Utah, land of the fabled powder. The license plates used to say "the greatest snow on earth". I have to say - it's true. We stayed in a nice suburban condo in Cottonwood Heights - which is really just the most easterm part of Salt Lake City that's shoved into the Wasatch. We skied Brighton, Alta, The Canyons, and Snowbird. I was stunned by how nice it was.
We added my son Zeke this year. Also on the trip for our visit to Snowbird was Justin - a nephew from Salt Lake City. As of 2008 the SkiPalooza Crew was four (and one-half).


The Future
This next month we head out for SkiPalooza 2009. We've picked up two new members for this trip - my good friend David from West Seattle, and Blake's father-in-law from Pennsylvania. Because of the incredible time we had last year, we're making an unprecented return to familiar grounds and will be sampling more of the Utah powder.

Out of the Past - Part 1

Over the past few months, for reasons I don't fully understand, I've experienced a series of reconnections with people from my past. Some of them very far in the past. While I can't explain why this seems to be happening right now, I can explain how.

The proliferation of networking websites allows all of us to establish a cyber-presence that makes our existence accessible to the world. Sites like Facebook and MySpace are quite well known and seem to be the most popular, particularly with a slightly younger set than me. While I rarely use those, I do frequent a more business oriented site - LinkedIn.

This started with me connecting to mostly people I currently work with but has managed to open the doors through various organizational connections to a number of other folks. You can search by schools, for instance. One of my recent reconnections was through this means, seeing a school listed that I actually knew someone from. The other common connection is through work history, finding a company I'd worked for in the past and then searching for everyone else that has that same connection. That's how Ron Bailey came to light.

While browsing through a recent connection to me, I saw that GTE (now Verizon) was listed as a former employer. That reminded me of Ron Bailey. Ron and I had started our IT careers at nearly the same time after we graduated from the same training program at a business college in the Seattle area. While working together at GTE we became fast friends and shared a number of common interests that led us to a rewarding friendship. Over time, life's complications managed to insert a wedge between us that ultimately resulted in us drifting apart and eventually losing track of one another completely. The last time we spent any time together would have been about 1986 or so - I'm not entirely certain of the year. I'd tried uncovering his whereabouts from time to time using the trusty method of Google and had come up with nothing. Even though I worked daily with a number of people from the old GTE era, none of them had any idea either. Then came LinkedIn.

I pulled up all the Ron Baileys on LinkedIn and emailed each of them describing our connection from GTE. A couple of days later an email arrived and sure enough, I'd found him. It turns out we had been working two blocks apart for the past five years of so. Or at least a number of years.
Clearly a lot has changed in the intervening time but it was terrific to find we still recognized one another in spite of the passage of time. We've managed to get together a couple of times to visit and I look forward to many more opportunities to do so. There is a whole world of experiences in our past to share, and a whole world yet to come. Welcome back to my world Ron Bailey!! It's good to have you back.

Show Me The Money

President Obama has just finished declaring a cap on executive salaries for those firms so completely inept that they require the US taxpayers to bail them out of their financial mess. Apparently I'm not the only citizen outraged at the completely obscene levels of compensation for the lords of our economy. While I have no problem with paying generous salaries to the best and the brightest, these folks are clearly forty watt incandescent bulbs. Or less.

The average CEO of a Standard & Poor's 500 company made an average of $14.2 million in 2007. That does not include anything but salary. I find a number of places that provide a ratio between the aveage CEO and the average production worker. Although not all these sites agree on the actual number, the lowest I saw was 430, the highest was 633. That's 633 times the average worker's salary. Think about that. Mulitply your annual salary by 600 and see how happy that would make you! This is so far beyond nuts that I can't think of an adequate adjective to describe it.

Also on my list of unbelievable financial expectations would be Manny Ramirez. The Dodgers offered him 25 million for a one year contract. He turned them down. Let me restate that - they offered him 25,000,000 dollars for one year of playing baseball. And he turned them down. What the heck can you be thinking when twenty five million dollars is not enough for a year's work? This whole pro sports thing is a bit off the subject, but let's at least take a look at the numbers. The average player salary for the four major sports are as follows:

NBA - $4 million

MLB - $3.2 million

NHL - $1.9 million

NFL - $1.4 million

Not bad work if you can get it! Granted, there are a number of superstars that far exceed the numbers listed above, but remember, these are averages. And remember that the average CEO salary is considerably higher than the average sports star.

At least with sports you get to see - on public display - what your money is paying for. If the player does well, you get to see that. If he does poorly, you also see that. The Bozos in the Boardroom, however, are invisible to all of us. Regardless of their performance, they continue to take their huge salaries. Time to stop this. I heard one caller on a radio station this morning talking about a civil war. Nobody was laughing.

A Friday Funny

It's Friday - I've almost made it through another work week. In my email this morning I received a collection of very wise quotes from a collegue here at the office. I wanted to share this with you.

"A slipping gear could let your M203 grenade launcher fire when youleast expect it. That would make you quite unpopular in what's leftof your unit."
- Army's magazine of preventive maintenance.
---------------------------------------------------
"Aim towards the Enemy"
- Instructions printed on U.S. Rocket Launcher
---------------------------------------------------
"When the pin is pulled, Mr. Grenade is not our friend."
- U.S. Marine Corps
---------------------------------------------------
"Cluster bombing from B-52s is very, very accurate. The bombs are guaranteed always to hit the ground."
- USAF Ammo Troop
---------------------------------------------------
"If the Enemy is in range, so are you."
- Infantry Journal
---------------------------------------------------
"It is generally inadvisable to eject over the area you just bombed"
- U.S. Air Force Manual
---------------------------------------------------
"Whoever said the pen is mightier then the sword obviously never encountered automatic weapons."
- General MacArthur
---------------------------------------------------
"Try to look unimportant; they may be low on ammo."
- Infantry Journal
---------------------------------------------------
"You, you, and you. Panic. The rest of you come with me."
- (Marine Corps Master Gunnery Sergeants ROCK!) - U.S. Marine Gunnery Sgt. (Mgysgt5)
----------------------------------------------------
"Tracers work both ways."
- U.S. Army Ordnance
----------------------------------------------------
"Five second fuses only last three seconds"
- Infantry Journal
----------------------------------------------------
"Don't ever be the first, don't ever be the last, and don't ever volunteer to do anything."
- U.S. Navy Swabbie
----------------------------------------------------
"Bravery is being the only one who knows you're afraid."
- David Hackworth
-----------------------------------------------------
"If your attack is going too well, you're walking into an ambush."
- Infantry Journal
-----------------------------------------------------
"No combat-ready unit has ever passed inspection."
- Joe Gay
------------------------------------------------------
"Any ship can be a minesweeper. Once."
- unknown
------------------------------------------------------
"Never tell the Platoon Sergeant you have nothing to do."
- Unknown Marine Recruit
-------------------------------------------------------
"Don't draw fire; it irritates the people around you."
-------------------------------------------------------
"If you see a bomb technician running, follow him and try to keep up."
- USAF Ammo Troop
------------------------------------------------------
"You've never been lost until you've been lost at Mach 3."
- Paul F. Crickmore (test pilot)
-------------------------------------------------------
"The only time you have too much fuel is when you're on fire."
-------------------------------------------------------
"Blue water Navy truism: There are more planes in the ocean than submarines in the sky." - From an old carrier sailor
------------------------------------------------------
"If the wings are traveling faster than the fuselage, it's probably a helicopter -- and therefore, unsafe."
-------------------------------------------------------
"When one engine fails on a twin-engine airplane, you always have enough power left to get you to the scene of the crash."
-------------------------------------------------------
"Without munitions, the USAF would be just another expensive flyingclub.
" -------------------------------------------------------
"What is the similarity between air traffic controllers and pilots? If a pilot screws up, the pilot dies; If ATC screws up.... The pilot dies."
-------------------------------------------------------
"Never trade luck for skill."
-------------------------------------------------------
The three most common expressions (or famous last words) in aviationare: "Why is it doing that?", "Where are we?" And "Oh S...!"
------------------------------------------------------
"Weather forecasts are horoscopes with numbers."
-------------------------------------------------------
"Airspeed, altitude and brains. Two are always needed to complete theflight successfully."
-------------------------------------------------------
"Mankind has a perfect record in aviation; we've never left one up there!"
-------------------------------------------------------
"Flashlights are tubular metal containers kept in a flight bag to store dead batteries."
-------------------------------------------------------
"Flying the airplane is more important than radioing your flight to aperson on the ground who is incapable of understanding or doinganything about it."
--------------------------------------------------------
"The Piper Cub is the safest airplane in the world; it can justbarely kill you."
- Attributed to Max Stanley (Northrop test pilot)
--------------------------------------------------------
"A pilot who doesn't have any fear probably isn't flying his plane toits maximum."
- Jon McBride, astronaut
--------------------------------------------------------
"If you're faced with a forced landing, fly the thing as far into thecrash as possible."
- Bob Hoover (renowned aerobatic and test pilot )
--------------------------------------------------------
"Never fly in the same cockpit with someone braver than you."
-------------------------------------------------------
"There is no reason to fly through a thunderstorm in peacetime."
- Sign over squadron ops desk at Davis-Monthan AFB, AZ, 1970
---------------------------------------------------------
"If something hasn't broken on your helicopter, it's about to."
--------------------------------------------------------
Basic Flying Rules: "Try to stay in the middle of the air. Do not go near the edges of it. The edges of the air can be recognized by the appearance of ground, buildings, sea, trees and interstellar space.It is much more difficult to fly there."
-------------------------------------------------------
"You know that your landing gear is up and locked when it takes fullpower to taxi to the terminal."
--------------------------------------------------------------
As the test pilot climbs out of the experimental aircraft, havingtorn off the wings and tail in the crash landing, the crash truckarrives, the rescuer sees a bloodied pilot and asks, "What happened?".The pilot's reply, "I don't know, I just got here myself!"

It doesn't pay to be a frog in Indonesia

When I was a young and idealistic university student of Wildlife Biology at the time when the term "ecology" was just being invented, there were still salmon and swordfish aplenty. Not only could you order either fish at a restaurant and feel no anguish over impacting a population, we didn't even grasp the concept of impacting a population. If there were farmed salmon, I'd never heard of them. If there was a dramatic decrease in the size of swordfish taken in the Atlantic fishery, it hadn't been realized yet.

Fast forward a few years and I still won't order the sword at dinner - although I have given up criticizing those who do. And not only has sportfishing for salmon fallen on hard times, the commercial venture from California to Oregon has all but disappeared. Alaska is feeling it as well and as we all know, there are salmon species that travel the Columbia that are still listed as endangered. So what do you suppose we have learned from our years and years of overfishing and the stunning impact it had on the marine fishery? Apparently nothing.

It seems that somewhere between 200 million and 1 billion (that's with a 'B') frogs are eaten every year. Indonesia leads the export market, so being a frog there makes it a real challenge to live a long and prosperous froggy life. While I am not a particular fan of frog legs and feet, it would seem there are plenty of folks that are. Having eaten them, I can confirm that they taste like chicken - as long as the chicken spent it's life in a pot of water. So it's sort of like eating a wet, fishy chicken.

It might be worth trying to remember the lessons we've learned in the world's oceans. Or maybe our froggie friends really will croak.

For more details on this whole unpleasant amphibian disaster - read this - http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/28876555/

How I spent my weekend...

If I'm to be a true Renaissance Man, I must expose myself to all manner of thought and practice rather than limit myself to the familiar and known. At least that was what I thought as I drove this past Saturday night to attend the CAIR Banquet for the Seattle Chapter. CAIR - Council on American-Islamic Relations - is a group dedicated to the promotion of justice and mutual understanding (I got this from their website). For Muslims of Middle Eastern or African heritage living in the US, this can be a challenge in these times.

A good friend of mine - Yassin Idris, who comes from Eritrea - invited me to join him and his family at this event, thinking I would enjoy learning a bit more about his culture and how it fits - or doesn't - into mainstream America. It was a vastly diverse crowd of perhaps four hundred with more nationalities represented than I could name. There were folks in all manner of traditional dress with beautiful, flowing robes of dramtic colors and lots of beards and hats and women in all manner of hijab - which is a scarf over the head and under the chin. There were also plenty of Anglos like me, but it was still a very unfamiliar setting for me.

The evening was one of speeches and awards, and finally, pleas for financial support since much of the work this organization does is to provide legal support. There is a very diverse world out there that I usually don't consider. It's pretty easy to slip into the groove of my life and get very used to the way things are, forgetting how many different ways there are to view the world.

Obama-Mania

I wandered into the lunch room at work this morning just before nine and found nearly eighty people already there, watching tv - riveted to the thing in fact. It was a good speech; stirring; eloquent in a way we haven't heard in - let's see....eight years. I can hardly believe the drought is finally over !!

Clearly I'm not the only one relieved given the reports of something like two million people crowded into (or attemping at least) the Mall to be a part of it all. Not that you'd actually be able to see anything, or hear anything - it's all about connecting with the energy that must emanate from that many humans all thinking something like the same thing at the same time. That's pretty powerful! As for me, given my disinclination to surround myself with crowds, the relatively small group at work was more than sufficient. I must tell you, though, after the President finished his speech, the room broke into spontaneous applause. Like I said, I'm clearly not the only one breathing a sigh of relief.

It's tough to shed the cloak of skepticism that I've packed around for so many years. Not that I don't want to - I do - it's just so very hard after all the things I've seen. But if there were ever a time in my life to have some hope that maybe at last we've reached some new plateau, this must be it. I'll do my best to join in the direction that helps to lead us out of this mess. After all, any thing else - as Denny Crane would say - would be bad for the troops!

I think one of the absolute high points today came from Rev. Joseph Lowery when he delivered the benediction. As he put it -

Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around ... when yellow will be mellow ... when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right. That all those who do justice and love mercy say Amen.

Rock on Obama-Rama. I say "Amen".

Denny

End of Hospital Visit-One

Jamie and Suzanne returned home today - at last! They checked in at Harborview in Seattle last Thursday at 7am and have not been outside since. Suzanne stayed next to Jamie the entire time except for maybe three times when she agreed to go to the hospital cafeteria with me to grab some gourmet healthcare grub.

Good progress is reported on the plugging of Ms Jamie's AVM - a process that is pretty much an exact mirror of the work that was recently done on our house to keep the garage from collapsing and heading down the hill. In both processes, a long tube was used (soil nails at the house, a cerebral angiography catheter for Jamie) to inject a liquid-reactive glue (to solidfy and support the soil in the house, to solidify and seal off the larger vessels in the AVM). I've suggested to our building contractor that he might be missing a lucrative opportunity to expand his business.

She has been instructed to lay low for a couple more days before returning to school so I expect we'll have a chance to get things back to bit more near normal here. The next event is scheduled for February 24th. Suzanne's sisters Christine and Audra are flying out from New Jersey and Pennsylvania respectively to offer support during the first few days of that event. For now, we won't spend much time thinking about what comes but enjoy having the girls back in the house.

To all of you who called and emailed and texted during this past week, thank you. Your thoughts and prayers and good wishes are deeply appreciated. It's during times like this that I realize just how blessed I am to have family and friends like you! Thank you.

Denny

Obamanomics begin tomorrow

Greetings My Fellow Americans. My Dubya countdown calendar has officially expired. Now we see what happens next. At this point I still have high hopes for an improvement in things in the country, in the world, in our lives. However, I will remain quietly skeptical for the time being, having been through six decades of politicians and have some reason to believe that all is not as it seems. Not that I don't have expectations, it's just that as The Who said, let's hope we don't get fooled again.


I'm unsure why today was the designated holiday and not tomorrow - it would be nice to be able to watch the whole pageant unfold, but unfortunately for most of us, we have to pretend to return to normalcy tomorrow in order to attempt to keep the three-wheeled economy limping down the road. I suppose I'll watch it on tv tomorrow night - even though it won't quite be the same as a rehashed event.


Regardless of how this plays out, I say good for us as a nation to have removed the current collection of fear-mongers and replaced them with someone who at least speaks in the positive - and in complete sentences. But I'll let the complaining about G-Dub end here - I'm tired of it. And besides, we may have misunderestimated him and actually find out he did some good things for us.


Happy New World!

Why It's January but looks like July

It has been my observation for many years that winter here in the Pacific Northwest includes a period of time in February when the clouds part and the skys clear and the sun comes out. From inside, looking out, one is tempted to grab the shorts and sandals and head for the beach. It's not uncommon for it to be in the fifties during this period, so it actually is warm enough for those of us long enured to the Northwest definiition of "warm weather" to consider swimming or at least a beach fire and hot dogs.

This year, January has not produced the expected endless stretch of clouds and rain - and snow in the mountains - but has instead made a futile attempt to imitate the February weather. The difference now is that we may have clear skies and semi-balmy temperatures, but you need to be about four hundred feet tall to appreciate it. That's about the depth of the layer of air that is trapped beneath an unusual layer of warm air. The classic, and very unpleasant, thermal inversion.

The entire Puget Sound basin has been subjected to a layer of cold air, made even more unpleasant by the fact that with the low clouds and dense fog, there is never a chance for things to warm at all. This mess is expected to continue until Monday night when it appears an inbound impulse with start to flush things out to the east. By Wednesday, if we're lucky, it will be raining. If you had any ideas that I might not be a deeply-died Northwesterner, hear this - I can't wait for it to rain!!!