I have moved....

I have relocated my blog - you will find me here  -

http://northwestvoyager.wordpress.com/

Smooth Jazz in Seattle

My music roots go back a long way. It started when I was a small child watching my dad play his guitar and gradually learning to play his Chet Atkins style of finger picking. He was in a number of bands when he was very young and in addition to playing guitar was an incredible whistler. That's not something you see much of, but he could whistle like a champ.
After the guitar I was taken by keyboards, which in those days meant the very first electronic keyboards, know then as chord organs. They had a short right-hand keyboard with piano keys and a set of twelve or so buttons for the left that played chords for accompanyment. It wasn't long from there to the accordion. I still do not know how my parents managed to afford to get me that gorgeous Stanelli instrument, but after spending several months in lessons on the tiny 12-bass student rental, they became convinced I was going to stick with it and by some miracle put in my hands a magnificent instrument.

From there followed a series of electric guitars as I worked my way into the fun rock and roll of the 60's. First a cheap Airline (sold through Montgomery Ward catalog) and then a still cheap Kent. After that I became a bit more particular and had a Fender Mustang, then a Vox of some sort, finally a Fender Telecaster - the guitar I had for the longest time. Now I'm reduced to a cheap Yamaha electric and a fabulous hand-built Alvarez.

All of this background of various musical styles leads me to my current favorite muscial category - what is popularly known as smooth jazz. Some people I'm close to ridicule this music as "crappy jazz". I understand that to be the misunderstandings of an immature musical concept and forgive such harshess. Imagine my chagrin when, in December of 2010, the local "groovy jazz" station - KWJZ - was sacrificed to some completely uninteresting format and changed to KLICK. Instead of the complexity and satisfaction of highly talented and creative artists such as Anita Baker or Michael Franks or Randy Brecker I get some mix of "modern music". Well good news! Now on the Internet you can reconnect with the Smooth Jazz sound in Seattle!!!!

http://smoothinseattle.com/listen/

Fri, Feb 17 7:00 - 9:00 PM Barn Beach Reserve Free	Tales of Working in the Northwest Woods with Dennis Willard (Presentation)
Sat, Feb 18 1:00 - 3:00 PM Bookstore Free	Dennis Willard signs Working in the Northwest Woods: A personal history of a decade spent working in the forests of the Northwest (Book-signing)

Working in the Northwest Woods

"Careening downhill directly at me was one of the broken logs that had been left on the landing...it was on fire, leaving a trail of smoke and sparks as it crashed and bounced my direction...I turned, dropped my drip torch, and made ready to run back the direction I had come from. In that instant of turning, however, I lost my footing in the rocks and fell hard..."
A life in the woods is a life of adventure. Dennis Willard has over a decade-worth of tales to tell: of fire and floods, bugs and bears, windstorms, rain, snow and lightning; of an elk herd appearing out of the mist; of generator-powered Monday night football and pizza. Humorous, informative, and thoughtful, Dennis shares recollections of timber rats and crew bosses, old growth and slash landings, M16s and fly rods, poachers and wardens, cork boots and drip torches, and an enormous flaming log that came within inches of ending it all.

"Every direction I looked was now on fire...I was completely surrounded and there was no obvious good way out..."
Dennis Willard received a B.S. in wildlife biology. He worked for the U.S. Forest Service in Washington and Oregon before starting an independent forestry business contracting to both private landowners and public agencies. Today he writes on outdoor and aviation topics. He lives with his wife and family and a collection of dogs and cats, splitting his time between Everett, WA, and their cabin at Lake Wenatchee.

Happy New Year!!

New Year – 2012

In a break from a past tradition of mine, I have decided to summarize the just completed year not in a Christmas letter – given my seeming complete inability to mail cards during that season to say nothing of having almost no one’s address – and start this new year with a brief history of 2011 for your perusal.

Five days into last year, HR called me in to notify me of my termination. My thirteen-year adventure with Phamis / IDX / GE Healthcare came to a sudden stop. To their credit, they kept me on the payroll for a month and handed me a generous severance.  To deal with the trauma, I took the next week and with a couple of friends, flew to Mammoth, California to sample the skiing there. I followed that up with visits to every ski area in the state of Washington on a project I called SkiWashington. This was something on my list for years and this year I finally had the opportunity to complete. It was a good winter for skiing.

 

In addition to severance, I received a chunk of change with which to pursue any educational opportunities and I took a series of classes in project management through the local community college’s adult education branch. After sitting in class for a hundred hours or so, and studying independently for a hundred more I sat for the Project Management Institute’s PMP exam. I was awarded the privilege of adding that initial to my name in August.

During this same time, I wrote up a half dozen television concepts and submitted them for review to various production companies. Although there has been some interest, there has not been any money as yet. I am a difficult person to discourage so I continue this pursuit on the slim chance I will connect with someone who shares my vision and is willing to share their money.

In other writing, I finished my first book – “Working In The Northwest Woods” – and had the first physical copy in hand early in October. I cannot begin to detail what a lot of work goes into such a project. The writing of it is the initial challenge, but there are a whole set of other tasks needed to transform it from a Word document into a book. I am now underway on my next book project, which should be mentioned here this time next year.

2011 was a big travel year. Starting with an easy local jaunt around the Olympic Peninsula and followed with a few outdoor trips that included hiking in the Mt. Rainier and then Mt. Baker areas, we also made several out of state voyages. First, we went to Colorado in June to visit with one of Suzanne’s sisters and her family – Leslie and Pat. While we were there, we also visited with my niece and nephew – Rachel and Craig – who had moved from Brooklyn to Boulder. Then it was off to Hawaii where Liz and Ben were married in a nice beachfront ceremony. Stephanie and Duane finished that week off by getting engaged so we have another wedding coming up later this year. In my capacity as “Reverend Willard”, I performed the ceremony for Liz and Ben and then followed up with another wedding in August for a couple of friends who held their ceremony on a lakeshore at the end of a trail in the Cascades. Fall came with another trip to Colorado, this time by car (more on that in a bit). Then in November, I waded into the freezing waters of Puget Sound and completed my open water scuba certification. A word of advice – do NOT do this in November. Also in November was a trip to New Jersey to celebrate Thanksgiving dinner with family there and the annual December trip to Whistler for some outstanding skiing with friends.

A busy year but with many things on the list of completions. A quick update on the status of the various offspring:

Jenney and family are doing well, still living in my hometown of Monett, Mo. Jenney is now in school (again) in a Master’s program for academic advising. The program, through Kansas State University, seems to be highly reputable and she seems highly excited. There is just no stopping this one when it comes to education! The grandkids are well with Josh now at Jenney’s alma mater - Missouri Southern -  and the others making their way through dear old Monett High.

Zeke and family remain living in Boise and are still running their now rather well known Idaho Tree Preservation business. The economy has certainly slowed things down but it seems he has managed to carve a unique niche that continues to generate interest and keeps both him and a collection of employees busy. The grandkids here – not so little anymore – continue to challenge both Zeke and Janet as they manage to consume most of the energy and certainly all of the oxygen in whatever room they occupy.

As mentioned earlier, Liz and Ben were married in August on the island of Hawaii in a beautiful sunset, beach front ceremony. It was a very cool event that included a few locals hanging out in the nearby trees drinking beer and watching. They are still living in their house in West Seattle and Liz continues to teach in Federal Way, attempting to survive in the world of publicly funded schools while working on her National Board Certification. Ben is also involved in school and is bact at UW working on his Masters degree.

The other event from Hawaii was the engagement of Stephanie and Duane. He popped the question as the sun set over the glowing crater of Kilauea Volcano while we were all visiting at the end of the week. I was not informed until the following week but couldn't be happier. We are making plans now for a September wedding. Steph is still working at Gene Juarez in Bellevue as a human resources and payroll manager and seems to really love her work. Not to be outdone, Duane starts school this quarter as he explores education in the areas of fisheries or wildlife.

Royce is currently in Colorado working as a snowboard instructor at Breckenridge. Following our first trip there this past year he seemed to have discovered his immediate calling and is living in an apartment with three other guys at the base of the lifts in Breck and enjoying life in the Rockies. This seems to have whetted an unknown appetite for adventure and he spends time talking about all the places he wants to go and things he wants to do. I think we will be getting postcards from not only the edge, but well beyond.

Jamie – or as she is known in her acting and modeling circles – Kiana – is off to LA next week to see if she can generate any interest in a collection of agents before whom she will be performing. This passion surfaced last summer after she applied for some number of open auditions held in the Seattle area and we received a phone call. It will be interesting to see where she takes this but it has been very enjoyable to watch her grow. Suzanne has been very busy as the unofficial manager-counselor-driver for this adventure.

And speaking of Suzanne, she also lost her job last January at the same time as me. However, unlike me, she had not managed to annoy nearly as many important folks in GE management and was offered another position almost immediately, which she continues to excel at. Clearly, she was meant to be in this high tech business and seems to not only do very well at it, but loves it.

And, if you are interested, the various dogs, cats and the Peruvian Pig are all fine.

I hope you have a wonderful, successful and joyous 2012.

A Chapter from Working In The Northwest Woods

Rotary Creek

During my very early days with the Forest Service, I was introduced to the concept of the slash burn. This event is intended to rid the landscape of the debris left behind by the loggers after they had extracted everything they deemed valuable. The remainder, consisting of limbs and tops, broken and shattered logs, the undesirable chunks from a size or species perspective, all of these were termed “slash”. I find it interesting to note that during the 1970s and 1980s when I was working in the woods, loggers often extracted cedar logs that been left  lying on the ground after having been cut around the turn of the century, the 1900s, by the old-timers who found them too massive to drag out with the tools of the time. I recall one timber sale in particular where the most valuable wood on the sale was not the standing hemlock and fir but the downed cedar logs that had been lying for seventy years underneath it. Even now, we are beginning to see our earlier logging practices as unnecessarily wasteful. One hundred years ago, only the very best cedar was taken out. The other trees, if they weren’t needed for mining timbers or railroad ties, were simply left where they were cut in order to get them out of the way so the cedar could be extracted. Our contemporary practice of burning the leavings will no doubt be viewed as just as wasteful by the much more resource stingy thinking of the future. In some countries, the left over slash is already being utilized for both commercial power generation and as ground cover used during the logging operations to reduce site damage. But in 1976, we just set it on fire.

Forgetting for the time being the likely error of our ways and merely accepting fact as fact, let us return to the disposition of the slash that was left behind. Scientific forestry at the time preached that the only good clear-cut was one that had been cleaned and sanitized so the reforestation effort could proceed unimpeded by debris and leavings and, particularly in the Northwest, the residual mistletoe infestations that were commonly found among the old growth. This is not your Christmas time “kissing-under-the-mistletoe” variety but a relative that, like all parasitic mistletoe species, infects a host and draws its sustenance from it. This plant, officially known as dwarf mistletoe (Arceuthobium spp.) has long been considered a pest since it inhibits the growth of the big trees. In yet another irony of nature, it turns out that recent studies have determined this plant to be a keystone species, meaning it affects many other organisms in a way that far exceeds its relative biomass. Most ironic is the role it plays in nesting for the Spotted Owl, the current most popular indicator of forest health throughout the Northwest.

The mistletoe that infects the big timber of the Pacific Northwest is found in many tree species. I have never seen it in cedar or in any of the hardwoods, but the commercially more valuable fir and hemlock species suffer significantly from loss of growth caused by the strength-sapping effects of mistletoe. To a forester, this was always viewed as being akin to boll weevils in cotton or grasshoppers in the wheat fields. A very effective deterrent to the continued spread of the parasite is to reduce an area of infestation to carbon. This tends to remove any residual elements of the parasite from the immediate area and forces it to invade from neighboring, infected old-growth areas, assuming there is any remaining old growth. In any event, this slows the spread of the parasite. The process at the time was to dig a fire line around the perimeter of the clear-cut in order to have some definition of control, and to have a place for the fire crews to stand, and then light the entire thing on fire. This was, as bizarre as it may sound, a positively delightful experience.

My introduction to slash burning took place in an area known as Rotary Creek, located along the northwest slopes of Mt. Pilchuck, a far west pioneer mountain that extends as deeply into the Puget Sound lowlands as is permitted in this mountain chain. This is the same lovely mountain, visible from the parking lot in front of the Monte Cristo Ranger Station, that greeted me on my first day. There were a couple of things about this particular “unit”, as the clear-cuts were referred to, that were fortunate for me, the novice slash burner. First, it was relatively small. It covered only about twelve or fifteen acres as I recall. Secondly, it was nearly level. At least, it was level in the relative sense of the term as far as ground found in this part of the world. Size and slope are significant since lighting a slash fire consists of starting at the high point of the unit and making cross slope traverses with a drip torch.

The drip torch is a metal can that contains a bit more than a gallon of a mix of gasoline and diesel that is “dripped” through a foot long, spiraling metal tube that culminates with a nozzle containing a fiberglass wick, which has been set alight. The amount of fuel fed to this wick is greater than the wick can absorb so the excess is leaked out, ignited as it passes through the burning nozzle, and “drips” onto the ground. The gasoline gives the necessary volatility and the diesel prevents instantaneous explosive ignition. The “glop” that falls on the ground, or more likely on the slash, burns long enough and hot enough to ignite whatever object it contacts. Typically, three to five people will make a pass across the slope, each somewhat behind and below the person ahead. Spacing between these individuals determines just how much slash will be set on fire at a time, thus controlling to some degree, the size and enthusiasm of the blaze. The process of beginning at the top of a hill makes sense when you envision the results of subsequent passes across the hill at lower and lower elevations. The heat from the fire tends to pull the burn toward the top of the hill. One of the fascinating aspects of fire is its singular ability, among elemental components of earth to defy the laws of gravity. Starting at the top means that by the time (in theory) you reach the bottom of the area, the upper portions have had time to burn most of the residue clear, thus providing an ever widening fire line against the top of the clear-cut, which typically provides protection to whatever timber lies uphill from the conflagration.

Even though the Rotary Creek fire was relatively small and, as I mentioned, relatively flat, a great amount of time was expended in preparation for igniting the remaining slash. Not only had many hours been consumed in building the hand line around the perimeter, but several days before the event, the district fire crew had started positioning hoses, pumps and hand tools and planning for delivery of as much water as possible. This included setting up a portable water tank, in this case the Fol-da-tank, which is rather like a square version of the back yard above ground swimming pool. This was filled by a combination of tanker truck delivery and pumping from nearby streams. After all of this preparation and approval from the air quality folks at the state, and after the careful development of a plan and a thorough review by all parties, the big day arrived.

On the morning of the lighting of the Rotary Creek slash fire, everyone, it seemed, knew every move. As the procession of Forest Service “green rigs” made their way up the gravel road to the scene, the event began to unfold like a well-rehearsed play. The district fire crew was the earliest to arrive and they had laid out several hundred feet of one and one-half inch hose along the road that bisected the unit, as well as a length or two up and down the fire lines on each side. This provided a reasonably complete coverage of the timber along both sides. This hose lay stretched not all the way to the top or to the bottom, but about halfway. As the crews arrived, trucks were positioned at safe locations, yellow Nomex fire shirts were slipped on over t-shirts, hard hats were donned and water bottles were attached via web belts so that each worker could remain fairly independent. Everyone knew exactly what their job was, what their position was to be, and how to proceed. Everyone, that is, except me.

As the new guy, I was dispatched to attend to relatively minor tasks. Presumably, I would do things that were useful but not critical and certainly not dangerous. I was also assigned to the watchful eye of an experienced crew-member who could serve both to demonstrate what to do and when to do it, but could also keep an eye on me to prevent me from creating a problem of any kind or finding a way to injure myself or others. Essentially, my task this first day was one of observation. Watch how the job is done. Watch what people do. Listen to the radio chatter. Perhaps then, I could be of some real use the next time.

Once the drip torch crew began work and ignition progressed gradually down the slope, I did in fact begin to get more of the picture and from time to time would do something of value, such as throw a few shovels full of dirt on a spot fire that had crept outside of one of the side lines and begun burning in the adjacent timber. These events were never allowed to become more than minor episodes but still, I had the chance to participate.

As the final few passes were made along the very bottom part of the unit, the crew had become somewhat jammed up in the lower reaches of the area since the top portion, above the road, was more or less burned out. By then it was midafternoon and all parties were growing weary and were eager to move ignition along at a pace that would allow sending most of the crew home after a reasonable day. This was caused not so much by the kind nature of the management on the district, but the very real need to conserve finances and avoid paying overtime for crews when it was not essential. That money needed to be held on to in case of real fires, the wildfires not the controlled burns, and the need to fund the suppression efforts for them. This budgetary emphasis caused the drip torch crew to be moved at a considerably faster pace than had taken place up to this point. With the increased number of people available to staff the fire lines and with the top two-thirds already burned clear of slash this was a sound decision on the part of the District Ranger and the Fire Management Officer, who were immediately responsible for such activities.

Things heated up in a real hurry as the rate of ignition was increased and in almost the time it takes to tell it, the slash was burning very hot and fires began to spot on the outside of the line where I was working. Being on the downwind side, we were subjected to both the drift of the smoke and the flying embers that were causing these spot fires. Within a few minutes, everyone assigned to my side was busy. The call went out for half of the crew from the opposite side to move over and reinforce in order to prevent a real fire from starting in the old growth that bordered the unit. As the radio call was made for these people, the District Ranger walked up to where my mentor and I were busy throwing dirt at a burning fir tree. We had at this point dropped below the end of the lowest hose that had been placed along the fire line.

“Willard, hustle up to the road and bring down two lengths of the black rubber hose,” he barked at me and then without pausing for breath he instructed my partner to get connectors and attach the hose that I would be bringing to the end of the inch and one-half that ended a short distance above where we stood. Things were beginning to get interesting. This being my very first experience with fire in the woods, I had no idea if this was routine, unusual or an impending disaster. I assumed in my enthusiasm that it was the latter. I raced away, moving as quickly up the incline as I could, trying to remember where I had seen the fire crew stack the hose that I was charged with retrieving.

Finding it once I hit the road turned out to be no problem and I grabbed two coiled bundles, threw one over each shoulder and turned back down the hill. The hose coils were one hundred foot lengths of heavy-duty one inch rubber garden hose. It is the same kind you have hanging on the side of your house, maybe just a bit sturdier. Together, taken with the task of climbing down the hill along the hand dug fire line, they were a load and I was panting and sweating by the time I reached the end of the inch and one-half run. Standing there was the Ranger, my partner with the necessary hardware already attached to the bigger hose and several others, ready to use the water on the ever-growing fires outside the line. I felt like I had done a fine job and had impressed the Ranger with the speed of my return until I looked at him, noticed that he wasn’t smiling and heard him say,

“Uncoil them.”

That was all. No smile. No "well done”. A flat stare, a sense of error, and for me, complete surprise. With my emotions in total confusion and having no clue what I had done wrong, I dropped both coils to the ground and kneeled to being untangling the hose. As I removed the proper end for my partner to connect to the larger hose, he looked at me and said,

“You should have uncoiled them on the road and drug them down the hill, male end in your hand. We’ll play hell trying to untangle them down here.”  No one, of course, had mentioned a thing about that in the confusion and the rush to get water to the fire. He was right. It took a good fifteen minutes to unroll and stretch the very stiff rubber hoses down the slope, made the more difficult by the twisting, stump and brush filled terrain. Several times during this exercise, I saw the Ranger looking at me. His expression told me that he had clearly identified me as a complete bumbling city-bred idiot and he would make certain to keep an eye on me in the future. I do not think he was impressed.

In spite of my mistake, the fire was eventually controlled and only a few of the trees outside the line were scorched. The water from my late arriving hoses was useful but all parties indicated to me that the results would probably have been the same even without it. This did nothing to soothe my bruised ego. From that day on, I asked questions when I didn’t understand, moved as fast as I could up and down the hill, threw more dirt than anyone who stood near me, and in general, tried every way I could to redeem myself in front of the Ranger. Whether I succeeded or not I cannot say. He never told me.                       

Band of The Week - The Rainmakers

As a native of the fine state of Missouri, I am embarrassed to have to admit I had never heard of these guys until I saw a Facebook post by an old high school buddy. Thanks to Steve Weiss for uncovering a missed opportunity for me.

Back in 1983 the band "Steve, Bob and Rich" burst onto the scene. Pretty cool name, eh? By '86 they had added a drummer and released their first album which Newsweek magazine called "the most auspicious debut album of the year". I guess not reading Newsweek explains how I missed this one. Here's one from that album.... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=65oq2C4PJmA&feature=related

Here was a shocker for me - filmed at the Backstage in Ballard - which is actuall Seattle - in 1988. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EPWnNDFbv74&feature=related

But fast foward to today...here is a soon to be classic tune - enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CRBo18Q7BwM

The Mission - Ski Washington

I had a vision this past winter of skiing every lift in the state. I managed that but still have a couple of rope-tow only ski hills to go (Echo Valley, Badger Mountain and Hurricane Ridge). I ran into a reporter for the News Tribune who shared my vision - he wrote up this short piece in last week's edition of the paper - http://www.thenewstribune.com/2011/11/11/1902157/six-little-ski-gems-of-washington.html

Craig - I hope to see you one of the hills this coming winter!