The Radio repeater

Tales from the Backyard... While working in Alaska at the Klondike Goldrush NHS among my various duties was the maintenance of the Historic Chilcoot Trail.  We had Rangers who lived the summer months at the head of the trail just before the last climb to the top and they were without radio contact while there and had to hike halfway down the mountain every time they needed to call out. So the Service Center had sent out a radio expert to find a location for a repeater.  I had scheduled a helicopter for the day and we lifted off and began heading the 17 miles up the canyon.  We were to meet the rangers there and scout the mountain tops.  When we got to the summit, we found what looked like a good location and we were dropped off at the top of this massive cliff which looked like Half Dome at Yosemite and the chopper flew down to get the rangers.  No sooner had he left when a massive storm front moved in from nowhere.  You couldn’t see ten feet.  I told the radio expert that these fronts could last hours or for days, so we had 2 choices, stay here and wait or move along the ridge and connect with the trail, about a mile and a half away and climb down.  He didn’t want to stay and because he thought he was senior in rank, said we would head out this way, pointing in the wrong direction.  I said we could, but it’s about 2,000 miles to the nearest road.  We argued for about 10 minutes then I just said that I was going to go along the ridge and if he wanted to start out his way, when I got to the bottom I would inform the rangers and they would send a search party.  Mind you we were standing on a flat rock with zero visibility, arguing over which way to go, not knowing north from south and heading in the wrong direction meant either going into the wilderness or falling off the face of the cliff.  He followed; along the way we discovered hundreds of artifacts left by the gold seekers more than a hundred years earlier.  We even found the skeleton of a packhorse with all the gear still attached.  Why they had come so far off the trail is still a mystery, but what a great experience.  Apparently we made it down, just as the clouds lifted.  He never did say thanks.

The Programming test

Tales from the backyard…  In the sixties I worked as a machinist at an ammunition factory and because of all the pounding of the machines, I began to lose my hearing so thought it prudent to change careers.  So with the urging of my cousin, I started night school to be a computer programmer and I graduated with honors. Then my cousin said they had an opening where he worked and he would set up an interview.  The day of the appt., the traffic was a nightmare and then I couldn't find parking and running late, had to run to the office and just ran through the door.  I told them I was here to take the programmer tests and they seemed perplexed, but upon my insistence they called upstairs.  After much debate, they finally said to go up, which I did, and took the tests and aced them all.  The interview, I thought, went great but he ended it by saying they did not have any vacancies at the moment, but would surely keep my name on file.  I didn't want to say “but”, so let it go and would call my cousin that night.  On the way out as I reached for the door, on it was the Great Northern RR emblem of the Mountain Goat, my meeting was next door at the Northern Pacific headquarters.  Luckily, subsequently, I failed one of their three tests by 1 point and didn't get the job, as my cousin had a massive fatal heart attack (only 38) shortly after and I thought it might not be the kind of stressful job I was looking for anyway, so became a carpenter.

Paul's big fish

Tales from the backyard…  While working in Alaska I coached my son’s little league team, and on it was one of my sons best friends, Paul, very small for his age but a great little athlete.  One day they asked to go fishing and I said sure as long as his mom said it was okay, it was.  So we loaded the boat after practice one night and began trolling the shoreline.  Almost at once both poles got hits and they dashed back to set the hooks.  My son’s fish got off almost at once, but Paul’s was on for the long haul.  I kept telling him to keep the tip of the pole up, which worked at the beginning, but after about 10 minutes he was tiring, not so much the fish, and his arms began to sag.  He kept leaning back further and further trying in vain to keep the tip up high and I remember at one point, the pole was pointing straight back over the transom and he was leaning back, 6 inches above and almost prone to the bottom of the boat.  He was so tired, he finally let Tom give him some help and he landed the big salmon.  I weighed it at 27 lbs. (almost half of his weight) then hooked it on the stringer I used and flipped it in the water.  The stringer broke, and off the fish swam.  I felt so bad.  We had no other hits that night so I gave him a Mulligan and he did catch a nice one the next time out.

Gone with the Wind

Tales from the backyard…  The first movie I ever went to by myself was ‘Gone with the Wind’.  I was suppose to go with my mom and family but had played to late, so she left me the 20 cents to get in.  The foyer was so crowded that I kept the 20 cents and snuck in.  I went to go to the bathroom like always, and the women threw me out, mom not there to hold my hand I guess.  I had never gone to a movie with an intermission before and I thought the movie was over and left.  It wasn’t for many years that I learned of my mistake.

The feral cat

Tales from the backyard…When we moved to Klamath Falls Oregon, I bought my fishing license and drove out the 25 miles with the family to the Williamson River.  I was fishing a spot where they had replaced an old bridge and the rubble was still there.  As I was fishing the kids found some feral kittens in the rubble and caught one and wanted to bring it home, so we did.  It was young enough and adapted well, and gave our Toy Poodle a playmate.  Soon it became pregnant, so we prepared a cardboard box and showed her where it was under our bed, away from Tiger (the poodle).  When she was giving birth, Tiger just laid beside the box, with head on paws listening to the commotion inside.  When it was over, the cat got up and out of the box to get some food and water and as she was getting out, Tiger was getting in.  I nervously watched but the cat was oblivious or just knew that Tiger was going to be a great baby sitter, as Tiger just curled up with the kittens and that’s the way it went until we gave them all away.

Cady's game

Tales from the Backyard…  Cady, my little female Springer has a game she plays with the two males.  When they are in the backyard she will suddenly look up toward the wayback and then give a small woof and start running that way.  The other two will start their barking and take off all the way back, then racing back and forth looking for the imaginary foe.  Cady already having just turned around will trot back to the porch with a grin thinking, “Suckers.”

Late night swim

Tales from the backyard…One year my sister brought her new beau over to go swimming in the lake behind our house.  We didn't actually live on the lake but had access to it by way of a small alley.  At the end there was a long dock as the lake is very shallow and at the end of the dock the water is only about 30” deep.  As teenagers they were horsing around and Lee threw my sister off the dock.  She landed on her butt, with her head easily out of the water, so she just sat there.  Showing off, thinking the water to be much deeper, mister macho man ran back up the dock and came running full speed to the end, jumped high in the air and came down head first.  Did I mention the lake bottom is hard gravel?  When they got to the house, Lee’s face was almost devoid of skin along with most of that on his chest.   I think my sister married him out of sympathy; it sure wasn't for his brains. 

Mom's driving

Tales from the Backyard…When I was 5, my mother always made me go to church and sit beside her.  Now a kid with what is now called ADD should not be forced to sit for an hour or more, especially in church, so it became a ritual on Sundays that I would go to church, squirm for an hour and then when we got back home I would run and hide until found and receive a spanking.  One day I had had enough and said I was going to run away.  My mom said “good, I’ll pack you a lunch”, knowing I wouldn't.  She did and made me a little hobo stick and bandanna to carry the lunch in and off I went.  It was about a quarter mile or more in any direction to the nearest road so I took to the woods and made my way past the nearest neighbors.  After a couple of hours, my mom realized I was not around and sent all my siblings to find me.  No luck.  What to do now she thought, Dads working and I can’t drive.  Another hour or so and getting dark, worried, she packed the kids in the car and tried to drive.  I use that term ”tried” very loosely because as I remember, when I saw her coming down the dirt road, or should I say, through the fields, over the road through the ditch and other fields, back over the road to the other ditch, I guess you could say she was driving.  The car stopped next to a barbed wire fence and my brothers and sister scrambled out of the car hooting and laughing, better than any carnival ride they said.  We left the car for my dad, and walked home, everyone very happy.  That was the only time my mother ever got behind the wheel.

Snapping Turtles

Tales from the backyard…One year I was fishing on a small bay on Center Lake for panfish.  I had on my waders and was in about 4 ½ feet of water when I noticed something rolling over and over and coming my way.  When it got closer I saw that it was a huge Snapping turtle of about 30 or so lbs and looked to be battling a small Carp.  I love turtle meat so I took my pole to shore and went back out.  When the Turtle got close enough I grabbed it by the tail.  Never grab a turtle by the tail when its making love.  Up popped another, larger than the first and it wanted me bad.  Being bitten by a large snapper is not something I cared to do, so I waited for a chance and grabbed this one also.  Now with one in each hand I began to back out of the water, with the snappers stretching their necks full length trying for a piece of Pete.  I clapped them together trying to keep them occupied.  The closer to shore I went, the shallower the water and the heavier they became.  My arms were aching from the weight but I eventually made it and finding some sheep fence wrapped them up and then rested.  Sitting there I saw another 2 rolling my way in the water, so off I went again.  This time prepared, but the turtles were no less humorous.  All in all I caught 14 turtles that day and put them in the back of my truck and showed them off for two days.  I then took them to Osceola WI. to a lab and sold them.  392 lbs. and all in all they averaged 28 lbs. each, the largest just over 35, that’s after sitting in the sun in the back of my pickup for 2 days.  I forgot to save one for myself, but I did get a hefty check.

Getting Thai

Tales from the Backyard…Every year our oil company sends out a calendar with pictures of puppies on it.  On that particular years cover there were 5 little puppies, all brown and silver, with their little feet over a log and just their heads and noses sticking out.  My wife said, “How Cute, I could have one of those”, wrong thing to say.  I went on line and found that these particular pups were St. Usuge Spaniels and one of the rarest hunting breeds in the world.  I happened to find a breeder in East St. Louis and he would only sell to a hunter, Dah.   We hit it off and when I went to pick up the pup in early April he only charged me $200, rather than the $1,200 he was charging.  (I did this on the sly, my wife not knowing a thing).  I continued west to see my brother and his wife in New Mexico and I remember the first night after picking Thai up, after I had stopped and got the camper all set up, I started to feed the dogs.  Since Thai was only 12 weeks old, I had special food for him and set it down right in front of him, first.  Wrong thing to do, I should have known better, Chip just walked over and grabbed him by the back of his neck and threw him about 15 feet.  I thought whoops.

The shed

Tales from the Backyard…On the farm we had an old shed which had fallen down, the roof half gone, a perfect place to climb, using the exposed nails as footholds.  So up we went, my brother Jerry and me.  I remember him making it all the way across the roof when he slipped and put a deep gash in his foot.  Trying to help, I also slipped and put a 2” gash in my leg.  We made it back off the roof.  Mom could only afford for one of us to go the doctor, so my brother was chosen; I was left with a cloth bandage.  I still have the scar…  Our water came from a well which was powered by an electric motor, which was hooked to the pump via a V belt drive pulley.  This belt was old and loose so when you started the motor, the belt would sometimes just sit there and slip on the pulley.  To get it going, you had to carefully (did I say carefully) give the wheel a push, keeping your fingers free.  Even when I reached six, I was never allowed to do this.  The same week as we had cut ourselves, my brother and I were in the driveway building pretend roads (our second favorite thing), when we saw my sister Helen running and screaming from the pump house holding her hand in front of her.  She had not been careful and had severed her finger clean off, dangling by a thin strip of skin.  Not having a car, my mother grabbed my sister and ran to the neighbors for help to the doctors and there they re-attached it in his office, no ice or anything even after several hours, and except for it being not perfectly straight, you couldn't tell.

Floating pickup

Tales from the Backyard…  One year at Klondike GRNP my superintendent wanted me to research and buy a jet boat for the rangers to use to get the equipment and supplies up river rather the expensive helicopter method.  So I picked out a 20 footer with twin 200 jet propelled Mercury’s for propulsion.  When it arrived, of course it had to be tested so my friend and co-worker Dave and I loaded it on the trailer and took it to a section of beach up river to launch it.  I told Dave to take the truck above high tide line then off we went.  Unfortunately, there were many dead-falls in the river so making headway was difficult and eventually we came to a halt, as I didn't think we could make it back out, going up river is much easier than down.  After many hours we headed back.  When we arrived where the truck and trailer were supposed to be, we found them floating in the bay, with a long line attached to the back of another friends pickup.  The tide that day was over 5 feet above average and had picked the truck off the beach and sent it floating.  Luckily, my friend happened to be driving by and had secured it and rather than trying to get it to higher ground, just sat there to see what would happen.  If it hadn't been a Dodge it probably would have sank it the bay, but it was so water tight that the inside never got wet.  That’s a story that is probably still told in Skagway around the bar.  I know I never lived it down while still there.

Hiking the Chilkoot

The trail goes down the canyon

Tales from the Backyard…  One year at Klondike my friends from Klamath Falls came up to visit.  They had planned on hiking the Chilcoot trail and my wife was going to go along.  I was much too busy but said that I would meet the them on Weds. morning and hike to the border with them, they would then continue on and I would head back.  The plan was for them to hike in to lower camp the first day, then to Sheep camp the second.  Sheep camp was 14 miles up the canyon.  That’s where I would meet them.  So on Weds. Morning I was up early and caught a ride to the trail head and began the hike in.  I arrived about 10 am and them being ready, we continued on and up to the summit, 3 miles ahead.  Once there we had lunch and they continued on as I headed back down the mountain and back to work.   My ride back to town was nowhere to be seen and after 35 or so miles of hiking in one day, my legs were toast, luckily the only cab in town just dropped off some hikers so I caught a ride with him back to town.  When I took off my boots and socks, my big toenail came with it, probably from kicking all the stones off the trail.  It was quite a day. 

The littlest Sea Otter

Tales from the Backyard…  My friends Jim and Bonny came up to go hiking the Chilkoot, but the evening before they went, I took them out fishing for salmon.  The mountains are so steep that you can almost touch them and still be in 400 feet of water.  The salmon like it close to the rocks so we were trolling slowly along when a family of Sea Otters came swimming by.  They then crawled up on the rocks right next to us.  About 15 feet back was the smallest otter with an 18 inch fish in his mouth, struggling slowly along.  When he reached the spot where the rest of the family were resting, the mother got back in the water and started swimming again.  The poor little otter had to just keep on going.  The mother otter swam another 100 feet or so and again crawled out of the water, the 4 pups right behind.  The last, still struggling with the fish, slowly made it to mom and again, she crawled back into the water and swam another 100 feet or so.  This went on for quite some time, them never more than 20 or so feet from us.  Finally, we turned and headed home.  I’m not sure what message the mother otter was trying to teach the little one, but I don’t think he was getting it as the last we saw of then, he was still struggling with the fish.

The wood stove

Tales from the Backyard…  One year my friend Ron’s dad built a new wood stove for his fish house.  We decided we were going to stay out all night and fish Walleyes and his dad said that he didn’t have the draft finished for the stove, so we better take a lot of wood.  We loaded the car and drove out on the ice to the shack and after getting the fire going, drilled the holes and started to fish.  When his dad said we needed to bring a lot of wood he wasn't

kidding.  It ate wood like a blast furnace.  We had no control other than to wait until it was almost out then throw on more wood.  The temp in the house began to sore and we began to shed cloths.  Soon we were down to skivvies and boots, the temp gauge had topped out at 120.  We were wringing wet with sweat.  Soon I had to go out and chop more wood.  It was like a sauna, so I grabbed the ax and went outside in skivvies and boots and began chopping.  A car drove up to see how the fishing was and there I was, outside temp 10 below zero, dripping wet with sweat, chopping wood.  They just shook their heads and drove off.  We ran out of wood about an hour later and went home, fish-less again.

The drop-off

Tales from the Backyard…  My early teen summers were always spent at the swimming beach.  I would stay well into the evenings, its where most of us would be.  One day my friend Ron and I found this section of dock floating along shore so thought it might be fun to push it out to see where the drop-off started, a good thing to know for fishing (this was before fish finders).  So we began pushing it deeper and deeper and as we went, one of us would dive down, find the bottom, turn and kick off to the surface.  We had been doing this for awhile when Ron stayed under for quite some time and upon surfacing said he couldn't touch the bottom.  I said let me try and took several deep breaths than held and went down.  I swam down and down and down but finding nothing thought a couple more big strokes and I’ll turn back.  Finding nothing I turned and headed up.  No big kick to help propel me up this time, it was all swimming.  Soon my lungs were on fire and bursting so I let out some air.  Up and up I went, I could see the surface, always just above my reach.  Again I let out air and by now my legs were useless and it was pulling water with arms only.  They were now beginning to feel like lead weights and had no power left, the surface just right there, I could see it becoming darker and darker and then I just stopped, no more energy to continue, everything gone black.  Just then, Ron reached out and grabbed me, pulling me to the surface where I drew in a huge gasp of air.  I said, I think we found it.

The Bullhead

Tales from the Backyard…About three miles from the farm there was a small creek where we would go fish for bullheads.  I remember one day catching one about 2 inches long and decided I would make it a pet and so started to carry it home.  They can live for hours out of water.  To walk that far alone I must have been six, as we moved shortly after that.   Bullheads have sharp painful spikes at the ends of their pectoral fins so you have to be very careful holding them and not squeeze or they will extend their pectorals and jab you, which has some painful bacteria and the pain lasts for hours if not days.  I remember making it all the way to the yard and in my excitement to show my mom, I squeezed too hard and it jabbed the stinger into my palm, god that hurt, I threw it down and killed it with a stick.  My hand hurt for days.

Chilkoot Trail washout

Tales from the Backyard…  One summer at Klondike we had this hellascious storm that had dumped 6” of rain over 2 days.  The Chilkoot trail was a mess.  The rangers had reported that almost every bridge had been washed out, there were over 100.  I amassed the entire trail crew, along with my preservation crew and hired several of the locals to head to the back country and begin the arduous task to make the repairs.  The crews were split in half, one to work the length of the trail, making repairs as necessary as they went and the other to work on our largest bridge, which was 110 feet long, it being totally washed out, the river actually had been diverted.  The crews stocked up and off they went.  I kept in touch via radio.  Early the next week, the rangers had scheduled a helicopter to resupply the Ranger station so I asked if I could be dropped off at mile 13, the big bridge.  When I arrived, the crew of 13 just stood and watched as I landed and got out.  They were tired, dejected and suffering from lack of sleep from the 18 hour days, but worst of all they were demoralized and had lost sight of the task at hand.  No one was in control.  The amount of work they had already accomplished was phenomenal, having built all the new log and stone filled cairns in the river and had cut all the trees for the walkway and supports (the design is kind of Burmese style).  I assembled them and complimented them on what they had done so far and then assigned the various tasks left to be done and sent them out.  By the end of the day they had completed the bridge just as the helicopter came to pick me up.  As I lifted off I looked down and they all were just staring up at me leaving and from the looks on their pride filled faces,  I thought as I flew away  of them thinking, “Who was that man?”, and later learned that that is exactly what they were thinking.  My thanks to you all for a job well done.

Nibbles

Tales from the Backyard…  My wife had a cat named Nibbles and one year we made our annual trip back home to see the folks and upon our return, found her sick and dying.  She was 20 or so, so we made a bed for her in our bedroom so she could leave in peace.  I went to check on her later in the day and found our daughter Heather (2 ½) sitting beside her, reading.  She had gathered every book she owned and was reading them one at a time.  I had that on tape, but somehow I misplaced it.  When Anna died, Janice had her cremated, the ashes to be buried by the crematorium.  One day as we were driving up the Saw Mill Pkwy, I said “that must be where they buried Anna”  “Where” she replied.  I said “Didn't you see the sign”  “No” she said and I said, spelling out the letters “D U M P”.

The Pine Martin

Tales from the Backyard…  One year the Regional Chief Biologist asked me if I would assist him while he did sampling of the lake (Crater Lake).  Why he didn't ask our park biologist I don’t know, of course I accepted.  While we were rowing along the lake shore we spotted a Pine Martin chasing a red squirrel along the rocky shore and up into the trees they would go, down the other side and over the rocks again to another tree and round and round they went until it was as if one said “Time Out” and they both stopped.  The squirrel was facing down the tree and the Pine Martin facing up, their noses almost touching.  Even from where we were we could see their chests heaving in and out trying to catch their breath.  Then it was “Time in” and off they went round and round again.  We just sat and watched as they must have done this for close to 3/4 an hour, repeating the “Time Out/In” process on different trees until the squirrel decided he had enough and ran into a hole.  The Pine Martin, feeling outwitted, hung his head and left.  I often wonder if this is a game they play every day or if it was a onetime thing.  A game of life and death to be sure for the squirrel.

The Black Snake

Tales from the Backyard…  A friend from Nevada  ( Tony), whom I was in the service with, came to visit us in the park and, as he was an avid fisherman, I told him I had a spot which might prove fruitful.  Klamath Lake is known for some monster trout, I mean in the 10-20 lb class.  We arrived at the lake and scooted over and down the rocks to the lake-shore.  I handed him a lure which I said they were hitting on and he began casting.  He shortly got the lure hung up on the rocks by his feet and reached down to extricate it when a huge black Water Snake of about 5 feet long shot out right by his hand.  He cleared the ten foot bank with ease.  Coming back he hooked into something really big and after a long fight, lost it at the shore.  The look of disappointment on his face I can still see.

Blue Crater lake

Tales from the Backyard…  Like a Geico commercial, “Did you know Crater Lake was not always blue”?  As Paul Harvey used to say; “And now, the rest of the story”.  In 1974 our stupid Superintendant decided he wanted a port-a-san at the bottom of the lake trail and could not be convinced otherwise.  Maybe he thought that people would want their picture taken at one of the world’s greatest vistas, standing in front of a Port-a-san, who knows.  So Ken and I started to make the arrangements by hiking to the bottom and surveying a good spot which was out of sight of the trail and the boats which took you around the lake.  Being solid rocks at the bottom the next step was to build a platform for it to sit on that was accessible but still out of sight of the trail hikers.  A few weeks later we had built a beautiful deck and when we put the port-a-san on it, sitting there you could see the whole lake through the doorway, a real kings thrown.  Unfortunately, in the fall we had to go down and empty the contents into containers which then had to be carried out by hand, the 1 mile hike to the top.  No small job, but we had plenty of help from the trail crew for the process.  I poured a little more water in the tank and made sure everything would flow out the valve under the toilet while Ken got things ready underneath.  The outflow had a single open/shut valve; you pulled it open and pushed to close.  With buckets ready, Ken pulled on the valve, the whole thing came out in his hand knocking over the bucket and before we could rectify the problem, the Port-a-san was empty.  So now you know why Crater Lake is blue.

Grounded

Tales from the backyard…Our neighbors, the Thurnbecks, had kids my older sibling’s age.  They would go over and play and I would tag along.  One day they were watering something; I don’t know what and would collect the water in buckets from a faucet at the side of the house.  I wanted to help but was told not to touch a bare wire which was close to the faucet.  This wire was a ground wire for the TV.  I had accidentally touched it once and nothing happened, but the next time my hand was on the faucet and that’s where I stayed, glued to both the faucet and the wire and could not release from either.  I yelled and yelled for help but every time someone would touch me, they would get a shock and then Mrs. Thurnbeck thought to unplug the TV and I was saved.  It had no ill effects other than burning a hole through my thumbnail and maybe my memory brain cells got fried, I can’t remember.