A quick tale of two trucks

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Nearly two years ago I bought the little Chevy in the upper photo. I thought it was true love, that the truck was so ‘me,’ then along came the white Ford F-250 Super Duty…ouch! the Truck Cupid shot me through and through. I must be really fickle, for the Ford gets lousy mileage, has well over twice the miles on it as the Chevy, and yet now IT’S the truck for me. Granted, it will haul bigger, pull more, and, with its lumber rack, can carry ladders and lumber and kayaks easily.

My first vehicle, a ’48 Ford pickup, started my truck fetish, and now I’m back to Fords. My bum left knee likes the automatic transmission over the manual one in the Chevy, so since I drive so little, it makes sense to just have a paid-for truck available when I need it, but not costing me a bundle, that is as long as it keeps running as well as it is. There’s my truck news on San Juan Island, now back to island photos.

Cousins meeting for the first time

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Son Jake introduces his daughter Jaley to Zackary, daughter Michelle’s little master Carson. This photo was taken two years ago, and the frustrating part of grandkids is they keep changing their ages on me! I have enough trouble remembering their birthdays, let alone their ages. My grand daughter Hallie is the easiest, for she was born in 2000, so each ensuing year I just remember what year it is, and her age pops automatically into my mind. If only they were all that easy!

Biggest stone in the cemetery

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I am fascinated by glacial erratics, those mostly granite boulders that are foreign to the region of their resting place, and they’re foreign because they were carried there by moving ice fields, sometimes hundreds of miles from their source.

Sitting at the most elevated point on the cemetery property at the south border behind the church, this boulder dwarfs the mostly granite monuments and headstones placed here to remember family members who have passed on.

While walking in this area of the cemetery for the first time in my 42 years on the island, my fertile imagination conjured up a scheme to buy the boulder from the Cemetery District and use it for my own remains. There’s a cozy slumbering bowl in the east side of the boulder that would be perfect for a plaque! It seems fitting that a glacial erratic should become MY monument.

I’ll compose a letter of intent to purchase this “plot” and see what happens! Oh, and I’d better write up a few potential epitaphs, it’s better I fudge a bit with the truth to make me look good, rather than my kid’s having to!…we’ve heard of ‘dying last words,’ why not ‘dead last words?’

PS: No I didn’t choose this stone for my proposed monument because it’s the largest in the cemetery, my ego isn’t anywhere near that big!

Photo location: on Madden Road at the east side of San Juan Valley.

Westside waterfront property available

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Yes, the property IS available…for ALL! This wonderful acreage, acquired by the San Juan County Land Bank, is open to the public forever! Some easy to navigate trails have been constructed that lead down to the water, but for the less able, the view from the parking area (limited parking for about five vehicles) isn’t bad. The photo was taken through the windshield of a van.

“That’s sick!” would be the younger person’s exclamation, (which means the opposite of what it says, go figure) while I just label it “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” and leave it at that! The peaceful, meditative moments available to those who seek them are abundant: Rocks, grass, miles of water, wild fragrances, usually you’ll have the place to yourself, and the occasional Orca whale in the summer.

I took off-island visitors there as a pod of killer whales obligingly came by just off the kelp line. I was a hero to that group for the rest of their visit, for as we had gotten to the shore with no whales visible, but with my local knowledge I spied a gaggle of kayakers and sight-seeing boats just rounding the point to the south. Knowing the whales were coming, but not yet visible, I said aloud, “Let’s see if I can call them. . .Here Orca, Orca, Orca!” and not five seconds later the Orca whales hove into view to the south. My visitor friends were amazed at my powers, and pleased with the show I conjured up! Unbelievably, as icing on the cake, a mother and calf came flying, at speed, out of the water and each did a perfectly synchronous barrel roll side by side right in front of us.

Nearly 15 acres and over half a mile of shoreline make for a wondrous retreat. The light traffic (speed limit 20mph) on West Side Road can hardly be heard down near the water, and the few trees provide shade rather than obstruction to the view.

As important and enjoyable as the view is, the ancient prairie ecosystem represented here on the rugged west side of San Juan Island is equally significant. What with the Limekiln State Park, the Deadman Bay preserve, and the two separate parcels of Land Bank, this entire area offers the public a HUGE amount of recreational public land. I use recreational in the soul sense. There are no ball parks or children play areas, this is nature at her best, for young and old.

For camping, boat launching, and other family recreation, there’s the San Juan County Park about two miles north of the State Park.

Cedar cement

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Most people, I would imagine, admire the tower at the top of Mt. Constitution for its rugged stone construction and interesting doors. I, too, admire those qualities, but every time I enter the base to ascend up the stairs with their wrought iron railings, my eyes turn upwards to the ceiling. The builders weren’t content to simply cast concrete under the stairways, they tacked cedar bark to the forms and poured the mix over the bark, leaving the cement with the look of the mighty Native American symbol, the cedar tree. There are places where one can still see bits of actual bark where it didn’t come loose from the cement as the forms were removed.

The Doors are enchanting, the stone work amazing, and the view from the top rated as one of the ten best tower views in the country, but the next time you climb to the top of 2,400 foot high Mt. Constitution, look up before climbing the stairs and you’ll share my wonder at the textured ceiling adding just one more charm to a wonderful experience.

Flotsam and jetsam

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The seaweed seen here where the water meets the beach is neither flotsam or jetsam. Those terms describe forms of maritime bits and pieces and how they got where they are, so if they have some value or consequence, such as the flotsam that is washing up on our shores from the Japanese tsunami, the law knows how to deal with them.

Flotsam is the floating ‘wreckage’ of a ship or its cargo. Jetsam ‘s clue comes from the word ‘jettison’ which is to purposefully cast cargo overboard from a ship in distress to lighten the load. Flotsam or jetsam can wash ashore, float at sea, or sink.

Here’s another word: Let’s say the jetsam is cargo, valuable cargo that sinks, which the sailors marked with a bouy (assuming the water depth allows that), that cargo can be reclaimed. This reclaimable cargo on the bottom is now called ‘lagan’, while ‘derelict’ describes cargo on the bottom with no hope of reclaiming. I always thought a derelict was an abandoned ship at sea, but apparently it’s legally more specific than that, it’s got to be on the bottom.

Last evening I watched the movie “The Wreck of the Mary Deare” starring Gary Cooper and Charlton Heston, with the fate of that wreck (read ‘salvage’) being determined if it sank or not, so these terms reflect what happens next, since it’s often difficult to find a wreck as vessels travel pretty much where they want compared to trucks and cars on defined roads.

Speaking of no hope of reclaiming, the SS Central America, a steamer that sunk off the Carolinas in 1857 with a reported 30,000 pounds of gold aboard, was recently found and a significant amount of gold was salvaged. I read Gary Kinder’s book “Ship of Gold in the Deep Blue Sea” about the wreck and recovery struggles and I highly recommend it as an example of perseverance, both of the men trying to save the wreck in the hurricane, and of the recoverers and their investors. 39 insurance companies filed claim on the gold, but because of the ‘derelict’ legal description and the 130 years that no one had tried to salvage the gold, it was declared abandoned and 92% of the value of the items salvaged went to the discoverers, about $150 million worth!

The school next door

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Next door to the Village at the Harbour where I work is Spring Street International School, a private institution that is apparently gaining in popularity, at least they are in the middle of a huge campus expansion.

Their talented students occasionally favor us with a concert in the great room at the Village. I can appreciate the pensive look of the bass player with his hands in his lap, as all three in the photo are nearing the cusp of adulthood tuning-up and ‘girding up their loins,’ as the scriptures say, ready to give it their best. One advantage of having the Village right next door is an audience for which to play and gain performance experience. Granted, it’s likely not the age group for which they would LIKE to be playing, but we’ll do in a pinch! And music is the international language.

Utah Rock

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I like the symmetry of this scene on False Bay road. There’s a welcoming feeling to this drive into who knows who’s property. I was looking at it recently from a satellite photo from Google Earth, a program that allows us to look at nearly any spot on earth from 6,836 miles up, to about 800 feet or so elevation before the scene blurs due to lack of resolution. But even from 800 feet up, the detail can be amazing. I could easily see the pine tree I planted in the back yard of my boyhood home in Portland, Oregon, then, in a newer satellite image, its absence after the present owner cut it down, probably because it had grown too big. The photos are updated about every two or three years, or not, depending on the area of the world being looked at.

The time I was searching for items of interest on San Juan Island, I noticed that Google Earth was noting a feature called ‘Utah Rock’ in an empty field just to the left of this shot. I’m assuming the “rock” was actually in the sea some 500 yards to the south. I always wonder who places these features, yet-alone who determines they are worthy of inclusion. And how is it that in a world of infinite accuracies does a rock get moved so far inland?

Never mind, the superior entertainment I get from searching old haunts like my Grandmother’s place at Lincoln City, Oregon, or remembering the last hike I took along Jurassic trail while visiting with my daughter Jamie in Mountain Village, CO where she lives…priceless! These satellite photos are a blast for trips down memory lane!

Where’s that Ranger? I’m telling on you!

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Yeah, like, RIGHT! Ok, I didn’t know it at the time, but I was a bad boy on this particular day. Out on a ride with some of the residents of the Village at the Harbour, an assisted living senior facility in Friday Harbor, I had taken an apple along, knowing that the foxes that live at the National Historical Park at the south end of the island like treats.

What I didn’t know was that it is against the rules to feed the critters. The next ride out that way, my apple went unthrown, for the Park had signs up warning visitors not to feed the foxes or any other wildlife in the park. It apparently upsets the balance of nature to get the animals used to fodder from folks like me.

I had to admit, when one red fox took up begging alongside the road, the damage of feeding them from vehicles was apparent. One just sat down and comfortably waited for someone to throw him an apple, tempting me mightily. It was kind of sad, for he looked like beggars I had seen on big city streets, all big eyed and forlorn.

We may tolerate fellow humans to sink that low, but not our furry friends on San Juan Island! Weeks later, there were fewer foxes around and those that were had a gaunt look. Perhaps it is natural for them to go through a feast and famine period.

I once took a book to read down to Granny’s Cove and was all alone except for a young fox who was attempting to catch sand fleas in its mouth as they hopped off the beach at its approach. I don’t think the fox was playing. Imagine being so hungry that you attempt to fill up on tiny crustaceans the size of a grain of rice! My book went unread as I continued to watch the drama of it snapping away at what looked like nothing at all from my distance! And there I was wishing I had my camera.

Island (not so) wildlife

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Mona lives on Sportsman’s Lake. Being from the desert, Mona is, of course, a camel, a dromedary, native to the Middle East. The two surviving species of camel are the dromedary (one hump) and bactrian (two humps) which hails from Asia.

One of the residents at the Village at the Harbour where I live and work often asks me how I ended up on San Juan Island. That seems to be one of her abiding interests since she can only answer the question, were it asked of her, that she had no choice, she was born here! I don’t know the history of how a desert dweller ended up on an island in the Pacific Northwest, but I do know she has a penchant for apples. As a popular stop for travelers along Roche Harbor Road, she can often be found stretching her neck over the fence to check out offerings from her visitors. Fruit or vegetables only please, we can’t have her getting an upset stomach from (or worse, a yearning for) fast food treats.

Mona’s pasture mate is a white pony (name unknown) that apparently provides company. I know if I was a dromedary far from home, I’d settle for any large four legged companion, save perhaps one of the feline species.