It's a Long Hike, Better Pack Two Kineys.

The best explanation (or excuse, take your choice) for being gone from this blog is that I just have not felt like writing. My job required me to generate a lot of reports. By the time I got home at night I just did not feel like writing anything else. But now I am retired and the urge to let the world get a glimpse into what's going on in my head has become too strong. It is time to blog again. 

This post was written over a few months. I should have posted it much sooner, but I was embarrassed by my procrastination. I mean this past summer I experienced a profound adventure and I never let the world in on it. 

I am rectifying that now. There are pictures to go with this story. You can see some of them on my Facebook page. I may post some here, who knows. 

It has been quite a summer. I managed to take down another pig and shoot a fish. Both of them with my bow. The highlight of the summer was the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim Hike that Kelly and I went on.

This expedition was the ultimate Daddy-Daughter Date. Just the two of us planned to hike from the North Rim to the South Rim over  four days. We worked on the plan for the trip for about a year and a half. Hiking the Canyon in July is not the best time, but it was the only time we could go together.

We left the Farm about 6:00 pm on July 2, 2014. We drove straight through to Flagstaff, Arizona, stopping only when we needed to. It took us seventeen hours to do so. We arrived just before lunch which we had at the Crackerbarrel. After that we did a little shopping and crashed at the hotel for a much needed nap.

Just by luck, my nephew, Scott Duesterhoft, was passing close to Flagstaff and decided to swing and visit us. We went to the Beaver Street Brewery for pizza. The visit was too short, because we had to get up early to make our connection with the shuttle that would take us from the South to the North Rim.

We drove to the Park, secured the van, and reported to the van that would take us to the North Rim. Mike, our driver, kept us informed about what we were seeing outside of our windows. We made some stops all the way, the best being the Navajo Bridge. There are actually two bridges. The older one which we got to walk across and the new one which we rode across. The bridges are 467 ft above the river.

After about 4.5 hours we arrived at the North Rim campground. And that was a feat. Mike was a good diver and kept us on schedule, but there were several times when I thought we were not going to make it past  the oncoming cars when we went around other cars.

At the campground we were assigned the site closest to the edge of the canyon. We set up camp as quickly as we could because it was threatening to rain. We accomplished that and we were in the general store when the rain started. It was a good to be in a dry spot.

When the rain stopped, we went for a walk. We followed a bridle path towards the edge of the Canyon and wandered to the Canyon Lodge. On the way we came across a Fourth of July parade. It was a simple affair, but fun.

We completed our walk by returning to the campground area. We had tickets to the Grand Cookout Experience. It was a buffet style meal that featured barbecue. We had musical entertainment by Woody and Cleatus June Cochran. Very entertaining.

Because of the rain it was a cool night. A little more warm clothes would have been nice.

We got up the next morning, broke camp, had breakfast, and stepped off the edge of the world. That is, we headed into the canyon. I will not even pretend that I can describe to you how the canyon looked. I am not that good of a writer. With each step, each shift in the sunlight, and each passing cloud, the view changed. We walked, we talked, and we were constantly amazed. The day got hot and the miles got long. But as Kelly said, "Yes, but they are dry miles!".

We hiked continuously the entire day. Late in the afternoon we stopped for about two hours to give the shadow of the canyon shade our side of the trail. Then it was an easy hike into Cottonwood Campground.

Along the way, we met two sisters. One an experienced hiker and the other a near death I wish I was anywhere but here first time backpacker. Once when we came upon them, the one was sitting on the side of the trail and we were afraid she was going to pass out and roll off of the trail. But her sister, who was near by, assured us that she was okay.

Before we set up camp, the hiker sister caught up with us and told us that she had left her sister at a pumping station and that the park rangers were going to fly her out the next day. We asked if she wanted to share a campsite with us, to which she agreed. We had supper and went to bed. It never got out of the 80's that night.

The next morning our hiker had gotten up early to go check on her sister. She came by later for breakfast and to break camp. She wasn't about to let her sister ruin her hike. Soon she was headed down the trail.
We continued with our breakfast and getting ready to move down the trail. I remarked to Kelly that I didn't seem to have any energy. While taking down my tent, I had to stop and rest every little bit. But we got the job done started our day's trek.

We had planned to take a side trip to Ribbon Falls, but when we came to the cut off, I told Kelly to ahead, I would wait for her on the trail.

After a short time, she came back and we moved on. The trail took an uphill turn and I could not make it to the top. It wasn't a long stretch of up. But I could only take about three steps and I had to stop to rest.

At this point I began to worry about my condition. It was about seven miles to the next campsite in open country where the temperature was already 110°. Kelly joined in my worries and we decided to hike back to Cottonwood. It was only 1.5 miles back. I didn't make it. We found a shady spot by a creek and I stopped while Kelly went back to the camp where there was an emergency phone. After about 1.5 hours, she returned with two rangers. They checked me out and decided that I was able to continue on my own.

Back at Cottonwood, they continued to monitor my condition and called headquarters. It was decided that they would fly Kelly and I out of the Canyon.

A short but beautiful flight later found me in the Park's clinic. It was determined that my problem was due to too much stress on my one kidney. The doctor said that under normal conditions he would fill me full of fluids and send me home. However, since I have only one kidney and home was over a thousand miles away, he recommended that I check myself into the Flagstaff hospital.

Kelly drove me, stayed with me till I was in a room, and then checked herself into a hotel.

I spent two nights in the hospital. Flagstaff has the best hospital I have ever been in. Mostly they pumped me full of fluids. There was talk of doing a stress test and heart catherizations. All of that because I mentioned at one point that my chest was hurting. That why I was in the cardiac ward being tended by a cardiologist. After awhile, they were convinced that I wasn't having heart problems, just kidney problems. The final diagnosis was rhabdomyolysis. Go look that one up. Finally, my "numbers" improved enough for them to let me go home.

Kelly and I got into the van and took a slow trip home. We did stop at Meteor Crater.

Let me go on record so that the will have no doubts about my feelings on the subject. My daughter is an amazing person. I do not know what I would have done without her. She never lost control of herself or the situation. She knew exactly what to do and when to do it. And she always had my feelings in mind. She constantly assured me that the whole thing was not my fault when all I could do was blame myself for ruining our trip. SHE IS AWESOME!

So was our trip a failure? In the words of Kelly, "It was a great trip except for one part in the Canyon." I have to agree. I had a great time. I enjoyed Kelly's company the whole time. I just regret not finishing the hike. Technically, we did a Rim to Rim hike. We just cheated a little bit on that last part.

 

 

Not Much of a Week

The past week has been one of those that make you wish you had not promised yourself that you would be more diligent at keeping your blog up to date. At work, we have been giving the GED test. 29 students attempted it this time. We finished on Thursday and put them in the mail on Friday. Then we went on lock down. The unit should be down for about two weeks. We have these lock downs twice a year. The offenders are taken to the gym with all of their belongings. Guards then go through everything to make sure that the offenders do not ave any contraband. While that is happening, other guards are searching their cells. They will also search all other area on the unit. I can expect the guards to come into my office and go through all of my cabinets, files, and my desk. On a unit with 4,100 offenders, you can see why that can take a couple of week. The teachers get bored after a few days. I usually almost get my paperwork caught up.

Saturday Anita and I went to the funeral of one of my co-worker's mother. Sunday was church and Sunday afternoon I was in Tyler for a Vibrant Church Initiative. It i a group that is trying tot develop a  plan for the future direction of our church. We meet once a month for about four hour for training.

I did get a new trail cam this weekend. I put it out this afternoon. This one will actually record audio. I am very curious to heard what sounds are happening in the woods when I am not around. Maybe if I can not film Big Foot, I can record his calls.

Friday we had a rainstorm. Afterward, the whole world turned orange. I guess it was just a combination of light angles and clouds, but is was strange. take a look at the trail cam shot. That is the way it looked.

Yes, I Am Still Here

In my work I spend a lot of time working on a computer. My  computers at home are really showing their age. They have gotten so slow that I can not handle the wait while they try to load stuff. I need to have a good long session with them to do a little tweaking to get them back up to speed. All of this is part of my excuses for my blog fade. Sometimes (most times) I just do not feel like writing. But anyway, let's hope that this is the beginning of the end of my dry spell.

2013 ended well. I fulfilled my goal of taking a deer with my bow, sort of. Paul spent the night at the Farm on October 8. The next morning I put him behind a screen blind behind the house where I knew does came through on a regular basis. Sure enough, in no time I got text from him saying that he had shot a deer. I went to him track it. We found her not far from he shot her. It was a perfect double lung pass through shot. We processes it ourselves.

That afternoon we both sat in the same blind he had been in earlier. Doe deer walked into range and shot one of them. It turn out that I had shot a yearling buck right through the head. I think that he stuck his head up just as I shot at his mother. Anyway, my first bow kill of a deer was a buck, but it was a baby buck. I call him shish kabob. You know, a small piece of meat on a stick. We have had a meal featuring Bob. Trust me he was one tender and tasty woodland creature.

I had planned to retire this past February. However, the half of the Farm not owned by the Locke's became available. We bought 25 acres of it. To do that, I had to delay my retirement until January 2015. It is not what I want to do, but it is worth it to own the land. It's my favorite place to hunt.

The other big event was the birth of Charles Issac Duesterhoft, son of Paul and Diana Duesterhoft. He is my fourth grandchild, as wonder and amazing as any of the other boys. He and his parents are doing well.

That is the recent past. As far as the recent present, we spent a wonderful four days with Tracie and Alan. We spent two days (Thursday and Saturday) at the Houston Rodeo. We saw Blake Shelton and the Band Perry in concert. The other two days we just hung out together.

The near future holds a major adventure for Kelly and I. We have put together an expedition to the Grand Canyon. We are going to hike it rim to rim.We have our backcountry permit and our campsites on the North and South Rims are.reserved. We are gathering our equipment, getting in shape, and planning menus. We are both so excited about it that we are having a very difficult time waiting till then.

So there you have it. A few of the highlights of my life. Let's hope I can do a better job of this blog in the future. In the meantime, enjoy some pictures.

The End May Be in Sight

Saturday morning I was up and out not long after daylight. That's my usual habit on weekends. I don't like to waste my days off sleeping the hours away. The nice thing about this particular morning is that it was a little bit cooler. I could taste just enough of autumn to know that it is on its way. I could hear it coming closer in the winds blowing through the pine trees. It whispered that it would soon be here.

Maybe it was a change in the weather or the fact that I was putting up my tree stand, but for whatever reason, there is a change in the air.

I don't want to be selfish, but can someone hurry it along.  I am so tired of hot.

Gatlinburg Expedition Day 1

No apologies or excuses. You will get the story of this summer's trip as I get time to write it.

 

We have started our trek to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. By we, I mean Anita, Leah,Chris, and myself.

The trip started yesterday after a long day at work. I was acting principal and I had a day filled with meaningless crises. But eventually Anita picked me up at work and we drove to Alvin to Leah and Chri's house. The trip was uneventful except that the van tires were making a strange thumping sound. When we got to Alvin, Anita took it to a repair shop to have it checked out. We had the tires balanced and rotated before we left. They did not tighten the lug nuts sufficiently on the left front tire. It only took a few minutes for them to tighten the nuts and check the others and it was good to go.

Daily mileage: 209.1
Total mileage: 209.1

Three On A Motorcycle is Unlucky, Or is It?

In September 1963, my family moved from Brenham, Texas to Riggins, Idaho. I was told that we did so at the suggestion of my asthma doctor. He felt that he had done all that he could to save me from my affliction, but the severity was not lessening. His last hope for me was a change of climate. My father, the avid hunter, had been to Idaho before. I am sure that this is why of all the places we could have moved to, we ended up in  the Salmon River Valley.

Going from Texas to Idaho was the greatest topographical, climatic, and cultural change I have eever gone through. It was great, but different.

I was extremely shy back then and not making any friends. One day, a classmate, Don Wolcott, introduced himself and we started talking. Until I moved back to Texas in July 1969, we were best friends. I learned later that our fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Clark, had asked him to go talk to me. Thank you Mrs. Clark. That tiny act of kindness filled my life with a bag of memories and experiences that I cherish to this day.

Today, for no particular reason, I have pulled out one of those memories that ranks high in my top ten.

It was spring time of my seventh grade year. We had a four day weekend coming up. One of the reasons that Don and I were such good friends was because we had fathers who allowed us to be free ranging kids. That meant we could go where we wanted to go, as far as we wanted to go, and do whatever we wanted to do. There was always the First Law sitting on its throne in the back of our minds, “If you get yourselves in trouble, you get yourselves out of trouble.”  To this day I have managed to heed that dictate.

This particular expedition had us leaving early on Thursday morning to go to Bud Wilson’s sheep camp on the Snake River, fish there until Sunday afternoon, and then come home.

Our usual mode of transportation was two 90cc Bridgestone motorcycles. Don and his brother owned one and my older brother owned the other one. For awhile my brother’s motorcycle was mine. He claimed it would not run any more. I fixed it, I claimed it. Enough said. He was bigger than me and often re-claimed it.

At this particular time we were in a re-claimed period. So Don and I would ride double on his bike. One person would drive and the other would wear (in the words of Collin Fletcher) a “bloody great bag” that had all of our gear in it.

The plans had been made, the supplies had been gathered, and Thursday was almost upon us. Then the first hitch in the plans suddenly appeared. Don’s older brother, Jerry, decide he wanted to go with us. Two on a small motorcycle is doable, three is not.

The solution was simple. Two on the motorcycle and one on a bicycle towed behind the motorcycle. And it worked. From the Wolcott’s house to the top of the ridge was 18 miles. From there to Bud’s place was another 11 miles. The first leg was easy. At the top we discovered hitch number two.

It had rained on the backside of the ridge. The going was difficult for just a motorcycle, and was almost impossible to tow a bicycle downhill. We abandoned the bike and took turns riding, walking, and falling down.

But we would not be stopped and eventually reached the river. We were tired, wet, muddy, and hungry. All we wanted to do was set up camp and make life worth living again. That’s when we discovered hitch number three.

Remember, I did mention it was spring time. I also told you that Bud was a sheep rancher. A question for you. What do sheep men do in the spring time? They gather all of sheep on the ranch so that they can count, medicate, dock the lambs’ tails, and who knows what else. Bud had a lot of sheep. A lot of sheep. Up the river, down the river, a lot of sheep.  There was no place to camp.

Luckily Bud was there and since he was going upriver to check on one of his sheep camps (No sheep there they were all at the ranch. A lot of sheep were at the ranch), he offered to let us ride along and stay there. So upriver we went. We shot through the rapids, laughed at the signs that warned us that beyond that point the channels were no longer marked, and claimed our cabin by the river. Bud said that he planned to be back on Sunday, but if he didn’t make it, we could just hike back to his ranch.

So we spread out the gear to dry, got out the fishing tackle, and went fishing. We also explore the area looking for old Indian camps, stayed up almost all night talking, and discovered most of a bottle of peach brandy. We also discovered that we didn’t care for peach brandy (probably a good thing) but that it did make interesting pancakes when added to the batter. We also learned that a can of burning gasoline will not ignite a match that is dropped into it. Let that sink in for a moment. You have three boys miles upriver, deep in Hell’s Canyon, Bud and his son-in-law are the only people who know where they are, and they are playing with a can of burning gasoline. It makes you wonder, where did they get the gasoline?

Have the shakes left you yet? I know what you’re thinking. I still get excited about how awesome that trip was. Hey, get over it, there were no face on fire this time.

 As Sunday drew closer, we started to contemplate the fact we might have to walk out. It wasn’t the distance that bothered us, it was Suicide Point. The trail followed the riverbank back to Bud’s. Except at one spot where a rock cliff jutted into the river. To negotiate this obstacle, the trail went up and then over. It was the over part that had us uneasy. It was about 300 feet above the water, very narrow, and on the very edge of the cliff.

Luckily, we didn’t have to walk on the very edge of death. Bud showed up, ferried us back to his ranch where the sheep were, a lot of sheep, loaded the bike and the motorcycle on his truck and drove us home. We arrived just after dark with plenty of time to be ready for school the next day.

When our parents asked how us how the fishing trip went, our answer was, “Nothing really special. We didn’t even catch very many fish.”

 

The Voices Change, But the Song Remains the Same

On November 17, I attended a party to celebrate my in-laws’ 60^th wedding anniversary. It was held in Alvin, Texas at the church where they were originally married. The church was the same, not the building. The entire family pitched in to put together this event. Friends and family of Mimi and Papa were invited.

The best part of the party was when they renewed their vows. Pastor Hastings did such a wonderful job and we were so moved by the immensity of the event, that there was not a dry eye in the church. Even the photographer teared up.

Let’s go back to when they said their vows the first time. A new family begins. And they have mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, grandparents, uncles, aunts, nieces, nephews, the list goes on. All these people coming together as a family.  As time progressed some have left us and others have joined us. The group is not the same. And yet we are still family. We sorrow in the lost of those whose journey moved them to a different plane and rejoice in the new members who join us in our journey.

We have different views on politics, religion, and all the day to day affairs that fill up our lives. We may have disagreements, we may have falling outs, we may even hurt one another at times. But when one of us experiences good fortune, we rejoice with them. When one of us suffers a setback, we all share their pain and are there to help them get through the rough times.

Always, the song under it all remains the same. It is strong. It has endured the years and continues across the generations. And it will be there as the binding force that holds us together. It brought us to tears when we stopped long enough to listen for it. There in the chapel, surrounded by friends and family we heard the song. It is love. It is quiet, but it is powerful. And that is how it should be.