Technidock manufactures a complete line of gangways and ramps which meet current ADA (American Disabilities Act) specifications.
Nuiqsut Boat Launch Ramp - Public Involvement - Projects - Solstice Alaska Consulting, Inc. Solstice Alaska led a public involvement to gather input and information regarding a removable boat launch ramp in the North Slope community of Nuiqsut. Boat ramp is on the east side of Four Mile Creek, beside East Bay Loop Road at the Four Mile Creek Bridge. The concrete portion of the ramp ends just before the end of the woodenloading docks, looks like a dropoff to the creek bottom, unknown heighth.
Paved, marked parking for 7 vehicles with trailers, plus one parking lane marked for handicap.
On the “point spread” website I have gotten in the habit of using, UW is now favored by 4 points.
We expect at least a few of our regular game night friends to show up, but then…it would definitely be a late night out, and that might deter a few. To put some closure on my sickly post of the other day, I’m happy to say that I am on the mend.
I did feel well enough yesterday morning to have regretted postponing my treadmill stress test. Congratulations to my beautiful and talented granddaughter, Amber, for successfully passing her Hunter Safety Training course a few days ago! I know well enough that hunting is viewed by many (most, by now?) of my fellow Americans as a leftover relic of human history that has no place in the modern world. To wrap up, I’ll report once again that the squirrels continue to avoid the subdivision in which our house is located. I neglected to tell him at the time that I felt I might have a bladder infection coming on.
On Wednesday morning I called the doc’s office again, informing the receptionist of my self-diagnosis and asking her to have the doctor call in a prescription for the proper antibiotics.
As expected, the doc confirmed my self-diagnosis once he had the results from the lab, and forwarded a prescription to my neighborhood Walgreen’s. I picked up the prescription at about 1:30 PM and anxiously took one of the capsules as soon as I got home. Before bedtime, I was allowed my second capsule of the day and I looked forward to a solid night of sleep. While I was on the phone with the lady at the cardiology department, I asked her how often a subject undergoing the test wound up having a heart attack because of the stress.
So, six days ago I almost fell down in a faint from a strenuous morning riding around in a boat, and then just this past Friday, while taking three ladies and four young girls fishing, I began huffing and puffing so desperately that even the young people thought I was about to keel over!
Janet and I took a group of Family Farm travelers from southwest Washington to one of my secret fishing spots, specifically to get three grandnieces – ages 8 – 10, I believe – into some easy-to-catch Rainbow trout. As the clock ticked down to Friday morning and decision time, there were several significant things that could spell trouble for our outing.
On Sunday, nephew Brad made the trip from the Emmett, ID hinterlands in to the growing metropolis of Meridian, specifically to go with his uncle (me) to the annual Barley Brothers Traveling Beer Show and Festival. All summer long we have been anxiously watching the two tomato plants Jan has been raising in the back yard.
I’m glad to report that our morning glory bush in the front yard is showing no such problems.
As to my near-fainting spell of a week ago (the reason that prompted me to make an appointment), I’ll just have to wait and talk to him about it. Some of our local kids are headed back to school this week; some will go back after Labor Day. So yes, I’m beginning to look forward rather anxiously to the cooler days of October and November. I hadn’t seen any recent fishing reports for Lucky Peak, so I felt it my duty to go see if any kokanee were still biting.
As I headed for the ramp, I removed the two downriggers from the gunwales – they get in the way of tying up to the dock if left in position – and generally tried to put things in the boat in order. So, despite how wonderful it would feel to take a little nap in place, I struggled to my feet and headed for my truck. By this time, it crossed my mind that I might be having a heart attack, so even though I wasn’t feeling any chest pain (or any other “classic” symptoms), I popped a couple of aspirin.
Once the trailer was in place, I walked out on the dock started pulling the boat towards the half-submerged trailer.
The coolness of the water gave me something of a second wind, I think, because I was able to get the boat well started up the trailer and onto the bow roller. After I drove to the parking area at the top of the ramp, I stopped to catch my breath and drink a bottle of water. While yet worrying about my supposed brush with a heart attack, I made an appointment with my doctor for next Monday. I’ve been meaning to report on the squirrel situation around here for some time, but I seem to always write too much before thinking about tree rats. Now I’m pretty sure that squirrels have to eat during the summer, but I have learned over time that they must really cut back on the distance of their foraging trips during hot weather. All good things come to an end (they say), and so, too, the most recent annual trip the Larson brothers – and company – made to British Columbia, Canada.
As you may recall, I left home in Meridian a week ago, today, and spent that night with my sister and brother-in-law at the “Family Farm” in Brush Prairie, WA. Of course I knew (thanks to Mapquest) the distance we would travel, but I also knew – from once being stationed in Port Angeles as a member of the U.S. Shortly after we returned to the Black Ball company dock, the ferry came into view, appearing rather mystically from the fogbank that still lay over the Strait of Juan de Fuca (it burned off completely before we got to Canada). I had been a little concerned that Canadian Customs officials might select me for a thorough search. Brother Ron and his friend, Jason, were waiting near the ferry terminal in a rental Jeep SUV. Mapquest had provided me the information that the town of Campbell River is approximately 168 miles distant from Victoria, and our internal clocks were computing our ETA and such based on that. I’m going to skip the blow-by-blow fish tales and jump right to the bottom line: The fishing – er…I really mean the catching – was pretty dang slow! We did, however, see a point on our route that in 1958 had been the site of the largest commercial, non-nuclear explosion ever touched off in North America.
Before we left the northern fishing spot, Fred called our attention to a waterfall coming over a rock face from the forests above. Ron changed his travel plans before we left Campbell River, having decided to spend a few days R&R at his place near Reno, NV.
I have to say that I feel a bit guilty about changing from our “traditional” visit to Blackfish Lodge, farther north in British Columbia in the Broughton Island area. I had been hoping that because the fishing charters out of Campbell River were that much closer to American customers, they might use double action reels on the poles they provide…or at least offer a choice between single action and double action.
Ah, well, almost in spite of myself, I have become somewhat more proficient with the knuckle busters…I’ll just continue doing the best I can do. I’ve already spoken to some extent about the methods one can use to troll bait and depths where the Kokanee are hanging out.
In the interest of full disclosure, I must tell you that I only caught and landed one Kokanee on a downrigger that day.
The only larger Kokanee was one of those that “came unbuttoned” right at the side of the boat. The other day (Sunday), Janet and I attended church at the local Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, commonly known as the Mormon Church. The reason for the “farewell” doings is that, like many LDS young men and women, he is headed off on a “mission.” This is a two-year commitment to the church.
Earlier this year I read a newspaper article about a growing number of LDS women who were somewhat irritated about an “understanding” that women should not wear slacks to church. Some time ago, Janet and I decided we really hadn’t been using the hot tub in our back yard enough to justify keeping it ready to use. Around the beginning of July, I mentioned my quandary to the across-the-street neighbor, Cody.
Cody contacted a young man in the moving business – Cross Town or Around The World, “We Will Move You,” is Chad’s company motto. Yesterday afternoon, well after the hot tub moving had been completed, Janet and I heard some barking and commotion in the front yard. The dog’s owner – a lady from four or five houses north – was on the sidewalk, trying desperately to hold a second large, black dog by the collar.
And I believe she would have done just that, except that the dog’s owner finally lost her grip on the second dog’s collar. I had witnessed the cat being tossed around, and knew that she had been in the jaws of at least one of her attackers…maybe both. Janet had followed the traveling fight, and after the dogs’ owner took the dogs home and got them safely locked in the backyard again, she returned. Whether you are building a new dock or replacing an old one, you?ll want to know about the new technologies that make new docks ADA compliant, long lasting, maintenance free and economical. Which means that my statement above isn’t actually true for those of you living in the east.
I would have very much preferred being able to look back on it from this morning, instead of now having it coming towards me for twelve more days. I’ve got the impression that the only purpose of the treadmill is to raise the subject’s pulse so EKG readings can be made at the heart’s elevated activity.
She has been looking forward to this major step for several years, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to go hunting with her dad until she had the certificate.
The have done so, now (or, technically, will have done so at midnight), for an entire calendar month. I know that rodents, including tree-rats, have a desperate urge to reproduce, despite the frightful consequences of unrestrained population growth. But…he did suggest that I make an appointment for a “stress test” at the cardiology department. The symptoms weren’t “sure fire” at the time, but, nevertheless, I’ve had such infections before, and it seemed to me I was having them again. He had done this sort of thing previously, but I soon had a call back from his nurse, telling me that he would have to actually see me this time…. But when the cardiology department called me this morning to confirm tomorrow’s appointment, I asked to have it changed. There was actually a fourth grandniece, as well, but at just shy of 3 years old she would have had trouble operating a fishing reel, I think. It turned out to be a grand day in every possible way…well, except for the fact the fish-catching was a bit slow.
Once again, a breeze wafting through Kleiner Park kept the day from getting unbearably hot…and of course cold beer helped a lot in that effort.
The lab bloodwork he ordered when I called in a week ago was done shortly after I had it done on Tuesday morning, and it looked pretty good. As I said in my last post, I have essentially convinced myself the problem was the onset of heat exhaustion, but I’ll try to avoid planting that “seed” before the doctor thinks about it himself.
We haven’t had any triple-digit heat in August (unlike July, when we experienced 47 days over one hundred degrees F.), but then, I don’t think we’ve had any days when the peak temperature was less than 95 degrees, either. Fall has always been a favorite time of year for me, and these blistering summer days make the season to come all the more enticing. I’m thinking it crossed the 90-degree mark around 10:00 AM, when the breeze of the early morning disappeared. All of a sudden, I realized I was sweating like a plowhorse, and I didn’t feel very chipper, either. Of course it was all the way up the ramp (see the first photo at the beginning of this narrative).
When the fellow who was in line directly behind me saw how slowly I was moving – and probably how “fuzzy” I appeared – he decided to go back on the lake.
But then the accursed wind came seriously into play…the stern of the boat simply would not stay in place long enough to give me time to jump in the truck and pull the whole works forward. It helped, I guess, even though I still felt more like taking a nap than preparing the boat for the ride home.
I did, however, recover quite a bit during the 35-minute drive…enough that I was able to get both boat and truck back in the garage when I got home. The rainbow was even smaller, but since I had put all three of the fish on ice as soon as I got them in the boat, they all stayed nicely firm and were pretty easy to filet.
Later in the evening, some long ago Coast Guard training came bubbling up from my mental filing cabinet, reminding me that what I experienced, more than likely, was the beginnings of heat exhaustion. And after my efforts of the past 4 years, I’m pretty sure there are no nests close by. In the morning, Steve (the B-I-L) and I hit the highway early and headed to our ferry connection in Port Angeles, Washington. I was sort of curious to see if there was still a joint called The Little Brick tavern there.

The terminal on the American side requires the ship to back into the slip; the terminal in Victoria is designed to go in bow first.
Not that I had anything illegal (as far as I knew), but not wanting to spend the extra time a complete search would require. When we made visual contact, they pulled out of their parking spot and lead the way north and out of Victoria. Imagine our surprise, then, when we started seeing distance markers to the northern towns and cities that added up to a distance of 270 miles to Campbell River!
On the first two fishing days, we remained in the Strait of Georgia very near to Campbell River. On day three, Fred took us north of Campbell River some 25 miles or so, knowing that we would probably see less action on the rods, but hoping that if we did catch something it would turn out to be something larger. It was done to destroy an underwater reef (Ripple Rock) that was causing dangerous currents in the inland waterway called Seymour Narrows.
So he rode with Steve and I from Victoria south to Portland, OR, where he had booked a flight to Reno. I’ll stay over tonight with sister Nancy and her husband, Steve, and Thursday morning Steve will join me for the next leg, northbound. No one works harder than Chris and Hannah (owners of Blackfish) to find fish and make a visitor’s stay as comfortable as possible, but truth be told, I’ve grown to dread the two-hour (plus) flight back and forth from Seattle.
But, after checking with the skipper of the outfit we chartered, I learned that, like Blackfish Lodge, their standard equipment is single action reels…only.
One can pay hundreds and hundreds of dollars for either single action or double action reels. It just seems, you know, that the actual item one orders doesn’t stack up very well against the claims in advertising that prompted one to order it in the first place.
That occurred quite early on…and then I didn’t have a bite for an hour or more, despite the fact I continually changed the depth I was fishing. I can say without a doubt, however, that after being together for most of our lives, I find that memories of that time Before Marriage have grown quite dim, and seem of little consequence. It is not a requirement, as I previously thought…and I don’t know what the percentage of participants might be.
In most respects, it was much like a service in a Southern Baptist church (where I attended as a kid).
I can only assume the “understanding” is alive and well in this part of the country, because as far as I could tell every lady and girl in the congregation was in a dress…or, perhaps, skirt and blouse. For instance, one order of business that occurred near the beginning was the congregation – by a show of hands – confirming the selection of a young man to serve as a deacon in the church.
There was an older gentleman who acted in the role as a sort of Master of Ceremonies, more or less…introducing the speakers in turn, and running the “business” parts of the service.
When he asked how much I wanted for it, I told him that if he could get it out of my yard, the price would be nothing. After checking out the situation, Chad allowed that he and his boys could do the job for $200 bucks. And, naturally, far, far easier than it would have been had I and three fogies my own age had tried it. I hustled out the front door (with Janet close behind) to find a large, black dog – sort of German Shepard looking – barking at one of neighbor’s cats. When I would yell and make a move at the dog, he would retreat a few paces before renewing his attack. In a heartbeat, the tabby found herself dealing with increasingly vicious attacks coming from two different directions. None of us felt like trying to pick up the cat, terribly injured as we all assumed she was. Yesterday evening, Kianna and her daughter came over to reassure us once more that the cat was all right…well…except for a bit of a limp in one leg. Solstice staff facilitated the meetings, which resulted in gathering traditional native knowledge of the river and other environmental conditions and input on which boat launch ramp alternatives would work best for the community. Extreme care was taken to enhance all aspects of her comfort and style, while maintaining her pedigree as a true performance yacht. Moreover, the last time these teams met was at the end of last season, when Boise won by a couple of points. Butterflies will probably be thick in both locker rooms and I’d guess that the team that brings fewer of them out to the field will have a decided edge. I’m sure there are no longer any states that will issue a hunting license to any person who has not completed the course.
It’s been even more than 31 days, however, since the last one I saw came around on July 9th. Monday evening wasn’t so bad, but by Tuesday evening there was no question that the flare-up had arrived! Bladder infection has some of the same symptoms of prostatitis, but the two conditions call for somewhat different medication. If I had gotten on the treadmill feeling the way I did yesterday, or even in my improved shape of today, I don’t see how it could have been a valid test. The pure wonderment and joy when, for perhaps the very first time, a young person feels a fish pulling and jerking against a fishing pole is just a very fun thing to see! During the week, I had been checking (online, of course) the fire maps of the state, so I knew there were no existing fires closer than 35 – 40 miles to Horsethief Lake. By 11:00 in the morning, it had mostly dissipated, leaving blue sky and a few puffy, white clouds. I suppose there must have been 40 or more breweries represented, most of which were from the Pacific Northwest.
Unlike previous years and mostly unrewarded efforts on our part, they seemed to be getting enough water this dry summer.
It has certainly covered the front yard light pole, around which the vines twine themselves. My triglyceride level is still a bit above the “good” range, but much, much lower than it has ever been. Our local forecast has the temperatures dropping off by a few degrees, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s a good thing! I’m also still fidgeting with the “bite release” tension adjustment on my Chamberlain line release trolling devices. Long story short: I made it to the truck, but only after 3 fairly long rest stops on the ramp. I suppose I was driving so carefully and slowly because I didn’t think I would have the energy to make a second attempt.
An hour or so later, I felt up to the job of cleaning the three fish I brought home…two kokanee and one small rainbow. Janet and I had planned to have them for supper this evening, but received an invitation from Brad for dinner out at a Mexican restaurant in Emmet (where Brad lives).
I expect when the weather cools down – as it surely must do soon – we’ll be seeing more itinerant bushy-tails traveling the cedar fencing highways.
In my previous lifetime, you see, I was stationed at the Coast Guard Air Station at Port Angeles…and, along with several others from the base, I spent many off-duty hours at The Little Brick. Since we were fairly close to the front of the line of parked vehicles, we were directed to a spot near the front on the vehicle deck.
I knew that bringing guns (undeclared, especially) into Canada is completely verbotten…and there we were, sitting in a truck sporting the license plate, “BANG,” displaying a couple of NRA decals on the windows, and a “Got Beer” bumper sticker.
I don’t know the population of Victoria, but it must have a lot of people…it certainly has a lot of cars! The charter boat part was a bit more disorganized…certainly on the part of the boat skipper. I told him (when he had asked, beforehand) that we should be able to make the Portland Airport in time, but that it could turn out to be rather a close call. I stopped only twice, resulting in a record low time enroute for this stretch of Interstate 84 that Janet and I have driven on so many occasions. Over the years, Ron and I have come to understand that British Columbia fishermen, including those who run the charter boats, seem to feel the double action reels are for sissies…at least, primarily. In my book, those folks are…well…weak-kneed wimps, more concerned with protecting their delicate complexion than testing their courage and fishing skills against the wily high desert Kokanee. I should, however, “qualify” my enthusiasm by telling you that I’ve only had one opportunity to use the Chamberlain Release Clips, but the truth is both of them worked precisely as advertised…and I have no reason to expect they will work any less proficiently in the years to come.
All the others – caught and uncaught – ran between 13 and 14 inches…a far cry from my outings to Arrowrock Lake earlier in the summer, when virtually all the fish we brought home were 17 inches.
No, no, no…I’m not referring to the anniversary of the atomic bomb being dropped on Hiroshima. I’ve loved Janet for 47 years…and while, realistically, the odds might be stacked a little against it, I’m hoping for yet another 47 years!
He thought about it for a second or two…and then said he would talk to Susan (his wife) about it, just to see what she thought.
Plan “A” was to drive their truck into the alfalfa field behind our lot, remove a panel of our cedar fencing, and take the spa out that way. For one thing, at least two of the old fogey crew would have bailed right after we tipped the tub on edge.
We’ll think of something…hopefully it will be something that spiders don’t care for as much as a hot tub.
I could see right away this was not a playful kind of teasing on the part of the dog…he actually seemed as though he wanted very much to kill the cat. I tried yelling at the first dog, the one that was the immediate threat, and clapping my hands, but I’ll tell you the truth…I felt that the beast had reached an emotional state at which he wanted to maul…something…whether it be cat or human. The melee had moved farther from the maple tree and closer to the front door of the cat’s home. After chatting for a moment or two, and hearing from the lady that she would come and tell Kianna (the cat’s owner) what had happened as soon as Kianna got home, we all left the cat where she was and went inside our respective houses. Ah, well, it should still be August here in Boise, as will certainly be the case in Seattle…where the game will actually be played. Still, I think there is a residual bias on the part of sports bettors, who see the recent success of BSU as a fluke…at least where football is concerned.
I suppose I wouldn’t think so if I didn’t remember (hazily, hazily) it working so quickly the last time. Look it up.) And I certainly have no quarrel with anyone who chooses not to hunt…for any reason.
You know…the kind where they keep ramping up the speed and record the subject’s EKG while they’re doing it. Come a few minutes early and leave a specimen at the lab.” Thankfully, a couple of aspirin had taken care of the fever of the night before, but, even so, I was still quite wobbly on my feet. But though my instant relief didn’t show up, I could tell by evening that the antibiotic was doing something good. Another pill as soon as I got out of bed this morning, but the magic has still not come around. But a new one could always start…and, depending on wind direction, the lake could be blanketed in smoke any one of a dozen already burning.
Then, although the lake area was dead calm as we drove to our spot on the shore, a breeze came up before we got any fishing lines wet and it actually kept the temperature from feeling too hot. If it hadn’t have been for Janet pitching in to bait hooks and whatnot, it’s likely the whole operation would have ground to a halt.
Finally, some of the fruit has been turning red…time to have a few garden-fresh beefsteaks to savor! I do appreciate that Meridian has been spared the nuisance of most of the wildfire smoke this year…perhaps the only community in the state that can make that claim. Then, after I finally accomplished that seemingly impossible task, I realized I didn’t trust myself to stand up and step out of the boat, so I crawled out. I tied a line to the back of the boat and asked her to simply pull on it to keep the stern aligned properly. Carry something from the boat to the truck, rest in the shade for 5 minutes, carry another something from the boat to the truck, rest in the shade for 5 minutes, install the aft safety straps, rest in the shade for 5 minutes…you get the idea.
Looking back on it, I think I had most of the symptoms: Nausea, dizziness, heavy sweating, and almost unbelievable fatigue. After parking, all drivers and passengers had to go to the upper decks for the voyage, allowed back to our rigs only when nearing arrival. The very first question the Customs guy asked me was, “Do you have any firearms with you?” I didn’t, of course, and I said so. I don’t suppose the traffic is any worse than what finds in a large American city…but I’m sure it isn’t any better, either.
As you have no doubt already guessed, the distances on the signs we were seeing were given in kilometers…not miles. I’m not going to go into the details, but with too many of us making phone calls to him, I’m thinking he may have lost track of the fact he was talking to different people in the very same party. And we were catching a variety of fish: pink salmon, Coho, Chinook, dogfish, and ling cod, to be specific. The passage is much less dangerous now, but when the different tidal currents come together there, it is still quite “hairy.” We actually saw more than one whirlpool that could surely have swallowed a man in the water, and probably a small boat, as well.

Happily, the drive from Campbell River went well and we were, once again, near the front of the vehicle waiting line to load on the ferry. The first batch of my Canadian salmon are in the smoker “as we speak.” It was a grand trip.
I’m figuring the drive from Victoria will be a LOT more comfortable – and much less worrisome – than the airplane rides have become. I’ve always tended to use the live well…it is obviously better than letting fish flop all over the boat. When you use one for the very first time, there is a short period of trial and error regarding the two tension adjustments on the device. After the hour had passed, I chose to keep one line in a downrigger and use the lead-core “long line” method on the other side of the boat. You wouldn’t think 3 or 4 inches of length would make that much difference, but trust me, it does. Suffice to say, something just north of 18…since that is the period of time we have lived here in Meridian…and he was a toddler when his family moved in to this development shortly after we did.
Boys go for two years; girls go for 18 months…language school in Provo, Utah, counts towards the obligated time.
I’m guessing that the language he will have to learn is Russian…or something very similar to it. It’s true that visitors are not allowed in the Temples located around the country and around the world.
It was operationally okay, but I convinced myself it would be impossible to move the thing out of our backyard in one piece.
Turns out, Susan thought the price was about right…so we put some more thought into the moving process. That plan, however, was scrubbed when no one was able to get in touch with Gary, the farmer who leases the land, to get permission to drive on his hay crop.
For one thing, they need to get the electrical hookup installed…the tub runs on 220 VAC, so that will make the wiring a bit more complex than it might have been. What it did, instead, was to become the aggressor, hissing, snapping, and trying to reach the dog’s face with its jabbing claws!
Unfortunately, no one was home…the front door – her only safety at that point – remained closed. Why didn’t she run for it when she had the chance?” But yesterday I went over to Kianna’s to ask how the cat was doing, and I discovered that Kianna had noticed nothing unusual about the cat when she had let it inside for the evening. She is either physically unable to move that fast, or – just as likely – she has just reached a point in her life where she refuses to take any more guff from dogs. We designed flyers advertising the community meetings which were posted at public locations in the community.
A flash-in-the-pan, two-bit country college that really can’t consistently challenge a venerated PAC 12 powerhouse like the UNIVERSITY of WASHINGTON!
Let me just say that some of the happiest times of my life have been spent in hunting camp. And, by the way, Drill Instructors in two different military boot camps long ago wore to a frazzle the old saw, “When the going gets tough, the tough get going!” Don’t bother beating me over the head with it at this late date. As it happened, we saw the very beginnings of a fire in the forest as we were driving home. We did our best to sample the wares of all those breweries…but even after taking time out for a sandwich, neither of us could come close to that target. Alas, although most of each tomato looks red and inviting, we discovered each one has some kind of black blight on the bottom.
And by then, the “breeze” had returned as a moderate wind…just in time to make retrieving the boat to its trailer a definite challenge. I was so weak in the pins, I couldn’t stand up…so I simply lay on the dock for a moment or two. That took a few minutes, of course, during which time two additional boats got in line behind mine.
I’m sure that Russ, himself, has gone to his reward – whatever that might have been – but I thought there was a chance the tavern was still there.
There were always one or more vehicles between the Jeep and my truck, and Jason seemed to always sneak through intersections on an orange light, leaving me to wait through a light cycle and having to catch up. This should not have come as a big surprise to us…the very first speed limit sign we saw was in kilometers per hour, as were all the subsequent signs. Captain Fred recalled a time when he inadvertently motored into one of these whirlpools, with the result that everyone on the boat was violently thrown from side of the cabin to the other. Obviously, the wintertime waterfall that comes down the rocks must have caused it, but there is no water involved at this time of year.
The nickname for the single action type of reel is, “knuckle buster.” And, as you might surmise, there is a good reason for calling it that.
But, I’ve learned that it’s not such a good idea to keep Kokanee (or even Rainbow trout, for that matter) in the live well…especially on a hot day. One adjustment adjusts the tension required to “release” the line retainer clip when a fish strikes; the other adjustment (not as “fine”) sets the tension necessary to allow the fisherman, himself, to pull the line free of the downrigger.
I let that line out to where I figured I was fishing at approximately 25 feet below the surface.
Henrik, himself, although still no older than 21, I learned is officially an “elder” in the church.
Indeed, I figured that ultimately I would have to cut it into smaller chunks with a chain saw. Plan “B” was to remove a different panel of our cedar fence, somewhere between us and our next-door neighbor to the north, and take the spa through her yard…just because her fence gate was wider. Because there was a thriving community – quite a large one, too – of Black Widow spiders living under the damn thing, and half the guys who have made to “Old Fogey” status know better than to have anything to do with Black Widows.
In fact, we’re grilling a chicken for supper tonight, and as I was wheeling the barbecue into position, I got a tiny sliver in one of my fingers. So, most of the money gets laid on the purple, forcing the bookies to give points to the “underdog” so the betting action will be more even. While such weather would constitute the best of news for firefighters, it could seriously damp-en fishing plans. The lamp under the morning glory mountain is on a light-sensitive circuit, designed to come on at dusk and stay burning until dawn.
The Treasure Valley has had a number of small wildfires, recently, but all have been short lived, thanks to the rapid response of local fire stations.
I am, nonetheless, still happy with the Chamberlains…once I get this adjustment pinpointed, they are going to work absolutely perfectly.
Believe me, I could have lain there for a very long time, but I was “plugging up” the primary boat retrieval lane and I knew that in a short time there would probably be several boats waiting their turn behind me. Not much thought required for the answer to that question…I’ll vacuum pack the fillets and freeze them for another day.
We even found a moderately up-scale pub that I thought might have been built around the original Little Brick floor plan, but all the employees said, “No.” I’m sure they were correct, although none of them appeared to be nearly old enough to remember as far back as it would have happened. That routine continued almost the entire distance to Campbell River, but, thankfully, after leaving the suburbs of Victoria we usually had no trouble catching again. Even better, when we did hook up at the marina on Friday morning, Fred, the skipper, turned out to be a heck of a nice guy, and his boat was pretty much perfect. A couple of decent Coho had to be thrown back because they were “wild,” or “native” fish in an area where only hatchery Coho could be kept.
Since then, he has been more careful about where he was headed whenever moving through that stretch of water.
If you look closely enough at the actual thing, you can eventually determine this lack of water to be true; but in a picture, it is difficult to believe. I can tell you for sure that once you’ve had a momentary lapse of attention while a salmon is pulling line from your reel and, as a result, place a finger, a knuckle, or an entire hand within the orbit of the spinning reel handle, you will never forget why the reel got the nickname. This behavior does not simply have to do with the fish’s comfort; many salmon species begin dying off when the water they are swimming in gets warmer than 68 degrees F. But what makes the Chamberlain devices so much better than the standard “pinch clips” is that the tension adjustments don’t require constant re-setting. I caught and landed 4 more Kokes, caught and lost three, and had half a dozen or more “strikes,” all on the long line. Henrik will be doing mission-related work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, except for a six-hour period once a week when he is allowed to do laundry, write a letter home, and other necessities that may arise. In fact, I felt a bit self-conscious about the striped tan shirt I was wearing, after I became aware of all the white shirts.) And when I say, “…all the men,” I mean all the males over, say, 11 or 12 years old.
It is public speaking, after all, a thing that is scarier than death in the minds of most people.
That often happens for a relatively short period of time after a new Temple has been built, or remodeled. That plan was scrubbed, too, when Chad and his crew measured our backyard gate more carefully and decided they could get the tub through the opening. A couple of the young guys on Chad’s crew had fun simply snapping the spiders off the tub with their fingers, but what they didn’t realize was that they were simply turning those bugs into eight-legged paratroopers. She was a female who had made up her mind to teach this bully of a dog a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget!
By that time, the dog’s owner followed the animals into the corner and was whipping the dogs with a short rope, something which I assumed she had unsuccessfully tried to use as a leash. There was no blood…nothing on the cat’s part to indicate that it was hurting, or afraid, or anything.
At that point, it was small enough that only one helicopter was working it, carrying water from the North Fork of the Payette River to dump in the woods. Now, of course, it never turns off…the switch, completely covered by greenery, sees the world in perpetual darkness. On my way to Lucky Peak Lake yesterday I passed one blackened area of about a thousand acres on the western slope of Highland Valley Pass (3,782 feet)…definitely a “smaller” fire compared to the multi-square-mile conflagrations around the west in recent years.
By the way, in the photo the kokanee fillets are on the ends…the two rainbow fillets are in the middle.
Customs people (and law enforcement people) are trained, I’m told, to watch for that as being suspicious behavior. At thirty-five feet long it was very stable; the main cabin was quite large, with three cushioned bench seats on one side (two of them with a table between), and a stove, refrigerator, sink, and countertop on the other.
The ling cod was too small by a couple of inches, as were a few other Chinook we hooked up. A small pod of Orca (killer whales) showed up in the area, and I’m sure their visit did not serve to make the fishing better. Thanks to my friends, Ron, Steve, and Jason (some of whom happen to be relatives, as well) for making it a fun, fun time. The water being circulated in the tank is, after all, being pumped in from the very surface of the lake…the Kokanee swimming in ever-warmer water will begin dying in a relatively short time. After getting the one downrigger set the way I wanted, I used the same settings on the second…and never messed with either one again all day. He will be allowed to telephone home twice each year; I believe Christmas is one of the days, but am not sure of the other.
There are other terms and titles, of course, but I have no clue as to how one becomes, for example, a priest, or a bishop.
I’m not sure how I could have made such a mistake in measuring…perhaps I measured the height of the tub with the cover still in place…I don’t know.
We couldn’t see actual flames from the highway…just smoke climbing skyward from the trees about halfway up the slope on the west side of the road. The picture does not show the difference in the color of the meat as well as it should; in person, it is quite striking, with the kokanee in bright orange and the trout more light pink.
I haven’t been to many other church services over the past fifty years, but on those rare occasions when I have attended, I remember being mildly surprised at how “casual” many individuals within the congregation were dressed. And while I’m at it, I may as well confess that I have virtually no clue as to Mormon theology. Old guys – with the wisdom of accumulated years guiding their actions – would have done the smart thing and smashed those suckers flat! We’ve only had a few fruits ripen, so far, but it appears that every one is going to develop that nasty-looking black bottom. The guys used a piano dolly on which to position the tub, and they laid plywood sheets along the route they would take to push the load. I think so.) The softer flesh makes it more difficult to filet the fish, and even after it is cooked (or smoked) the softer texture is kind of off-putting. What I do know is that I have met precious few Mormons, indeed, who were anything less than very nice, hard-working people.
Only four sheets…as they progressed, they kept picking up the sheets they had already gone over and placed them in the path ahead.
Unless I’m badly mistaken, female Black Widow spiders kill their own mates…I’m sure they don’t like humans any better!

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