Welcome, ven a gozar!

The start of day two is a good one except it it obvious that the warm days of New Mexico are behind. I find a restaurant that has a good breakfast deal. Sitting down at the table the cool breeze from the air conditioner is a little to cool for me. About ten minutes later, I ask if I can move to another location, one that does not seem to be under the refrigerator door. The waitress taking care of us tells me that is fine with her. It seems that refrigerated air is big at this place, and there is no place that is not cold to me, so I settle into the table I am at.

The weather did not look that good and looks were not deceiving. About forty minutes into the morning drive it started raining and did not stop for over three hours. At some points I was down to forty miles and hour, because the rain was so hard it was difficult to see the road. The rain stopped almost as fast as it started but the sky remained overcast for a big part of the day. The rest of the dirve was pretty uneventful, and I ended the days drive in some little town on mid Iowa after swerving to miss what was left of deer on the highway. Deer and vehicles travelling at high speeds do not mix well.

I enjoy watching the lanscape and the slowly change from sand, rock, and cactus to rich soft earth, rolling hills, fields of wheat and corn. When travelling from the southern end of the US north the people also change. The Hispanic and Indian peoples become fewer and fewer and the remaining people become taller. Once the halfway point is crossed some women are as tall or taller the the average male in New Mexico.

The food also changes, New Mexican cooking now becomes something that looks like Mexican cooking, but tastes like something not quite Mexican cooking. Not that it is bad, just different. The staple foods become more English looking in nature, spiced with an occasional dish from Germany, Poland, or a dish from the Nordic countries. I am guessing because the weather is colder in the winter and more humid, Mexican cooking is not as good a choice for meals as what is served. I know I am going to start wanting hot food and not be able to find it.

Being in the center of Iowa the damage from the flooding is not as apparent as it is on CNN, but there are still signs of too much rain. Some of the fields are soggy and lay barren, other fields have wide shallow ponds in them that will eventually become muddy spots. I do not think we in the rest of the country will notice the effects of the flooding until this fall, but even from a roadside tour in the middle of the state it is obvious the harvest will not be what it normally is. We won’t notice the shortage too much because the increased cost will probably be blended with increasing gas prices, but third world countries will certainly notice there is less food to go around.

I always appreciate just how big our country is when I travel. Even though most of us are homoginized by chain stores, we all have a unique perspective on what we need for our country depending on where we live. I live in a large city in the south and my views are a lot different than a farmer living two miles from his neighbor in the midwest. I am sure their views are split up again depending on what they are growing and what price the crop is bringing. On the coastal cities the views are flavored by the ocean industries. Somehow we manage to pass laws and do things that either make us all unhappy together or marginally satisfied.

Lunch and dinner were prety uneventful, but filling. I spent the night in one non-descript hotel that had seen it best days in the sixties. The room was spotless and the price was right. Once the lights are out, I sleep as well as I would in a three hundred dollar a night suite. In the morning, the showers are always hot and and the towels soft and clean. I didn not see a continental breakfast, but for the price difference I can live without it.

Day two ended on a tired note. After the second day of driving, I am tired but not sleepy. It is times like these I really appreciate long haul truck drivers. I have had a few friends who used to drive for a living and said they loved it. I find the thought of knowing how many minutes to a destination hundreds of miles away from whatever bush is in view a little on the boring side. To each his own, although I always have a fondess for truck drivers, as they are the lifeline of our country.

I was on the road today, travelling from Albuquerque en-route to Minnesota. I am on a vacation of sorts, and going to Minnesota to visit family. The weather was good today and the drive has been enjoyable. There are four of us going, and one of us is a four year old. I find the idea of long trip, four year old in a car, and enjoyable in one thought very interesting. I had some concerns that having a four year old strapped into a car seat in a car, travelling down the highway for many hours was not going to be one of the best of times.

Fortunately as I said today has been very enjoyable. We stopped for a lunch of sorts in a small town, Hooker, Kansas. They have a very pretty park with picnic tables, shrubbery, and trees. We found one table bathed in shade. Lunch was nothing special, just some lunch meat, cheese, and bread, and a glass of water. But the little park was comfortable, perfect for a travellers lunch, and a few minutes of sitting still. I have enjoyed many little parks in many towns, but Hooker has an especially nice park, and they must be very proud of it.

We are spending the night in Pratt Kansas, as Pratt is where we ended up when everyone was getting both hungry and tired. After eating, a shower, and a cup of coffee, I wanted to go out for a walk. Pratt being a small town has not invested a lot of money in side walks. At least on the Highway 54 portion of town, but never the less, there was grass going freely along the road, and it has been a long time since I have had the luxury of actually walking more than a few feet on a thick carpet of soft grass.

I walked to the local Walmart, which was my third trip of the evening…. Such is life on the road. When you stop for the first night, you discover those things that did not get packed which are needed. Of course it would be much to easy to discover them all at once. It is more exciting when you are tired and just want to relax for a bit. So I decided to walk to the Walmart, as I needed some exercise after sitting in a truck all day, and the evening weather was pleasant.

I walked back to the room from Walmart, dropped off the final purchases, and walked the other direction for about a half mile. I came across an interesting memorial park alongside the road. It had nine flags in a row, and a tenth flag facing the nine. There was also a small replica of the Statue Of Liberty, placed there by a Boy Scout Troop many years ago, and a park bench dedicated to a couple, which provided a nice spot to sit and enjoy the quiet for a few minutes.

A little farther away from the street was a fountain splashing away. I walked over to the fountain planning on sitting down and watching and listening to the splashing, but there was no bench. So I stood there in the dark for a few minutes and listened to the water hitting the cobble stone bricks. I walked back along the row of flags, and headed back down to the room for the night.

In the mean time, the weather was changing quite quickly. It had been windy all day with clear skies, but when I looked up, most of the sky was black and there were rumbles of thunder some miles away. It is now about three hours later and the storm never made it here, at least not yet. I hope a storm of some type arrives tonight as it has been a long time since I have lain in bed and listened to a thunder storm. I find it enjoyable, perhaps others do not.

It is back on the road in the morning at a yet undetermined time. I know we can not make it to Minnesota tomorrow, so there is no need to be on the road at the crack of dawn. Plus because there are four of us, and not just myself, getting started in the morning takes a little longer than if it were just myself. It is now about eleven at night and I am starting to feel the weight of the day, so it is a good time to say goodnight.

I went to an organized church function on Saturday. It was disconcerting attending a function that they has changed little over the years. I imagine it is the same with all organized religious services, but maybe not, as I have not experienced that many different religious services. This particular one was only different in the level of the priest(s) conducting the event.

They spent many minutes telling us - the audience - how great they were, and what they had been doing the last month or so. One of the two shared that he had been in the Pope’s presence earlier in the week celebrating a mass. While it is all good and wonderful that they were having such wonderful things happening in their lives, I thought the news could have been saved for a different time. For some of the people attending the event, I am sure the only vacations they have ever enjoyed were the summer break of their school years when they were too young to work.

The bragging portion of the event finished reminding everyone that the event was not a formal service and they were not excused from their obligation of attending service on Sunday, such as they are directed by the Church. I found it interesting that they did not feel the same restraint when it came to passing the hat for collecting money during the initiation. It also was not a substitute for the Sunday collection. As the basket came by me, I wondered, if I were a member of the church, would the leaders be hurt if I just donated an amount twice as large today and skipped showing up tomorrow? It always seemed that money is the main point of some church services.

The people for whom the service was being held ranged in age from teenagers to gray haired adults. While these people were being celebrated, they were also being admonished. They were reminded many of the do nots that every parent tries to ingrain into their children as they grow up. I thought the chastising was a little late in time, not to mention the months worth of classes they went through to get to that point.

The high point for me was listening to a three year old girl talking to her best friend a few seats away. She had a lot more important ideas to share than the droning coming over the speaker system. She informed her friend that when she was a baby she lived inside her mother’s body. Now that she is not a baby any longer she lives with her mother but not by choice. That in itself I thought was quite a revelation for a three year old, but there was more important information she needed to share still coming.

The little girl prattled on as an self proclaimed expert in many subjects that most three year olds have little awareness of. At one point she notified her friend that she lived with her mother for reasons other than she was birthed by her. She told her friend that she was born by her mother because that was the only way she could be with her sister who arrived before her. She loved her sister and did not like being separated. She then said that if it was not for her sister she did not know if she would have been born by her mother. I am sure that comment made Mom feel a little dejected.

For my part I suppose I did not add much to the service, as I spent the better part of an hour with one ear listing to the droning, and a more attentive ear listening to a three year old talk about love, and life both here and before. I thought it was a sad state for the celebration, or perhaps a sad state for myself when a three year old captured my attention over the service. I doubt my absence was noticed by anyone as they were trying hard to pretend the droning litany was a new revelation which they never contemplated before.

I always find young children’s thoughts fascinating. They talk about things when asked the right questions with such authority that sometimes I wonder how little water they drank at the river Plato wrote about. Of course just like the rest of us, a few years later if they were to be asked the same questions they would look up with a clueless expression and say they don’t know anything about that.

It is another full moon tonight! When I lived in Minnesota, I loved full moons in the winter months. The moon would be so huge, it always seemed bigger in the winter months for some reason. Maybe because the air was so clear the moon just sort of take s over the sky. Of course there would be snow on the ground. After ten o’clock or so I could go outside and it would be light enough it seemed like a strange day time, instead of night.

We used to do a lot of playing outside on full moon nights. In the winter it would be bright enough to sled, or ski, if what we did could be called skiing. In the summer full moon nights were good nights to play hide go seek as it was dark, but it was still light enough you were able to see so you didn’t hurt yourself running into anything.

When I was in the Air Force, I spent some years as a Security Policeman. Security Police are the Army of the Air Force. It was our job to protect aircraft and other important resources. At the base I was stationed at we had a munitions storage area we were charged with protecting. It was a lot of semi-earthed over buildings with something in them. There would be one man assigned to that area at night. He would be called every so often by radio to ensure all was well.

There were about forty men on my flight and most of us would take turns guarding the munitions area. Except the guys that were scared of the Viking Ghost. They were never sent in there at night because they were too scared to walk around in the darkness and ensure everything was at it should be. I was told he was very big, a little over six feet and he carried a sword and shield and wore a helmut with horns on it.

I never saw the Viking Ghost when I was assigned there, but about six of the forty guys had, or claimed to have seen the ghost and would not work there. I always found the idea kind of funny though. Here is a highly trained man with an M16 rifle, over one hundred rounds of ammunition, flak jacket, helmut, and who knows what else, and they were scared of a ghost! I could understand their fear if they were unarmed, without any communication, and all alone, but help was on a few seconds away if it were ever needed.

One night a man named Fox and myself were assigned together in an area. I had found a book in the library about demonic possession. After I read it and scared the heck out of myself, I told Fox about it. Fox was also a reader, so I hoped he would read it. So there we were on a full moon night talking about this book, and watching our area. As we discussed the book I could tell we were both getting a little nervous as we stared out the truck windshield into the night.

About twenty minutes into the conversation I looked at Fox, and he looked at me. The way the moon was lighting his face made him look surreal. He thought the same thing, because in an instant we were both out of the truck an standing on the ground staring at each other. After we reassured each other we weren’t possessed, and were normal, we got back into the truck and found something else to talk about. That conversation held in the daytime would have amounted to nothing.

When I did not live in rattlesnake country, I used to enjoy walking in the woods during full moons on well known paths. It was always peaceful, and sometimes I would get to see animals I do not normally see like Raccoons and Skunks. The Skunks at least always look real friendly, but the idea of them carrying rabies was enough for me to keep my distance. In all those decades of walking at night, I have never come across anything that was not made of flesh and blood. On most nights, walking on a full moon away from a city is very peaceful and relaxing. Cities are a little different of course….

I went to a drive through for breakfast this morning. The bill was $3.20. I had a five so I handed it to the young woman working the window and told her to keep the change, she did. This young woman and I had differing ideas on what change was. My idea of change was literal, and her idea of change was figurative. I do not know if for the young woman, a $1.80 tip is the norm for a $3.20 bill, or her command of the meaning of everyday words is not that strong. I let it slide, and I let her keep all the change plus a dollar bill. There is a reason why these types of jobs exist, and I know how hard life is hard on a paycheck like that, even if there is another paycheck to help out.

I spent my morning reminding myself the next time I go through the drive through, and that particular young woman is at the window, to be very clear about what portion of my ‘change’ is to be hers. While this thought was floating through the back of my mind, I thought about how silly I was being over the whole thing. I could have asked for the dollar bill and explained a paper bill was not change. My other option was just what I did. In general, a dollar bill is not going to have a big impact in my finances, but it may mean much more to her.

Lunch rolled around and I went to a burger place. Yes, I live high on the hog, at least I ate sitting in a building for lunch. I did not feel like fries, so I set them to the side to give to the birds later. I ate my burger, and I drank my soda listening to the hum of conversation around me.

There is a gas station right next door with fairly good coffee. For me lunch is not complete without a cup of coffee. I fixed myself a cup of coffee and there were those packets of tasty cookies right next to the coffee. One of the brands I like the taste of. The man behind the counter says what is going on? I wasn’t sure he was speaking to me, so I did not answer. He walked out from the counter as I walked up to the counter, and asked if that was all I wanted today? I said yes, just a cup of coffee and the cookies ($1.96).

The Man said it as on the house. I asked if he was sure, and he said yes, he can do that now and then. Besides he added, the coffee was getting old anyway. I saw the last drips of the coffee being made as it dropped into the pot I poured from, so I knew it was not old coffee. I thanked him, meaning every word of the, “Thank you”. He said to me, “God bless you”, and I said, “You too”.

As I was walking out of the store to my truck, I thought once again of the young woman at the drive in window. I really am blessed I thought, and today my generosity combined with her play on words, that I was paid back. Somehow things like this always work in my favor, but today I felt a little guilty because I know without a doubt the morning mix up was half my fault, and here I was being repaid at a gas station five hours later.

Little things like this happen all the time in my life over the last years. I have found the more I pay attention and the more grateful I am when they happen, they seem to happen more often and become more obvious. I can’t really say they never happened before to me. They may have happened and I was just to wrapped up in my own little world, to notice how magical daily life really is!

I was discussing charity with a friend the other day, and I have to admit he was rather puzzled by my charitable actions this week as I talked about them. The conversation started innocently enough about some little thing, and eventually led to charity. I am a great believer in intelligently sharing some of what I have with others who are not so lucky. I am lucky enough to know that I am where I am, and the people I give money too are is by a difference of a few critical choices in our separate lives.

Those people I give money to made some choices in their life, that either I was not required to make the choices they did, or I made a different better choice than they did. I would like at times to think I made better choices, but I do not know that is a true statement. I think it is closer to truth to say I chose not to go as deeply into the results of bad choices I may have made in my life as others, now less fortunate did.

I was leaving a museum a few weeks ago, and there was a man panhandling as people were walking to their cars. He asked me for any change I might have. I looked into my wallet and I had two bills, a five and a one dollar bill. Neither was change, but I recognized the shake in his hands, and I pulled out the five and gave it to him. He mumbled a quick thank you, and lurched and trembled off to get his bottle of salvation.

Yesterday I was leaving a Borgstore parking lot, and there at the parking lot exit sat an old woman in a wheel chair pulled onto the medium ’selling’ paper flowers for a dollar each. To make her lot in life worse, she was missing one leg at the knee. Her clothes were not warm enough for the weather. I drove right past her to the frustration of a passenger in my truck. I did not give her a single penny, or even trade a dollar for a paper flower.

It did not seem out of the ordinary for me, but the person with me could not believe I didn’t give the old woman some money! There she was begging in the middle of the street on a cold and windy day, and I drove right past. I mentioned I had given five bucks to a wino last week at a park. It made perfect sense to me, why I acted the way I did, and I started to explain my thinking.

The Wino at the park could be me except for a few better made choices on my part, and luck. He probably had a shelter he could eat at, and a place to sleep. He would never be able to hold a job, nor will he quit drinking until he is dead, or committed to a place he can no longer drink. To not give him a little money when I had extra would be cruel to my thinking. He needed money to drink, and all he could do was beg for money to drink with.

The Woman in a wheelchair with one leg missing was better off by far. She could not have put herself on the medium because she was too old, and with only one leg it would have been impossible to do by herself. Her clothing was not old or dirty, and I thought she was not dressed correctly for the weather by choice. Her wheel chair was fairly new, well made, and of good quality. Someone had posed her in place there on the medium. Of the five or six cars in front of me who all gave her paper money, she gave a flower to only one, but she took money from all of them.

In my view of both situations, the Woman in the wheel chair was able to earn an income from doing something other than blatantly begging for money. The Wino on the other hand was in pain from lack of alcohol, and was reduced to begging to get money for what his body craved. One person was physically sick, and the other was only handicapped. One person was a beggar and the other had found an easy way to make a good living with little effort. My choices made perfect sense to me. The Man needed and the woman wanted. 

I was thinking today about all the advice I have received and not followed since I was a child. It seems there are well meaning people everywhere who are more than willing to help me run my life. Some people are very good at giving advice, but I have preferred to do what I think is right for me, rather than what someone else may think is right. I can not say my way has worked out the best or been the smoothest ride, but for me it was the best way.

I quit giving advice many years ago, or at least I think I have. Sometimes, I wonder if I am getting lost in semantics, or I really quit giving advice. When someone asks for advice, a conversation turns from being on the same level whatever level that was to a parent to child conversation. I dislike parent to child conversation because I do not think they are conductive conversations even when I may be talking with a child. I like to keep a conversation with both parties on the same level that way we are equals discussing the possibilities.

I prefer to think that I now give suggestions and examples instead of advice. Suggestions and examples are explorable, where advice is like a pressed caplet; it is an all or nothing proposition. Also if I give examples or suggestions, there leaves options to explore and modify according to a particular circumstance, rather than the other person assuming I am intimately knowledgeable of their particular circumstance.

If I simply give advice, the things that become of it are usually not good. Someone follows my advice and it made things worse. Someone followed only parts of my advice and it made things worse, or someone only heard part of what I said and trying it made things worse. The times my advice has worked have been fewer than I am comfortable with, not because the advice was bad, but because the listener was not active in the conversation.

These days in most circumstances, I want to hear all about the problem and then offer suggestions based on my life experiences. The receiver in the conversation can then ask for clarification, and back up plans can be formed if all does not go as planned. Of course I like to throw in a disclaimer of my own, mentioning that whatever I use as an example worked for me, and it may not work for someone else.

Of course the worst thing about giving advice is in a situation where advice was given and not followed. It used to make me wonder why I bothered to start with. I know now these are usually people who collect opinions, and then when the scale tips far enough in a direction that is what they do, and it had little to do with the advice given.

Suggesting allows me to know the person asking understands what I am suggesting. Usually when people want advice, they are in an area of life that they are not comfortable navigating. Offering suggestions allows me a chance to ask questions to ensure they understand the general flow of what I have said. I also offer that the person try out my suggestion on something not important, to make sure they understand completely. There is nothing worse than following someone’s advice, getting most of the way through, and realizing you have no clue what to do next. Practice makes perfect in this instance. 

I was once a help line worker in a small town many years ago. One piece of advice I was given was: When I did not know what to reply to something said on the phone to me, that agreeing with the person was usually the best practice. One night as I slept the phone rang. I answered it half asleep. A person told me they had a gun to their head and they were going to pull the trigger. As most of the calls were about boyfriends and sexual disease, I was totally unprepared for a call like this. Not knowing what to do I used the first piece of advice I remembered when dealing with a tough phone call. I agreed, and said to the caller they should pull the trigger, I said, “Go ahead”. This was not one of the finest pieces of advice ever given under the circumstances.

When I think of all the friends I have had over the years, it is amazing to me. So many people who took the time to come into my life, and share their life with me. I like to think they all had gifts they shared with me and I learned something from all of them. Some of what I have learned is wonderful, and some of it was painful. I hope I was able to show them something of value to their life too.

What is a puzzle to me is the number of people who offered to enter into my life as friends, and I turned them down. Sometimes, it was nothing more than I was busy doing something I knew they did not enjoy, so we never took our possible friendship any further. I know they had their gifts to bring into the friendship, but I will never know what they were.

When I was first out of high school, and at college, I found myself a little short on friends. I took the initiative to go out and make some friends. One of the first things I did was say yes when someone invited me to a weekly bible study. I did not know how most people would think about bible study, but I looked at it with suspicion. I had read the bible completely cover to cover once by that time; but what I read was nothing like the AM radio preachers would rant and rave about late on night AM radio. So I saw bible study the same way…with suspicion.

I wanted friends though, and here was a chance to become better friends with the person that invited me, and the others that would be there. There was just one thing that was a problem for bible study. I did not have a bible with me at college. Why let a little thing like that stop me, I thought, so I went to the next weekly bible study. There were about fifteen of us there, and it was more like a wake than a bible study group. And me, the only person present without a bible. The leader made it simple for my benefit. He would call out the chapter and verse, and then read the passage for my benefit. Then he would ask what that portion was in reference too, and the circumstance around it.

The next week’s study group were rather odd I thought. A question would be raised, I would raise my hand, and answer. Silence would follow as everyone else looked down at the pages on their desks. I went a third time, deciding I was hogging the floor, I made a conscious effort to not answer any questions the leader asked. No one else answered any questions either. I did not go after that, although my new friend came by, and asked me why. I told him, that I did not see the point in my going, I was the only person there without a bible, and I was the only person answering any questions.

The bible study broke up a few weeks after that, the participants said they were there to learn, and they didn’t have any opinions on the various parts of the bible discussed. They thought I was an expert, and they were listening to my version of things. I had thought the purpose all along was discussion, but it did not seem right, me doing most of the talking without a bible to read from.

Thinking back on those study group meetings, it was meant for me to be there, and lead the conversation. None of the people there had much if any religious upbringing, and everything was new to them. They did not feel comfortable discussing thoughts with someone who did not even have a bible in front of them. It did not matter that I had no bible. It did not really matter that I was working from memory, and my own perspective of what was written. What I did do was provide a glue that kept the group together, that was my purpose of being there. And I thought I was looking for friendship.

A number of years ago I was fortunate enough to find myself in a small town in England. What a sense of history! I travelled around as much as was practical, and I had many unusual experiences.
Some I have had other places here in the US, but this one has only happened in England. I was telling some friends about it, and they thought it would make a great blog post? I have my doubts, but then thought, why not? So here is a short version. Enjoy, and do not let it scare you if things like this normally do scare you, as I am still here to talk about it.

I was with two other people (1981), and we were walking across the Green (a town square, sort of) on a path that met with another path in the middle of the Green at right angles. Think of two sidewalks crossing each other like streets do. There was a woman with a child of two or three years of age to our left, walking to my right. On our right were two teenage Girls of about fifteen, or sixteen years old walking from the right, laughing and giggling as Girls do. At this moment we were all about twenty-five feet apart walking towards the intersection.

In mid-stride, the two teenage ‘Girls’ appearance changes to something almost exactly what Dean Koontz describes in Odd Thomas. Between lifting one foot up and placing it down they changed from Girls into emaciated Werewolf like creatures. I could see no teeth, or claws, but their body structure was changed into that of a large dog walking, and their red eyes were glowing. They walked, and looked like a very large dog would on its hind legs. Even their appearance is hard to detail well. They kind of blurred into brown fuzz at the edges and center of their beings. They walked two to three steps in this Werewolf form, and just as suddenly, within a step, they turned back into normal teenage Girls.

When the ‘Girl’s’ changed appearance into this other state, the child of the Woman on our left started to run towards the ‘Girls’, calling out something. The Child’s Mother with a terrified look, ran forward, and roughly grabbed her daughter by the arm and yanked. She swung her daughter about three feet into the air, and walked a wide detour around the Girls, staring at them in fright, or downright fear, or maybe both as she did. I had no doubt that the woman at least saw these two Girls change into whatever they were/are, and then change back into girls again in the space of three steps. The woman’s daughter also saw them change be her reaction, but it may be she saw something other than we did, as she ran towards them.

Of course I saw this happen, and when I looked at the person with me, they also saw something from the shocked look on their face. When I asked after the Girls passed on the path, I heard a description of exactly what I saw happen, the Girl’s changed into something that looked like Werewolves for about three steps, and then changed back into young girls.

I filed this experience away as one of those things - not knowing any different at the time. By this time in my life seeing strange things for me, was not all that strange anymore. Then this last summer (2004) when I was reading Dean Koontz - Odd Thomas, the memory of that day came back when Koontz gave described his creatures in the book.

I can only surmise either Dean Koontz has seen these beings, read of them, or it is only a coincidence they ended up in his book? If you have experienced anything like this, I would like to read about it? Please leave a reply, or send me an email. Me email address in my about page.

As a kid in the sixties, I sold chocolate thin mints each winter to go to a YMCA Camp each summer. Once I reached a certain age, I was able to go on a canoe trip up to the Minnesota Boundary Waters Canoe Area for a ten day trip. One year was especially memorable thanks to the other boys I was with.

There were two boys from Sweden along for this trip, and I was lucky enough to share a tent and a canoe with them for the trip. They spoke acceptable english. The only Swedish I knew was a few words that my family used, and they were not words that would help on the trip, so I left them home.

Freeze dried food was recently affordable, so that is what we ate for most of the trip. Freeze dried eggs, freeze dried something made with beef heart for dinner. Lunch time was unique though. After paddling a canoe all morning on that wonderful meal of freeze dried eggs, and water, lunch was a veritable feast!

Lunch was four pieces of Rye Crisp, which are small crackers made out of rye flour. One those four pieces of Rye Crisp was the treat for the day. One piece had peanut butter, a second piece had jelly, and the other two pieces had a slice Spam between them. This came with a glass of Kool Aid to drink! By the third day we all felt like kings, eating such a great lunch!

The way to get around the BWCA, is you paddle your canoe from an entry spot to an exit called a portage which went to another lake or river. The portages were not fun. It meant carrying a seventy pound canoe, a back pack almost as heavy, or the paddles and life preservers, and anything else that needed carrying. This was carried through the woods and swarms of starving mosquitoes, and deer flies. By the third day, you rarely noticed the bug any longer because you were bitten so many times already, a few more bites did not matter.

There were another type of portage we came across too. This portage was unique to the rivers we would travel on. Paddling down a river we would see a posted sign that would read, ‘Dangerous Water Use Portage’. That sign meant what it said, usually some very rough water that a canoe was not built for. Generally these signs meant we would pull in, unpack, haul everything around the rapids, put the canoe back in the water, repack, and continue.

We started to notice that some of the rapids, were not so dangerous that they could not be navigated, especially by ‘professionals’ such as ourselves. Being kids, and having no leaders present to make decisions for us, we saw others in our group who paddled down the rapids instead of portaging around. We talked it over, and decided that if they could do it, we could too.

One afternoon, I was the bow paddler, one boy who was duffer (in the middle, enjoying the ride), and a boy named Jon Sebinas was in the back paddling, and steering for us. We were on a river and had ran some portage sign rapids. We were doing well, and had not bothered to portage. We were discussing perhaps they were feeling extra cautious on this river when they put up the signs because the rapids were not that bad.

We went around a bend, and there was a portage sign. We could not see anything, and Jon stood up in the back of the canoe, and said to us, “Oh ya, ve can make it.” It looked fast but simple from my bow view, and the duffer agreed too. The water moved faster, and there were boulders to miss as we shot down the river, but it was fairly easy. Then I noticed the river sort of disappeared about fifty yards ahead. Waterfall! It was a painful drop, and we spent the next few nights sleeping in wet sleeping bags.

Over the years, I use that day, and result as a decision helper in my life. Oh ya, ve can make it, rings through my head on many occasions when I find I am feeling nervous.