Home is Where we Hook-up

I’m not going to bother being hard on myself for not being a better blogger. I’m just going to get back at it, pick up where I left off – all that good stuff.

At one point I was going to share with all of you our fun trip to Mesquite, NV for a Valentine’s Day getaway. I’d gotten a deal for two free nights stay at the CasaBlanca Resort, about an hour away from Vegas. For some reason I thought I was going to get a jump start on my tan, this turned out not to be the case. Look closely, you’ll see the rain droplets.

We ate and gambled our way through our two day getaway – and though it turned out to be anything but “free” we had some laughs – that’s what we’re about 🙂 Returning home in the afternoon of Valentine’s Day, we got ready for an evening out at the MGM Grand to see the Cirque Du Soleil show – KA. Outstanding production. There were two “conditions” I put out for our stay in Las Vegas this year.

• One – I want to see a Cirque Show
• Two – get me outta here before May.

Keith upheld his end of the bargin on both of those things. The next thing I intended to write about was the trip we took two weeks later – a 10-day trip to Orlando, FL. Business meeting pleasure, it’s hard to beat! Keith attended the annual helicopter convention, and then we hit the water & theme parks. Our webshots album has some fun photos of DisneyWorld and Epcot. I finally got to work on my tan, whooooray! Lucky dog Zoester got to stay with Grandma while we were away, and I could completely enjoy myself without worry. There will be more dog-sitting in mom’s future, I’m glad it worked out so well for that week.

So, where are we now?

Camping in an RV park along the Rogue River in Medford, OR. We’ve been here for a week, and are now paying for space on a day to day basis until we find out where we are off to next and when and for how long. There is lots of speculation and talk, most of it involving our heading to Greece in May – I’m excited but I won’t pack anything until I have plane tickets. Next week will be interesting, I will do better to keep you all posted.

Hope everyone is having a great April so far, keep in touch 🙂

That’s it, the peak with the stone cabin on top (I looked for a link about Muir Cabin to insert – would you believe the only one I found was from the Alaskan Naturalist group and included a picture of a nudist standing to the side???? I decided against it).

Keith had to go to Fresno on Tuesday and trade the Long Ranger for the Jet Ranger, we had a wonderful day flying there and back. Truly a breath-taking view coming over the top of Mt. Whitney. We flew over Scotty’s Castle in Death Valley in the morning,

and made a quick stop in the morning for coffee with my mom at the Bishop airport. Here’s an aerial of the Owens Valley, or as I call it, Home Sweet Home.

We’ll be posting some of the nearly 300 pictures I took on this 5 hour round-trip flight on the Webshots – keep an eye out for those updates (Loving the new camera!)

I just have to give a shout out to my good friend Julie – warmest Congratulations to you and Rob on your perfectly beautiful baby girl, Avery Lynn……I told you I knew it was a girl, didn’t I? I’m thrilled for you and your family.

pricelesjuls

In the last days of August 2005 a local firebug was keeping me busy in the evenings after my regular work day had ended. Paula and I were sitting down to a late night supper, checking the news to see “you know who” fly on the latest fire, when the initial Katrina weather alerts began to filter in. I was up at two a.m. watching the news on the night Katrina slammed into the Gulf Coast. When I returned to bed I said to Paula, “This is going to be bad.”

Although Louisiana has more helicopters than any other state it looked like they were going to need a few hundred more, from somewhere. I know Washington State is a long way away from Louisiana and I knew there was no National Disaster Plan that actually coordinated efforts but we had to get involved. I called the Federal Government’s Interagency Centre in Boise Idaho, the response was that no contractual agreement existed that would allow any of the more than 300 aircraft they held under contract from private operators to respond at this time. Useless. Our call came at about 2 p.m. the next day. The F.B.I. needed a helicopter in New Orleans and they needed it there in 24 hours. How and why the F.B.I. was calling a helicopter company almost 2000 miles away is another story in itself, but we quickly got the helicopter ready at the hangar. With my gear packed, a “see you sometime” kiss to Paula, I was on my way by 4 p.m. with about 2 hours of light and 1850 miles to do in 21 hours.

At 10 p.m. flight service in Salt Lake advised me the lightning I was seeing was a fast moving front, which forced me to divert and land for a few hours in Burley, Idaho. By 3 a.m. I was back in the air, but behind schedule. The next day was fly, fly, fuel, eat snacks Paula packed, fly, and fly. I began to get a better picture of things as I got closer. The F.B.I told me there would be a trailer and shower when I got there. Sure, I know B.S. when I hear it, the F.B.I is no different. I found myself under direction to fly to Baton Rouge instead of New Orleans, and had to explain that “No, I will not be ready to fly when I get there at what looks will be 9 p.m.” I had been up for 17 hours, napped for 3 and had another 18 hour day just to get there. We agreed to meet the next morning at 8 a.m. I had been calling ahead searching small towns for rooms as I flew and finally found one. The airport manager was barbequeing at home when heard me fly in at about 9 p.m. The manager delivered me to the Motel, handing me about 4 lbs. of barbequed pork, beef ribs and beans. God bless my fellow aviators.

I could talk about my flying exploits in the New Orleans area on Katrina disaster relief. There are, as you can imagine some good stories. But I want to tell you about some people I met. A lot has been said about the people who survived Katrina. People behaving badly make news. Families sticking together and helping each other through devastating personal and financial loss is not sensational news. Just humans at their best.

The good news was that I got to the Emergency Response Center in Baton Rouge before President Bush arrived. His helicopter was going to be landing next to mine very soon. Bad news was that the FBI wanted me to fly them out right away and the airspace was now closed. “Its called a Presidential TFR” I told the agents, “and busting it would be akin to a White House over flight and may result in death, disgrace, at the very least a revocation of my license and I suspect about 30 days in the electric chair.” After several calls on the part of the FBI and a very detailed call to the FAA emergency help desk by me, we were granted special permission to leave in the next 5 minutes. I checked my transponder code about 3 times as we flew towards New Orleans. Nervous? You bet. We made it through the first day in New Orleans.

Back that evening in Baton Rouge at the Emergency response center I watched dozens of helicopters coming and going The media was camped out everywhere, police, military and my buddies from the FBI and secret service. No trailer, no shower, no food but I was still way better off than most of the folks I had seen that day, so no complaints either. One of the FBI folks, a New Orleans resident (now homeless) told me that he had a cousin living here in Baton Rouge and that his cousin may be able to put me up. He would call him for me. The call went like this,

“No Dusty he is not an agent, not a criminal and no he is not currently charged with any crimes. All his previous charges were dropped for lack of any living witnesses”. This seemed funny to who ever Dusty was and I was invited to come over to their home that night. Thank You.

David and Dusty Snyder were waiting for us when we arrived at their suburban Baton Rouge home that evening. After introductions on the front porch I moved my gear into their house and apparently one of their daughters bedrooms. The pink my little pony decorative theme was a hint to the little girls age. I was not the only guest. There was Davids sister from New Orleans and his Uncle Frank and Aunt Mabel from St Bernards Parish.

“Have you eaten?” was Mabels first question. I had, in fact. Least I could do was buy my buddy from the FBI dinner. When we sat down at the table it was quiet but friendly. It seemed that about ten family members were unaccounted for after the storm. In this part of the country literally everyone knows each other or are related and their whereabouts are usually known.

“The phones and cell phones don’t work in New Orleans now” I said. “Have you flown over most of the area and in particular St. Bernards Parish?” they asked.

“Yes,I have.”

“Do you know where Shell Beach is?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And how does it look?” Everyone was staring at me. How do you tell somebody that there is no Shell Beach anymore. Not a stick of wood. Not a wrecked car. Not a boat. Nothing you could recognize as anything. Water and floating debris. A greasy oil sheen where you lived for how long did you say? 87 years? I toldl them what I saw and then took a big drink of my water. Mabel looked at the table, “Anyone want some more tea?” she asked, walking to the fridge. Nobody spoke for a bit and then Uncle Frank said,

“Well,I knew it would be bad. We’ll get by, always have.

“Is there land showing in places?” It was the sisters turn to ask.

“Yes, it was those places we landed today.”

“What about animals, were there dogs? I had to leave my dog behind,” she almost started crying.

“There were more dogs than I had ever seen wandering around.” I said. Thinking back on the day, I had been fortunate to run into friends and fellow pilots at the International Airport in New Orleans, they stocked me up on food and snacks from their supplies. I handed it all out to the dogs that day. Every where we landed, hungry dogs. No cats. I walked around the back of a house situated close to a levy on a piece of higher ground. A little island of green grass in a wasteland of submerged houses and businesses in a mostly commercial district. Whoa! A horse in my face. I don’t know who was more startled, but I made the louder noise. How far and through what had that horse swam to find the only food and dry ground around for miles. Survival. Nice horse, I hope he lived.

After supper everyone went off to bed early. Depressions escape. Sleep. David sat and talked to Uncle Frank and myself. I mostly listened. Uncle Frank was known to most as “Blackie” Campo and he and his family had come to Louisiana via the Canary Islands. There had been Campos in this part of the world since the1800’s. The Campos were outdoorsmen, hunters, fishermen, guides. Blackie owned,(used to) a marina, three houses, dry dock, fishing supplies, bait, fuel and free fishing advice, guiding if you really wanted to catch fish. David had worked summers for Uncle Frank. A great guy to work for, tireless, stronger than any two men. I didn’t doubt it. Uncle Frank had those huge hands you just stared at after he had shook your hand. At 87 he was still an impressive figure, wide shoulders, big arms, a voice like the first two notes on the piano. As it turned out, a voice that could tell some great stories too. Blackie had been one of the first people inducted into the Louisiana Sportsmens Hall of Fame, and David said “that Uncle Frank was still one of the best fishing guides in Louisiana.”

Frankie is what he liked to be called. He said to me, “Yeah, I’ve done some fishing in my life”. Had been the fishing guide to five Presidents. Five letters from five Presidents, thanking him for his work. All those letters and all those photos, memorabilia, memories, locked safely in the trunk of the car, sitting on high ground where it had never flooded through countless previous hurricanes. Gone.

David had gone to bed. Frankie and I were talking. It was late. I would stay up as long as Frankie wanted to talk. Frankie needed the audience and I could listen to his stories all night. A life, full. A day spent fishing with Frankie would have been a great day whether you caught fish or not. Presidents could fish with whomever they wished. I knew why they had gone fishing with Uncle Frank.

Every night at the Snyder’s was an event but I needed to go. I would miss Frankie quizzing me on my days and sometimes night flights and I especially would miss his stories. The last night, Frankie was listing the gear, antiques and memorabilia that they had lost when Mabel came out to the living room.

She looked upset and I thought she was going to tell Frankie to get to bed. She was the boss and Frankie adored her.

“I’ve been listening to your list,” she said “when it hit me that all our financial books are gone too. No record of all those fisherman you carried on the books for months Frankie.” All the bait, fuel, repair bills. These were commercial fisherman. Once large operations with multiple boats, some boats in tact some not. A lot of money owed, no records.

“That’s all right Honey,” Frankie said. “They know us, we know them. They’ll pay their bills when they can.” Mabel didn’t look so convinced. “Good night gentlemen.”

I left the next day.

I never saw the Snyders or Campos again. I call every now and then. “Please cash the check my company sent you David” I had said. David would not take money for my food and lodging when I was leaving. Stubborn. How was Uncle Frank doing? Was there anything to salvage? A little, he said. But guess what Uncle Frankie is doing?

“Fishing, relaxing?” I was joking of course.

No, he bought a fuel truck and he is fueling the commercial fishing boats around the area. I asked him, “well, Uncle Frank, do these guys have any money to pay you for the fuel?” “No,” he said and they won’t have any money till they bring in some fish. Someones got to help”.

The world could use a few more Blackie Campos. I’ll never forget him.

I am nostalgic today. Or else I’m being a bit antsy, I can’t really decide. We arrived in Boulder City, NV on August 20th, more than four months ago – that’s a long time in one place for us, as most of you know. Anyway, I started going through all the Webshots albums today. Was I thinking that would curb this itch to get on the road? If I was, I was wrong! So, I began going through some of my archives of the emails I used to write (pre-blog, of course) of all the travels we have taken. I don’t have them all, some of the earliest ones have long since disappeared – those were all written back before we even owned a computer – all I had was a Yahoo! account that I used in public internet spots.

Here’s what I was thinking, since we are pretty well hunkered down here for a time, I will renew some of the old stories – starting with how Keith and I met (did I just hear someone groan???), covering some of the domestic fire contracts, and of course including our international travel favorites. Re-reading them has been some fun. My writing has changed – even the way I travel has changed. I will always remember being asked nearly 7 years ago, when this whole journey began “Where will you live?” My tone was probably kinda smart, and I replied “Australia, Italy, Greece, who knows!” And we have “lived” in all those places, just as we said we would. There are of course things we said we’d do and haven’t. I want to write a book. Keith wants to trek Nepal. Guess we better get cracken’!

So, what’dya think, for those of you who’ve been with us all along are ya up for a bit of a re-run? For those of you more recent to our story, are you interested in old stories?

heligypsy

I hope everyone has a wonderful and special Thanksgiving tomorrow. Keith and I have so much to be thankful for – both of us are equally thankful for our good health and for each of us finding such a great partner in the other. Keith says that I should tell you here that he has more to be thankful for than me. For our family, and for our friends – thankful, thankful, thankful. The little three-legged, dog-earred, parvo dog totally makes it on the list, there is no other love like hers.

Seems like a short list, but it is everything that is important. We have more than enough of anything we “need”. We enjoy each days adventure. Often times we are asked “do you know how lucky you are?” And the answer each time is unequivocally YES – do you?

I am threatening that this is my last American Thanksgiving celebration. I do believe I’ll switch things up and will be celebrating the fall harvest and bounty next year with the Canadians. I fell in love with the holiday all over again when Keith and I lived in B.C. and celebrated Thanksgiving on the second Monday in October – a day we know as Columbus Day. Keith thinks this will hinder my attempt to have any fellow Americans join me in moving our holiday to match the more appropriate day in October, as it would mean one less day off work. But think of it, if we celebrate Thanksgiving on Oct 8th, 2007, we can all be decorated for Christmas by Halloween and not miss our chance to give thanks. Hahahaha, I promised I wasn’t going to bring it up again – I lied. It’s just that we have so much to be thankful for….well, judging by the responses from my previous rant, you agree.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone – enjoy the day and the people you share it with 🙂

My dad was a Bah-Humbug of the truest sense. I have a clear image of him reclined in his chair, pencil in one hand, crossword puzzle in the other and a tilt to his head – as if that helped in his efforts to ignore the festive spirit of tree decorating happening in his very own living room. We always had a Christmas tree, but I can tell you for a fact he couldn’t have cared less about it. I asked him last year which ornament was his favorite. He was unable to give me an answer “anything that doesn’t blink” was the closest he could come. He grumbled and griped all the way from Thanksgiving to up until the winter solstice. And you know what put him in such a foul mood about Christmas? I’ll give you one guess.

Commercialism. Buy, buy, buy.

I always understood his objection, I just thought he took it a little far. Well, guess what. I think I’m about to do my dad proud. I made a pact with myself a month or so ago. I refuse to do any Christmas shopping with any retailer pushing Christmas in any way prior to the Thanksgiving Holiday. Uh-Ohhhh, seems my gift buying is going to be made difficult this year. There is hardly a retailer that I have been in within the last several weeks that hasn’t exploded with the Merry Merry – and it just makes me SICK! I went out shopping for a horn to make a cornacopia – well, good luck, I guess I was supposed to get that done back before Labor Day. Finally I found one, without a price tag, the sales girl didn’t know what to do – what in the world was the “left over” fall decoration still doing hanging around? I was given a better than fair price for the thing, and for that I am happy, but man, it’s gotten ridiculous!

When it came time to celebrate Christmas, dad could always be counted on to get into the mood. We probably have a dozen pictures just like this one, dad smirking with his “silly face”, hunched over another gorgeous turkey, protecting it from grabby fingers that might sneak the delicatable scraps.

Just for good measure I thought I’d toss in a cutie picture of dad holding my brother, back in simpler time, just happy to be together.

I will find myself in the festive mood of the holidays, and I hate that this is the way I end up feeling about Christmas in the first place – but, what will be will be. My attempt to boycott shopping with retailers who have lost their minds amidst this push to get us to spend more earlier, will have little effect on anyone – other than I will feel better for remaining true to my reasons for celebrating. That’s my rant, I’ll not bring it up again!

My mom and I have a long standing inside joke about all things being a mother’s fault. Doesn’t matter which mother, or what things. Fair enough, I say. Well, it’s been a long time since I have blamed my own mother for anything other than excellent parenting, so if I’m gonna do it, I might as well do it publicly – right mom?

I am hooked on penny slot machines, and it’s all my mom’s fault! We went on a “shopping” trip to Reno this summer, and she enticed me to play the penny slots over poker. She’s a bad influence 😉

Because I am now an avid player, I have favorite machines. Believe me, I know how this sounds, but I’m going with it for now. Tuesday night Keith and I were in one of the nearby casino’s, and all three of our favorite penny slots were being played. Bummer. Unable to intimidate the blue hairs off their stools, we ended up chosing a couple nickel poker machines. This turned out to be the right decision, as my third deal resulted with a 10, J, Q & A of spades. Handed to me. I grabbed Keith’s kneecap (probably pretty hard), leaned into him and said,

“I just have to go for this!” As anyone would, he agreed. I couldn’t look, so I closed my eyes and tapped the draw button. Hehehehehe, imagine, just imagine my delight when the good old King of Spades nestled himself right in between the J & Q!!! I didn’t want to yell – I really didn’t have it in me, if you can imagine. But my grin, man, ear to ear doesn’t cover it. I just kept saying,

“A Royal Flush, I just got a Royal Flush!!!” then added “how much is 4000 nickels anyway?” ha ha ha. I sat frozen for a few minutes, just staring at the pretty Royal, and 4000 credits. It’s definitely gonna be hard to top that $200 win. Oh, alright, I did play the entire $20 I started with, so the winnings were only $180. Did I just say “were only”?

That’s my icing on the cake story, but have you seen these penny slots I’m talking about? Gone are the days of matching up cherries or bells on a 3 reel spin (well they still exist, but mostly they collect dust) . Oh no, now they are animated and interactive – and highly addicting. These cartoon like money grabbers have 5 reels with animated themes, you can play 12, 15, 20 or 30 different combinations of lines, so “penny slot” is nothing more than pure dilusion, I know this. And yet………

Right now my machine is DEAL OR NO DEAL – I love this game. Never watch it on t.v., but playing is great. Match 3 cash boxes on a spin and you get to go interactive. A bright light covers the screen, a door appears, opens and reveals a dozen cases. Touch the screen to choose “your case”, then begin the process of removing cases and getting an offer. Deal or No Deal. I am pretty good at this, and on Halloween night I walked out of the Sunset Station with a cool $60 to the good, laughing all the way. Keith and I have both developed systems, yeah, I know, I know, sounds dangerous, but so far they seem to work. We have some laughs, I mean come on, free money given out by little dancing cartoons? Winning hundreds of pennies has never been so much fun!

I have a love hate relationship with the Full Moon. Last nights moon, called the Full Hunters Moon, showed itself early – low over the mountains, massive, and in total competition to the sunset. It was the sunset that caught my attention, all the outdoor surfaces forced to take on the rosy color of the sky – yeah, that always gets my attention. I looked to the west, and gasped. Where’s the camera, where’s the dang camera??? Oh, the desert sky – usually so clear and uninterrupted was showing off it’s thin layer of hazy cloud almost entirely and brilliantly in red. Camera and car keys in hand, I stepped out the front door – and was stopped in my tracks. Another gasp.

Hello, moon.

Gigantic and putting it’s own spin on the cloud cover, showing off a wide circle of rainbow colors, haloed in more blues and greens than anything else, it was magnificent. That moment of the evening had me energized. I knew my pictures would never do the true nature any justice, and I only tried to take one……it could have been perfect, an impressive moon with a palm tree in the foreground, the last blazes of red on a nearby mountain….but you are going to have to take my word for it – it’s a blurry dark mess (I’m going to, as usual, blame it on the camera – and say we are shopping for a new one)

I approached Lake Mead (I was on my way to pick Keith up from work) soaking up every second of the rapidly changing outdoor scene. Beneath the moon a cluster of constellations began to appear, maybe ten or twelve flickering twilights on the horizon as the darkness took over the night. I had a good laugh when I realized they were airplanes on decent into Vegas, ha ha ha. We are always so completely amazed by the constant string of jets in the sky, all day everyday – but I’d never mistaken them for stars before.

The downside to the wondrous beauty of the Full Moon always comes with a restless night sleep, and dreams of the strangest variety – as if I’d pounded back a quart of habanero laden salsa.  Oh well, a little tired today – but glad to have enjoyed the moonlit night  🙂