Stop for Five Minutes and Listen

Relax with me and see if you can hear what I hear.

I woke up this morning to another beautiful summer day. It was still cool outside and the sun’s first light turned the landscape around me that odd golden color I only get to see at first and last light. I took my coffee out onto the deck to enjoy a break before hustling down to the garage to load up my pups and kayak for a few hours of paddling around the Wenatchee and Columbia Rivers confluence with a friend.

The early morning quiet — which wasn’t exactly quiet — struck me. I wish I could bottle it up and share it with friends. Then I realized I could. My tripod was handy, along with the dead cat protected microphone I used with my iPhone for various video work. It took two minutes to set it all up. I recorded 5 minutes and 15 seconds of my morning bliss.

The news got you down? Worries about the economy, your job, the virus, politics? Feeling stressed and angry?

Slow down. Stop. Take a deep breath. Grab a cup of your favorite beverage and step out into a place away from the news, mobile devices, and other people. Look around. Listen. Become one with your surroundings.

Five minutes will make a real difference in your day.

And if you can’t find the right spot for your own five minutes, come on back here. You can borrow mine any time you like.

On Saying Yes When You Want to Say No

Never turn down an opportunity to hang out with new friends.


Here’s a time-lapse on YouTube of moving the helicopter. I didn’t realize at first that I had blogged about it.

The other day, I was invited to a steak dinner at what I call the Huey Camp: the area where three Huey helicopters are parked for cherry season. I met one of the pilots, Stan, late last season when I brought him and the other pilot a pizza after chatting with him on the radio while we were all drying cherries. Later, he let me fly his helicopter and I returned the favor by helping him load the helicopter onto its trailer while it was attached to my truck.

Huey Behind Truck
As I tweeted when I shared this photo on Twitter, I think that helicopter looks pretty good behind my truck.

I ran into him again in Arizona over the winter and was glad to hear he was coming back to Washington for cherry season, camping in his motorhome at the same place. He and another one of the Huey pilots came for my annual pilots’ BBQ a few weeks ago. So when he invited me for a steak dinner with all the Huey pilots and some others in attendance, I said yes.

Thinking of Excuses

Of course, when that afternoon rolled around, I wasn’t feeling like going out. The heat really knocks me out sometimes and I’d spent the afternoon napping after doing too much work in my garden. It was hot outside in the sun and I didn’t think there would be much shade up at his camp. I thought about all the excuses I could use to back out.

Falconer
It was dark out when I captured this image of a falconer with one of her birds last August.

But then I thought about the previous year’s steak dinner up there. (I apparently didn’t blog about it because a quick search came up empty.) In any case, it was one of those magic evenings when things are just a little bit weird and a little bit wonderful. One of those evenings you remember for a long time, mostly because they’re out of the ordinary. That one involved a frantic trip to a car parts shop with a woman I’d met just an hour before, arriving just before they closed to get a part she needed for her truck. Then repairs on the truck with steaks coming off the grill after 10 PM. It was after that that I learned the woman was a falconer and I got a really neat shot of her with one of her birds.

That night might be just as interesting, I told myself. Or more. You can’t experience new things when you stay home. Get the hell out.

At Huey Camp

So I showered and dressed and hopped in the truck for the 20 minute drive up to Huey Camp. I left my pups behind — I didn’t want to have to worry about them wandering off into the weeds where there might be snakes. The only reason I took the truck was because it was the only one of my three vehicles with a top — I keep the top down all the time on the Honda and the Jeep was in the process of getting a new roof — so it had the best air conditioning.

Huey camp is situated between two ponds that are linked by a waterway when the water levels are full. Two Hueys were parked on one side and the third was parked some distance away. Stan’s motorhome and dune buggy were parked between them, near one of the ponds. He’d positioned it so the side we’d sit on was in the shade of the big rig. The helicopter’s truck (with crane) and trailer were parked nearby, along with all kinds of orchard equipment. The spot is on a flat area on a hillside, surrounded by apple and cherry orchards, including one I’m contracted to dry. It had an excellent view of the sky, which came in handy later on.

Huey Camp
Huey Camp from across one pond.

Huey Camp
Two of the helicopters at Huey Camp.

We settled into chairs in the shade to chat while Stan prepped his portable BBQ grill. Stan, Brandon, and Dave were the Huey pilots. Brandon’s friend Emma, who is a new helicopter pilot, was also there. (I’d invited both of the pilots still working for me this season, but one had taken his paraglider to Spokane (!) again and the other was taking a motorcycle training course out at the airport.) Later, CJ (a JetRanger pilot) and Isaac (a falconer) joined us.

It turned out that we knew a lot of the same people and helicopters. Brandon had flown my helicopter when he was training at Quantum in Arizona, although he claims it was a different color. He’d also flown my friend Ed’s old S55 with the turbine conversion, which was now based up in Brewster on cherry work. One of the Hueys had actually been flown in Vietnam by a local guy who had come up to visit it all these years later.

Isaac had to do some work in two of the orchards and invited us to come watch. Some cherry growers use falconers to help chase birds away from their orchards. By repeatedly flying the falcons (or hawks, etc.) over the orchard blocks, birds like robins, which like to eat cherries, become convinced that a predator has moved in and they leave. That’s the idea, anyway.

Issac with Bird
Here’s Issac with one of his birds after the bird flew in the orchard. Hooding the bird is common and does not hurt the bird.

We all loaded into my truck and followed Isaac to his first worksite, which turned out to be very close. We watched him get a bird out and attach a GPS tracker to it (just in case the bird decided it wanted an extended break). Soon he’d removed the bird’s hood and it was flying over the cherry trees. Isaac had a long pole with a string and bait attached to it and swung the bait around. The goal was to get the bird to dive at the bait but not let him get it. He did this from a few locations alongside the orchard block before the bird “won” — it caught the bait. That cut that bird’s session a bit short, but Isaac had another bird with him and moved on to the next orchard. We went back to camp, mostly because Dave was hungry and I think Brandon and Emma were bored.

Stan started cooking right after that. He’d bought a rib roast and had carved it up into enormous bone-in steaks. I’d brought along my little grill and some uncooked marinated tri-tip that someone had left at my house at the BBQ and I’d frozen. I got that going and it was a good thing I did because Stan didn’t have enough room on his grill for all of the steaks so one ended up on mine. A while later, the sun was setting and we were eating steak — with horseradish, of course — potato salad, and salad off paper plates. Isaac was back by then and he joined us; I wound up giving him half the trip-tip for later in the week because there was enough regular steak for all of us.

Stargazing

After dinner, we moved over to a spot where we could see the sky to the northwest more clearly. Comet NEOWISE was a feature in the sky after sunset and I think we were all vying to be the first to spot it. One of the younger people saw it first — Brandon, I think — and over time we all saw it. The view from up there didn’t include the lights from the city, but it did include the glow from sunset.

We all started watching the sky, pointing out stars that flickered weirdly or seemed to change color. I saw a fast moving white light pass by and consulted the GoISSWatch app on my phone — sure enough, it was the space station. When I pointed it out, some of my companions were blown away. “You mean that’s the actual space station in orbit?” Dave asked. I told him it was and that there would be an even better pass just before 11 PM, right overhead.

That got us looking for satellites. Again, the younger folks with their sharper eyes spotted them quickly. Brandon got excited when he realized that he was seeing a bunch in a row. Believe it or not, I had an app for that, too: Find Starlink. Sure enough, we were seeing a Starlink satellite train that was passing overhead. I’d tried before to see one and failed miserably — now I know why: they really aren’t that bright at all.

We spent the next hour or so just watching the sky and talking. It was relaxing and kind of interesting. Our ages ranged from early 20s (Emma) through possibly 70s (Stan and Dave?). We talked about things we knew and told stories about experiences. No one had their head buried in a phone. No one argued. There was a lot of laughter. Politics stayed pretty much out of our discussions.

At 10:56, right on schedule, one of my companions spotted the space station again. We watched it travel across the sky, right overhead. I thought about the people on board and how tiny they were but how many people on earth watched them go by whenever they could. When it was gone, I decided it was time to leave. It had been a pretty good night for stargazing: a comet, two ISS passes, a Starlink train, and did I mention seeing Jupiter and Saturn in the southeastern sky?

Finishing Up the Night

It was a quick drive home. I left my truck on the driveway apron instead of putting it in the garage, mostly because I knew I’d need to drive it again the next morning on a garbage run. I let my pups out and my cats came over from wherever they were hunting to say hello. It was nearly midnight when I climbed the stairs.

But I wasn’t done. Outside, Comet NEOWISE was hanging in the sky near the lights of Wenatchee. I set up my Nikon and took a few shots with various settings, pausing now and then to study it through my binoculars and wonder what it would look like through my telescope.

NEOWISE
Comet NEOWISE with the Wenatchee night skyline.

I was asleep by 1 AM.

Postscript

I love living alone for the privacy and freedom that it gives me. I don’t get lonely because I stay busy. Sometimes, I’m so busy that I forget to get out and socialize when I should.

But one thing I’ve come to realize: any time I’m at a gathering with friends is time well spent, especially when the friends have unusual lifestyles that involve travel and unique jobs. The other day, I had dinner with five other helicopter pilots and a falconer. How can a gathering like that not be full of fun, interesting stories and experiences?

I have a friend I call “the man of a thousand excuses” because he’s far more likely to say NO when he’s invited to do something different than YES. I don’t think he has any idea of what he’s missing.

I have an idea of what I could be missing, so I try to say YES whenever I can.

Boating with Friends, 2020

Another day out in the boat reminds me how much I like being out on the water.

Way back in the autumn of 2011, I bought a 1995 Sea Ray Sea Rayder. This is a 16-foot jet boat with a 130 HP engine that can get it up to the whopping speed of 30 MPH on smooth water. It has five seats, a canopy that shades the three back seats, and the ability to pull a water toy but not a water skier. It’s the third boat I’ve owned — the first two were WaveRunners that I owned for a while in Arizona — and I actually bought it in Washington when I still lived in Arizona. I spent so much time just sitting around during cherry season that I thought it might be fun to have a boat in the area to take out on the Columbia River.

Boat in Garage
Here’s my little boat, tucked into its spot in my exceedingly large garage.

Fast-forward nine years. I kept the boat all this time (despite a bizarre episode at one of my two divorce trial dates in 2013). When I built my home, I made sure that my garage would have space for it. I used it a few times every season — some would say not often enough to own a boat, but I didn’t pay much for it and it’s cheap to keep. I took it to Arizona with me for the winter back in 2016/17 and had some fun with it out on Lake Pleasant and the Colorado River. And I continue to use it a few times every summer.

I would have taken it out a lot sooner this season if it weren’t for the battery. I was having a heck of a time getting it charged and I was starting to wonder whether it needed replacement. Pulling the battery out of the boat while it was on the trailer was not something I could do alone and I never seemed to find time to get the boat into town so it could be checked. Eventually, I realized that the problem wasn’t the battery — it was my battery charger. I bought a new one the other day, hooked it up, and voila! The battery charged up to 100% in just a few hours and I was ready to take it out.

Boat on Jeep
The boat is a lot easier to launch from the Jeep, which is currently topless while I wait for the new top to arrive.

I made plans with a two friends to take it out on Wednesday morning. The weather has been awesome here — unless you’re a cherry drying pilot — and although it tended to get a bit warm and windy in the afternoon, it was pleasant enough in the morning. One of my friends is a neighbor and I picked her up at 9 AM in my Jeep with the boat in tow. (It’s a lot easier to launch with the Jeep than my truck.) After stopping to top it off with fresh fuel, we drove to the boat ramp in Wenatchee behind Pybus Public Market.

I have to take a moment to rave about the free boat ramps and riverfront parks and trails we have in the Wenatchee area. The waterfront is managed by the local public utility district — the Chelan PUD — which manages the dams that give us most of our cheap, renewable power. As a public utility, they use our utility fees to maintain their systems and build/maintain a series of public parks along the river. There are two different boat ramps within 12 miles of my home and others farther away to access other dam-locked bodies of water on the Columbia River. The parks have paved biking/walking trails, softball fields, tennis courts, picnic shelters for group gatherings, volleyball courts, a swimming beach — the list goes on and on. The Apple Capital Loop Trail is an 11-mile paved walking/running/biking trail that loops on both sides of the Columbia River, with several access points on either side and extensions to other parks on the East Wenatchee side. All of this is free to use with plenty of free parking.

Anyway, I launched the boat while Teri watched over my pups. We tied up at the floating dock between the two lanes of the ramp and waited for Cyndi to arrive. Although there were a few cars with boat trailers in the parking lot, no one else was launching or coming in. While we were waiting, I cranked the engine until I got the boat started and let it idle for a while, which is something I don’t like to do, given that this jet boat doesn’t have a real idle. (When the engine is running, it is propelling the boat.) I shut down until Cyndi arrived, loaded everyone up, and after an iffy start due mostly to me not remembering if the button had to be IN or OUT for choke, putted out into the river.

My usual boat use in the area is to motor on up to the Rocky Reach Dam upriver from town, cut the engine, and drift back. I do this mostly because the boat can be loud under power and it’s no fun shouting back and forth to each other. It takes about 15 minutes to reach the dam and that day, we hit some mildly rough water in a windy spot along the way. As a jet boat with its weird rudderless steering, it operates best on glassy smooth water. This wasn’t a big deal and we motored right through it to more smooth water beyond. We didn’t get right up to the dam, but we did get close enough to see that they had multiple flood gates open. The water would really be churning at the base of the dam and we didn’t need any of that. So I cut the engine and welcomed the silence. We immediately started drifting back at a rate of about 3-4 miles per hour.

Motoring in my Boat
Cyndi took this photo of us just getting underway up the Columbia River. That’s Teri next to me, holding my pups. This was their first time in a boat and they didn’t know what the hell was going on.

The awning was up and Teri and I were under it. Cyndi sat in the bow, soaking up the sun. My pups, wearing their life jackets, walked around the boat for a while. Lily was a bit whiney and I held and comforted her for a while. When she realized that it was what it was, she finally settled down.

Pups on a Boat Pups on a Boat
Lily and Rosie were a little uneasy when we first stopped, but soon caught on that there was food to be had and begging to be done. Penny’s old yellow life jacket fit Lily perfectly; Rosie got the slightly larger one I bought for her in preparation for a kayak outing. (We still haven’t done that yet.)

We’d brought snacks and popped open the coolers. We chatted about all kinds of things: dogs, politics, the virus, fishing, camping, boating, traveling. Teri and Cyndi, who had never met before, seemed to hit it off well.

Repositioning the Boat
Cyndi took this shot of me holding both pups while gently guiding us away from shore and back into the main channel of the river.

All the time we drifted, we watched the scenery change around us. The air was cool in the shade. We saw bunches of buoys and, later, a police boat with a few guys on board tending to some others. We never figured out what that was all about. There were some other boats on the river — mostly the big aluminum fishing boats that are so popular around here. The salmon are running and although we weren’t there at the best time of day for salmon fishing, some folks were apparently trying anyway. A few times we drifted so close to the east shore that the boat got caught in a calm spot and stopped drifting. One time, it even headed back upriver. Each time, I’d push the button to start the engine, shift into forward gear, and move back toward the middle of the flow.

I know none of this sounds very exciting and it wasn’t. But it was restful and pleasant. It was nice to get out with friends someplace other than one of our patios or decks. It was nice to be on the water, which is something I’ve always enjoyed.

Columbia River
Cyndi took this shot looking back up the Columbia toward the Wenatchee River confluence. It was a perfect day for boating.

Cyndi had to be back by 12:30 for an appointment that afternoon, so at 12:15, I started up the engine again and pointed us back toward the launch. By that time, we were less than a mile away and I kept to a slower speed, which is not like me at all. I had a little bit of trouble getting the boat pointed into the launch area with the current pushing us so hard past it; jet boats don’t steer well at slow speeds, especially when fighting wind or a current. I have the boat rigged so I can bring it into a dock by myself and was pleased that neither passenger tried to “help” when I didn’t need help. I pulled up next to the dock, tied off from my seat, and killed the engine. Smooth. After a year, I still had it!

Cyndi left right away and Teri and I took care of the boat and pups. I did a great job backing the trailer in (if I do say so myself) — the Jeep is a lot easier to back up without a roof and rear window. Soon I had the boat on the trailer and, when I pulled out slowly, the boat positioned itself properly between the two fenders. I parked it in the shade of a tree in the parking area and pulled everything out, closed up the top, and put the cover on it. Teri tracked down my pups who had wandered off to find a place to pee. We all climbed into the Jeep and headed home.

Pushing the Boat
It’s a lot easier to push the boat into the garage than back it in. Why work harder than you have to?

I dropped off Teri and her cooler at her house, then went home. It was already getting hot and I wanted the boat put away before it got too hot. I unhitched the boat in my big driveway apron, turned the Jeep around, and re-hitched it using the front tow ball on the Jeep. With a little maneuvering, I pushed the boat into the end garage bay where it lives, unhitched it again, and backed my Jeep into the garage bay at the other end.

When I checked my watch, I was very pleased to see that I’d been able to get the boat out of the water, drive it 12 miles to get home, and put it away in less than an hour.

I need to take it out more often.