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.

Snowbirding 2020 Postcards: At Catalina State Park

A gorgeous park for hiking, biking, and horseback riding.

Saguaro Cacti
What a magnificent specimen of saguaro cactus. It had to be at least 30 feet tall.

I arrived in Tucson the afternoon before I had a 9 AM jewelry-making class scheduled. The campground I’d booked for the week couldn’t let me in a day early because (if you can believe this) the manager had Sundays off. So I had to find somewhere else to camp. I wound up at one of the overflow campgrounds in Catalina State Park.

I should mention here that I arrived feeling awful. I’d had a headache all day and felt exhausted. (In hindsight, I think it may have been because I’d skipped my blood pressure meds two days in a row.) When they said they had room for me and put me in Site #13 in the Ringtail campground for just $20, I was thrilled. I drove in, backed into my site, climbed into bed, and passed out for three hours.

So it was about an hour before sunset that I actually got a chance to walk around and see the place. I was immediately struck by the lush (in desert terms) saguaro forest filled with huge cacti. I followed a trail from my campsite into the desert and managed to snap a few photos in the warm late afternoon light. I like these best.

Desert Scene
The Catalina Mountains are beautiful and rugged.

Snowbirding 2020 Postcards: Last Aerial Look at Camp

I send the drone up for one last look at our camp in relation to surroundings.

Our camp, which was home to six people at its peak, is down to just three of us. Karen and Steve left a little over a week ago; they couldn’t seem to get work done with some much nature to distract them. (Steve loves to go fishing.) Janet left on Sunday morning to set up camp at Tyson Wells in Quartzsite, where she’ll be selling her artwork for the next three weeks. I moved Lily Rose, my mobile jewelry shop, over to my Tyson Wells spot yesterday afternoon. I toyed with moving T2, my camper, over there later in the day but decided I wanted one more night along the river. I admit that I was thinking a lot about Penny, who can be off-leash here. Once we get to Quartzsite, she’ll need to be tied up whenever we’re around other people. The Canadians, of course, are still here and will remain a few weeks after I’m gone.

After doing my last power walk along the levee road and driving down as far as what we call “Janet’s Camp” — maybe 6 miles south? — to see who was camping down along the way, I came back to my much smaller campsite community and sent up my drone for a few late afternoon shots. Here they are.

Campsite Looking West
Here’s a shot of my campsite looking west. In this shot, you can see my path to the levee road and the channel coming in from the river. You can also see the backwater channel on the other side of the road from our site and the island it makes. While everything looks pretty flat in this shot, I’m about 10 feet above the river/channel average level and another 5 to 10 feet below the level of the levee road.

Levee Road
Here’s a shot of the backwater channel south of ours, on the other side of the road with the southern tip of its island. I see here that the opening to the river is pretty much dried up. That huge sandbar would be covered with water when they release enough from Parker and Palo Verde Dams, but right now it looks as if you could walk right down it, wade across the channel, and step into California. The levee road runs in an arc from the right side of the shot to the center. To the end, it’s just 1/2 mile from our camp, making a nice, brisk one-mile round trip walk.

Two Channels
This shot is looking northeast from where the road from our camp makes the turn onto the levee road. You can see the narrow entrance to our backwater channel from the river on the left. Those folks camped on the left are only a few hundred yards from us by air but several miles away by road. The white van on the road belongs to Steve, who had come to go fishing with the Canadians; they’re on their way back here.

Our Camp
Here’s another look at our camp from the air, this time from the west. You can see the top of T2 (my truck camper); my truck is hidden by the tall bamboo. On the Canadian’s side of camp, you can see their fifth wheel and truck, as well as Steve’s van, which has just arrived. If you’ve got really sharp eyes, you can see Penny chasing the van.

I feel extremely lucky to have arrived at this camp shortly after the previous occupants left. This site is one of the best on the river and my personal favorite, mostly because of the long backwater channel for paddling — it goes two miles north, which is almost all the way to the freeway — the privacy, and the relative proximity to pavement (only three miles). I know for a fact that when I leave on Monday, my spot will be taken within two hours.

I’m sad to say goodbye to this camp, but it’s time to move on.

Snowbirding 2020 Postcards: Our River Campsite

An aerial view of our campsite at the Colorado River backwaters.

I launched the drone early Thursday morning to capture some aerial views of our campsite. In hindsight, I realize I did it too early — the shadows were still long. But the wind had been blowing too hard to fly safely during the previous days and I didn’t know if it would kick up again. So I launched, grabbed a few photos, and landed. Here are two of them.

River Campsite
Here’s a view from the east and slightly south.

Janet and I are camped on the left. Steve, Karen, Jeff, and Theresa are camped on the right. There’s an access road between our two campsites because there’s a boat ramp there. The water has been too low to launch a boat of any real size so it’s only been used twice — both times by wildlife researchers — since we’ve been here. (I launched my little jet boat here two years ago.)

The body of water we’re on is one of the backwater channels that exist alongside the Colorado River in some places. I don’t know the story behind these areas. Were they cut to drain wetlands? Did they form naturally? Whatever the story, this particular backwater runs about two miles north of our position with various side channels. The only opening to the river is just west of us, although with the water so low, it’s impassible by even my kayak. You can see the Colorado River in the far left of this shot; everything in the top of this frame is in California. (We’re in Arizona.)

Top Down View
Here’s a look straight down at our setup.

If you think there are a lot of vehicles here for just six people, you’re right. On the left, you can see Janet’s trailer (“Joey”) sitting by itself. Below that in the frame is a lineup of my vehicles: my truck camper (“T2”) parked on its legs, my cargo trailer/workshop (“Lily Rose”), and my pickup truck. On the right, you can see Janet’s truck (“Blue’) and her workshop trailer (“the Vega”) parked at the top of the frame, closest to our camp. Below that in the frame is Jeff and Theresa’s truck and fifth wheel trailer. In the top right of the frame is Steve and Karen’s bumper pull trailer. In looking at this, I realize that Steve and Karen’s van is missing from this shot; one of them must have been out with it. If I’d taken the shot the day before, you would have seen their 10×10 work tent set up between the Vega and their trailer.

The campsite is fewer than 3 miles from the freeway, which I’m thrilled about. We usually camp at least 7 miles away and the gravel road we drive to get back and forth into town is a jarring ride that beats the crap out of my truck’s tires and shocks. This site is off that main gravel road, although it’s close to the levee access road. Fortunately, we’re sunk down off of the levee road to nearly the high water mark, surrounded by bushes and long stands of bamboo. We have plenty of privacy and the vegetation prevents dust from getting down into our site.

This campsite is completely off-the-grid. There are no hookups or other facilities so you have to bring in everything you need: power, water, propane, and toilet. My rig has 2 12-volt RV batteries and a total of 360 watts of solar power to keep them charged. It holds 30 gallons of fresh water, but I also have 2 7-gallon jugs to fetch more. I have 2 5-gallon propane tanks that provide heat and hot water and keep my refrigerator running. Over the years, I’ve learned how to minimize toilet usage so the 30-gallon waste tank lasts two weeks without stinking. We do have cell phone service, but it’s weak — usually 1 or 2 out of 4 bars on my phone. If I hold my phone just right, I can get on the Internet.

For the most part, my companions are fine to camp with, although the newcomers, who don’t have solar panels on their rig, tend to run their loud generator a bit too often and long for my taste. (If you’re going to camp off the grid for any length of time, you need solar panels to keep your batteries charged. Running a generator for hours on end is simply inconsiderate to the people around you who don’t come out here to listen to your cheap generator because you don’t know how to conserve power.) We occasionally get together as a group for dinner or a campfire, but more often, Janet and I do our thing independently of the others. She and I are both getting work done here — she’s an artist and I’m making jewelry — but also finding time to fish, go out in our little boats, or go into town to shop or take care of errands like fetching water or propane.

We’ll be here for about two weeks — which is the limit for BLM land. Steve and Karen will pull out Saturday and Janet will do some traveling without her rig for the holidays. She’ll get back for a few days and then we’ll pack up and move out to our next destination at the first two Tyson Wells shows in Quartzsite about 25 miles away.

This is my fifth (I believe) December camping out in this area with my friends. I first did it with my big fifth wheel (“the Mobile Mansion”) and then, when I sold that, continued doing it with the two truck campers I owned (“the Turtleback” and “T2”). I have to say that despite the few shortcomings in comfort, I really do love coming here and I look forward to it every year.

Snowbirding 2020 Postcards: Fishing from Camp

My friends have success fishing right from our campsite.

It started yesterday afternoon. Janet and I were down on the shoreline talking about how high the water had risen. (Water level here is determined by releases from the Parker and Palo Verde Dams 50+ and 10+ miles upriver from here respectively.) In general, fishing is better when the water level is higher. Obviously, so is boating. Janet loves to fish and I love to paddle so the higher the water level was, the happier we were.

As we stood there looking out at the water, fish were jumping. Big fish. Lots of them.

“Maybe I should throw a line in,” Janet said.

It was about 3 PM and we were supposed to go fishing earlier in the day at another site up the backwater channel. But our companions needed to make a propane run and the weather had become overcast and chilly. No one — except maybe Janet — seemed interested in going anymore.

Janet's Orange Ear
Here’s Janet and her orange ear, after putting it on a stringer.

I was ready for a nap — or a least a few hours in my camper with Penny and a book. I went in. Janet took her fishing pole and worms out to the shrinking beach. I was stiff fussing around in my tiny kitchen area when she called out excitedly. I ran out in time to see her reeling in a fish. When I caught sight of it in the water, I thought it was small, but when she pulled it out, it turned out to be a decent sized orange ear — a very tasty edible fish. She’d gotten it on her first cast out.

Of course, I like to fish, too, especially when I can do it in some level of comfort. So I carried my fishing pole and camp chair down to the shore, put one of Janet’s worms on my hook, and cast out.

The jumping fish seemed to taunt us. It reminded me of a meteor shower where you feel lucky to see one or two meteors per minute. We were seeing one of two jumping fish per minute.

The two of us fished for at least a half hour but no more luck. I gave up first. I’d been steadily getting colder and was now really interested in that nap I’d been thinking about. I tossed my soggy worm into the water and took my chair and pole pack up to my camper. A few minutes later, I was stretched out on my bed with Penny and my iPad, reading.

Meanwhile, word had spread in our little camp. There are six of us here with six trailers/campers and four trucks. One of the other campers, Jeff from Canada, had cast out a line and set the pole on shore propped up on a forked stick. He put a small bell on the pole.

Jeff's Channel Catfish
Jeff (with the pole) and Steve admire the channel catfish Jeff brought in. I love this photo mostly because of the late afternoon light.

We were all gathered around the campfire just before dinner when Penny took interest in something on the shore. Although I didn’t hear the bell, Jeff did. He jumped up and ran to his pole. A minute later, he was reeling in a pretty big channel catfish.

We’ve already had two fish dinners at camp — three, if you count the one I missed when I was in Phoenix over the weekend. While I’m not particularly fond of catfish, the orange ear and bass that are in here are very tasty. I’m sure we’ll fish some more to collect enough for another dinner. I hope I can contribute.

With some level of comfort, of course.