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Western Washington Wander 2020: A Driving Day with a Crappy Campsite

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I spend much of the day on the road, driving into smoke and spending the night in a crappy place.

Friday was a driving day for me that was a lot longer than it should have been. The only highlights were lunch with friends and a long-postponed trip to Trader Joe’s. Even my campsite that night sucked.

So I’ll keep this short.

The Long Drive

I needed to be in Maple Valley at noon to meet some old friends for lunch. Normally, that would be less than an hour from where I was camped at Buck Creek Camp: Go northwest on 410 to Enumclaw and then north on 169 to Maple Valley. Easy.

Route to Maple Valley
Not exactly the most direct route to my destination.

But a fire had route 410 closed at Greenwater and there was apparently no way to get through. So I had to go around to the south before going west, basically circumnavigating Mt. Rainier National Park. That made it a 3-hour drive.

Of course, I didn’t know that when I pulled out of my campsite at 8 AM sharp. I knew the road was closed and that I’d have to go around the long way, but I had no idea how long that long way was. I had no Internet access and couldn’t use Google Maps to calculate drive time. So I thought I’d make a leisurely drive around the park and get there with time to spare.

I realized this wasn’t the case after stopping for fuel at Packwood and using Google Maps to give me a good route with timing. That’s when I discovered, at after 9 AM — I guess I forgot to mention stopping at a bakery and going about 5 miles out of my way in search of a ranger station — that I still had a 2 hour and 16 minute drive ahead of me. If I left at that moment, I could be there by 11:52.

Holy crap.

So I drove. I took a winding road north from Packwood to the National Park Road and continued west on another road and another road through a succession of towns, each getting a little bigger and more traffic-filled than the one before it. For the first time in days, I was stopping at traffic lights and seeing red lines on Google Maps.

And that’s when I started experiencing the smoke that has blanketed the entire state. It started as a haze and got thicker and thicker until I couldn’t see far ahead. I couldn’t smell it, but by the end of the day I’d have a sore throat.

Air Quality
Here’s a picture of the air quality situation on Friday. It hovered around 300 where I was.

Anyway, after a miserable 2+ hours of driving, I finally arrived at my destination: a restaurant in Maple Valley, WA. I parked my rig, took my pups out for a quick pee walk, stowed them in the camper where they had access to food and water, and met my friends for lunch.

A Few Hours in Civilization

The friends I met were Don and Johnie, a couple I’ve known for at least 10 years. Don was a Robinson R44 owner and helped me find hangar space at Deer Valley Airport in Arizona for a season or two before my divorce, when I really tried to make a go of helicopter charter work down there. Don has since sold his helicopter and embraced retirement. I don’t see them often, despite the fact that their summer home is right on the other side of the mountains from me and he has a helipad in his yard. Even stranger is that, like me, they go to Arizona in the winter time and I seldom see them there, either.

It was nice to catch up with them. They’ve been mostly sheltering in place, seeing very few people. This particular restaurant was one of the few they felt comfortable eating at, although they preferred eating on the outdoor patio, which was closed that day due to the smoke. They’re heading back down to Arizona later this month and I’ll make a special effort to meet up with them when I’m in their area.

After lunch, I had Google Maps direct me to the nearest Trader Joe’s. I was in search of figs, which I buy at Trader Joe’s every autumn. They did not disappoint me; I bought three pounds. I also bought some of their olive oil sardines, sugar free chocolate bars, tamales, and the fixings I need to make my granola — mostly unsweetened coconut and flax seeds which are nearly impossible to find at a reasonable price in Wenatchee. By the time I left with my three bags full of food, there was a line to get in; I didn’t realize it, but they were limiting access to the store during the pandemic and I was lucky to be able to get right in.

One more quick stop — this time at a Lowes. I bought a pair of leather gloves and eye protection that I’d need for the blacksmithing course I was starting the next day.

The Crappy Campsite

By that time, it was after 3 PM. I needed a place to park for the night and I didn’t see any decent options between there and my morning destination in Eatonville. I took a route that kept me as close to the national forest as possible, hoping for a forest road I could slip down and park along. But no joy.

In the end, I wound up parking in a mostly empty lot in the town of Eatonville. I spoke to the guys at the used car place across the street and they assured me that the owner of the lot didn’t care who parked there and that semis parked there all the time. I did notice a police car cruising through slowly to check me out, but no one bothered me.

Bad Air in Eatonville
Here’s a view out my window in my Eatonville “camp.” That tiny orange dot just under the wires is the sun.

I took the girls for a walk to a nearby restaurant called Shaken, which had outdoor dining. I figured I’d get a drink and a snack. I thought the place might be nice but it turned out to be kind of redneck. They played country music and none of the servers wore their masks properly. I ordered a drink and food; the drink came quickly and was okay but the food never came. I flagged down the waitress and told her I’d take it to go. She came back a moment later to ask me what I’d ordered. They never made it; I think she forgot to put the order in. I got the check for the drink, paid it, and left. Against my better judgement, I did give her a tip. She had, after all, gotten water for my pups.

I had a terrible night’s sleep. I heard cars go by all night and it didn’t quiet down until after midnight. Some people walked by at 2:30 AM, talking loud enough to wake the girls and get them growling.

I was out of bed by 4 AM. I spent some time working on blog posts and drinking coffee. The girls woke up when it got light out and I took them for a walk. There was a coffee place across the street and I got a breakfast sandwich from them. Pre-made, microwaved. Edible but barely.

By 8 AM, I decided to move on.

On Saying Yes When You Want to Say No

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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

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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.

My Life During the Coronavirus Age

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Life isn’t that different for some of us.

As COVID-19 continues to rage throughout most of the world — with the notable exception of New Zealand these days — I’ve been doing what I can to avoid getting the virus and, if I have a mild, undiagnosed case, prevent spreading it.

Precautions

The primary way I “stay safe” is to stay home as much as possible. This isn’t difficult because I don’t have anywhere else I need to go other than the supermarket or other shops to get necessities.

For grocery shopping, I occasionally use the pickup service at Fred Meyer, which enables me to place a grocery order and pick it up in a predetermined time slot. If I do go to the store in person, I go in the morning, right after it opens, and I wear a mask.

Wear a mask.

For the folks who can’t be bothered to wear a mask indoors in public places, I say fuck you.

People who wear masks do so to protect others, including you. The very least you can do is wear a mask to protect them.

No excuses. Wear a fucking mask.

Until recently, more than half the customers were wearing masks when I shopped, but things have slacked off here. What bothers me more is that although the store employees are required to wear masks, about half of them do not cover their noses. This includes the checkout staff, who touch everyone’s food and money. On a recent trip, I brought my own bags, which they refuse to pack, specifically so they wouldn’t touch my food more than they had to. When the girl who does the packing — who had a loose-fitting mask that didn’t cover her nose — started handing me my groceries, I told her pointedly not to touch my stuff. I don’t care if she was offended; if she can’t wear her mask properly, she shouldn’t be touching anything.

I’ve been working on various yard projects that need building materials. Every time I needed something, I’d place an order at Home Depot or Lowes and go pick it up. I quickly learned that Home Depot didn’t get it; they required me to go into the store and wait on line to pick up my lumber order; clearly this could have been handled curbside. When they refused to let me exit through the closest door, thus forcing me to walk through the crowded checkout area where no one was wearing masks, I decided that I didn’t need to shop at Home Depot anymore. Lowes had better pickup systems in place and that’s where I now shop for lumber and garden supplies.

Pressure Reducer
I finally put a good pressure reducer on my garden hydrant, which has unregulated pressure over 100 psi.

I had to visit an irrigation supply store to pick up a pressure reducer for my irrigation system and was pleased to see that they were limiting the number of people inside the shop to the number of sales folks they had. The waiting spots outside were marked with tape 6 feet apart. Because the line was outdoors and spaced properly, I wasn’t wearing my mask. Some jackass parked, got out of his SUV, and stood right next to me. He wasn’t wearing a mask. “It’s all a hoax,” he said to me. I looked at him, said “Sure,” and moved six feet away. I was glad when it was my turn to go in.

I have had to meet with clients to pick up checks or maps. One of them handed me a mask when I came into his office; I’d left mine in the truck because it was supposed to be a quick stop. The next time I visited, I wore mine and I know he appreciated it.

(I should note here that since beginning this blog post in mid-June, Washington is now under a mandatory mask order. As you might expect, the brainwashed, flag-waving Fox News viewers around here are already screaming bloody murder about that. I don’t care. I’ll wear mine in public, walk out of stores where people aren’t wearing them, and spend the vast majority of my time at home.)

Social Isolation

The “social isolation” that so many folks are having trouble dealing with isn’t a bother at all to me. I’ve been living alone nearly full-time since May 2012 and, before that, was alone for one quarter to half the time for the previous 14 years because of either my wasband’s extensive travel schedule or mine. I’m not only used to being alone, but I enjoy it. I make my own flexible schedule and get a lot done. I’m free to do what I like when I want to do it, whether it’s mealtime, spontaneous trips, or just going to bed early once in a while.

And are we really socially isolated? Most folks are stuck at home with their families — and I pity them; at this point in my life I’d go nuts if I were stuck at home with anyone. Those of us who live alone can still communicate with friends and family members via telephone, text, and Skype/Zoom calls. I’ve always been active on Twitter, which I’ve considered my “office water cooler” for years; I’ve actually become closer to Twitter friends. I’ve participated in more than a few Zoom gatherings in the past few months where I’m able to socialize with people from all over the world. (Well, mostly the US, Canada, and UK.)

For personal contact, I still meet up with folks who are following the same precautions I am — mostly neighbors and a few smart friends. Before cherry season started, we met up once in a while for an afternoon glass of wine. Alcohol is out of the question for me until August, so our meetups have been less structured, but that’s okay. Because of the limited number of folks in my neighborhood and the simple fact that we all have the same sort of work-at-home lifestyle, I don’t feel worried when I’m visiting any of them. We’re not dumb and we’re all doing our best to avoid infection.

Finances

Sunset Out Front
My pups go out for a walk on the front lawn before bed. We’ve been having some awesome sunsets lately.

Virus lockdowns haven’t affected me nearly as much as many other people. Although it has pretty much dried up two of my revenue streams — AirBnB management and jewelry sales — my primary source of income — drying cherry trees with my helicopter after it rains — has not been affected at all. So while I’ll take a revenue hit this year, it won’t be much of a burden.

I realize that I’m extremely fortunate to be in this situation, but I also know that it’s not just “luck” that put me here. After 30+ years being self-employed, I learned the importance of multiple revenue streams. I don’t think a year has gone by when all my income came from just one source. The benefit is that if one or two revenue streams dry up, I still have money coming in from other places and work I do. This year, I added a website client for the first time in at least 10 years; it isn’t much money overall, but it’s a nice replacement for my AirBnB revenue stream.

I’m also well insulated against financial hardship because I carry very little debt. My home is paid for; the loan on my truck will be paid off within the next year. (I’m actually tripling payments on it now with the goal of having it paid up by December.) I have a small loan on the land I live on and am doubling payments on that to get that paid off quickly, too. That’s it. I have no credit card debt or any other debt.

One thing I learned early in life — which was reinforced during my relationship with a man who just didn’t “get it” — is that when you have a lot of debt, you become a slave to it. How can you take the risk of starting a new job or career or business when you need the income from the job you have to keep your head above water? When you need every paycheck to pay bills or maintain a certain (possibly extravagant) lifestyle, how can you break free if you want to? The answer is, you can’t. And if that job evaporates, you’re pretty much sunk, possibly stuck with taking a less desirable job with a smaller paycheck that does little to relieve the stress of all those bills. I saw it happen over and over in the last years of my marriage.

I think a lot of folks are going through that now and I feel bad for them. Some honestly can’t help it because of personal or family circumstances that they really can’t control. But I’m equally sure that others could have softened the blow by staying out of the deep debt trap. The key is living a life that’s well within your means and saving what you don’t need to spend. Saving for a rainy day make sense when the rain comes.

Sorry to lecture but this is something that I’ve always felt strongly about. My wasband’s inability to live within his means trapped him in a series of jobs he didn’t really like, making him a bitter old man who blamed me for his unhappiness later in life. I have to wonder how many relationships in this country are similarly torn apart by a simple lack of financial wisdom on the part of one or both partners.

Killing Time

Drying Cherries
I’ve been out drying cherries a few times since my season started in late May. You can watch the video for this flight here.

Overall, my life in the Coronavirus Age isn’t very different from what it was before that. After all, every summer is pretty much the same: organize cherry drying contracts, get together a team of pilots, and hang around at or near my home, on call during daylight hours for about two and a half months, waiting for calls after it rains. I’ve got a total of four guys working with me this year, all with R44s. It’s a good team of professional pilots and, so far, my clients have been very happy with our service.

Veggies
Here’s some of June’s harvest. I got an early start on my garden and have been eating food I’ve grown since the beginning of the month.

Since I’m stuck at home, I spend a lot of time on home projects. This year, my garden is bigger and better than ever, finally set up with eleven neatly placed plastic cherry bins as raised planter beds. I replaced the border around the gravel part of my gravel parking apron. I planted more trees and put them on irrigation. I moved my bee yard closer to my house, caught three bee swarms, and put two more bee packages into new homes. I’m finally getting around to finishing the stairwell in my entry area. I replaced my Wink home automation hub with a SmartThings hub. I sold a bunch of beekeeping equipment I didn’t need anymore. I’ve done my duty as a weed spray person for the association and used my DR mower to help a neighbor get rid of weeds along her 1/3 mile long driveway.

Bighorn Sheep
Being home all the time makes it tough to miss when the local bighorn sheep come down off the cliffs and graze in my yard. I took this photo yesterday from my deck.

I’m also making videos for the FlyingMAir YouTube channel. Cherry drying videos, tour videos, 360° videos, cross country flight videos. Videos of me moving the helicopter from the airport to my landing zone or from my landing zone to an orchard. YouTube has become a small revenue stream for me, but it’s unforgiving: disappoint your audience and you’ll lose them. It’s a lot of work.

Cherry season will end in the middle of August. Unless things get dire, I’ll take my usual week-long trip to celebrate the end of the season. This year, I think I’ll camp with my pups in my truck camper with my little boat at Banks Lake. I might ask a friend of mine to join me with his dog.

I do have some dates scheduled to sell my jewelry at Leavenworth’s Village Art in the Park, which has started up with a lot of restrictions. I think I have four weekends scheduled between the middle of August until the middle of October. We’ll see if they actually happen.

I’ve also booked a trip to Alaska in September, but as the virus situation worsens, I’m having second thoughts. I might cancel or at least put it off until next year.

I am having serious concerns about my winter travels. I normally go south to Arizona, where I camp with friends and travel around a bit, soaking up sun when there’s very little at home. But Arizona — with its flag-waving Fox News viewers — is apparently in denial about the virus and has become a hot spot. I only have one art show scheduled there so far — and I haven’t paid for my booth yet — so it’s easy enough for me to skip it this year. But where would I go? With the helicopter going in for overhaul this winter, I’m on a bit of a budget. Camping out in the desert would be cheap and safe, but I honestly don’t think I could do it for three months straight. I’ll take a wait-and-see approach.

Another Awesome Sunset
Did I mention the awesome sunsets we’ve been having lately? Look closely and you’ll see four of the helicopters on this year’s team of pilots.

Life Goes On

Like most of Americans — hell, most of people all over the world — I’m looking forward to a day when an effective vaccine and treatment is widely available. I wish my fellow Americans would stop whining and complaining and start taking the virus seriously. Wear a mask. Stay out of large gatherings. Wash your hands and your clothes after being exposed to others. Eventually, we’ll lick this thing and life will go back to normal. We all have to do our part.

And that’s basically it. My life hasn’t changed substantially since I normally work at/from home and have a solitary lifestyle. I’m not taking a serious financial hit. I’m one of the “lucky” ones, I guess.

But we all know that we make our own luck.

Penny-Less

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A few words about losing my best friend.

Penny and the Pumpkins
This is my favorite picture of Penny, mostly because it also represents our new life together after my crazy divorce. I shot it at my just-purchased property in Malaga where we were living in my old RV, the Mobile Mansion, before building our home. She was about a 1-1/2 years old here.

It was a January morning like any other when my friend Janet and I went for our morning “power walk.” We typically walked at least 2-1/2 miles, starting at our campsites/booths at Tyson Wells in Quartzsite, AZ, walking east on Kuehn Street, and cutting into the open desert on one of the many dirt tracks. As usual, Penny the Tiny Dog was with us. She was leashed for the first part, then let loose to run and explore when we got into the desert for the bulk of the walk. Later, before we got back onto the road, I’d leash her up again.

That morning, things didn’t go the same as they usually did. We were just coming out of the desert to our leash-up place when a man started yelling. The next thing I knew, a large dog was chasing Penny. Then she was crying and Janet was yelling and we were all running toward the place where the big dog had Penny in his mouth. The dog’s owner got control of them, but Penny was writhing on the ground, still crying, obviously in pain. She actually bit both Janet and I as we tried to calm her. I scooped her up, yelled at the man with the dog, and headed off to find a vet.

Penny on the Kayak
I went kayaking with Penny on December 17 in the Colorado River backwaters near where we were camped. She didn’t particularly like the kayak but she wanted to be anywhere I was.

I don’t want to go into details here. Honestly, I’m tired of thinking about it, tired of reliving those moments when I raced to a vet in Blythe, lifted her out of the car, and saw how much blood was on the blanket there and my tee-shirt. The vet whisked her away for x-rays and soon reported that nothing was broken but she wanted to keep Penny overnight for observation. “She’s in good hands,” I was told.

Janet and I walked without her the next morning. We walked the same route; the man with the big dog was nowhere to be found. We spoke to some folks near our exit to the desert and asked them to tell that man, if they saw him, that his dog had put mine into the hospital.

Oddly, I didn’t have my phone with me on that walk. But when I picked it up back at my camper, I saw that I had three calls from the vet. A message told me to call back. I was with Janet when I got the news: Penny had died during the night.

Now some people have dogs who are pets. And some people have dogs who are like their kids. And then some people have dogs who are their constant companions, best friends, life savers. I’m in that last group. Penny was all of those things to me.

And yes, as I type this two full months after losing her, I’m crying.

So Penny is gone. Forever.

Last Photo of Penny
This is my last photo of Penny and it isn’t even a good one. It was shot in Janet’s booth where we’d gather for dinner some evenings. January 6, 2020.

Penny was an amazing companion. In the seven and a half years we were together, we had learned each other’s habits and needs and worked together as a team. She went with me nearly everywhere whether we traveled by car, motorcycle, helicopter, bicycle, or airliner. She wasn’t needy like some dogs, but knew how to curl up on my lap for affection when we watched TV. She helped me through some of the toughest times of my life just by being there. I can’t say that about anyone else.

I needed to blog this. I needed people who knew about her and our relationship to know that she was gone. I needed to head off any questions about why I don’t talk about her anymore. Now you know. Now everyone knows.

The empty spot she left in my life will be impossible to fill, but I’m trying. Last month, I adopted a pair of puppies. I’ll be blogging about them soon.

But one thing I already know: neither of them can ever replace my best friend, Penny.

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Comments are closed. I don’t want condolences. Please respect my wishes and don’t comment elsewhere or email me about this. The best thing in the world that you can do is either choose adoption for your next pet or donate to organizations that rescue and find homes for dogs and cats.