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Down Arizona way, near a place called Camp Verde, for several winters I hauled a load of log furniture to sell at Old Grumpy Dave's Auction. He rented the entire fairgrounds to sell western memorabilia and even mules and horses. It was a great place, I miss it. Anyway, while wait'n fer this here event to take place I was look'n for some midweek fellowship. Having overcome my denominational idolatry, the Spirit led me to a little ad in a local advertise. It sez something like "join us for...
Along the back trails of my memories this time of the year was all the hunts and the desire to gather winter's meat. Didn't seem to matter the weather in them there days, hunched up near some cover wait' n to surprise ol' mossyhorns. It all started when I was twelve. Traded an otter hide for an ancient single barrel 12 gauge Stevens. The only way you could open the barrel was drive the pin out, so I left it loaded unless I shot a grouse. Mom was scared to death I'd shoot myself. Told brother...
We often wonder at what politicians must be think'n when they take their oath to uphold the Constitution, then turn right around and do just the opposite. Perhaps they're think'n--well God knows politicians are prone to lie – it's just the way it is. I like to remind them when they take this oath, they do say "so help me God." Do they even know that their days are numbered? Is it greed or power that clouds their integrity, or perhaps both? Almost every one of them become multi-millionaires in a...
Many moons have passed since I took a group on a fishing trip to Lena Lake in the Bob. It consisted of myself, daughter Tracey and two gals from back east, who came recommended by a man I once guided on an elk hunt. Pastor Hodges too, and his cousin, a dentist from Portland, Oregon. That was back before the criminals took over the city. We hired Virgil Burns to pack everything and was furnished horses for the group. Me and Tracey had our own mounts. Arriving at Virg's outfit early there was...
Many moons ago there was a big burn over in Orchard country central Washington. Up in the mountains it fried most all the pine. There we were, crawl'n around try'n to salvage the timber. While look'n for a place to stay I heard about an old bunkhouse that was owned by a Apple Grove man. The fire crews used it, also, the apple pickers in the fall. Well, I figured if it was good enough for migrant workers it was good enough for me, see'n I was quite migratory myself. Another cutter on the job was...
Some of us who have been fortunate enough to have some great dogs: seeing eye dogs, military dogs, comfort companions for folks who live alone, guard dogs and hunting dogs. Stock dogs and kids who can remember growing up with children's best friend. Anyway, I read a story once about a starved pup thrown out of a passing car near an old ranchers' place. They gathered him up and the Misses slowly nursed him back to health. The dog grew to be a first-class stock dog. After a while the wife passed...
In defense of Roxie Sterling, I think the first amendment is still in effect. But the way things are goin,’ it may not be for long. She has a right to express her political views. Some may not like it but that’s her right as an American. Perhaps she hasn’t figured out how to be politically correct. Mr. Ashmore gave some good advice though, register some voters. Anyway, all those who can’t get beyond the hatred for Trump, try and think of more pleasant things. Lower your mask – take a deep breath – quickly wash your hands (at least 20 seconds)...
I was think'n again the other day (ya it could be dangerous) about a small blowdown sale I once had on the back side of Owl Loop Road. Some big larch had went down near the edge of a old clear cut. There's a lot of that goes to rot along the edge of some Plum Creek boundaries. Rick Trembath did up some simple paper on it. I paid for it and salvaged 2 loads there don't ya know. Rick was always easy to work with and had good common sense. Steve Feucht was logg'n in the area and sent his skidder...
I recently went to the hospital for a small procedure. As I entered, two gals checked my temperature and gave me a mask. I consider myself a reasonable person and thought this makes sense in this situation. But I won't spend what few years I have left look'n like Jesse James ready to rob the bank at Northfield, Minn. Then you have big outfits like Walmart and others open with a lot of folks close together while small independent shops are forced to stay closed and are going bankrupt, losing a...
From the time I was 15 and bought my first chain saw, that old gear drive McCulloch for $25 with money I earned trapping, I've probably owned every brand of saw made: Lombard, Stihl, Pioneer, Husky, Sacs Dolmar, Solo-super Rex, Whitehead, yup that was a brand. It had a West Bend cart engine, 8.2 cubic inch, chrome-lined jug, what power. Ya could really roar the trees off the stump. Once while buck'n tree lengths at a rail siding with it, I found out come suppertime I could hardly hang onto my sp...
There are those like Virgil Burns you could call "mule men." I've had several but wouldn't call myself a "mule man." Often I reasoned who had the smarts - me or the mule? Take Festus for instance. He's gone now but the good memories linger. For ya see Festus was as close to perfect as a mule could be: catch anywhere, never offer to kick, stand like a rock to mount and dismount, had a gait second to none, ya could tie his ears into a knot... Yes-sir-ree ol' Festus was almost perfect. But he had...
Many moons ago while cutt'n timber on a big burn between Lowman and Garden Valley, Idaho for Columbia Helicopter, I drove by a somewhat ramshackle place. One of the last buildings head'n up the river. At any rate, what got my attention wasn't the sign "honey for sale" instead it was the sign which read "mountain man, stop – chat." Well sir, I must stop and chat then. The old man was surely lonely and welcomed me right in for coffee. At a glance there was no doubt he'd spent his life in hard labo...
Many moons ago while cutt'n logs for Tom Hulett I ran into his brother John. He was one of those "men of the trail" I like to call'em. Get a load of this. John and an older cowboy once trailed 30 head of horses from Polson to Polouse, Washington by way of Wallace, Idaho. They sold the horses and then went on to Oregon. Com'n back he was alone and came home by way of the old Lolo trail from Idaho. Once back years ago I did a whole story on John for the Pathfinder. John had a way with honest dry...
Some memorable things happened over the years cut'n timber. Some tragic, some funny. Over in Idaho on a helicopter job we had a gal pilot and an Aussi. Don't know if I got room for 'em both but I'll give it a shot. She was a good pilot fly'n the Huey 500 but she was usually lost – that is she couldn't remember which guy got out at what cutt'n strip. Ain't no wonder, she was probably scared to death, look'n at such an ugly crew first thing in the morning. Ripped coats, torn pants and black from o...
Summers up on Rumble Creek work'n for the Berners sometimes had a story. Doc, ya know, had a heart of gold, God rest his soul. Anyway, he told me when he was a lad they lived within walking distance of the railroad. Sometimes a hobo would show up at the back door and gently knock. They always knew it was a hobo by that type of knock. His mom always had something for them to eat. They'd stand there with tattered hat in hand and basically be ashamed of liv'n. "Would ya--could ya-well maybe--I...
I'm gett'n long in the tooth now. But look'n back so many decades when I was a lad and Shep was a pup, there was those Christmas that always seemed like 20-30 below. The new cabin wasn't too far from the little Catholic Church. "Don't be late sez mom as she hurried me out the door, it'll be warm at the Church." I remember the crunch of the snow under foot as I walked to practice the Christmas hymns. Mrs. Ver Schnider would be there to play the organ. Mom didn't always practice 'cause she knew th...
We've noticed this year of a bear problem like never before. Grizzly bears seem to be everywhere. Trains plow'n em off the tracks. Hunters be'n attacked, bears kill'n calves, kill'n sheep, raiding chicken coops wandering around neighborhoods look'n for handouts. It's nice to live around wildlife but there should be a limit. Then over east, near the Rocky Mountain Front, I think near the town of Pendroy west of Conrad, the ranchers couldn't get all their grain in because of the early snowstorm. S...
I’d like to congratulate John Rice on his letter “Reopen National Forest Roads” run in the Nov. 7 issue of the Seeley Swan Pathfinder. He hit the nail on the head with a four-pound hammer. I lived for a short time near Thompson Falls and enjoyed rid’n my horse behind several gated roads look’n for stinky elk. Then along came the Forest Service and destroyed them. And I do mean destroyed them. You can’t even walk on them. At least you’d think they had enough sense to leave a walking path with the machine’s bucket. Like my dear mother used to...
Back when Jimmy Carter was president, the woods in Montana were not do'n a whole lot. Don't know if it had anything to do with Mr. Carter or not. But, I needed a job so got hired on at Prince of Wales Island in Alaska. Borrowed some money at the banks at 24 percent interest, took a trailer, loaded the family and away we went. To get to the island we had to load onto a small ferry called the Chilcat. Had to back down a ramp, around a corner onto the ferry. As I was back'n down, the upper deck...
Billy Grahams' "Decision" magazine published parts of this many, many moons ago. On one of those timber tramps to Alaska, I was bunking near an Indian village. No logg'n camp so had to use the two washing machines in a makeshift building. The only time to find them empty was late at night. The only occupant was a tall Indian women about 30 folding her clothes and humming a hymn. She acknowledged me and I her. I dumped my bag into the washer. As it chugged along the only sound was dogs barking...
Every summer we try and reconnect with a few folks in the Swan. We stay at Evie Andersons on Charles Road. Son-in-law Lane and sister Wendy now own it. Usually try and visit with Butch Harmon. We have lots in common be'n both old timber cutters. Butch had a rough summer to say the least. Spent too many days in St. Pat's like I did some time ago. They had to tinker with our tickers. Modern medicine is a wonderful thing. But the good book sezs "to number our days that we may gain a heart of...
Summer time is slowly slipping away. The heat for a while almost got us. Not much smoke appeared because of the rains – what a blessing. We don't need another 2017. So we wait for the leaves to change. We try to spend some precious moments out on our little deck. The aspen trees I planted out front lets their leaves quiver and quake in the breeze. Sort a like the lives of some folks quivering and quaking through this pilgrims journey and the time allotted us here. That sap sucker has been t...
I heard recently, by way of the backwoods telegraph, that some LDS Church members wanted to get away from the name Mormon. Possibly they thought it left some stigma on the church out of their past. Name me one person besides Christ that wouldn’t like to forget something out of their past? Or perhaps they see some need for revival. The body of Christ, regardless of denomination, is in great need of revival. Jesus said to the church in Lacodicea who scholars say is the end times church, “you are lukewarm,” be earnest and repent! Anyway, enter...
Over in central Oregon near the little town of Monument is Cupper Canyon Ranch, there once lived Ol' Ray Ackerman. My cutt'n partner got me hooked up with Old Ray, thought I might get to hunt muleys on his diggings. "You bet," sezs Ray. Pullin' into the yard I got mobbed by the usual stock dogs and they got attacked by a suspicious look'n part lab. Anyway, Ray yelled me in, he sez just make'n coffee, pull up a chair. I thought I better shake his hand and thank him for hav'n me over. My...
Many moons ago whilst living out of the old Mr. Emily log'n camp in eastern Oregon, I was cutt'n timber for a man known as R.W. He resided on a little ranch near a place called Cove. I was the last man standing – that is – last timber cutter on the job and he was the cat skinner. Anyway, we are out to lunch together and one day he fessed up to a crime of sorts the fall before. Like they say, "confession is good for the soul" - so they say. The story continued. Lots of elk would come down in the...
