Flying Over Kodiak in an Antique Bomber… North to Alaska

August 7, 2013January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 19 Comments

Kodiak is a beautiful island ranging (in the summer) from intensely green hills to glacier covered mountains. I took this photo out the window of our plane as we flew over the Island.

Kodiak refers to itself as the Emerald Isle, a title it borrowed from Ireland. Having driven through Ireland and flown over Kodiak, I understand. Our floatplane trip to watch Kodiak Bears on the Frazer River provided a great overview of the island. The first impression was one of pervasive greenness. Soon, the green became dotted with snow fields and then glaciers; Kodiak is not Ireland.

Peggy captured just how green Kodiak can be… set off by patches of snow. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

In American terms, Kodiak is a big Island. At 3500 square miles it is the second largest island in the US, second only to the island of Hawaii. Given that it has around 3500 Kodiak bears, there is an average of one bear per square mile. One was waiting for us when our plane landed in Frazer Lake. He came running toward us. We opted to stay on the plane until he disappeared. Later we saw him swimming across the lake.

The Kodiak Bear, a young male, made his way toward our plane. He was more interested in fish than he was us, but we stayed on the plane until he left.

Our floatplane trip also provided us with some great views of the Kodiak Coast Guard Station where our son Tony flies H-60 Helicopters on missions rescuing everything from stranded fisherman to errant oil rigs. I’ll blog about the Coast Guard later.

A view of the Coast Guard station on Kodiak. We stayed at our son’s house on the facility. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

The floatplane was a 50-year-old plus de Havilland Beaver, which makes it not only old, but also something of a legend. Ours, according to the pilot, had originally been designed to serve as a light bomber during the Korean War and still had bomb mounts on the wings. The Beaver found its true vocation serving as a bush plane in the far north, however. It has lots of STOL in pilot lingo, short takeoff and landing capability. And STOL is critical when your runway might be a riverbank or a small pond.

Our de Havilland Beaver floatplane was waiting for us when we arrived. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

A few weeks before our visit, Tony, his wife Cammie, and their children had toured Kodiak in one of these floatplanes.

The first floatplane I ever flew on had retractable wheels and took off from a regular airport. I somehow didn’t make the connection that we would be landing in a bay. The armrest probably still has my fingerprints embedded in it from when I thought we were crashing in the water. This time we took off from and landed in water. There was no confusion. Only the bear.

Another photo of Peggy’s that captures both the green and ruggedness of Kodiak. We spotted mountain goats on some of the peaks.

This, and the next three photos show the glaciers we found on Kodiak.

Kodiak Island glacier. I thought this photo Peggy took would be best shown in black and white. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

I close with another glacier photo that I found almost mystical. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

And Then the Bear Had Me by the Head… Scary Bear Stories Part II

August 5, 2013June 19, 2026 / Curt Mekemson / 19 Comments

I took this photo of an Alaska Black Bear last week at the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center. When I was leading backpack trips in Alaska in the 80s, a black bear bit through a sleeping bag into a forrest service ranger's leg. — I took this photo of an Alaska Black Bear two weeks ago at the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center.

At the end of my last blog, I had backpacked 18 miles into Yosemite Valley to resupply the food bears had taken from me.

My intention was to stay in the Valley that night but it was a zoo, absolutely crawling with tourists. So one very tired Curt shouldered his pack and hiked five miles back over the 3000-foot cliffs into Little Yosemite Valley. I nodded off that night listening to backpackers yelling as bears methodically worked their campsites, wondering when my turn would come. It came all too soon.

I woke up to a bear emptying my backpack about five feet away from where I was sleeping. This brings me to another piece of Yosemite bear lore: always leave the pockets of your pack open. If you don’t, the bear will open them for you. It tends to be rather hard on backpacks.

Fortunately, my food was safely hanging from a cable and I had left my pack wide open. I watched with clinical interest as the bear shoved his head into the pack, pulled out an item, dropped it on the ground and then stuck his head back in the pack. By then I had enough and suggested rather loudly that the bear go elsewhere. After one more foray, he did. The only damage I suffered was bear slobber, all over everything. My old Basset Hound, Socrates, the world champion of slobberers, would have been jealous.

The next night I was leaving my camp for an evening walk when I met a bear coming to visit. I bent over and picked up a rock and he took off like a dog. And thus my summer went. By the time I had led two back-to-back hundred-mile trips into Yosemite, I had my fill of bears and they had had their fill of Trekker food. Fortunately, no more of it was mine. I considered myself an expert food hanger and bear chaser.

It was almost my demise.

At the end of the second Trek, my friend Jean, her sister Mary and her husband Tim joined me at Tuolumne Meadows to hike the John Muir Trail. We spent the night at the Tuolumne campground. I had eaten backpacking meals for two weeks so it was time for grilled steaks, a little bourbon and several cans of beer before hitting the trail again.

As the night progressed, I was feeling no pain and had lots of liquid bravery. So it wasn’t surprising when a bear came to visit our neighbors from Iowa, I was prepared to do battle. They had left their cooler out on the picnic table as an open invitation and the bear was leisurely opening it. The Iowans were hiding out in their camper, making nary a peep.

“HEY BEAR,” I yelled as I strode across the road, “GET OUT OF HERE!”

Well, Mr. Bear had found himself a cache of fresh food and wasn’t about to leave. He turned around, stood up on his hind legs, raised his front legs over his head and said “GRRRROWL!” He was one big fellow. Stone cold sobriety was instantaneous.

“OK bear, it’s all yours,” I mumbled as I scurried back across the road to my own camp and safety. “Eat all of the Iowan food you want. Heck, eat the Iowans.”

By this time though, 20 flashlights were shining down on the bear. Campers are packed into Tuolumne Meadows like tenement housing in a barrio and all of the neighbors were wondering if they were next. Thus disturbed, Mr. Bear went grumbling off over the hill, more than a little pissed to have his fine feast disturbed. You could almost make out in his growling, “I’ll be back.”

Of course the Iowans left their cooler out on the table. No way were they budging from their camper. I pictured them driving nonstop back to Des Moines the next day.

Finally things settled down. After another bourbon or two, we crawled into our sleeping bags. Tim and Mary disappeared in the security of their truck and Jean and I crashed on the ground.

Not surprising, there came a time when Jean had to visit the restroom. Beer will do that. Equally unsurprising the bourbon helped me sleep right through her getting up. But I did hear her come back. Except it wasn’t Jean I heard through my alcohol-induced grogginess; it was the bear coming back for revenge.

“GET OUT OF HERE!” I screamed with all of the passion I had used when I had awakened with the bear standing on me. Jean not knowing what to do grabbed me by the head and said, “Curt, it’s all right, it’s only me!” This was undoubtedly the right thing for her to do, except now the bear had me by the head. As you might imagine, my yells increased in volume geometrically.

Picture 20 flashlights shining down on this happy little domestic scene. If Mr. Bear had any thoughts of revisiting our area that night, he gave us wide berth afterwards.

NEXT BLOG: Back to Kodiak and our float plane trip over the island.

When Bears Behave like Bears: One Thousand Pounds of Entertainment… Part 3

July 30, 2013January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 5 Comments

Kodiak Bear cooling off on the Frazer River.

There is nothing like a cool dip in the water on a hot summer day. This large Kodiak Bear plopped down in the Frazer River, obviously enjoying herself. Soon she had rolled over on her back. See below.

As I have noted before, Kodiak Bears are big animals with large teeth and sharp claws. They can be daunting, even scary. And they always deserve respect. When I found one fishing the same small stream we were fishing on the Chiniak Peninsula last week, I beat a hasty retreat, slowly. Running away would have suggested I was dinner, or at least something to play with. And bears play rough.

Bears attack people but these encounters are rare considering the number of people and bear encounters each year. On Kodiak Island there are some 14,000 people and around 3500 bears. Odds are if you spend any time at all outdoors, you will meet up with one of these magnificent creatures.

Over a thousand people per year make the trek out to the Kodiak Island’s best bear viewing spot, the Frazer River. As far as I know, no one has been eaten. A friend of mine who taught wilderness survival skills to the military used to tell his students if bears wanted to eat people, they would move in to town where there are a lot more people to eat. Mainly bears like to avoid people. We are scarier than they are.

The bears of Frazer River put on a great fish catching demonstration and the moms and cubs had a serious “ah” factor. But they also cooled off in the water, sat and watched the world go by, established who was boss, and enjoyed a good scratch. I found some of their behavior quite humorous.

Kodiak Bear cools off in the Frazer River.

Mom lays down on her back.

Kodiak Bear on the Frazer River Fish Pass.

I wasn’t about to tell this guy he had to stay off the Fish Pass. Check out the claws!

I also enjoyed this Kodiak Bear sitting in the grass and watching the action in the river.

Kodiak bears tend to be solitary animals but do come together when abundant food is available. These two seem to be pretending that the other bear is not present. Out of sight, out of mind.

While the Kodiak Bears are not territorial, arguments may ensue in close conditions. We could here the growling.

It didn’t work. We could hear the growling. We were glad that we weren’t the ones being growled at.

Kodiak Bears have developed a number of postures and sounds to avoid conflict. The bear on the left has lowered his head in submission.

We also watched the mother bear drive off a large male to protect her cubs. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

Kodiak Bear salutes... or possibly scratches an itch.

Is this “I pledge allegiance,” or “Aw that feels good?” I’ll go with scratching an itch.

Lone kodiak Bear standing in the Frazer River on Kodiak Island.

In the last shot of our bear viewing trip, a lone Kodiak Bear fishes in the Frazer River.

NEXT BLOG: Flying over Kodiak Island in a float plane.

A Visit with the World’s Largest Bears… Part 1

July 27, 2013June 19, 2026 / Curt Mekemson / 19 Comments

Kodiak Bears in the Frazer River on Kodiak Island. — The beautiful Frazer River on Kodiak Island is home to some of the largest bears in the world.

The largest Kodiak Bears can tower up to ten feet when standing on their hind feet and weigh over 1500 pounds. With these stats, the brown bears of Kodiak Island are considered the largest bears in the world.

We were privileged this past week to spend a day watching them on the Frazer River, which flows out of Frazer Lake on the southern, uninhabited part of the island. We flew in by floatplane and then hiked for a quarter of a mile to a section of the river that had dropped several feet during Alaska’s massive 1964 earthquake. A fish ladder had been built to help the salmon over the section. The Kodiak Bears consider the area beneath the falls and ladder to be their personal fishing hole.

A Kodiak Bear prepares to go fishing on the Frazer River.

Our son Tony, who flies helicopters for the Coast Guard out of Kodiak, and his wife Cammie had arranged for the trip. We owe them big. It was a gorgeous day in a beautiful area and a number of bears were fishing for salmon. This is the first of three blogs I am going to do about the experience. Today I will feature moms and their cubs. Next I will focus on the bears fishing. I will finish with some fun photos of bears being bears.

Cubs are born in January or February while their mother is still hibernating in her cave. They then nurse for several months before emerging in June. They weigh approximately one pound when born. Cubs live with mom for three plus years before venturing out on their own. Bears have their first cubs around five years of age and continue to produce litters every four years or so into their twenties.

A mother Kodiak Bear checks on the welfare of her three cubs. The cubs were waiting for mom on a fish pass that led the salmon to the fish ladder. — A mother Kodiak Bear checks on the welfare of her three cubs. The cubs are standing on a fish pass that leads salmon to the fish ladder. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

Here the three cubs are waiting patiently while mom fishes. They will lose their white collar in their second year. — Here the three cubs are waiting patiently while mom fishes. They will lose their white-collar in their second year. It is hard to believe that these little tykes will grow up and weigh over 1000 pounds. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

I liked this shot of mom and her parade. She had just chased off a male Kodiak Bear. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

A different Kodiak Bear mom touches noses with her cub. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Kodiak Cub next to Frazer River on Kodiak Island. — We watched this cub playing with its mom in high grass where we couldn’t get any photos although she was about ten yards away.

Kodiak cub stands on hind feet searching for mom fishing in the Frazer River on Kodiak Island. — “Where did Mom go?” the little guy seems to be asking as he stands up on his hind feet and looks for her.

Kodiak cub watches its mother fish in the Frazer River on Kodiak Island. — Momma Kodiak has her head buried in water searching for Salmon. Junior joined her for the show. “Catch a big one, Mom.”

Having caught a fish, Mom shares it with her cub.

NEXT BLOG: Peggy and I watch the Kodiak Bears on the Frazer River catch enough salmon to make the most skilled fisherman jealous.

The Beavers of Toad River… North to Alaska

July 22, 2013January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 7 Comments

The view out the back window of our van at Toad River. The beaver lodge is in the foreground.

By the time we reached Toad River in Northern British Columbia on the Alaska Highway, we were ready to call it a day. Peggy and I had stopped at the lodge on a previous trip for lunch. The restaurant claims to have the largest collection of baseball caps in the world. If you make the trip, be sure to stop by and look up at the 7,000 on the ceiling.

The lodge on the Toad River had an RV park and Internet. It turned out to be one of the best Internet connections we had on the Alaska Highway.

Some 7000 caps decorate the ceiling of the restaurant at Toad River Lodge.

Kodiak Coast Guard cap at Toad River Lodge.

Since we are on our way to visit our son Tony who flies helicopters for the Coast Guard in Kodiak, I took this photo.

The Toad River Lodge had this toad for sale.

As to how Toad River got its name, the residents claimed it was originally Towed River dating from the days when the Alaska Highway was being built in the 1940s and heavy equipment had to be ferried across the river. Wikipedia claims the name came from big toads living next to the water. Peggy and I heard large toads croaking that night. Maybe it was our imagination.

We backed into our campground and immediately discovered a beaver lodge was built in the pond directly behind our van. Closer inspection revealed busy beavers buzzing about. You’ve undoubtedly heard the comment, “busy as a beaver.” It means really busy and there is a reason for its use. Beavers work hard. There are trees to bite down, lodges and dams to be built, food to gather, territories to protect, and children to raise.

Families are important. Mom and dad mate for life and both parents take care of the kids. Teenagers hang around for a year or two and help babysit. Everyone chips in on dam and lodge building.

Pop very carefully marks the family property. A lot of work has gone into improvements. No trespassing signs consist of small piles of debris dredged up from underwater, deposited on land, and then marked by anal gland secretions. I watched a beaver perform this task when I was backpacking in the Wind River Mountains of Wyoming. He backed up to the pile, raised his tail, and let go. Invading beavers that cross over property lines are quickly run out of town. It can get nasty.

Beavers are known for modifying the landscape by building dams across small creeks and then building their homes of lodges in the lakes that are created. No other animal, with the exception of man, has such an impact on the environment. And beavers don’t have to file EIRs, obtain building permits, or worry about zoning laws. Lodges, or homes, consist of one or two rooms with underwater entrances.

Ducks, frogs, and trout love the riparian habitats created by beavers. Farmers are less pleased with their activities and frequently tear down the dams. New ones are promptly built overnight. We watched our busy beavers for an hour or so. They were mainly busy with stuffing their tummies. Have another bite of bark. Yum.

Beaver dam on Toad River in northern British Columbia.

Looking down on the beaver dam at Toad River. A beaver can be seen on the left center of the photo.

Looking up at the beaver dam across the pond at the beaver lodge. Still green leaves suggest that the dam is a work in progress.

Beaver lodge on the Toad River in British Columbia.

Another perspective on the beaver lodge.

Beaver eating on Toad River in northern BC

Beaver chomps down on limb. Check out the claws. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

The beaver stopped eating to look at me. Is he grinning?

Beaver eating on the Toad River in northern British Columbia.

This guy was working on his dinner. Note the chunk of bark in his mouth. He is holding it with his paw. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

Beaver swimming on Toad River in northern BC

I like this shot Peggy took because you can see the beaver’s body under the water. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

A final photo featuring a beaver, beaver lodge, and mountain. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Next Blog: The sign forest of Watson Lake.

The Delicate Art of Chainsaw Wood Carving: Part 2… North to Alaska

July 19, 2013January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 15 Comments

Peggy, who had just been kayaking on Dragon Lake in Quesnel, BC, was immediately attracted to this dragon wood carving in Chetwynd. (Photograph by Peggy Mekemson)

On Monday I provided an introduction to the art of wood carving with a chainsaw in Hope, British Columbia. Today we will see what Chetwynd, BC has to offer. As I mentioned earlier, Chetwynd holds an annual contest in June that attracts wood carvers from around the world. We quickly found that the number and variety of carvings was even greater than we had found in Hope. I was amazed at what could be accomplished in 36 hours. it made me think about the months and even years, sculptures spend working on a block of marble.

I was more entranced by this scary pumpkin scarecrow.

A close up of the head. How would you like to meet up with this guy on a dark night?

The complete sculpture. Like Scarecrow in Oz, he had straw stuffing trying to escape.

A close up of the head on Peggy’s dragon. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

Was this crusty gold miner saying “Don’t take my photo”?

A close up of the miner’s face in Chetwynd, BC.

I found the perspective on this bear totem pole interesting.

Deer totem pole.

An eagle lands to feed its chick. (Photograph by Peggy Mekemson)

A bear tries to raid an eagle’s nest. The eagle objects.

The Thinker? (Photograph by Peggy Mekemson)

Another perspective. This ram had quite a set of horns.

A Samurai warrior.

A carved relief on the side of the Chetwynd, BC Visitor Center of St. George slaying the dragon.

It seems appropriate to end this blog on Chetwynd, BC chainsaw wood carving with a moose.

Another photo of the moose.

Next Blog: The busy beavers of the Toad River.

When Your Campground Goes to the Dogs… North to Alaska

July 17, 2013January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 12 Comments

Peggy decided to go kayaking on beautiful Dragon Lake near Quesnel BC for her birthday.

Peggy decided to go kayaking on beautiful Dragon Lake near Quesnel BC to celebrate her birthday.

It was Peggy’s birthday. We picked out a nice campground near Quesnel, BC and declared a layover day. I am expected to celebrate the day appropriately. When we first got married Peggy told me that forgetting her birthday was grounds for divorce. Apparently her first husband missed one…

I’d been careful when leaving home to pack candles, animals, and a hanging birthday sign. “What’s with the animals?” you ask. Peggy’s family has a tradition. Over the years they have gathered dozens of miniature plastic and metal animals. Several of them are placed on the birthday cake. The person having the birthday is then expected to make the sound each animal makes. Like what sound does a hippopotamus make? I’ve been known to leave town on my birthday.

I gathered cards, gifts and a birthday pie along the way. Our friends Bob and Linda joined us and I explained the animals. Peggy then made the necessary growls, grunts, coughs, chest pounds, etc. and had a good time. It appears I am married for another year.

What we didn’t realize was that our campground was about to go to the dogs. Robert’s Roost Campground was hosting dog agility trials. Our campground filled up with dogs of all breeds, shapes and sizes. We went over to watch the action. The dogs are expected to run through tunnels, climb over bridges, weave in and out of a line of sticks, and leap over hurdles in a timed performance. Their owners run along beside shouting instructions. I think the owners work harder than the dogs.

A number of hurdles had been set up for the dogs. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

Hurdles are set at different heights to accommodate dog size.

This guy seemed to float over his hurdle. “Jump!” his owner urged. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

An even smaller dog weaves his way through the poles. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

Peggy captured the passion this dog was showing. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

Another shot that captures the intensity of the dogs participating in the agility trials. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

Stepping out on the bridge at the dog agility trials.

Another dog challenges the bridge. This time from the opposite direction.

Tunnel exit at dog agility trials. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Bob and Linda's dog, Sister, stands in our shadows and watches the action. Sister decided that much more than "Good dog," would be required for her to leap over hurdles.

Bob and Linda’s dog, Sister, stands in our shadows and watches the action. She decided that much more than “Good dog,” would be required for her to leap over hurdles.

Next Blog: Busy as a beaver on Toad River

Wood Carving with a Chainsaw… North to Alaska

July 15, 2013January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 26 Comments

Hope, British Columbia sits on the Fraser River. This photo is taken from the river park in front of the town.

Peggy and I have ventured into British Columbia several times. And we have always been impressed. This time is no exception. The natural beauty, abundant wildlife, proud communities and friendly people guarantee our return– again and again.

We are also amused by the efforts of small communities to capture their moments of fame and share of tourist dollars. The world’s largest cross-country skis, the world’s largest beehive, and the world’s largest golf ball are all examples. These fun gestures make us smile. Out come our cameras for the obligatory photos.

The world’s tallest cross-country skis.

Chainsaw wood carving exists on another level. This once primitive art form has taken on a surprising level of sophistication. Two towns we passed through on our journey north to Alaska featured chainsaw creations: Hope is an hour or so from the border of Washington State; Chetwynd is near Dawson Creek, the beginning of the Alaska Highway.

The helpful folks at the Chetwynd Information Center explained how they had obtained their extensive collection of carvings. Each year the town hosts a chainsaw wood carving contest. Participants come from all over the world. The process starts with importing logs from Vancouver Island. The logs dry for several months and are then tagged with numbers. Individual participants draw numbers to see which log he or she gets. Contestants then have 35 hours over five days to complete their masterpieces.

Today I am featuring Hope, which is located on the mighty Fraser River. Chetwynd will be featured two or three blogs up the road.

Hope is quite proud of its chainsaw woodcarvings. A map from the Visitor’s Center took us on a walk to find the town’s sculptures.

These herons are an example of how sophisticated chainsaw wood carving has become.

Animals are a common subject for chainsaw woodcarvers.

A pair of wolves.

Fantasy figures, such as this wizard, also serve as common themes for chainsaw carvings. Note the mouse living in his beard.

The wizard also wore an eyeball ring.

Many of the chainsaw wood carvings in Hope, BC display a sense of humor such as this tourist with a guidebook in his hip pocket. Another carving can be seen on the next block.

Speaking of humor, I found this face on a statue of Bigfoot rather funny.

In my last blog I featured totem poles. Given the First Nation influence in British Columbia, it was not surprising to find Raven as one of the wood carvings.

This eagle and girl also represented a First Nation theme.

I found this face rather powerful.

My friend Bob decided to look tough in this Rambo photo board outside of the Hope Visitor Center. Stallone’s “First Blood” was filmed in the town.

Peggy and Linda share a laugh on the edge of the Fraser River at Hope BC. Possibly they were amused at Bob’s effort to look like Stallone.

Next Blog: When a campground is taken over by dogs.

Innocent Until Proven Guilty… North to Alaska

July 10, 2013January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 8 Comments

First Grade class at Diamond Springs Grade School in 1949.

Our first grade class at Diamond Springs Elementary School in California. Bob is second from the left in the bottom row. I am fourth from left in the upper row. Our tough looking teacher, Mrs. Young was charged with civilizing us.

Our friends Bob and Linda Bray, along with their ever-present dog, Sister, arrived around three bearing wine. They had parked their RV on our lower property and trudged up the steep hill to our home in 100 degree plus weather. I was still waxing Quivera the Van in preparation for the trip to Alaska.

I wiped the stinging sweat from my eyes and greeted them. The Brays were joining us on our adventure.

Bob and I have been hanging around together since first grade, which was a while ago. In the beginning, our friendship faced a serious obstacle. Bob’s mother had a rule: he was not to play with the Mekemson boys. We were Trouble spelled with a capital T.

Rightfully, or wrongfully, Marshall and I were blamed for most of the bad things that went on around Diamond Springs. Who shot Tony Pavy’s pig, broke into Jimmy Pagoni’s wine cellar, went joyriding on Caldor’s rail car? It was the Mekemson boys, of course.

Most of the mischief I got into involved tagging along with my older brother. When he graduated to girls, my reputation made a miraculous recovery. I was, however, able to pull off one last coup and live up to Bertha Bray’s expectations. For some unfathomable reason, Bob’s parents bought him a Wham-o Slingshot.

I mean, how do you expect your son to resist temptation when you buy him a slingshot? The fact that I owned a Wham-o as well almost guaranteed trouble.

Bob and I agreed to meet for a clandestine hunting expedition. It had to be clandestine because I was still on Mrs. Bray’s ‘don’t invite’ list. Our only rule for the adventure was that anything that moved or didn’t move was a valid target.

Things were going great until we came upon the old abandoned bum’s shack that was just off the Southern Pacific railroad track about a quarter of a mile away from Bob’s home. Typical of such structures, it had been created out of anything that was available for free: old aluminum roofing, miscellaneous boards, an occasional nail, a thrown away mattress, etc. It had one crowning glory, a window.

Bob and I looked at each other and had a simultaneous thought. Out came our ammunition, a shiny new marble for Bob and several bee bees for me. We took careful aim, counted down, and let fly.

To this day, Bob claims he saw his marble harmlessly strike the windowsill while my bee bees were smashing the glass to smithereens. I of course saw Bob’s marble hit the window dead on while my bee bees formed a neat pattern around the edges. There was no doubt about it; we were both innocent.

The current occupant of the not abandoned home, who was washing dishes behind a willow bush in a small stream, saw something entirely different– two little boys smashing his pride and joy.

He let out a bellow of rage and came charging up the trail. Once again the Mekemson Gang, along with its newest recruit, was on the run. The good news is that we escaped. The bad news was that the bum/hobo/homeless person with a home recognized Bob and went straight to his house. Mrs. Bray’s worst fears had been realized.

The story didn’t end there. On the 50^th anniversary of our starting the first grade together, Bob sent me a present for Christmas, a slingshot. Somewhere, I suspect Bertha Bray rolled over in her grave, or maybe she chuckled.

Bob and I today on the road north in Salem, Oregon.

Bob and I today on the road to Alaska.

Linda with the family dog, Sister.

Heads or…

…tails.

Next Blog: The wonderful totem poles of the First Nation People.

A Tall Trees Tale: Shake Down Cruise to the Redwoods… North to Alaska

July 8, 2013January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 15 Comments

Moss covered tree in Redwoods National Park.

When we think of the Redwoods, it is usually about the giant Redwoods. But the Redwoods also have an incredible greenness that is long remembered.

A long trip, especially a long trip where services are few and far between, means you prefer not to have breakdowns along the way. I dutifully took Quivera in to the Ford Dealer and spent the usual obscene amount of money to increase my chances she would behave herself on the way to Alaska. The drive to Alaska isn’t as challenging as it once was (I made my first trip in 1986 over frozen dirt), but it is still challenging.

To further increase our chances of a worry-free trip, Peggy and I– along with our daughter and two grandkids, took Quivera on a shake down cruise to the Redwoods National Park in Northern California, about three hours away. We had introduced our son Tony’s kids to the Big Trees last summer and were eager to have Tasha’s children share the experience.

We dutifully took the kids to see the Big Tree. It is 304 feet tall (92.6 mtrs), 21.6 feet in diameter (6.6 mtrs) and 68 feet (20.7 mtrs) in circumference. The estimated age of the tree is 1500 years. Afterwards, Ethan and Cody along with our next-door neighbor’s son, William, went charging off to look for Ewoks and banana slugs. Star Wars was filmed nearby.

The eight year old Ethan on the left, our nine-year old next door neighbor William, and the five-year old Cody pose in front of the Big Tree in Redwoods National Park.

Looking up at the Big Tree. It is impossible not to feel awe.

A pair of giant trees in Redwoods National Park.

Of course Big Tree is just one out of hundreds of the giants found in Redwoods National Park.

Firn with rain drops in Redwoods National Park.

It had rained just before we started our visit and this fern was still holding rain drops.

A bright yellow Banana Slug makes its way along the forest floor. The Banana Slug, BTW, is the school mascot for the University of California, Santa Cruz.

Another view of how green it is at Redwoods National Park. I told the boys to look out for Ewoks. The boys are avid Star Wars fans. “You know Ewoks are make believe,” the five-year old Cody primly informed me. Darn. I thought they were real.

The light grey clouds against the dark tees provided an interesting view looking up.

I also liked this shot looking up at leaves.

We also camped out on the Pacific Ocean. This is our daughter Natasha. The tracks you see were made by the boys, running back and forth between the ocean and their driftwood forts.

We spent our last night at Harris Beach State Park in Brookings, Oregon

Fog rolls in at Harris State Beach near Brookings, Oregon.

The fog was rolling in when we packed up to leave. Quivera was ready to head north to Alaska.

NEXT BLOG: You’ll meet our traveling companions, Bob and Linda Bray. Bob and I have been hanging out together and causing mischief since the First Grade… a long time ago on a far and distant planet.

Wandering through Time and Place

Exploring the world with Curtis and Peggy Mekemson

Author: Curt Mekemson