My Son Reflects on Camping at Beaver Hollow

My son Michael tells about some of his Beaver Hollow memories...

Dear Pops, (aka billy blaze)

I have been thinking about the many great times at camp. Remembering things like the time a bear went in and grabbed the Fridge and Freezer out of the pump house and tore them apart in the field. The time I hit a cougar and thought it was going to jump in my car to hit me back. Or the time I stepped on a rattle snake in the field and how I sharpened my killing skills through fear alone, oh and the help of a lawn chair. In the end the
lawn chair was broken but I came out with my first victory! Or how about the time I had my first snake killing lessen from Grandma Gray. She told me I needed a long tool with a flat end. Grandma searched the back of her truck, no shovel in sight so she said this will work! She then took the plastic off of Jason’s brand new snow board with one hard shot to the pavement, off went the rattlers head and much of the snow boards value. Tossing the board back in the truck along with the dead but still moving snake.  I knew I could not tell Jason. The stories go on and on but for some reason the “No Pouting Allowed at Beaver Hollow” kept reminding me of the time we were all sitting around the camp fire roasting marshmallows and a flaming molten mellow got flung right into Doug’s eye. He was pretty young at the time and he panicked thinking that the hot lava of a marshmallow had caused him to go blind. Billy Blaze to the rescue! He began to tell us that all was well, being that he is PRACTICALLY a doctor. He hurried to his "rescue van" to retrieve his medical gear. About 10 minutes later you could no longer see Doug’s face at all. He had completely wrapped him in gauze and convinced him if he took it off he would lose his eye for sure. Scared to death Doug kept that bandage on for some time afterwards. We all learned that day not to pout at camp and that "practically a doctor" turns out to be a practical joke.

Michael

 ...Humm I wonder if my daughter Erica has some of the same kind of memories.  Maybe that's why she moved all the way to Maryland?

The Punch Bowl

…hummm, Ka’mya and sis have gone back home to Maryland, billy blaze has gone back to work at the “Poop Plant” as Stacey calls it. When ever I feel a bit down in the dumps I know it is time to go seek out an adventure. Last year after returning home from seeing my newly born granddaughter in Maryland I too felt a bit depressed after returning to Oregon. For many years I had planned on hiking into the Devils Punchbowl located in the Siskiyou Wilderness in Northern California, but had never made the journey as of yet…

…not being on shift at the fire department the next Saturday after returning home I decided it was time to hike my doldrums off. Packing my substantial camping gear into my big pack then repacking it again because it would not all fit into the pack the first time, I readied for the adventure. I’m not sure why but I have problems finding people who will go on these adventures with me, so I again prepare to go this time alone, except for my trusty hiking buddy Stryker. Through the years I have had several good dogs that have accompanied me on my weekend walk-abouts throughout the Northwest but Stryker is a real gem to have tag-a-long, or in his case run ahead. I used to carry all the supplies my other dogs needed in my own backpack but with Stryker I decided it was time the darn dog carried his own supplies. Doing this also gave me a bit more room to carry more crap of my own.

We head out right after work Friday night to spend the night at the small campsite at the Devils Punchbowl trail head located in Doe Gap. Stryker is on full alert for danger as he spars with the chipmunks darting across the logs trying to get to his food dish. I never got a wink of sleep that night due to Stryker’s growling at chipmunks, birds and maybe a cougar or two. Boy, he has a hair raising growl too. I drag myself out of my sleeping bag about sun up. Having a granola bar and Dr. Pepper for breakfast, putting Stryker’s pack on, if he would stop wiggling, I finally heave on my own 65 pound pack and off we go. The first two miles of the trail is simply an aged old mining road that is slowly returning to nature but the scenery offers beautiful views of distant mountain tops and big conifer trees. The trail makes a quick right turn from the old roadway and now we are finally on the more typical Northwest trail. The next 3.5 miles is skirting along the mountainside nicely with a few small creek crossings for Stryker to reload after he pees on everything in site. One more quick right turn and the trail narrows considerably, grows steeper (ok, it goes straight up) and I begin to rapidly gain elevation one switchback at a time. After the first dozen switchbacks I begin to name them out loud to help motivate me deeper into the wilderness, mo-fo, deep breath, sum-bitch, deeper breath, little fuddrucker, big fuddrucker to name a few before my mind went numb from the climbing and elevation change. The realization finally hits me that I am hiking into a high elevation lake, duh, so some climbing would be involved. And who put all this crap in this pack anyways?

With Stryker still running circles around me we finally climb above of the timber line and into the rocky swath left behind by the ancient glacier that helped form Devils Punch Bowl. To say the least it was picturesque and we hadn’t even gotten to the lake yet. Climbing over and around the house sized boulders we approach the crystal clear lakes edge that is surrounded on three sides by 300 foot vertical cliffs, prime cougar country I think to myself, not wanting to alert Stryker to the danger. Throwing (more like letting it fall from my back) my soaked with sweat pack down I sit on a rock to rest. Pulling from my gear bag my binoculars, yep I packed those too; I begin scanning the surrounding cliffs. Thinking I might get to see a mountain lion sunning himself on this crisp June morning on one of the many rock outcroppings. Whew, thank God didn’t see any, but… there still could be a herd of them lurking I surmised to myself.
With no neighbors at my small lake with me, a 30 second dip into the fresh snow melted lake water, a girl like scream, I quickly scamper back to shore to unthaw as I watch Stryker now doing the back stroke past me in the ice cold water.
Hunting out the best campsite around the lake I set up camp. Tent, sleeping bag, thick mat to protect my back, mosquito net, camp stove… …camping stool, Dr. Pepper I carried in for the occasion, you know all the necessities. I yell to Stryker “Damn-it quit showing off, get out of that water and come warm-up for a minute”. An early lunch followed by an afternoon nap, kind of, there are chipmunks at Devils Punchbowl too. Still no one at the lake with me, boy those cliffs sure look like prime cougar country, man I hate being alone in the dark, I surmise to myself. Nah… I’m tough. Only took me three and a half hours to hike in here, it would be down hill most of the way back. Oh quit, you “girlyboy fireman”. You know if I left now I could be back to my truck before it got reeeaal dark. As I quickly begin cramming my gear back into my backpack.

I yell, Stryker lets go, as I decide to head back to the trail head and the safety of my truck. Stryker gives me one of those looks like... what the hell, you make me pack all this dog food, pigs ears, dog biscuits and extra water in here and now "lets go" and I’m suppose to be happy about it. I tell Stryker yeah but now you know how I feel carrying all this crap, when I realized I’m having an actual conversation with my dog.

Partway down the mountain side I see someone coming my way, no running my way, up the mountain, no cougars chasing him either, humm. As he approaches closer I see this young man isn’t even wearing shoes. Only carrying a small day pack, tiny fishing pole.  I ask him, you spending the night? Oh no he replies, just running in here to catch a couple fish for dinner tonight and off he trots towards the lake. I tell Stryker I could have done that too when I was younger, what are you looking at, get going.


Wellll… five hours later the young man catches back with me, still barefooted, carrying his two fish for dinner. He yells over his shoulder to me as he trots by “you going to make it”. I reassured him, “Oh yes I am a fireman, I’ll be fine” as I am gasping for air in the late afternoon sun. Finally I trudge up along side my truck barely able to get my fricking heavy pack in the bed of it. Stryker even flops down in the shade, with his tongue hanging out as I impugn him. “I told you, you should have paced yourself”. If not for some ice left in the icebox in the back of my truck, with an ice cold Dr. Pepper nestled down in the cold water, I wouldn’t have made it home that night.

Any volunteers to go with me this year?

Maryland baby, Oregon toddler

Soon after Erica’s plane had touched down in Oregon and we were waiting for their luggage around the turnstile. Erica pulled me aside. She quietly confides in me “Dad, I just don’t know what to do”. “Ka’mya is so close to learning how to walk but I just can’t seem to get her to take those first actual steps” “Can you please help teach her to walk?” Hearing the desperation in my daughters voice and seeing the concern in her eyes, I told Erica “Honey don’t you worry, daddy will take care of this for you, you just enjoy your trip to Oregon”.

Knowing in the back of my mind that this was only the second time I had been with my east coast granddaughter. Obviously at first I was a bit nervous about how or if Ka’mya would bond with me. Trying not to act too overly anxious at the crowded airport I was reminded Ka’mya was only going to be with me for one week. I knew that I would need to work fast and often with her. To make my important task even harder I had to share this little crawling gem with my ex-wife… her other grandma. I took Ka’mya in my arms and we began our bonding process, while I had to fight off the other grabby relatives vying for her attention. They did not know about my secret mission. For the first couple days after Ka’mya came to Oregon she went to “crawl” around at her “other grandma’s” house which actually turned out to be a godsend for me. Those few days away from her gave me time to bone up on my new toddler walking skills. It’s amazing, they really do have everything on-line these days.

Finally Ka’mya gets to come to grandpa’s house where the training regiment can truly begin. To the untrained persons eye it would look like I was just carrying her around in my arms, a lot. But, nooo… Immediately I began teaching her about floor surfaces. Hardwood floors are slick and hurt when you fall on them. Shag carpeting can slip you up but doesn’t hurt as bad

when you take a spill. Informing Ka’mya stair steps are a "fuddrucker" for a beginning walker, so avoid them. Ka’mya was a quick learner too. I was able the dive into some of the more complicated walking surfaces. We practiced walking on snow at Crater Lake, sand at the Pacific Ocean and grass in my own backyard. I reminded her about dangers that can befell you while hiking in the Redwood Forest. I taught her about uneven surfaces that can jump out from anywhere, wind and wind drift, finishing with the complex theory on the rotation of the earth and how it can effect walking in a straight line.

The final day of Erica’s visit to Oregon was to be spent at Beaver Hollow where she could show Van where she had grown up camping and having fun with all her friends. Leaving her dad on the creek bank for the first time, actually I was using these last few minutes alone with Ka'mya for a last minute pep talk. I assured Erica she was now old enough to lead her own motley crew on an inner tubing adventure down Graves Creek. She brought along her brother and several other younger siblings that had swarmed around her all week on the wet adventure. Erica is a school teacher in Maryland and it clearly shows she is a great one by the care and concern she shows all the kids who hang out around her.

With the annual “Black and Blue Bottom Rafting Adventure” behind us we began to get ready to depart from camp. I pulled Ka’mya aside one last time and told her “It’s Go Time Girl”. I tell her to remember to watch which way the flag is blowing on the Beaver Hollow Camp flag pole and adjust her steps as I had taught her.

Plane tickets $1200.00, trip down the Rogue on the jet boats $400.00, gas for the van $200.00. Watching Ka’mya take those first fragile steps on her own, while visiting Beaver Hollow “PRICE LESS”

What the short video doesn’t show is when Ka’mya looked over at me after her first actual steps, now a new “Toddler”. She gives me a wink only a granddaughter and her true grandpa can understand. It’s still a ways off but, yes I am ready for the next challenge Erica unloads on me. Teaching Ka’mya how to color pictures and stay within the lines, reciting her alphabet and picking out her first boyfriend.

Curly haired girls

I am keenly aware that a story telling blog like mine needs to have stories routinely fed into it for people to stay interested and following my rants. As I mentioned in my last post, I am not feeling all that chatty right now, which I know will really surprise some of you. I am feeling the effects of not being able to live closer to Ka’mya and her mom and be involved more in their day to day lives.  Mostly I'm pouting about the situation.

Of all the stories I have trapped in my head, this is the only one that helps me today…

…I was reluctant when I moved into Grants Pass following my new job in the city but have since learned to enjoy the bigger town. The Grants Pass community supports several “artsie-fartsie” celebrations during the year. One that I especially liked was the “Take a Walk Along the Rogue Celebration”. It was where parents and grandparents could come and enjoy free activities with their children and grandchildren. Of course, I would always dust the rickshaw off for this event because I like giving small kids their first rickshaw ride.

I will never forget a couple years ago when I was riding the rickshaw during the event. I was just getting ready to drop off two adult passengers that I already had in the rickshaw with me. When out of the corner of my eye I saw a three to four year old blonde-haired girl running full tilt across the lawns towards my rickshaw. You know that kind of running where their bodies are almost out running their little legs and you are afraid they are going to fall. Her hair looked exactly like Ka’myas’ but only a beautiful blonde color. Just behind her were her two slightly older siblings, just behind them were mom and dad trying to keep up with the three of them. Thinking back, it would have made a great Norman Rockwell picture. No more had I come to a complete stop, to let my current passengers off, did the little blonde haired girl dive onboard. Her older brother and sister stopped short of getting in the rickshaw apologizing for little sisters’ exuberance. Of all my years around children she was the most beautiful child I have ever seen till my grandkids came into my life. She had curly, curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a smile as bright as the sun that day. She had Down Syndrome. With the parents finally catching up to them and me explaining the rides were free, they let me take their children for a spin (actually several spins) around the park in the rickshaw. This little blonde girl giggled out loud, pointed and laughed the entire time I was giving them a ride and ohhh what a long ride they got.

I can tell this east coast granddaughter Ka’mya, is going

to cost me some money. Shipping my rickshaw back and forth across the country is not going to be cheap.

Pondering...

... I have spent a considerable amount of my adult life purposefully staying unattached to people I know.  My life experiences have shown when I get emotionally attached to someone, they either divorce you, move away from the local area, move in a different direction with their own life or pass away.  Working in a small community as a fireman you often have to help seriously injured people you know very well.  I have found it much easier for me to deal with this trauma by keeping people at a arms distance from  me.  If anybody out there can tell me how you could keep from becoming emotionally involved with this little lady I would be interested in hearing about it.

  Ka'mya eating snow at Crater Lake.

Erica and Van's whorl wind tour of Oregon is winding down Saturday with one last stop at her Uncle Jacks campground, the infamous Beaver Hollow.  Erica, her brother Micheal and all their friends spent many, many weekends there with me when I was in the process of building it.

It may be a few days before I post

anything because quite frankly I don't much feel like writing right now.  My "Macgyverism" (the art of taking things around you and using them to solve problems like on the popular T.V. show Macgyver)  is trying to kick in and figure out how I can resolve the problem of Ka'mya living 3000 miles from me.  Generally I am able to come up with quick reliable solutions for complex accident scenes when a persons life depends on it.  Unfortunately, as of yet, I have not been able to develop a plan, on how I can live in Oregon and be as involved in her life, as much as I would like to be.  When Ka'mya lives all the way in Maryland.

The Deep Blue Wonder

By now you have probably noticed I have a bit of a fetish about Crater Lake with the many pictures I have already posted of it on my blog.  With all the ugly things I have witnessed on the fire department side of my life I have found that being around Crater Lake helps me block out the bad images that get trapped in my mind sometimes. 

It doesn't matter what time of year you visit Crater Lake, it is simply put, beautiful, every time I visit.  I have snowshoed around many parts of the crater rim before when it was snowing.  It is so quiet when you stand in that untouched snow and listen.  When snow is falling you can actually hear when the snowflakes individually hit the ground.  From flames leaping, people shouting, and the confusion on any accident scene, the tranquil splendor you feel when over looking the rim peering into the deep blue wonder helps heal anyone's mind.

After Grandma Mary pasted away several years ago I was told that grandma never visited Crater Lake. She missed out getting to see one of Oregon's greatest natural wonders right in her own backyard.  I remember feeling heart sick to myself after being told she never got to take the short journey to the caldera with Wizard Island looming in the middle.  With grandma living in Oregon since the 1930's I just assumed her and grandpa had made the trek together sometime when he was still alive.  To an extent, I have since made it my mission to take as many people to visit Crater Lake, in remembrance of my Grandma Gray.  Today I got to fulfill one of this grandfathers dreams by taking both my west coast and east coast grand kids to Crater Lake. 

While Ka'mya is still too little to truly enjoy the trip fully.  I learned that I had not yet taken my own daughter to Crater Lake while she still lived in Oregon with me. Check, I finally accomplished that today also.

Erica, her boyfriend Van and Larrieann joined our small clan as we made the trip to Crater Lake, then on to Diamond Lake, and the Rogue Rivers Natural Bridge before turning towards the sunset and heading back home to Grants Pass.

Zeek gets a Reprieve Tonight...

The west coast grand kids came back home after Ka'mya's party yesterday to spend the night with Larrieann and I last night. They are both pretty excited about the new tree house I am building. The conversation went something like this...

Alex: Grandpa can we sleep in the tree house tonight?
Blaze: Heck why not, I'm on vacation. Who cares if I won't be able to move in the morning after sleeping on hard plywood?
Alex: Radical dude.
Larrieann: Count me out, I sleeping in my own bed.
Stacey: I'm sleeping with grandma.

As the sun goes down the new fire pit is lit and put into action. With Larrieann and I supervising, roasted marshmellows soon turn into smores as darkness settles over our backyard. With the stars twinkeling in the far distance and the half moon shining brightly over our world I break out the Search and Rescue gear, sleeping bags. I have a sleeping bag for every type of adventure. A compact light one for when we need to move fast. A real good one, for when it's below freezing outside. A couple normal sleeping bags for nights like tonight. Alex and I carry all our gear out to the tree house for the maiden sleep over. Finally I get him all snuggeled down in his sleeping bag with a pillow for his head.

Laying next to Alex in my own bag, Stryker forces himself between us. We lay on our backs counting stars with each other. I struggle to point out constilations to him through the tree limbs as I feel myself drifting off to sleep. A dog many houses away howls to the moon. 

Alex: Grandpa are you awake?

Blaze: ...yep

Alex: You hear that?

Blaze: ...ahh what?

Alex: That wolf howling.

Blaze: Alex we don't have wolves around here, plus we are in a tree house, in a fenced backyard, with a glowing campfire and Stryker is here to protect us too. Besides that, I would never let anything bad happen to you.

Two minutes of complete pin drop silence. An the neighbor dog howls again.

Alex: Grandpa?
Blaze: ...Yes
Alex: I'm going to go sleep with grandma!!!

He grabs the battery operated latern and heads into the house as I watch his progress as he trots inside. I'm too tired to even move from all the party activity that afternoon. Quickly slipping fast to sleep...
...birds are chirping the next morning as I wake up, alone, and stumble down the stairs and head across the lawn to the house. The next door neighbor yells down from his deck  "Morning Bill, you trying out your new tree house or did you get in trouble last night?" I think he's jealous because he doesn't have one.

It's Official

...Ka'mya likes her grandpa Billy Blaze in Oregon.  Grandpa wishes he had some of her hair to cover his bald spot.

                                            We celebrated Ka'mya's first birthday with a family reunion of sorts.  Four generations, Grandma Charlie, Billy Blaze, my daughter Erica and the Star of the Day Ka'mya.                   

Meet my son Micheal pedaling us around on my rickshaw.  Yes, Micheal now looks all tall and handsome but I remember back when...

...growing up Micheal was always smaller for his age.  I remember the time when he got involved in the youth soccer program.  One day he came to me and admitted he didn't really like playing soccer because he was afraid of getting hit hard with the soccer ball.  That afternoon I took him down to Jubilee Park where we started kicking the ball around together.  Using one of the chain link fences for a back stop I started kicking the soccer ball at Zeek (my nickname for him, no idea where I came with it).  Slowly and gently at first I kicked the ball into him but gradually upped the speed and power behind my kicks.  Mike was quick and light on his feet and was able to stop almost ever ball I smacked his way.  Before long I was booting them in his direction pretty hard and he was still stopping them.  Sitting him down on the lawn.  I asked, Zeek,  "anybody on the teams you play kick the ball as hard as I just was kicking to you"?  He said no way dad, you were firing that soccer ball at me.  I told  him then you don't have to be afraid of the other kids kicking the ball at you too hard anymore.  He went on to be a pretty good soccer player. 

Now from this teenage picture you probably can see why I was a little bit concerned Zeek wouldn't grow up tall and handsome. Tomorrow night the funniest story I have to tell about Michael but tonight I need to get some rest.  I rickshawed my butt off today and am tired.  I wouldn't have missed giving my granddaughter Ka'mya a ride for all the Dr. Pepper in the world.  She is one cute little fart.

"Sooner" they get here the Better

...trying to keep a calm and casual looking fireman facade on the outside but secretly I can't wait till Erica and Van arrive on the plane Saturday with my east coast granddaughter, Ka'mya.  Not knowing if Ka'mya will except this gruff old man, Billy Blaze.  Blaze rides around pedaling strangers in his rickshaw.   Blaze also talks too loud, being around so much equipment noise when he was younger, he can't hear anymore.  The suspense of not knowing if Ka'mya will like you as her grandpa, is yes a bit unnerving even for me.  Contemplating the adventures Ka'mya and I will have during the next week brings back memories of when my own children were still young...

One of my proudest times when Erica was growing up is when she decided and talked me into helping her raise a Seeing Eye Dog through our local 4H Club.  The want-to-be Seeing Eye puppy was introduced into our family when she was just a rolly-polly bundle of fur.  "Sooner" had already been named by the Seeing Eye folks before she arrived in Oregon.  Erica's job basically was to let the new, temporary member of our family, be a puppy for the first year. To let Sooner experience puppy things like chewing up Ericas' favorite tennis shoe toe, wetting on the carpet and chasing the cat around the house.  Seeing Eye Dog rules expressly forbid the student master from hitting the Tasmanian Devil puppy with her hand or scolding using too harsh of a voice.  It took great patience and determination from Sis while raising this puppy. While all the time when she was feeding, grooming and cleaning up after Sooner, in the back of Erica's head she knew she would not get to keep this new found friend.  The second year was spent training Sooner the basic doggy obedience rules.  Wearing the green "Seeing Eye Dog in Training" cape, Sooner went everywhere with our family.  Sooner slept by Erica's bedside.  Sooner was taught not to chase cats anymore and to be nice in public.

Finally the day came when Sooner had to be sent back to the Seeing Eye Dog training facility in San Rafel.  Very few of the dogs that get sent back to the facility actually make it all the way through the constant training and personality traits that it takes to become a real Seeing Eye Dog.  If a dog is not chosen to become a Seeing Eye Dog for one reason or another you get to have your dog back, to live its' life out with your family.  So on one hand you hope your family pet fails and gets to come back home but on the other hand you want your trainee to succeed so she can go on and pursue her life as a service animal. 

After several months, word finally arrives...  Sooner has made the cut.  She will become the eyes for a blind person.  As a reward to the young person who raises one of these award winning dogs they are invited to San Rafel to present the new Seeing Eye Dog to the recipient.  As a proud dad hiding in the back of the crowd that day, trying to not show tears.  Boy that was a emotional moment for me watching my beautiful young daughter hand the leash over to Sooner's new master.

Freedom isn't Free or without Pain

I began this blog to write about some of the funny or interesting adventures that have happened to me while living my life. At work today I was again reminded that most peoples lives are not as simple as mine...

One of the ladies that I work with came to work this morning quite distraught because she had gotten word during the night that her son was injured while serving his country in Afghanistan.  She wasn't sure how bad his injuries were yet but a mother always thinks the worst while waiting for what is reality.  I told her, "you should go home today and be with the rest of your family".  She has three sons serving in these crazy wars we are involved in now.  With tears in her eyes she just looked at me and said "you guys here at work are my family".  You can't argue with that kind of reasoning so I reminded her that if she needed anything we were there for her.  Additionally I added  America is also behind you and your sons too.

I honestly don't know if I support all the ideas of why we are in Afghanistan or Iraq now.  Yes I know more evil men like those who flew jetliners into our Twins Towers in New York City still hide in these countries plotting to "Kill the Great Satin", America, us.  I felt the pain when we began finding out that we had lost 343 firemen that terrible day on 9/11 even though I did not know a single one of the fire guys personally, let alone any of the other innocent people working in the buildings. 

It is a strange bond that fire guys feel naturally for one another, even though we try too give off the perception that we do not have feelings.  Larrieann and I visited Ground Zero last Spring when we went to meet my new granddaughter for the first time.  Reminding you again that I am not a religious person in anyway, I still could feel that I was standing on hallowed ground the day we visited Ground Zero. 

I don't understand why we fight wars the way we do in this day and age.  We (America) are suppose to be "the big dog on the block" I wish we would act like that dog.  I am of the mind set, "if you hurt one of my boys", I "will turn your country into glass".  I'd bring all our kids home from all around the world and link them elbow to elbow around this great nation of ours.  The new uniforms would say "Bring It On".  You mess with us and I'd be pushing the thermo- nuclear button.  Japan learned this the hard way. 

Late in the day she got a call from her injured son telling her he was ok, but she could tell he was lying, mom's know about that kind of stuff.  This soldier was at least talking and that is always a good sign. 

Roo, our thoughts are with you and your boy tonight.  The rallying cry after 9/11 was,  NEVER FORGET!  Trust me, I have not forgotten about my three hundred and forty three brothers.

Just another afternoon project, LOL

Not wanting to be out done by my good friend Lauren who lives in Sunriver.  I have heard from a reliable source he is working on a bridge and path at his house... 

...a few months ago my west coast grand kids informed me that I needed to build a tree house for them at our house so they could have a place to play.  After much grumbling by me about why should I build a tree house for them, I don't even like kids.  Larrieann says I need to come up with a new grumpy tactic, she doesn't think the kids believe I don't like them. 

First problem I had to over come is we didn't have any trees big enough for a fort of any size.  It's hard to grow a suitable tree fast enough before the grand kids have grown too big to enjoy a cozy hideout. Having no tree house schematics to work from I set down one night while watching Bill O"Reilly and sketched out this in depth diagram.  I love the part where I write "Go Slow / Think" in the margin of my chicken scratches.  Boy with the wet weather this Spring I did in fact go slow because I am a fair weather tree house builder.  I figured, shoot $500, build fort, grandpa becomes hero to small children, how hard could it be...

Alex hammering a
stack while helping
 me set the posts.          

 

Alex and Stacy helping grandpa with his simple building project.

Notice very small tree with the limbs cut. Thats the tree involved in this tree house project, to the right side of the picture

 Stacy informs me no dollhouse is complete without window boxes for flowers.

Stryker helps keep me hydrated during the project.  Though some drinks did taste like dog slobber for some reason

 Alex lets me know only girls like flowers so he would like a climbing wall and fire pole, $$$...  Now that the east coast granddaughter is due to arrive in just a few hours we have brought the scene lighting out so I can now work after dark on this simple, low cost project...                

Stories the guys at I.V. fire haven't heard.

I see by the comments being sent that the guys at my Alma mater, fire department have found my blog.  I had to leave I. V. Fire about seven years ago when I moved to Grants Pass for the new job I had excepted with the city.  The poor guys at my station had to endure listening to my stories (tall tales really) over the 20 plus years I was serving with them.  They didn't seem to mind to much that I got taller and better looking each additional time I told the same story through the years.  Here is one of my adventures that they don't even know about...  

Larrieann and I were headed into Grants Pass and as customary I stopped in at the Siskiyou Market for some "Nectar of the God's", a Dr. Pepper before we headed to town.  When purchasing my elixir I could hear a car horn honking uncontrollably outside the store.  Walking out to get in my car I could see a older lady setting at the stop sign on Old Stage Road, crying, screaming for help and pounding on her car horn.  Of course, rescue "billy blaze" steps into action to see what all her excitement was about.  Walking up to her car door I ask "ma'am can I help you?"  She yells "YES, my friend is drowning in the bathtub" as her breath reeked of alcohol.  Demanding what is her address, I don't know, she slurs.  What street does she live on?  Still crying, the distraught lady points over her shoulder and states back that way.  This was before cell phones were so common, I didn't even own one myself yet.  Not knowing if the place I was headed even had a phone, I yelled to Larrieann to drive back home really quick and at least get EMS headed to the Siskiyou Market.  Once on scene I would try and get the address to them somehow. 

As we spin a brodie in the middle of Caves Hwy and head towards the panic stricken ladies urgent emergency, I make a future note to self; Never get in the passenger seat of a noticeably drunk lady you don't know. Not one of my smarter moves.  Sliding around the corner we fly up one of the pothole riddled dirt roads that leave Old Stage Rd.  Down over a steep hill in the road, around a couple sharp corners and over a big culvert much faster then a sober person would drive. Arriving at a disheveled single wide trailer house she skids to a stop and points inside.  With me thinking more clearly by now I dive out of the car door, more in an attempt to save my own skin from another ride like that, then to actually try and save anybody else. Running up the steps to the trailer house door I bang on the partially opened front door and yell inside "FIRE DEPARTMENT".  From inside a elderly voice trickles out, "help, help, I need help".  Noting the address hung by the front door I cautiously advance inside looking for a phone so I can get help to ME.
Down the hallway I creep towards her trailing voice, which leads me to the bathroom door.  "Ma'am", I ask. "Yes, I'm in here, please help me", she says as I slowly swing the bathroom door all the way open. Obviously I had seen naked people in my life by now but still my eyes were not ready to except what was sitting (not drowning) in a bathtub, with no water in it by now.  There was a petite elderly naked lady sitting in the tub, humm... how do I put this?  With the biggest set of boobs I have ever seen or could imagine seeing on a woman.  Of course, she was cold which obviously made her nipp... ...oh you know all about that part.  Still stunned by the view and being trained not to look, but wanting to look I think my God those are huge.  To this day I hope I didn't verbalize that thought as I stuttered out ahh, whaaat's wrong.  "I can't get out of the tub" she explains, as I reach for a towel, then two towels. Trained to protect modesty you know and my eyes from popping out of my head.  (and no I don't have a picture for you guys to prove my story) 
I ask her "are you hurt"?  "No" she admits, "I"m just too old to crawl out of this darn tub".  I tell her "may I use your phone real quick?"  As I call 911 in my location.  Wringing my hands and scoffing my feet I mosie back into the bathroom.  She says "if you would just give me a hand I think I could get out of here, I'm freezing to death".  Yeah, I noticed that part earlier.  Not being able to get positioned behind her because of the wall behind the tub my only option was to advance from the front...  ...ho-boy.  She... her boobs were too big for me to just hug her and lift her straight up into a standing position, so... Climbing in the tub with her I take the towels off.  Noticing she hadn't gotten any warmer by then.  Bending down I lift one (enormous) breast and throw over my shoulder, then the other one I throw over my other shoulder.  True story. I manage to lift and help her to a standing position.  Not being able to retrieve the heavy breasts I had thrown behind me I had to squat down to escape from this bosom entrapment.  Kneeling down put me all that much closer to the other female part, as I'm thinking "Oh Dear God, please don't let EMS show up now".
Getting her stepped out of the tub, her bathrobe put on her, I help her to the living room to where her drinking friend had finally landed.  I set her down on the couch and I finally have to ask... what happened?  She tells me, "normally I take a shower but today young man, being a woman, I just wanted to do what any woman would want".  "Take a soapy hot bath", just as the medics walked in the front door, whew.

Guess who's coming to Oregon

Sorry I haven't posted for the last couple days.  Some of you were probably thinking billy blaze was running out of stories to tell... finally.  Wrong, I'm just getting started.  I've been busy pulling some extra shifts at the F.D. and doing extra chores outside around the house.  I'm trying to make it look like I always keep the place trimmed up like the landscaping around Disneyland.  Larrieann and I have a special guest coming in a few days.  As you can see from the picture she is ready to visit Oregon also.  We didn't have enough money to fly them all here first class airfare so Ka'mya is traveling in the overhead storage compartment in a piece of carry on luggage.

Our granddaughter is coming, oh yeah Erica and Van too, all the way from Maryland.  It will be fun to have Sis (Erica) back home for a visit.  We have a pretty full agenda for the easterners when they arrive.  A visit to Crater Lake, duh. A trip to the Pacific Ocean and the Redwoods for Van.  Quick stop at  Erica's old stomping grounds in Cave Junction.  In between a jet boat ride down the Rogue River if the weather stays nice.  Plus the big "one year" birthday party for Ka'mya in the park when they first arrive.  Of course billyrickshaw will be present for that party with rickshaw rides for the kids. Van may have to help me with this if I get tired.  Note to Van: bring comfortable shorts with padding.

Maybe when they all get ready to go back home I can fill the carry on bag up with rocks and keep what arrived in it here with me, hummm.