SHUTDOWN

Most contract loggers did a good job complying with the Forest Service Timber sale contract.   Now and then there was always the temptation to cut some corners and save time as time was money.    During the peak logging season Forest Service contract administrators could be stretched thin depending on their work load.   Some loggers knew this based on how many visits the administrator made to their operation during a week.   Some timber sales required more of our time than others depending on how complex the sale was.   For example, a thinning sale could take much of the administrator’s time with approving tractor skid trails or skyline corridor layout, landing locations and marking additional trees to be cut for these authorized clearings.   Sometimes an entire day could be spent on a thinning sale.    On the other hand a large clear cut unit might only be visited once a week just to check on progress or meet with the logging supervisor or contract logger to agree on a new landing location or spur road for the next unit to be logged.  

One such case happened on the Orleans Ranger District in the summer of 1975 when I approved a landing location and a 200 foot spur road to access a clear-cut unit on a sale purchased by Sierra Pacific Industries out of Arcata, California.   The contract logger was V & K Logging from Happy Camp.    The next day I returned to this sale unexpected to see what progress had been made.  To my amazement the spur road and landing had been constructed as agreed to and yarding was in progress.     Being in fire season I got suspicious that all the required fire equipment may not have been in its proper place.   In addition to having a 500 gallon fire truck, this contract had a requirement for 300 gallon water tank with pump and hose line to be attached to the skyline carriage in the event of a fire in the unit.   To move this tank from one unit to the next they usually drained it to make it easy to transport.   I wondered if it had been filled with water during this move, so I made my way across the busy landing to where the tank had been placed out of the way of the operation.   As I made my way toward the tank all eyes of the landing crew watched me, including the loader operator and yarder engineer.   Sure enough the tank was empty.   I made eye contact with the yarder engineer and ran my index finger across my throat informing him to shut it down.    He blew a long whistle to inform the rigging crew that operations were shutdown.   After shutting down the yarder and loader they told me they were going to fill it at the end of the day after getting the daily quota of log trucks loaded.   They knew from experience that once they were shut down only the Forest Supervisor could permit operations to resume, so they all got in their vehicles and returned to Happy Camp.  By the time I got back to the office the entire world knew of the shutdown, including the District Ranger, Sierra Pacific Industries (SPI) and the Forest Supervisor.    After a meeting of upper management of both parties with insurances by SPI that there would be full compliance with the all fire precautionary provisions of the contract operations were allowed to resume.

India

 This story is from our trip to India in the summer 1993 with my two children and Adil, my sister's brother-in-law.   Adil's family was from India and would travel back and forth since they had a home in Cincinnati, Ohio and in Bombay, India.   We spent a week in India and a week traveling in England and Wales.   

Be thankful for what you have

INDIA : A DIFFERENT WORLD

 

It was dark when we landed in Bombay (now called Mumbai) India.  After getting off the airplane we assembled outside the terminal with our Indian family members that were there to meet us and a friend of the family that would drive us into the city.   It had been a five hour flight from London on Malaysian Airlines.  The best part of the flight was the service.  Plenty of food and when you asked for a glass of wine they let you have the bottle.  The only problem afterwards was waiting in line to use the restroom.    Once outside the terminal a young woman locked her eyes on me.   I thought she was a family member as she reached out her hand toward me, but I was told to ignore her.   She was a beggar.   As we drove out of the airport we entered a shanty town as far as the eye could see in the dark.  The highway had people standing between cars reaching their hands out as the traffic was moving slowly.  Somebody in the car said, “Do not open your windows.”   Eventually we entered the city that looked more upbeat and checked into our hotel.   After waking up the next morning I looked out the window of our room on the 4th floor and saw a hospital across the street with a street sign indicating a no honking zone.    Nobody seem to comply.   There was constant honking as cars and motor scooters made their way through the congested traffic.    It made the LA freeways look like a walk in the park.

Over the next few days Adil, my sister’s brother-in-law led us around the city.  The streets were crowded, horns were honking and the greatest challenge was crossing the streets.   Stop lights were at the ground level and hard to see, no overhead lights here.  Cars had no side mirrors since they were so close to each other.  I never saw any traffic police.   We did witness an accident where a man fell off his motor scooter and was almost run over if it had not been for some people that pulled him to safety.  There were soldiers with rifles posted in three sided shelters along some of the main streets to squelch any uprisings by the lower class.    Being taller than most the people on the streets and a white male, which made me stand out in the crowd and a beacon for the young Indian boys to pursue me for money.   Adil told me not to give them anything or they would go tell their friends and they would be after me for more money.  

Whenever we ate in a restaurant the service was outstanding, the menus included Indian dishes, Chinese food and Indian Pale Ale, the beverage of choice since the water was not good to drink.   If there was a need to treat dysentery there were walk up pharmacies along the streets where one could get pills for treatment, no prescriptions required.    Emergency rooms at hospitals had a policy of treating anybody that showed up, the only problem was you might die waiting in line.    It was common to see some dead bodies in the streets.    The bodies of the dead were placed in overhead platforms throughout the city to decompose and let the birds feast on the remains.   There is a distinct class system in India, those that have and those that have not.   Most the poor lived on the streets or in the shanty towns.    During the nights the street people would collect all the garbage, sort it out into different piles for collection early the next morning and paid according to the weight of the material, such as paper, metal, glass, plastics, etc.   Rats were common, running along the street gutters eating whatever they could find.  Once a week the upper class people would have a street side potluck for all the street people providing them with their best meal of the week.   I believe it was a way to keep them from rioting and something to look forward to once a week.    One evening we went to visit some doctor friends of the family living in a modern high-rise apartment building.    A young boy operated the elevator and was given a small room on the top floor for a place to sleep.   We looked at his small room where there was only a mattress on the floor with a cover, nothing else.   

We took one train trip through the city.   At the main terminal people filled the loading zones and once the train arrived the crowd would rush into the open doors of the passenger cars.   Adil told us to hang on to whatever we could hold or we could be pushed right out the opposite door.   It was standing room only.  On some of our excursions the family hired a driver with a car.    The driver would stay with the car at all times.   He had a family with many children, but would sleep in the car when necessary to accommodate us.   He was invited into a restaurant to eat with us once I remember.   At the end of his service we tipped him generously for being so loyal.    He was very pleased and grateful. 

On our departure from the airport I had to use the restroom while waiting for the plane.   Two men followed me into the restroom and asked if I had any Indian money.    I pulled a couple of paper bills from my pocket and gave it to them as they told me it was illegal to take Indian currency out of the country.    They were not in any uniforms and I suspect they made a habit out of asking foreigners for Indian money before leaving the country.    There was a sense of relief when we boarded the plane and in many ways I felt like a survivor.    For my two children, who were teenagers at the time it opened their eyes to the world.    Years later my son ended up taking a year off work and traveled around the world with his wife on their honeymoon.   My daughter went to Brazil for a year as an exchange student, spent part of a year living in Guatemala and traveled Europe.    For me it made me appreciate what we have in this country and how fortunate we are.

Seagulls

 In the Fall of 1965 I was disking a plowed field a mile west of the Sacramento River, near the small community of Ordbend in northern California.   It was one of those pleasant days, the soil was moist and breaking up into a nice seed bed for planting barley after being plowed a few weeks earlier.   It was a day I should have been in class at Chico State College, but preferred being outside sitting on the seat of a D7 Caterpillar tractor pulling a John Deere 16 foot wide disc and making $1.75/hour.  

On the back gang of discs there were a dozen or more Seagulls sitting on the frame with their backs toward me.   They would jump off the frame as worms and other bugs appeared in the newly turned up soil then jump back up on the frame.   At times I would stop the tractor to see their reaction.   They would turn their heads and look directly at me as if they were asking, " why are you stopping?"  

About four months later life abruptly changed after being drafted into the Army after losing my school deferment.

This happened 55 years ago, seems like yesterday.

Normal?

 Is there such a thing as normal or is it just a state of mind?    No doubt our social life these days is Zero, except for an occasional chat with a neighbor along the gravel road we share, or meeting someone we know in the local Bi Mart while shopping.    If it was not for the Internet we might be classified as hermits.   With this pandemic traveling beyond the local community seems out of the question, even Roseburg is becoming like a foreign country.    Just doing the monthly trip to Costco, north of Roseburg is a great adventure these days.    It is entertaining seeing all the different types of masks people are wearing in the stores, some look legitimate others look marginal like handkerchiefs or rags.    Even with the prospect of a vaccine in the near future the question arises about how effective it will be, especially for us older folks?  The annual flu shot is only 30 to 40% effective as my doctor informed me.  Probably wearing that mask for the long-term may be the way to avoid it all with or without a vaccine.    As I learned years ago there is no perfect or normal in this world.   Sometime the only escape from it all is going to the hammock, listening to the sounds of nature and enjoying a good beer.  

The End of 2020 Fire Season

 Douglas Forest Protection Association (DFPA) announced the end of fire season yesterday.   It was a fire season we will never forget and feel lucky to have survived it even if the nearest major fire was 15 miles from us.   Already planning on how to reduce the fire risk on our property by cutting small dead trees, burning slash, and/or by chipping and scattering it.   Enough work to keep me busy all winter or as the old body permits.   Winter forecast is for wet weather, maybe some snow.  Hope there is not a repeat of what happened in 2018-- eight days of no power, heavy wet snow bringing many trees down and the threat of our roof collapsing.    Maybe that scenario is better than the threat of a wildfire.   One thing for sure we don't look forward to summer much anymore.  

Porcelain Signs

 How many have ever seen the old porcelain trail signs with the white background and green lettering?   My first sighting of one was in the Marble Mountain Wilderness in the 1970's.   Don't remember what it said, but remember it being on a tree along an abandoned trail.   Do remember one or two on the Hardesty Mountain trail system along the north boundary of the Cottage Grove District of the Umpqua National Forest.   Seems they had been there so long the trees were growing over them.

These signs date back to the 1930's and not sure when they were replaced with wooden signs.    Over the years many of the wooden signs have been damaged by animals, used as target practice or removed by people thinking they would look better as a mantel piece.   Most National Forests used to have a sign shop at their main shop and warehouse facilities located in the community where the Forest Supervisor's office was.   Not sure if that is still the case.   With all the wildfires most the wooden signs probably are gone, but the old metal porcelain signs could be buried in the ash for future generations to discover and wonder what prehistoric civilization used these and what happened to those places named on the signs?  

Twenty Years ago...

Today Celia and I celebrate 20 years of marriage. It all started November 1, 1997 when my dog Jack and I were hiking Buford Park outside of Eugene. I noticed a trail party work crew sign pointing to a side trail that I usually never took. Out of curiosity I turned onto that trail not knowing it would change my life. There I met Celia where she and some others were cutting invasive species, such as blackberries and scotch broom. They were members of the Friends of Buford Park & Mt. Pisgah. I made the fatal mistake of handing her my business card and telling her I was available, to work with the group that is. A couple of weeks later she called me about a work party that next weekend. I ended up joining the group where we worked as volunteers until moving to Douglas County in 2006. Celia was working for the University of Oregon Olum Child Development Center and at times I would work for University Housing doing landscape work as a contractor. Our favorite place to meet up and have lunch was the 19th Street Grill. On one of these lunch dates, I told her she was like an old shoe, meaning she was comfortable to be with. She accepted it as a compliment. Thinking back some women might have just got up and left. We were married October 7, 2000.