Category: Adventures with family

One of my favorite places to rappel was beside Lula Falls. Halfway down the cliff I would pull the rope to the top of the rack and sway back and forth with the mist of the falls spraying my face. The final descent was a free fall. 

It was a beautiful day to hike the switchbacks to the top of the mountain and walk the flat trail to the rappelling cliff. When we arrived, someone was already there. We either had to find another place to rappel or wait until they were finished. Then something caught my eye.

I stood motionless, except for my eyes narrowing over the grimace on my face, as I watched a grown man loop the rappelling rope under each of the brake bars of the rack. His other companions had already gone off the side of the cliff, one of which was on the trail leading to the top. Warnings flashed in my mind and the thought that formed was, “You’re going to kill yourself!” Though the Smiths were not with us, Mrs. Smith’s warning waved a red flag as it echoed in my head, “Check your brake bars.”

As I walked toward the man, it was obvious he didn’t know what he was doing. I stepped forward and said, “You’re threading the rope the wrong way. If you try to descend like that, the brake bars will all pop and you’ll fall.” He just looked at me and started telling me that was the way he was told to thread it. I told him again, “You need to loop the rope OVER the brake bars.” To him I was just a scrawny young wisp of a teenager. What would I know?

He was hesitant to believe me, but he made a loop the other way – over the bar – and studied it a minute. It was apparent he was not comfortable rigging himself and did not understand there were two ways to wind a rope – over or under. Yet, he wasn’t about the take my word for it. The encounter at least slowed him enough to keep him from making a fatal error. About that time, one of his companions came up the trail. He intervened and helped his pal get rigged properly.

There wasn’t so much as a “thank you.” I’ve wondered from time to time if he ever realized that some scrawny girl kept him from making a grave mistake.  

Check your brake bars! It could be a matter of life or death!

For those of you who don’t what rappelling is, it is jumping off the edge of a cliff with the aid of a rope (of course fastened off {we used a bowline knot}) and the proper aid – such as a set of carabiners with brake bars {that slows the rate of descent}, rope looped around carabiners to act as a brake, a rack or a figure eight. A good seat is necessary – either a purchased one that you just step into {a guy I knew once rappelled off the building and his purchased seat busted and he landed on his rear – good thing it happened at about 10 feet from the ground}, or a seat tied from seat belt material or a strip of narrower webbing designed especially for tying seats {which is what I used}. A belayer is also a necessity for safe rappelling. That is someone, usually at the bottom of the drop, who slows the speed of descent by merely pulling the rope taut. 

My mother loved to hear us girls sing together. We did not always oblige, but when we did, she would beam with pride – well – most of the time.

For some reason, she didn’t like allof our vocal selections, especially when we were on a road trip. We tuned up our voices and started the first verse in unison, “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer. Take one down, pass it around, ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall.”

After the first verse, the game was on! No two verses were alike, but Mama was not impressed with our skills of creating ninety-nine variations. We could switch parts mid-stream without a glitch. While one took the lead, “Ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall…”, the other added background vocals in harmony, “Ninety-eight bottles, ninety-eight bottles, ninety-eight bottles…” And so on and so forth!

By the time we got to “Eighty-nine bottles of beer on the wall,” Mama was already tired of our performance. She voiced her objection, “Buck, will you make the girls quit singing that song?” I thought she liked to hear us sing!

After prompting Daddy several times to do something, he finally said, “You’re driving your mother crazy!”

Well, you can’t fault us for not trying.

sometimes we just need a reminder of a promise

The fire was going in the wood cookstove and water was getting hot for tea and for a bath in the old washtub. Finally, the chill was gone from the air as flames licked the stone fireplace and heated the log cabin. It wouldn’t be long until the smells of a hot meal filled to room and welcomed the hikers yet to return from the mountains.

The steady rain eased up and rays of sunshine managed to squeeze through the clouds. It was then I noticed a rainbow. The arc was so close, I could see the colors of the prism between me and the trees just beyond the Ward and Parker gate. Had we been in Ireland, I am positive there would have been a leprechaun searching for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Never had I see such a sight. The colors were bright and vivid. I thought about walking toward the trees but was afraid the bow would disappear altogether. As if a magic wand painted the sky, another fainter rainbow appeared over the brighter one. Just as quickly as it came, they were both gone. When the hikers arrived a few minutes later, all evidence of the colorful phenomenon was erased.

Over forty years later just a few miles away, another rainbow appeared. Once again, the colors of the bow could be seen rising up from the prairie grass casting its hues on the trees behind. A second bow arced over the first.

Another rainbow looked like an arch holding up the sky, spanning across two corners of the earth. The second bow sent sparkling water particles upward until they faded from view. I think that was the biggest, most magnificent rainbow I have ever seen.

When rain has fallen and the sun magically appears, look to the east. You might just see a promise of a lifetime.

Autumn rainbow 2018 – it followed us all the way to Livingston

After the long trip across the country, we pulled into my grandmother’s driveway. It was wonderful to be out of the car and stretch our legs. Traveling that long distance, skin on skin with the five sibs, we were ready to be free of the car and one another. Mama was probably the happiest! She might get some reprieve from all the noise and fussing that went on in the back seat.

The first order of business after visiting with my Grandmother a bit was to go downtown to the post office to see Cousin Jim. Any day to see Cousin Jim was a good day! For one thing, he was a great storyteller. For another, Cousin Ruth was a great cook. He always invited us, the whole mess of us, to their house for supper, and believe me, that was something we didn’t want to miss!

I had a snack in my Grandmother’s crabapple tree the afternoon before going to their house for supper. By the time we were seated and the food was being passed around the table, my stomach churned and burned and started to boil. I had to leave. My sister ran with me back to the house. I barely made it before exploding. My Grandmother had told me not to eat too many, but I didn’t listen. I had no idea those tiny little tart apples that made my mouth water were actually ticking time bombs ready to explode. 

Let me tell you, I didn’t make that mistake the next time we were invited for supper! I didn’t want to miss a bite!

Cousin Benny was kind of fun to have around. He was always good for entertainment and maybe even a bit of harmless trouble. My oldest sister might not agree with that.

We were headed to the mountains for a day of tromping around the old home place, wading in freezing creeks, hiking to the lake and beyond, and, of course, a picnic. Mama stayed back in town. I just can’t figure out why she didn’t want to go to the heart of the mountains with her husband and a car full of kids stacked on top of one another. One of those kids was Cousin Benny. When his face wore that cheesy smile that turned up at the corners, his eyes danced with mischief.

All went well. No one fell and busted a limb. No one got cut jumping from rock to rock in the creek. No one froze to death in the ice cold water. No one drowned in the lake. We had our picnic with no incident, and we all drank a belly full of fresh spring water. Back then, we could even belly flop and drink straight from the fast-flowing stream. Cousin Babs once said that the water ran so fast it purified itself every few feet. I believed her! Our bellies believed it, too, and we never got sick.

As the sun gave its warning that it had to rest soon, we all piled into the car for the return trip to town. Big Sis got to sit in the front seat because she was the oldest kid with us – and the most reserved and refined. She was a no-nonsense teenager. There may have been another kid or two crammed in the front, but the rest of us scrawny, wet, dirty kids climbed in the back seat, including Cousin Benny.

Those old cars could go anywhere. It didn’t matter if it was a smooth paved road or two parallel dirt trails with tall grass growing in between. There was no trouble fording the creeks. If we hit a rock, that old car just bounced up onto another and off we’d go, the crunching sound of river rocks beneath as they spit out from under the tires. Hitting the rocks and bumps in the road was like riding a bucking bronc. 

We hit a deep hole and catapulted out. Cousin Benny let out a shriek. Daddy stopped the car, “What’s the matter?” He didn’t see any blood and no one was missing. Cousin Benny said, “My snake got loose.” My refined, reserved big sister let out a scream. We all stumbled over one another getting out of the car. Well – all but my big sister. She was glued to her seat but threw her feet up on the dashboard quicker than greased lightning.

We looked under the seats. We looked in cracks. We called, “Here snake.” That poor snake was scared to death and he buried himself where no hand could reach. There was no choice but for us to pile back into the car and continue our journey. I will have to admit that my feet were pulled up on my seat, too.

It was quiet on the trip to town. Well, I take that back. My sister complained all the way back. She released her arsenal of fiery darts at Cousin Benny as she muttered threats under her breath, casting backward glances as often as she could without getting a crick in her neck. Her feet never touched the floorboard. The snake didn’t show his little green head or any other part of him. We pulled into the driveway and big sis shot out of the car like a rocket, even before the car came to a complete stop. The search for the snake continued. With sis out of the way, he thought it was safe to emerge from his hiding place. He was released from his prison with a stack of kids and an angry teenager. He slithered away to find a peaceful refuge. And so ends my story of Snake in the Car!!!!

This is my 195^thpost since I started my blog one year ago today. For those who have read some of the stories, I hope they have given you a reprieve from the events going on around us. Hopefully some of the tales have given you a smile and a glimpse of places you’ve never seen. Maybe some have been educational or prompted you to connect with your ancestors. 

Prior to starting my blog, I jotted down topics, notes, places visited, etc., to determine if I had enough material and stories to write about. I wasn’t sure, but thought I’d give it a try. Growing up in a family of story tellers, I was a bit jealous that I didn’t have wild tales and memories like they did. They always told stories of wild west adventures of those great pioneers who forged trails in the wilderness and survived to tell it. Little did I know that I would be able to muster up 195 posts, to date, and I have barely marked anything off the list! 

Since my first post, you have traveled with me across the country to swamps, deserts, oceans, streams, mountains, and National Parks. We have camped, cruised, hiked, backpacked, spelunked, skydived, rode in boats, fished, kayaked, and flown. We’ve met family, made friends, and seen lots of wild animals. We’ve gone on “destination unknown” adventures, eaten good food, took a trip to the moon, visited ghost towns and historical sights. We’ve chased bandits, walked among tombstones, met heroes, and retraced our ancestors’ steps. We have traveled over hills, mountains, buttes, and prairies. You have met some of my family, sat in my Granddad’s lap and dunked in his coffee, read stories by my Dad and other guest authors, made quilts, and shared memories of my childhood. 

Thank you for sharing my “Back Window Adventures.” I hope you will join me for more. I might have another story or two.

Stay tuned…..

I will admit that my sister was more of an avid fisherman than me. If I was getting a bite, I was all in, but if not, I could think of a million other things I could be doing. One of those things was exploring. I would wander off and climb on  logs, watch for animals, play in the water, examine various flowers and plants, pick berries, and simply enjoy the scenery. Most of our fishing was in the mountains by cold streams. If you haven’t figured it out by now, that setting suits me fine. As I got older, my wandering included a camera. That would (and still does) satisfy me for countless hours. 

One summer we headed to the mountains for a day of fishing and a picnic. My sister had good luck that day. She caught the biggest fattest trout. As soon as we got back to town, she pulled out her prize fish to show everyone. That was a mistake!

There was another fisherman, “Grumpy John,” who didn’t go with us and even though he wasn’t along, he didn’t like anyone to catch a bigger fish than he could – especially a scrawny little girl. His eyes were green with envy and he said, “I’ll take care of those fish for you.” Sis had decided she wanted to take her fish home. In fact, the whole mess was heading south. The fish were put in water and made into fish ice cubes. All the fish would fit in the cooler perfectly for the trip home.

Just a few days later, it was time to head home. Grumpy John said, “I’ll get your fish out of the freezer and put them in the cooler.” It was usually a three-day trip back home. Either the first or second night we stopped to get a room. Daddy was not a big spender when it came to motels. We stayed in a room that looked like a cozy home for bedbugs and other critters. The cooler with the fish was taken into the room. The fish ice cubes needed to be iced down a bit more for the rest of the trip. The lid came off and after a more thorough inspection, it seemed something was missing. Instead of the fish we caught, including the prize fish, there were smaller ones in their place that he had frozen previously.

“Where is my fish?” You talk about mad, my sister was mad! We were too far away to turn around and go back to get her fish. If she thought she could have gotten by without being slapped, she would have said a few choice words. “He did that on purpose!” she said. We all agreed. 

I’m not sure, but I think she might still be holding a grudge against Grumpy John for “stealing” her prize fish. After all, that was the one that got away.