tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5668423021716125482024-03-19T03:59:03.790-07:00PAT NEAL WILDLIFEPat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.comBlogger162125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-65425297405666225322014-01-10T10:38:00.003-08:002014-01-10T10:38:23.584-08:00A Brave New Tattoo
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
It was a bad idea to write about combining the myriad
permits, licenses and stamps that are required by the various state, federal
and local bureaucracies for a person to be on public land. I had suggested
combining them into an interactive personal bar-code that could be monitored by
drone aircraft from a central location.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A simple bar code would do away with our antiquated Soviet-style travel
permit system and make it easier for us to get all the licenses, permits, tags
and punch-cards that are required to be on United States soil. Personal interactive
bar codes would allow our bureaucrats a greater opportunity to enhance the
stewardship of our natural resources while protecting us from the social costs
that are borne by us all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Imagine a world where you can never be lost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the miracle of the personal interactive
electronic device the government would know when you are sleeping and know when
you're awake. The government would know if you are bad or good so we'd be good
for goodness sake. </div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately the idea
of having a personal bar code to replace the sheaf of documents we are now
required to carry was too easily confused with the “Mark of the Beast,”
mentioned in the Bible. And for that I must apologize. The alert reader(s) were
kind enough to warn me, “don’t go there.”</div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
So I didn't. That was then. 18 months later technology has
caught up with this column. A December 29 Peninsula Daily News article, “Electronic
Devices-On or Inside You,” described a number of new personal electronic
devices that can be swallowed, implanted or tattooed on a person.</div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
A Seattle man has implanted rice-sized radio frequency
identification tags in his hands that allow him to do away with the hassle of
remembering all of the keys and passwords that are required to get into his
home, car and computer. All he has to do is wave his hands and all of the
gadgets will open or close or turn on or off which would make this the greatest
labor saving device since “The Clapper.”</div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
A Google-owned company wants a patent for an “electronic skin
tattoo” that would allow people to listen to music without headphones and talk
more clearly on their smart-phones in a room full of people yakking on their
smart-phones. In addition, the electronic tattoo could include a galvanic skin response
detector that would measure the way your skin conducts electricity. This would
be helpful in determining if the person speaking on a smart-phone is nervous
which could be a good indication that they are engaged in telling falsehoods.</div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Don't worry the electronic tattoo is not to be confused with
the Mark of the Beast mentioned in the Book of Revelation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No way. The Mark of the Beast goes on your forehead
or right hand. Google's electronic tattoo would go on your throat or on a
trendy collar around your neck. Nokia has proposed a tattoo that would vibrate
when your phone rings. The possibilities for a vibrating tattoo are
endless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Futurists have long envisioned
an interactive electronic device that would provide an individual's permit
status to the authorities along with vital sign information which could be used
in polygraph analysis, blood alcohol/drug screening and a host of other data
gathering opportunities</div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Sure some silly civil libertarians will whine about how these
devices affect our Constitutional rights but with the Patriot Act and the
recent Supreme Court rulings on warrantless searches and self incrimination the
Constitution has become irrelevant in today’s modern world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have nothing to fear if you have nothing
to hide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We'll thank ourselves later if
we do the right thing now.</div>
Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-81080008385986082602014-01-07T11:01:00.001-08:002014-01-07T11:01:18.383-08:00The Best Bait
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It was daylight on the river on what might have been the
shortest day of the year. The sky was so dark the sun did not show until ten in
the morning and it seemed to be getting dark by noon. We were fishing for that
rarest of fish the hatchery winter run steelhead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are the only steelhead that you can
catch and eat this time of year. Hatchery fish are identified by a clipped
adipose fin near the tail. Steelhead with all of their fins intact must be
released under the terms of the fish war that has been raging on the west end
of the Olympic Peninsula since the 1974 Boldt Decision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In this conflict each side tries to catch
their fair share of a fast disappearing run of fish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One side uses a hook and line, the other uses
a gill net. Both sides blame the other not catching as many as they used
to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If truth is the first casualty of
war it is sure to be buried in a mass grave somewhere out on the river. The
fact is that the best steelhead fishing in Washington is on the lower Quinault
River which has been managed as a commercial net fishery by the Quinault
Nation. How can this be? They have fish hatcheries which pump millions of fish
from native stock into the system.</div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Meanwhile, for the second year in a row the hatchery
steelhead have failed to return to the rest of our river systems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a sad truth that runs of hatchery fish
always fail after you fire the hatchery workers and stop feeding the fish.
Government efforts to restore these fish have involved buying real estate from
willing sellers and building log jams with predictable results. Somehow these
runs of steelhead were supposed to restore themselves on their own without any
hatchery plants. They have not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Millions
of dollars of fishing license revenues have been spent with no appreciable
results.</div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meanwhile we fish
through the peak of the steelhead season still hoping to catch one. The variety
of lures and bait employed in this effort is truly mind-boggling. It is said
that whoever has the biggest tackle box wins but that is not necessarily true.
All you need is the right bait, live sand shrimp. These are sold in bait shops
and gas stations where you find them or not at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As luck would have it there were no sand
shrimp one weekend. I told a buddy to bring a dozen shrimp on his next trip out
west but somehow the message got garbled in translation. Instead he brought a
dozen dozen or 144 dozen sand shrimp. That's a lot of sand shrimp. Many were
females with little egg clusters which make the very best bait. I had to keep
them alive. For that I needed some fresh sea water. Getting sea water was not
as easy as it might seem. The surf was running high. Standing in the ocean surf
with hip boots and a five gallon bucket was a life threatening adventure. I was
almost swept off my feet and drug out to sea. I dumped the surviving sand
shrimp into the bucket. The water turned black. Some of the sand shrimp
revived. I put them a cooler loaded with moss. There they kept very well. For
five days while the rain fell and the rivers turned brown and un-fishable.
Eventually I released the rest of the shrimp back into the ocean. Proving the
old adage that sometimes even the best bait is not good enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-40608837456005010432013-12-25T18:43:00.001-08:002013-12-25T18:43:30.178-08:00The Gifts of the Vampires, (With apologies to O. Henry.)
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Eighteen dollars and fifty cents. That was all. Most of it was
in quarters and dimes, saved one at a time by bargain hunting the pharmacies
for hair gel, skin whiteners and other essentials for life as a vampire family
in Forks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first Bella and her husband
Edward tried to live a normal life as productive citizens in a small town that
celebrates the diversity of life style choices. That was until Edward crossed
the line and became a monster much scarier than some old vampire. Edward became
a government biologist. Things went okay at first. Edward worked in a secret
room in the basement of the State Capitol in Olympia. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They put him in charge of a roulette wheel.
Every spin of the wheel shut down a fishing season, boat ramp or fish hatchery
somewhere. Being the new guy, Edward was forced to go outside once in a while
where all those years of night school at Forks U. came back to haunt him. When
the boss biologist sent Edward out to Electro-shock the bull Trout and count
the marmots he must have read the memo wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Marmots started showing up with patches of burnt hair. Edward threw the
bull trout up on the bank to avoid counting them twice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Boss Biologist called Edward into the
office. </span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“That was good work son,” The boss biologist said. “The more
endangered things get the more money we get to study them.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Edward was given a promotion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a night job with all the gasoline and
ammunition he could burn. Edward would be shooting barred owls. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were after all, endangering the Spotted
Owl. The last critter to endanger the Spotted Owl had been the Hickory shirted
loggers. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“We couldn’t shoot the loggers. “ <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Boss biologists explained. “If they found
out about it they could become agitated. So we moved them to Alaska. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After that Alaska said they won’t take our
owls so we got to shoot them.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“The Loggers?” Edward asked.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“No, you idiot!” The boss biologist raged slapping his
riding crop against his leather hip boots. “The owls.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Edward sucked at owl hunting. He only got paid
for the owls he killed and hunting was poor. The young newlywed couple would be
broke on their first Christmas. Bella counted her money three times, had a good
cry and then powdered her cheeks with some skin whitener.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Edward and Bella had met at the dog pound. If
there was one thing in which Bella took pride, it was her pack of pit
bulls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If Stefanie Meyer herself ever
showed up with her own pack of dogs in Forks, Bella’s pit bulls would out wag
them ten to one. </span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if Boris Karloff
himself ever showed his face in Forks chances are he would not be packing near
the firepower that Edward had. It was a chrome-plated double action .44 magnum
owl blasting nightmare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The trouble was
the big pistol kept falling out of Edward’s pants and going off which would
wake up the other biologists. Edward needed a holster. </span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Eighteen dollars and fifty cents, it was all the money Bella
had for Edward’s Christmas present. Bella took the pit bulls back to the pound
and saved enough on dog food to buy Edward a holster. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">By 7o’clock the eggnog was ready. Edward came home and asked,</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What happened to the pit bulls?”</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I traded them for a holster for your pistol.” Bella said. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I traded my pistol for a new kennel for your dogs.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Edward said. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was probably not the best Christmas ever.</span></div>
Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-57700768023813441502013-12-16T13:45:00.001-08:002013-12-16T13:45:39.611-08:00Another Successful Launch
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7N3hQVi-Eac/Uq90MI38kdI/AAAAAAAAA7Q/R8jl9yvVSx4/s1600/Hoh+oxbow+12-6-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7N3hQVi-Eac/Uq90MI38kdI/AAAAAAAAA7Q/R8jl9yvVSx4/s320/Hoh+oxbow+12-6-13.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
There is probably nothing more beautiful than a river in the
snow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are fishing for the winter
steelhead, the giant sea-run rainbow that may be the sole purpose of enduring a
winter on the Olympic Peninsula. Just seeing a steelhead on the end of a line
thrashing on the surface or cart-wheeling down the river with the red of the
sunrise reflecting on its silver sides can have an amazing effect on the human
metabolism. Hooking a steelhead can actually increase a person's temperature to
the point where they do not notice the cold until it is too late. Hypothermia
is only one of many hazards of winter fishing that people who fish for
steelhead care nothing about.</div>
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As a guide who fishes five hundred days a year I feel
preparation is the key to a quality steelhead fishing experience. We'll start
with the steelhead fishing diet which relies heavily on the three basic food
groups, sugar, grease and alcohol. With the proper diet the fisherman can put
on an extra thick layer of fur and blubber to protect them from the icy winds
of winter.</div>
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Winter clothing is important. Especially since the nude
fishing discount ended last summer. Your most important item of clothing could
be your choice of boots. Take it from me the right boots can make the
difference between endless hours of bone-chilling cold and amputation from
frostbite induced gangrene.</div>
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A good pair of boots is important. It is even more important
to not have a hole in either one of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is a curious law of science that the same water that leaks into a
boot will seldom leak out again. Leaky boots can be patched but this is often a
futile effort you discover when it is too late, you have wet feet. I like to
recycle my old boots into holiday gift items for friends, family and
co-workers. For example, this year I’m making custom computer mouse pads out of
my old boots for everyone in the newsroom! It’s really the thought that counts.</div>
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Meanwhile I slipped on a pair of fancy new boots in that made
me feel like a million bucks, for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Felt soles can make your feet stick to the bottom of the river like
glue. That was cool until I got out of the river and the felt soles froze and caked
up with snow until they looked like a pair of hillbilly ice skates.</div>
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It would be daylight soon. There was no time to thaw out my
boots. I had to launch before the barbarian hordes, (other fishermen) showed up
to make a traffic jam that looked like a Nascar race with fishing poles.
Driving down the icy boat launch was out. I might never drive out again. There
was only one thing to do. Gently slide the boat down on the snow. I gave a
little push. The boat shot away into the darkness like a runaway bobsled. I
held on.</div>
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Sliding down the hill in the dark I wondered how many other
Olympic sports had been invented by accident. Few could rival the adrenal rush
of riding a boat down a hill with a rushing river at the bottom of it.</div>
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I picked up speed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
might have been an unofficial boat skiing record.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was going to make a big splash, somewhere.
Then we hit a thin layer of sand that ground the boat to a sudden halt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a perfect four point landing, another
successful launch! We floated into the vapors with a wild joy on our heart strings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-88795096115051718842013-12-09T18:17:00.000-08:002013-12-09T18:17:05.256-08:00The End of Salmon Season<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AuiwL3__za4/UqZ5AgUaTKI/AAAAAAAAA60/6fDFIFyII3g/s1600/The+End+of+Salmon+Season+at+the+mouth+of+the+Hoh+River.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AuiwL3__za4/UqZ5AgUaTKI/AAAAAAAAA60/6fDFIFyII3g/s320/The+End+of+Salmon+Season+at+the+mouth+of+the+Hoh+River.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The end of salmon season was like the end of a
lot of things. It was a sudden surprise that left me in shock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the day my universe came crashing
down. It seems like only yesterday that salmon season started. Now it is all
over. You can lose track of time when you're fishing for salmon. It's a theory
of relativity thing. A person can go to a job they hate where one shift seems
to last for two days. The same person can start salmon fishing at daylight,
fish for what seems like a few hours then act confused when it seems to be
getting dark.</div>
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<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“That's because the sun went down,” I explain. Call it a
coincidence or a guide's intuition but I started noticing years ago how it got
mighty dark after the sun went down. It's all part of being a guide, to share
the wisdom of years of experience on the river, in a way that enables a
responsible stewardship of the eco-system as a whole.</div>
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<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Without the salmon my life had no meaning. The day became a
long dreary exercise that stretched to a bleak horizon with absolutely no
possibility of clubbing a fish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
self-esteem issues were in the ditch. My psychologist did not return my calls.
I tried the suicide hotline and got a machine said my call was very important
but they were busy with more important calls. In a final act of desperation I
sank into what many consider the modern opiate of the masses, Monday Night
Football.</div>
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I remember hearing a vague rumor out on the river about the
Seahawks having a good chance of getting into the playoffs, which seemed
strange to me. I didn't even know it was baseball season. It shows what I know
about professional sports.</div>
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<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
All I knew for sure was that as long as our beloved Seahawks
were winning, people would abandon the river to watch a ball game on TV.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This means that every Sunday you could get
the river to yourself. And if what that famous French philosopher, “What's His
Name” said was true and. “Hell is other fishermen,” then Super Bowl Sunday can
be a little slice of heaven. </div>
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<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
If all our football dreams come true and the Seahawks made it
to the Super Bowl forget about other people fishing the rivers, there would be
no one on the road. It could be one of the best steelhead fishing days of the
century!</div>
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That's when it hit me! The end of salmon season is the
beginning of steelhead season! It just goes to show how fishing can be like
life. About the time one boat sinks another one floats by to pick you up.
Steelhead fishing may not be a matter of life and death. It's probably much
more important than that. Steelhead fishing is a lot like salmon fishing only
worse or better depending on your perspective. All I know is the thought of a
steelhead swimming up the river without me catching it at least once is
disturbing. Maybe it's because steelhead fight harder than salmon. That could
be because they don't die after they spawn. Or maybe it's because steelhead are
more intelligent than salmon or at least on any given day they can be smarter
than me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Steelhead run prediction is an
inexact science that has combined elements of science, technology and the ouji
board.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now with the Seahawks win on
Monday Night Football we have a new tool to determine the success of this
winter's steelhead run, the NFL. Go Seahawks!</div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-26255735017555154732013-11-28T07:17:00.000-08:002013-11-28T07:17:04.142-08:00Thanksgiving
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Thank you for reading this. Sometimes I think if you didn't
read this no one would. So there is probably no better time than Thanksgiving
to thank you, the reader, (s) and all of the little people I stomped on my way
to the top of a publishing empire that at one time may have stretched from
Shine Slough to Dead Dog Flats.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first pandering a
column that combined misanthropic venom and Stalinist rhetoric in a crude
attempt at humor was more fun than a barrel of double-jointed nympho-maniacs.
Unfortunately after the first week or so writing a column became almost like a
job or something. I started wishing I had listened to one of the many hard
working English teachers we had over the years. Like the one who convinced us
to take him crabbing out in Dungeness Bay at night in the winter. It wasn't my
fault he got stuck in the mud and tangled up in a crab pot line. I never did
learn much English after that. In a vain attempt to write good, I was forced to
rely on the tireless efforts of the many hard-working government agencies that
manage our natural resources for the raw materials for this column.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
For example, I would never in a million years have dreamed up
the idea of the government biologists shooting the Barred Owls to save the
Spotted owl. For this yuk-fest we must thank the U.S. Fish and Wildlife
Service. Without them, many of these columns would not be possible.</div>
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<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I would like to take this opportunity to thank the Washington
State Department of Fish and Wildlife. Every year they provide us a constant
source of mirth with a hundred and fifty pages of cutting edge humor disguised
as the fishing laws.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
It would not be fair to not thank the Washington State Parks
people. Making people pay for a permit to go on public land and then printing the
permit with disappearing ink was one of the most humorous pranks ever played on
a taxpayer. Of course it would be wrong to not thank the yuk-meisters in the
salmon restoration industry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They just
got done knocking down an historic dairy barn in Dungeness and the 3 Crabs
Restaurant, for among other things, Bull trout habitat.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I have spent a lot of time at the 3 Crabs over the years.
Grandma first took us there in the '60's for burgers after we went clamming.
That was back when you could do that for less than a hundred bucks. I don't
remember seeing any bull trout at the 3 Crabs at the time. They were not even
on the menu. Later I conducted a lot of historic research at the 3 Crabs bar
with pioneer legends like Wild Bill and Harry, the Mad Trapper of the Dungeness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were no Bull trout in the bar either.
The idea of a bar as fish habitat is a hilarious concept.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It reminds me of the old joke about the Bull
Trout who goes into a bar and asks the bartender,</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“How many biologists does it take to screw in a light bulb?”</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“I don't know,” The bartender said,</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“One hundred.” Said the Bull Trout, “One biologist to screw
it in, and ninety nine to apply for the grant.”</div>
<br />
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I am just a humble fisherman. There is no way in a million
years I could make this stuff up on my own. It is only through the tireless
efforts of these hard-working bureaucrats that I am able to produce a weekly
column and for this privilege I am very, very thankful.</div>
Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-54032087771749146122013-11-27T08:04:00.000-08:002013-11-27T08:04:38.982-08:00Camping in the Rainforest<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-10Ybtk7mjs8/UpYXXEyS28I/AAAAAAAAA6k/IeoMkdGw0R4/s1600/07+-+Tent+camp+(2).tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="277" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-10Ybtk7mjs8/UpYXXEyS28I/AAAAAAAAA6k/IeoMkdGw0R4/s320/07+-+Tent+camp+(2).tif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
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There are few things more enjoyable than sleeping under the
stars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't know the names of many
heavenly bodies but there's just something about looking at the Milky Way that
takes my breath away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You get to
wondering if somewhere out there in that big old universe there couldn't be
another planet with water on it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If there
was water on that planet, it would only stand to reason there would be some
kind of fish. From what I've seen on movies, generally space critters are
monsters. The prospect of fishing for monsters on another planet fills me with
a sense of wonder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even a slow night of
stargazing is liable to treat you to a meteor show. On a good night you may
even spot a UFO. For years I have built campfires along the riverbanks as a
form of beacon to the UFO's in an effort to communicate with intelligent life
forms in space, after having failed at the attempt on earth.</div>
<br />
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Unfortunately stargazing has become increasingly endangered
by a form of pollution few care anything about. Just like smoke from burning
slash piles obstructs our daylight view, light pollution from the growing human
population deprives us of our view of the night sky. It's already too late in
some areas. Forget about stargazing in the eastern Olympics. A fluorescent haze
of a false dawn from the evil cities across the water permeates the
stratosphere. Stargazing opportunities in the northern and southern Olympics
have become increasingly endangered as well, leaving only the sheltered valleys
of the western Olympics to give us a view seen by relatively few, a star-filled
night sky.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
This is not a perfect world. The western Olympic Peninsula is
a rain forest. Once it starts raining your star gazing opportunities are
fleeting and...wet. My days of sleeping under the stars were numbered. I got a
little tent.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
It was beautiful. The picture on the package showed the tent
pitched in a flowering meadow beside a rollicking brook beneath a clear blue
sky that must have been manufactured somewhere in the Rockies. The instructions
on the tent emphasized in no uncertain terms,</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Keep the Tent Clean.” This would be a problem when
camping<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in a flooded rain forest. Things
went okay until I took the tent out of the box and tried to fit the poles
together. This was no more trouble than say, trying to set up one of those
giant swing sets for the kids on Christmas morning only by then it was really
raining and the wind was whipping up, knocking the tops of the trees together.
That tent was not going to be much protection against falling limbs even if I
did get it set up. There was only one thing to do, hug in under a big spruce
and pray it didn't fall over.</div>
<br />
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I hoped the weather would make the elk want to commit
suicide. It was after all elk season, the culmination of months of planning,
scouting and preparation that would all unravel as a violent Pacific storm
system battered the coast with torrential rain and wind.</div>
<br />
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Sitting in a mud-hole in the choking smoke of a campfire
picking the spruce needles out of my cocoa I thought that autumn might be my
favorite time to camp. The tourists are gone. The weather's<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>so abysmal no one in their right mind would
ever think of being out in it, leaving a few old fishermen to camp along a back
eddy in the river.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Rain sprouts the mushrooms, swells the rivers and brings the
fish home. Salmon fishing in the rivers has many advantages to the ocean. They
don't call our rugged, unpredictable coastline the “Graveyard of the Pacific”
for nothing. It's not only<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>dangerous,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>fishing the ocean can
be an unproductive waste of fish.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
For most of the year you cannot keep a fish with an unclipped
adipose fin in the salt water. Some days you may have to catch a dozen or more
salmon just to get one with a missing fin, which indicates a hatchery fish.
Typically squads of happy seals and sea lions follow the fishing boats around
to gorge on the just released salmon that are bleeding or too exhausted to swim
away after being released.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
While it may be forbidden to keep a wild fish in the salt
water, it's legal to kill them in the rivers where they spawn. Even better, you
don't need an expensive motor boat to fish the river and I've never heard of
anyone getting sea-sick while standing on the shore.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Unfortunately fishing the rivers is not without its hazards.
In Washington State you need a variety of Federal and State permits just to be
on public land. To be on State land you need a $35 Discover Pass.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
It is a great money maker for the State since most of the
tourists and a lot of the locals have never heard of the Discover Pass and
don't know where to get one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I used to joke about the Discover Pass being the greatest
tool we have to eliminate tourists. Once the tourists get a $100 ticket for not
having a Discover Pass they'll generally leave and not come back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Little did I know that the joke was on me.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
My Discover Pass had been printed with disappearing ink! I
was a hunted criminal!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it was just
a coincidence but the reprobates I camped with were also cursed with defective
Discover Passes. The ink had faded on all of them! I had no idea this would
trigger<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>an unfortunate chain of events
that would lead to a ticket and my eviction from an abandoned campground. It
didn't matter there was no one else there, we had overstayed our 7 day limit!</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Why do they hate us?” the old fisherman sobbed. “We cleaned
out the outhouse, picked up the garbage and cleared the brush out of the road.
We bought every permit and license they sell and spend money in Forks like
drunken Congressmen! I stopped at the store to get a package of bacon and ended
up spending $170 dollars on fishing gear!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And now they are throwing us out?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
It's like my good old Uncle Joe who used to chuckle,</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Give me the man, I'll give you the crime.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>America can sleep better knowing our
abandoned campgrounds are safe from this sort of criminal element. When camping
is outlawed only outlaws will camp.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-71952644361407190542013-11-05T10:18:00.000-08:002013-11-05T10:18:13.617-08:00The Tell Tale Tail<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LiGIejJwDHQ/Unkz39Hx5SI/AAAAAAAAA6Q/95-4oyWpVnk/s1600/fishing+in+the+fog,+hoh+river.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LiGIejJwDHQ/Unkz39Hx5SI/AAAAAAAAA6Q/95-4oyWpVnk/s320/fishing+in+the+fog,+hoh+river.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
With apologies to E.A.Poe.<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Fog season is my favorite time of year. Whether it is an
effect of global warming or a shift in ocean currents, the fog is especially
thick this year. For fog worshippers this is the perfect opportunity for a
fog-drenched vacation to a hidden land of shadows. Finding your own personal
fog bank should not be a problem. Unlike a sunny vacation where crowds can be a
hassle you can get lost in the fog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
if there are other fog fans nearby they will probably not intrude on your
solitude, you won't be able to see them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In real big fog events you won't be able to see the hand in front of
your face. While the health benefits of fog are only just now being discovered
by modern science, it only confirms what many fog-heads have known for
years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sun can be bad for you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Exposure to the sun can cause dangerous skin burns. No one
has ever gotten a fog burn. We've all heard the lame excuse,</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“The sun got in my eyes,” I've used it many times but you've
never heard anyone complain of getting the fog in their eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a long hot summer of boring blue sky
days we look forward to fog for protection against the suns' harmful rays.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Go ahead; don't be afraid to celebrate the fog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just wrap yourself in rubber and enjoy a
full-body moisturizer treatment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like
fishing in the fog. It delays the twilight of dawn so the daylight bite can
last all day long.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
One morning the fog was so thick it dripped off the trees
like rain.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
We launched in the river in the dark and floated into the
vapors. The sun must have eventually come up somewhere but we weren't bothered
by the blinding light of it because we were in the fog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The water and sky slowly merged into one gray
color. The sounds of the river were muffled and bent. There were geese calling
from somewhere downstream. They were coming closer fast. Suddenly the geese
swerved up out of the fog. The people in the front of the boat ducked. I could
have nabbed a goose with the fish net if I had just been a little faster but we
were busy trying to fish.</div>
<br />
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The river dropped over some big rocks in the fog that made it
look like we were falling off the edge of the earth.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
The fog was so thick even the fish ducks were lost. They flew
past our heads just swerving to miss us. Mergansers are a bird about the size
of a football that can fly forty miles an hour or more. To have a flock of
these saw-billed missiles headed straight for your head so close you can feel
the air from their wings is one of the most terrifying bird watching
experiences you can have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
bird-watchers had to duck. Once again I was slow with the net. There would be
no extra crispy teriyaki fish-duck shore lunch that day. We were in trouble
since that meant we would have to catch a fish for lunch.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Casting in the fog we became aware of a large creature in the
river below us. You could hear a stride of two legs wading quickly through the water. We strained to see whatever it was
through the fog but could not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Just at that moment someone hooked a fish. Whatever sort of monster was
headed our way would have to wait until the fish was landed. There in the murk
of fog and twilight the great fish was brought aboard. Just my luck it was a Dolly
Varden/Bull trout. Despite the fact that on any given day this species might be
the most prolific fish in the river, this member of the char family had the
good fortune of being declared an endangered species by the bureaucracies that mismanage our fisheries.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
The Dolly Varden/Bull trout is a scavenger that feeds upon
the young and spawn of salmon. Protecting the bull makes about as much sense as
raising raccoons in your chicken house. Despite this, the Dolly Varden/Bull
trout is an MVP in one of the greatest horrors ever perpetrated on the American
taxpayer, the salmon restoration industry.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Just catching a Dolly Varden/Bull trout makes me so darned
mad it makes me crazy. At what point has an endangered species, (which never
was actually endangered) recovered? If you catch 20 bull trout a day on a
river, wouldn't that mean it is no longer endangered?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess not. You cannot even lift a bull
trout out of the water. That is insane!</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Maybe I went insane but I had had enough. I netted the bull
trout and lifted it into the boat. I didn't want to eat it. The flesh of a bull
trout is pale and soft. I didn't want it for a trophy since it was an illegal
to possess so who would I show it to? No, maybe I went insane for a moment when
the eye of the fish met mine. It was like looking into the eye of a vulture. I
made up my mind to take the life of the fish and rid myself of the eye forever.
My psychologist had said clubbing fish was a transference issue. So I punched
him. I raised my fish club and smacked the bull trout in the head. The tail of
the fish slapped the deck for a moment then stopped. Yes, he was stone, stone
dead. I worked hastily and in silence, cutting off the head, removing the
viscera and quickly depositing the body in my lunch box.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
When I had made an end to these labors there came a figure
out of the fog who introduced himself with perfect suavity. He was a fish
cop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I smiled for what had I to fear? I
bade him welcome and invited him to search my humble craft. The officer was
satisfied. He sat. We chatted. My head ached. What you mistake for madness is
but an acuteness of senses. I could hear a low, quick sound such as a metronome
might make when enveloped in cotton. It was the slapping of the tail of the
bull trout from deep beneath the lunch box coffin. This hellish tattoo increased
quicker and louder until I thought my head must burst! The fish cop knew,
suspected and made a mockery of my horror until I could no longer bear the
agony. I opened my lunch box and shrieked,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Here, here! It is the beating of the tell tale tail!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
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Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-52843414513669499072013-10-22T06:46:00.000-07:002013-10-22T06:46:14.521-07:00Why Salmon Jump.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F3T0nx4FZXE/UmaBShHkhcI/AAAAAAAAA6A/AQcwyVCoPSU/s1600/Coho.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F3T0nx4FZXE/UmaBShHkhcI/AAAAAAAAA6A/AQcwyVCoPSU/s320/Coho.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
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October must be my favorite time to fish. After a long summer
where the rivers dried up to a trickle the storms of autumn brought us a good
rain that triggered one of the most dramatic animal migrations on planet earth,
the return of the salmon. We are indeed fortunate to live in an area where the
salmon have not been wiped out, yet. It is still possible to see the fish
returning to the river which to some people is as exciting as catching them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
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The return of the salmon is a miracle of nature. The fact
that these creatures can make the adjustment from salt to fresh water is an
indication of just how tough they are. The salmon have survived a migration of
thousands of miles through an ocean clogged with “Nylon Pollution,” that is
over-fishing throughout the extent of their range. They return to their natal
streams to find the mouths of these rivers packed with predatory marine mammals
harbor seals and two kinds of sea lions the California and the Steller.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
These protected species have become so over-populated they
are adapting to fresh water. Harbor seals have been spotted up the Hoh,
Bogachiel and Ozette Rivers. The effects on the salmon are obvious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fish are nervous and frightened of
their own shadows. Salmon prefer to enter the river when the surf is high. The
fish can hide in the turbulence and use their speed to get upstream and out of
tidewater as fast as possible. This is hard on the fish because sometimes they
have to enter the river several times in order to make the adjustment from salt
water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Very few of these fish make it
out of the ocean and up the river without bite marks or chunks of flesh
missing. Still the salmon come. You can see them jumping as they enter the river.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
People have long wondered why salmon jump. Some say the
salmon jump to rid themselves of sea lice which stick to the fish in salt
water. I don't buy that. The sea lice will fall off the fish in fresh water
anyway. So why do the salmon keep jumping when they have no lice?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Others say the salmon jump to loosen the eggs
that they carry but I don't believe that one either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fresh salmon eggs are delicate. Why would the
fish risk bruising them as they near the end of their spawning migration? And
besides it is common to see spawned out salmon jumping in the river when they
have no eggs inside. Another good theory is that the salmon jump to orient
themselves to landforms and navigate their way back to the precise area that
they were spawned. This is a good theory except for the fact that salmon don't
always make it back to the same river where they spawned. Many get lost on
their return journey and end up in the wrong river. That is how salmon
repopulated their range after natural disasters like the ice age or a volcano.
And if the salmon are navigating back to their streams by recognizing land
forms, why would the spawned out salmon keep jumping?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They aren't going anywhere. A salmon, unlike
a steelhead trout which can spawn many times, dies after it spawns.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
No, I think the salmon jump for another reason entirely.
There is in fact probably only one reason the salmon jump whether they are
fresh from the ocean or drifting downstream tail first from the spawning bed.
The salmon jump because they are happy.</div>
Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-74861781604782400962013-10-15T10:11:00.000-07:002013-10-15T10:11:23.574-07:00Confessions of an Altar Boy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CVbfzdB_S78/Ul11A_8Sk6I/AAAAAAAAA50/q2m83BIRgOo/s1600/mt+olympus+from+queets+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CVbfzdB_S78/Ul11A_8Sk6I/AAAAAAAAA50/q2m83BIRgOo/s400/mt+olympus+from+queets+%25282%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Queets River <br />
<br />
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Like many who grew up Catholic in the '60s I was convinced I
was going to hell. That was the bad news. The good news was that all my friends
would be there. A lot of my friends were altar boys and I was too. These days
it is very popular to make fun of altar boys but in the old days of the Latin
Mass you had to have your act together to be an altar boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
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Those unfamiliar with the Catholic faith probably don't know
what a big job that was. After you learned Latin you were in charge of the
water, wine, bread, candles, incense, bells, and a medieval wardrobe and in
some cases crowd control in everything from baptisms to funerals.</div>
<br />
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Meanwhile there was no slouching, fidgeting or worse,
sleeping, allowed. Well maybe that wasn't the worst thing you could do as an altar
boy. The worst thing would be dropping the bread which represents the body of
Christ. Go dropping Jesus during communion and you'd find yourself serving 6 am
Mass with the new guys for the rest of your altar-boy career. Screw-ups who
couldn't light the candles, fire up the incense or pour water were never going
to fast-track their way up to the big time, the Holiday High Masses. That's
where you made the big bucks. You could make up to five dollars for a midnight
Mass. Then there was that other special perk that few realized. Being an altar
boy meant you could skip a lot of school on religious grounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People died all the time so there were
funerals during the week. We called it “the graveyard shift”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would have skipped school to go frog
hunting at the time if I could get away with it, but serving Mass at funerals
was the only alibi that would pass the parental guidance committee. It didn't
take long for the money and the free pass out of class to go right to our
heads. We thought we were better than everyone. We could look down our nose at
the drunks who only came to church once a year at midnight on Christmas Eve or
Easter, while we went almost every day. Never mind we were sneaking the
sacramental wine, what the heck. We smoked and chewed so pounding a little vino
first thing in the morning was no big deal.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Still, being an altar boy was not without its special
challenges and humbling episodes that confirmed our worst suspicions, that we
were as rotten as anyone.</div>
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<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
People talk about seven deadly sins but they never mention
the one that might have been worse than all the others put together to an altar
boy: flatulence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You had only one chance
to get away with it. You wanted to be ringing the bells during the attack and
maybe move along and light off a big lump of incense real quick before the
guilty party could be identified. I often think of this when people refer to
Catholic Mass as, “bells and smells”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
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Eventually I started going to a bigger church. It contained
one of the Earths greatest treasures, silence. This church was so big it had
mountains, giant trees and a river running through it. I took my priest friend
out to my church on the Queets River and confessed I was a poor excuse for an
altar boy. He caught a nice silver and all my sins were forgiven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-85725485851624260922013-09-06T11:36:00.000-07:002013-09-13T11:42:55.529-07:00The Ten Stages of Camping Grief<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KcrqmBWeaj0/UjNcAYDThEI/AAAAAAAAA5g/wpG_8Ijx5EQ/s1600/013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KcrqmBWeaj0/UjNcAYDThEI/AAAAAAAAA5g/wpG_8Ijx5EQ/s320/013.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
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I really should have followed my own advice about camping on
Labor Day weekend,<br />
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“Don't.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It serves me
right to suffer though the ten stages of camping grief. These include but are
not limited to anticipation, denial, bargaining, depression, hopelessness,
fear, bitterness, blame, disgust and gratitude.</div>
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The camping trip began with anticipation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought there would be the traditional
Labor Day blackberry cobbler. Many species of wild life cue their seasonal
migrations to a food source so when the blackberries are ripe on the Hoh River
it is not unusual to see fishing guides congregate on a river bank for the
expected pie or cobbler.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When there was
no blackberry cobbler I fell into a sense of denial where I thought we could
get some cobbler if only it would stop raining long enough to pick some
blackberries. That was a futile notion that things were bad but they could not
get any worse. Read on</div>
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This lead to another stage of camping grief, bargaining where
you hope things will get better if you move somewhere else but really who were
we trying to kid? It's Labor Day. All of the campgrounds were full and we're
stuck in a war zone where scary people want help, right now!</div>
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They drove their trucks into the Hoh River. One truck got stuck trying to pull the other one out. This triggered another stage of the camping process, depression.</div>
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In the old days people travelled our rivers in canoes by poling
them. That’s where the canoeist stood in the stern of the canoe and pushed
it upstream with a pole. There is a story of the old Indian Chief that forbade
the use of poles on the river near his village, insisting the people paddle
their canoes instead. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He feared the
poles pushing down into the gravel would kill the salmon eggs in the spawning
beds.</div>
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Fast forward to Labor Day weekend where people were driving their
trucks in the river to go camping. </div>
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A truck represents many gallons of toxic waste.
The Hoh River is unpredictable. It might not even be raining where you are,
but there could be a gully-washer up on the glacier that will raise the river
one foot per hour. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the river had come
up just a couple of feet while the truck was in the water, it would become just
another twisted chunk of scrap metal in a log jam. One of many witnessed over
the years. This was an emergency but with all of the borrowed rigging we could
find we could not move the muscle-truck one inch. There was nothing we could do
but lapse into another stage of camping grief, hopelessness.</div>
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This lead to a sense of fear as the campers cranked up a
Death-Metal jam to “11,” began shooting semi-automatic weapons into the river
and started a campfire the size of a truck that looked like an incendiary
explosion by night and one of Saddam's burning oil wells by day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I heard something whistle like a bird
call but all the birds had been scared away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That was no bird. It was the sound of bullets ricocheting off the water.
Must be why shooting on water is not recommended, even if there is not a
highway on the other side of the river. Bullets can ricochet off water in any
direction.</div>
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One of the great things I have always liked about camping is
that it can bring people closer together. Unfortunately many campers do not
appreciate huddling closer together behind an engine block hoping to dodge the
hail flying lead. This lead to another stage of camper's grief, the bitterness
and blame on whoever wanted to go camping in the first place. By the end of
Labor Day weekend all that was left was the disgust of cleanup. The scary
camper’s fire burned for two days after they left. We filled garbage sacks with
empty shells, live rounds, half burnt plastic, broken bottles and burnt cans.
All of which left us with a sense of gratitude that Labor Day Weekend was
finally over.</div>
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Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-87631394885901669042013-08-25T11:30:00.000-07:002013-08-25T11:30:29.683-07:00Salmon Season Closures
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HEFqYWMIkrI/UhpM1Fbl5lI/AAAAAAAAA5M/WQ_BCQh0lm8/s1600/1+sea+lion+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HEFqYWMIkrI/UhpM1Fbl5lI/AAAAAAAAA5M/WQ_BCQh0lm8/s320/1+sea+lion+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Lately a tourist asked me about the recent king salmon
fishing closures around the Olympic Peninsula.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As a fishing guide who spends over five hundred days a year on the
water, (a figure arrived at using the same extrapolation computer model
methodology the State of Washington employs to our count fish and crabs) I take
great pride in providing the tourists with accurate information to make their
visit more enjoyable.</div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tourists don’t
want to hear how, “they should have been here yesterday.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They want to catch a hundred pound salmon
today. I’m not going to stomp on someone’s dreams just to be a know-it-all. I
sell dreams. Any day is a good day to catch a hundred pound salmon.</div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The most important
thing you’ll need to fish for the hundred pound salmon without fines, jail time
or community service is a recent copy of this year’s fishing laws. There is a
separate set of fishing laws for State and Federal waters, known collectively
as “The Fish Cop Employment Security Act.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have spent years translating these laws into English. The most recent
evidence suggests the fishing laws are a sort of code that is changed as soon
as it is deciphered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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A good example of this eternal principle occurred with the
recent limit reduction and emergency closures of our king salmon seasons in
several marine areas. Ironically we had enjoyed good king salmon fishing this
year. This is a mystery which no one can explain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's easy to explain a bad salmon season.
Here in the State of Washington, we try to manage our salmon without hurting
anyone's feelings. For years our salmon have fallen victim to a phenomenon
known as “nylon pollution”, that is a saturation of nylon fishing gear
throughout the extent of their range. And when in the course of human events
the salmon failed to return to their home waters we blamed the loggers.</div>
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It is very difficult to explain a good run of salmon. It is
even tougher to figure why the biologists would reduce the limit or shut down
the season at the peak of a good run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Now please don't think I've gone soft on biologists.
Hopefully I can get back to flogging them like the family mule next week but
they could have a point. Most regulations only allow anglers to keep salmon
with a clipped adipose fin which would theoretically indicate it is a hatchery
fish.</div>
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Fin-clipping salmon is a brutal form of animal abuse where a
fin of the salmon is removed to identify it as a hatchery fish. After a hundred
years of hatchery fish, the differences between them and wild fish are
academic. The practice of fin clipping subjects our salmon to unintended
consequences.</div>
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With the reductions of fish hatchery programs you might have
to catch a lot of unclipped fish to retain even a one hatchery fish limit.</div>
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While catch and release fishing may be entertaining to some
it is a wasteful practice in the salmon fishery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Estimates range for a mortality rate of up to
40% for caught and released salmon from bleeding and loss of their protective
slime layer. A released fish is a tired fish. It has been played out,
suffocated and photographed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tired,
disoriented salmon fall prey for seals and sea lions that make an easy living
following fishing boats. For every hatchery salmon on a punch card there are
any number of wild salmon in a sea lion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The question is not why they closed the king salmon season early but
given the way we manage them, why is there one salmon left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-21784444687482909532013-08-19T08:45:00.000-07:002013-08-19T08:45:02.553-07:00Migrants
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There are few birds more annoying to watch than the common
nighthawk. This nocturnal member of the goatsucker family seems incapable of
flying in a straight line for more than a few feet before spiraling up and
diving down in a short looping flight pattern that can make a even a casual
observer dizzy if you watch them long enough. Of course the nighthawk has a
good excuse for flying like someone who has no motor control; they are hunting
insects which seldom fly in a straight line either. The only thing worse than
watching a single nighthawk is to watch a large flock of these nocturnal
insectivores competing for the same air space. You wait for the inevitable high
speed collision of these feathered bullets but it never happens. Often while
watching nighthawks you'll hear a buzzing sound, not unlike a car hitting the
rumble strip on a distant highway. It is in fact a sound produced by the wing
feathers as the bird pulls out of a vertical suicide dive and heads up for
another go round. Thankfully, the nighthawks are only here for a few short
summer months before flying to South America for the winter.</div>
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The only thing worse than watching nighthawks is to observe
the swift in flight. The swift is like a stealth version of the swallow with a
forked tail and swept back wings that make it one of the fastest flying birds
we have. Clocked at over one hundred miles per hour it must be a very short
flight from here to their wintering grounds in the Amazon Basin of South
America. You'll discover what an annoying pest the swift can be when they take
up residence in your chimney where the roar of their wings will make you think
you're having a chimney fire when there is no fire in the stove. Fortunately
these foreign visitors seem to have abandoned our skies somewhat earlier than
normal this year.</div>
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Unfortunately the absence of these annoying birds heralds the
arrival of other migrants from the north whose appearance is not a good thing.</div>
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Sandpipers are a small, drab, nervous shore bird that include
a motley collection of twenty some species which often appear so similar that
only a so-called bird-watching expert will<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>bother to tell them apart. All members of the sandpiper family share a
similar pointed beak which they use to probe the shoreline for a disgusting
array of gooey invertebrates on which they feed. Sandpipers are among our
earliest migrating birds, moving along the coast and gathering in vast flocks
that can have the disturbing appearance of an amoeba in the sky.</div>
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The arrival of the sandpiper is soon followed by that most
beautiful of ducks, the Northern Pintail. Slender, elegant and colorful, the
pintail is has been called the “greyhound of the skies” because of the speed at
which it flies. Then again the pintail could be compared to a greyhound because
it tastes like dog meat when cooked. That is just a theory. All we know for
sure is the pintail is one of the earliest migrants to the Peninsula. Flying
from the Arctic Ocean to as far south as Central America the sight of the first
pintail is a good sign something bad is about to happen.</div>
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The fog which normally blankets the Strait of Juan de Fuca in
the fall has hung around for half the summer. The spiders are numerous and
moving indoors. The corn husks are extra thick. This is all evidence to the
fact that an early winter will be dark, wet and cold.</div>
Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-3988863454108458122013-08-14T07:49:00.000-07:002013-08-14T07:49:14.618-07:00Blue Backs
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This is a good time of year to catch some blue-backs. What is
a blue-back? It’s not an easy question to answer. Most salmon have a blue back
and a white belly when they come out of the ocean. There could be a reason. To
a predator looking from above the blue back of the fish blends in with the deep
blue sea. A predator looking at the same fish from below will have a hard time
seeing the white belly against the light of the sky. This blue and white color
scheme works equally well for predators trying to attack prey either from above
or below. As the fish enter the river they endure an amazing transformation
from salt to fresh water. Their salt water scales fall off. Fish change color
to match the rocks in the river so they can be well camouflaged while they
spawn. A fish that has a blue back generally means it just came out of the
saltwater so it is in the best eating condition.<br />
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Some people call the sea-run cutthroat a blue-back and that
is our right as decent Americans. Others call these fish the “Harvest Trout”
because they run in late summer but they are wrong. Cutthroat will always be
blue-backs to me. Like all anandromous fish Cutthroat come up the river to
spawn but they do not die after spawning like the salmon. They feed on the eggs
of the spawning fall salmon. The presence of the sea-run Cutthroat is an
indication of the health of the salmon runs.</div>
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The Lake Ozette sockeye were also once called blue-backs but
now they are called “endangered species.” The most famous trout on the Olympic
Peninsula, the Beardsley of Lake Crescent was also called a blue-back. The
Beardsley was named after Admiral Beardsley who brought the U.S. Navy's Pacific
Squadron to Port Angeles for summer maneuvers in 1895. Admiral Beardsley was said
to have spent so much time fishing at Lake Crescent they named the trout after
him. The legend has been passed down that the Admiral caught three hundred and
fifty trout on his very first visit to Lake Crescent. It is not my place to
question the integrity of someone who was with Commodore Perry's landing at
Kurihama, Japan in 1853, was on the monitor Nantucket during the ironclad
attack on Charleston Harbor in 1863, carried the first U.S flag through the
Suez Canal in 1871 and re-opened the Chilkoot Pass in 1880, no Admiral
Beardsley's service record speaks for itself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Still 350 trout is just a little bit too round and tidy a number and
besides, reeling in a Beardsley trout is not as easy as it sounds...</div>
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E.B. Webster, founder of the Port Angeles Evening News which
became the current Peninsula Daily News, wrote about the Beardsley trout in his
epic book, “Fishing the Olympics.”</div>
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Webster estimated the Beardsley could hit speeds of
twenty-five miles an hour when it struck and peel a hundred feet of line before
jumping six or seven feet in the air. A Tacoma angler was said to have spent
three hours and forty five minutes reeling in an eleven pounder. Beardsley
trout were known to reach twenty pounds. Imagine catching three hundred and
fifty of those blue-backs. There's not enough hours in the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if Admiral Beardsley was fishing two
rods he'd be lucky to catch half that number in a day. This would confirm my
theory of translating fish stories into English where you simply divide or
multiply each number by a factor of two depending on who you are talking to.</div>
Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-38789271368951321662013-08-06T09:48:00.001-07:002013-08-06T09:48:52.195-07:00Owl Season
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It's never too early to get ready for hunting season. This
year should provide many new bang-up opportunities for hunters to enjoy the
bounty of the great outdoors. I'm not talking about deer hunting. Our deer
populations are still depressed by the devastating hair loss syndrome which the
authorities are at a loss to explain. You might as well forget about elk
hunting while we are on the subject. Even now the pathetic remains of our once
great herds are being shot up by poachers leaving calves with no mothers and
frantic nursing mothers out searching for their calves. The legal hunt for
these animals starts in September and runs through December. Combine the long
hunting seasons, poachers and the burgeoning populations of bears and cougars
and who could blame the elk and deer for moving into town. The woods are simply
too dangerous for animals anymore.<br />
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As hunters we are indeed fortunate that a hard-working group
of federal biologists have stepped up to the plate to provide us with an
awesome alternative to big-game hunting, shooting barred owls. In a 505-page
environmental impact statement The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service described
this new hunting opportunity as “limited experimental removal using lethal
means.”</div>
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The bios' have proposed shooting over 3,600 of these
magnificent trophy birds in an effort to save the endangered northern spotted
owl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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The barred owls are thought to originate in Canada, which
would make them illegal aliens. For years we were assured that the Canadian
owls only ate mice and flying squirrels that American spotted owls no longer
wanted. We were supposed to believe the barred owl would only live in nests too
dilapidated for an American owl to consider. Then we heard horror stories of
breeding pairs of spotted owls being overwhelmed by barred owls in a manner too
shocking for a family newspaper.</div>
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Are we going to wait until the mystical “hoot” of American
owls in our Nations' wild places is replaced by the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“eh” of the Canadian owls before we decide to
do something about this new threat to our endangered species. I think not.
Maybe you remember the last time a critter threatened our spotted owls. It was
a timber beast called the hickory-shirted logger. The biologists chose not to
shoot the loggers because if you do and the logger finds out about it they can
become agitated. Instead the loggers were trans-located to Alaska.</div>
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It's just too bad there’s no room in Alaska for 3,600 barred
owls so we have no choice but to shoot them. People have asked me how you could
shoot such a beautiful, trusting creature that just sits on a limb and stares
at you with those big round eyes. It's easy, you don't have to lead them so
far. Even in the air the barred owl is a slow flier so it should be no problem
to get your limit. Of course once you have bagged your trophy it's time to see
how the barred owl stacks up as table fare. Rumor has it that the barred owl
tastes a lot like the marbled murrelet only less greasy.</div>
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Right now I am scrambling to come up with an owl recipe book
that will include, Stuffed Owl with maple syrup infused back-bacon to honor
their Canadian heritage and Pressed Owl in case you run one over with your
truck. It will include a chapter on how to pluck an owl. Those who do not want
to be an owl plucker may prefer to skin them. There is more than one way. </div>
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Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-45007185480476349972013-07-24T04:48:00.001-07:002013-07-24T04:48:29.945-07:00Summer Bird Watching<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LjSJ5QpFigY/Ue872VhigNI/AAAAAAAAA44/58SSwUAMwMU/s1600/heron+tracks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LjSJ5QpFigY/Ue872VhigNI/AAAAAAAAA44/58SSwUAMwMU/s640/heron+tracks.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
Great Blue Heron Tracks<br />
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Summer Bird Watching.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p>It was daylight on the water in a quiet back eddy far from
the fast current of the main river.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
was bird watching which in the fisherman's dialect of the West End means you're
fishing but not catching anything so you may as well watch birds. This is
probably the best time of year to fish since it never snows here in the summer.
It's probably the worst time of year to bird watch if you have a weak stomach
or sensitive nature. That's because this is the time for young birds to try
their wings and leave the nest before they are eaten by one of many predators
that have their own babies to feed. Witnessing the attack of two bald eagles on
a great blue heron nest must be one of the queasiest sights in nature. The
great blue heron must be one of the worst nest builders in the entire bird
kingdom. I've seen them nesting in a spindly hemlock that didn't look like it
could support one heron never mind a mating pair and half dozen hatchings in a
nest made of sticks the size of the bed of a pickup truck. The parents feed
their young with revolting regularity on a diet of half-digested fish that is
regurgitated into the bottomless craws of the nestlings whose constant squawking
seems to advertize the position of the nest to any predators in the
neighborhood.</div>
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In the air the Great blue herons glide in a slow lumbering
flight that seems to take forever to get them anywhere. With their necks
majestically folded and their legs hanging back like a rudder they appear easy
prey for an eagle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only thing the
herons have going for them is their exceptional wariness and a long sharp beak
that looks like it could poke through a sheet of plywood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eagles dive with the speed of well, an eagle
with long sharp talons and a beak that can rip through about anything. You
wouldn't think a great blue heron would have a chance against an eagle so maybe
that's why there is usually a pair of herons on a nest.</div>
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All I saw for sure was two eagles chasing one of the
herons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It might have been acting like a
decoy to lure them away from the nest. I've watched eagles catch geese, ducks
and even a pelican so you'd think a slow flying heron wouldn't stand a chance.
Not that I care. Herons are fish eating devils that can spear a foot long trout
and choke it down whole in one gulp. If you've ever had trout pond you'd be
amazed how little time it takes for the herons to clean out every fish. I
figured those eagles would be making the world a better place by eating a heron
or two. The lone heron appeared doomed with two eagles closing in fast. There
was nowhere for the heron to hide in the wide open sky and I had a ringside
seat. Then the heron started spiraling up higher in tight little circles. The
eagles were denied their main weapon, where they hit their target with a
surprise attack from above. They flapped their wings for all that they were
worth but could not catch the heron in its ungainly, ridiculous looking
vertical take-off. In the space of a minute the birds were just little specks
in the sky. The eagles gave up and glided off in different directions. I sat on
a stump stunned by the realization that not even the bird watching was going my
way this morning.</div>
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Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-67652508066488950932013-07-18T12:19:00.000-07:002013-07-18T12:19:23.018-07:00Moon Campers
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This could be the year to plan for a truly unique camping
experience the whole family can enjoy. Forget about the disgust and hassle of
setting up a leaky tent, or the gas-guzzling expense and danger of piloting a bloated
RV through a maze of crumbling highways and collapsing bridges that endanger
the traveling public of this great nation. It's way past time to shed these
outdated notions of outdoor recreation and embrace a whole new opportunity for
adventure that's so far out of the box, it's out of this world! Thanks to the
tireless efforts of two of our nation's lawmakers we may have a new opportunity
to expand our horizons beyond our wildest imagination. Democratic Reps. Donna
Edwards of Maryland and Eddie Bernice Johnson of Texas have filed legislation
that would establish a U.S. national park on the moon- “The Apollo Lunar
Landing Sites National Historical Park.” </div>
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<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“As commercial enterprises and foreign nations acquire the
ability to land on the Moon it is necessary to protect the Apollo Lunar landing
sites for posterity,” reads H.R. 2617, otherwise known as the “Apollo Lunar
landing Legacy Act.” They are proposing that NASA work with the Department of
Interior and the National Park Service to manage access to, provide
interpretation of, and help historically preserve all areas where astronauts
and instrument connected with the 1969-72 Apollo space program touched the
lunar surface. Edwards, a ranking member of the House Space Subcommittee, is
concerned that artifacts left at six Apollo landing sites could be pirated away
in the not-too-distant future.</div>
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We put a man on the moon so why not establish a National Park
on the Moon? Just because we signed the United Nations 1967 “Outer Space Treaty”
where we agreed not to subject outer space to use or occupation,” no big deal. That was
then. We’re thinking about the future.</div>
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Our national parks are a uniquely American invention that
protects endangered species, preserves historic sites and allows us to
experience the outdoors. Unfortunately our National Parks are losing their
relevance on Earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Younger generations
of Americans who've grown up playing video games and watching horror movies
have no patience for any distractions from the electronic world they inhabit.
Children these days associate sitting around a campfire in the woods at night
with a scene in a horror movie with a zombie in a hockey mask.</div>
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Populations of Endangered Species in our National Parks
continue to dwindle despite the best available science. The historic sites in
our National Parks are being destroyed by the jack-booted heel of rampant
development and a bureaucratically engineered system of benign neglect.</div>
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A National Park on the Moon would contain no endangered
species to restore, mission accomplished. Young people might be convinced to
visit the Moon thinking it was a video game. The historic site of the Apollo
Landings on the Moon could be preserved as a gift shop where Moon campers could
buy plastic reproductions of space travel artifacts and obtain the required
passes, permits and licenses to pay for the administration of our newest
National Treasure. </div>
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Future generations of Moon campers will thank us for
this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-2310351264075496872013-07-10T05:47:00.003-07:002013-07-10T05:47:46.915-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-08XqR5x74iA/Ud1XiihjwmI/AAAAAAAAA4g/MIxvYWOnBJo/s1600/Elwha+water+filtration+plant+intake..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-08XqR5x74iA/Ud1XiihjwmI/AAAAAAAAA4g/MIxvYWOnBJo/s320/Elwha+water+filtration+plant+intake..jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Elwha River Water, So thick you’ll want to drink it with a
fork but you may need a shovel.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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I feel kind of bad about missing the birthday party of an old
family friend. Some of my earliest memories were of all the fun we had hanging
out at her place. She was a grand old dame who defined the term, “land poor',
that is she had a lot of land but not a lot of money. It didn't matter because
she had a lot of things that money couldn't buy like the absolute quiet of a
forest of world record sized trees, a star filled sky with no streetlights and
crystal pure water that you could drink right out of the stream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had herds of almost tame elk that didn't
seem to be bothered much by humans and runs of salmon that were so thick you
could almost walk across the river on their backs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We used to swim in her ice-cold lakes and
fish in her crystal clear rivers. You could hike for days along her hidden
trails and stay in a series of rustic shelters that had been built by the
pioneers. Or you could hike off the trails and discover places you could figure
no human had ever been. Her place was a little slice of heaven that formed some
of my earliest childhood memories. It was good, too good to last.</div>
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You know how some people tend to get a little cranky as they
get older.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life is change after all but
the day she started charging money to get on her land I knew our relationship
was in danger. Of course she needed the money to keep the campgrounds open.
We're talking about Olympic National Park here. Parks have always been a low
priority in this country where it seems like our politicians would rather give
money to foreign countries that hate us, than spend it here at home.
Unfortunately it seemed like the more money we gave the park the crazier she
got with spending it. She seemed to forget the park was for the people who paid
with their tax dollars to support her and started treating it as a private
domain where scientists could conduct experiments of questionable value. </div>
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The scientists started forest fires just to study them. They
electro-shocked the bull trout just to study them. They took the dams out of
the Elwha so they could study that too.</div>
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It was an experiment we were told, to see if taking the dams
out would bring fish back to the river. This ignored the sad fact that the fish
were endangered in rivers with no dams. Nobody seemed to care much about the
fish. All that mattered was the 325 million dollars in Federal funds coming to
our community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of this 150 million was
spent on a new water system for Port Angeles. Unfortunately this has turned
into another National Park Experiment. </div>
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The exact amount of sediment coming down the Elwha after the
dam removal was an unknown variable. No one could predict just how fast the
sediment could clog up the new water filtration plant. No one knows if the
current well that the city depends on for its' water supply will be affected by
the close proximity of the silt-choked Elwha.</div>
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No one knows who is at fault for the silt clogging the water
system but there should be plenty of blame to go around. The Solicitors Office,
which is the legal branch of the U.S. Department of Interior, is “anticipating
legal action”. This should be another great experiment to see if lawyers can
make pure drinking water out of a monstrous pile of court documents.</div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8l2q1uYOsPA/Ud1XvheKIGI/AAAAAAAAA4o/-zcEH0THzdU/s1600/Elwha+water+filtration+plant+intake,+notice+how+fast+the+river+drops,.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8l2q1uYOsPA/Ud1XvheKIGI/AAAAAAAAA4o/-zcEH0THzdU/s320/Elwha+water+filtration+plant+intake,+notice+how+fast+the+river+drops,.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-92075150632950214882013-07-09T10:13:00.000-07:002013-07-09T10:13:47.382-07:00Angling for Elk<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_O3ippowGWA/UdxD2AM9BBI/AAAAAAAAA3w/47adzExbH14/s1600/012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_O3ippowGWA/UdxD2AM9BBI/AAAAAAAAA3w/47adzExbH14/s320/012.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
Thar' She Blows!<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Angling for elk could be the hottest new sport since
alligator wrestling!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hook up with one of
these trophies and get ready for the fight of your life. Scientifically
designed zircon encrusted Kevlar coated Velcro lures attach to the elk with an
8,000 lb test Spectra mainline. You’re strapped to the detachable skid-mounted
fighting seat so that when you snag one of these beauties you’ll be on a scenic
high speed chase through the only temperate rainforest wilderness in
America.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once or if the elk tires you
simply throw out the grappling hook to slow down enough to where the real
adventure begins, unhooking the elk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This is a 100% catch and release fair chase fishery, I mean hunting
opportunity. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You’ll need</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Crash Helmet, body armor, first aid kit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Special group rates available</span></div>
Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-33638858383824508362013-07-08T13:10:00.001-07:002013-07-08T13:12:32.483-07:00Dairy Farm Threatens Endangered Bull Trout.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uFPTMhni_2o/Udsa6bx5dfI/AAAAAAAAA2w/oDt05AnM3_I/s1600/Bull+Trout+Giganticus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uFPTMhni_2o/Udsa6bx5dfI/AAAAAAAAA2w/oDt05AnM3_I/s640/Bull+Trout+Giganticus.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Bull Trout Giganticus<br />
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It was a good week to be a bull trout. Clallam County
Commissioners approved the removal of an historic dairy farm along the
Dungeness River. Farm removal is a key element in the multi-million dollar plan
to restore the bull trout in the Dungeness River by removing the flood control
dike. Built in 1963, the dike has prevented the river from wandering freely
across the historic flood plain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
best available science believes the dike “constricted” the river.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the dike removed it is hoped the bull
trout will thrive and prosper. Previous efforts to restore the bull trout have
included building log jams, buying property, (from willing sellers) then razing
the structures and planting native vegetation. In addition the Dungeness River
is closed to fishing for most of the year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Despite these efforts and the millions of dollars spent, the Dungeness
bull trout is more threatened and/or endangered than ever.</div>
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Removing the dike to save the bull trout is an experiment
that could eventually endanger some homes and farms.</div>
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Any non-compliant, obstructionist or reactionary elements
whose bourgeois sensibilities foster an unhealthy attachment to their homes
will become willing sellers once they are flooded out. Small farms can become
willing sellers once their water is shut off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As my Uncle Joe used to say,</div>
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“Losing an acre of farmland is a tragedy. Losing a hundred
acres is a statistic”.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NHq0du3RDOM/UdsbPDi1kOI/AAAAAAAAA24/N7B58JpdCdE/s1600/Dairy+Barn+Threatens+Bull+Trout+in+Dungeness.+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NHq0du3RDOM/UdsbPDi1kOI/AAAAAAAAA24/N7B58JpdCdE/s320/Dairy+Barn+Threatens+Bull+Trout+in+Dungeness.+(2).jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Dairy Farm Threatens Endangered Bull Trout<br />
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The family farm is an anachronism that has no place in our
modern age. A visit to a dairy farm is a good case in point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Typically, the dairy cows graze aimlessly
across an open pasture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Factory farms
with cows in cages produce more milk at less cost. Milk is not just something
you dunk your cookies in anymore. With the miracle of genetic engineering and
the can-do attitude of today’s corporate farmer, milk has become a commodity
that can compete with sports drinks for the market share. Modern milk has
enough vitamins and additives in it to help children grow up strong like former
Soviet Union athletes. We don't need farms for vegetables anymore either.
Modern farm produce can be produced cheaper in third world countries where
labor rates and chemical restrictions are more in line with the global economy.</div>
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It is a small price to pay to save the bull trout.</div>
Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-17787629498614390882013-06-24T17:37:00.001-07:002013-06-24T17:37:48.038-07:00
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hwIbrQ_S4NY/UcjmPi-E5TI/AAAAAAAAA1Q/Pa8FWqVYoAo/s1600/barred+owl+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hwIbrQ_S4NY/UcjmPi-E5TI/AAAAAAAAA1Q/Pa8FWqVYoAo/s320/barred+owl+(2).jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Owl Country Alert<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">S</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">mart phones are more than
just an intrusive nuisance that degrades the quality of an outdoor
adventure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>According to England’s Royal
Society for the Protection of Birds some high-tech bird watchers have crossed
the line in the sand from observing our feathered friends at a respectful
distance to interfering with their mating and nesting habits with the
irresponsible use of smart phone apps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">While the father of modern day bird-watching John James Audubon
got up every morning at 3 o’clock to bird watch his way through an impenetrable
wilderness of swamps and jungles, today’s birdwatcher encounters no such
difficulties. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Modern bird watching is
just a matter of selecting the species you wish to observe then determining their
latest computer generated GPS coordinates.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Then select the appropriate bird song app and power-blast this call out
into the hinterland for the enjoyment of others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With luck, patience and a good battery you
can observe and photograph rare and colorful birds to your heart’s content.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Royal Society encourages people to use their phones to
identify bird calls not to attract birds. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wildlife officials in England have expressed
concern that the practice of playing bird calls is disturbing and distracting
to birds that need to concentrate on feeding, breeding and nesting. When a bird
hears another bird of the same species call in its territory the bird must
investigate the intrusion to see if the other bird is a potential rival, mate
or both.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This can make the bird and its
nest vulnerable to predation. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Impersonating an endangered species is Illegal
in England. The Wildlife and Countryside Act makes it against the law to
disturb certain birds. It is a crime punishable by a five thousand pound fine
and six months in prison. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">While rare and endangered birds are safe from harassing
calls in England this same practice has become a government career in the
United States. Maybe you have heard of the spotted owl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Millions of acres of forest have been put off
limits to logging and thousands of people have been put out of work to preserve
this iconic species.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite these
preservation efforts the population of the spotted owl continues to decline to
this day, even in the pristine wilderness of Olympic National Park that does
not allow logging.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For the past 25 years while the loggers were shut down for
disturbing the owl, teams of owl surveyors have been out every spring <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>calling the owls to determine their numbers. These
surveys typically occur during the breeding season when many sensitive
wilderness creatures are the most vulnerable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A Spotted owl responding to a phony spotted owl surveyor’s call exposes
them to their most feared predator, the Great Horned owl.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I picked up this bit of information when I was an out of
work logger attending the Spotted Owl Survey School in Olympia. It’s kind of
like a boot camp for bird watchers. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During “Hell Week” I asked the instructor if
surveying Spotted owls didn’t endanger them. When I came to, I had washed out
of the program. Owl biologists are nobody to mess with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a plan, which has not yet been
approved by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to remove (shoot) barred owls for
crowding out the spotted owls. So if you go out in the woods today be careful
with your smart phone apps. You may want to avoid broad casting the barred owl
call. A Federal biologist could be just over the next ridge with a load of
buckshot that’s got your name on it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-35049624813399028552013-06-19T09:01:00.000-07:002013-07-02T10:00:22.689-07:00Places On The Olympic Peninsula to Send People You Don't Like Very Much.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-smLg_HLj3u4/UcDpXSoRNdI/AAAAAAAAA1A/nsQ_nQOqA2I/s1600/Daylight+on+the+Hoh+River..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-smLg_HLj3u4/UcDpXSoRNdI/AAAAAAAAA1A/nsQ_nQOqA2I/s640/Daylight+on+the+Hoh+River..jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Daylight on the Hoh River</div>
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From the rugged acidified ocean seashore to the majestic
shrinking glaciers, the recreational wonderland we call the Olympic Peninsula
has more diverse and delicate eco-systems than you can shake a stick at. While
it is a privilege to share these jewels of creation with tourists there are
those whose bucket-list demands, yuppie anxiety disorders and been-there-done-that
attitude make them a pleasure to be without.</div>
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So pack a lunch, grab a camera, cell phone, pepper spray,
antacids, highway flares, rubber suit and barn boots and don't forget your
State Park, National Park, National Forest, Federal Wildlife Refuge and Tribal
permits and hit the road. </div>
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It has been said that the secret to knowing where to go is
in knowing where not to go. Once you figure out where not to go you’re half way
there. Here are some places you probably don't want to go but you can recommend
to someone you don't like very much.</div>
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Just getting on to the Olympic Peninsula can be a challenge
for the tourists. With long ferry line ups and the frequent surprise closings
of the Hood Canal Bridge for the Trident Submarines.
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It’s been said that if just one of these warships shot off
all their ordnance it would equal all of the bombs dropped in World War Two. The
pressures of skippering a Doomsday Device must be enormous. The Captain
probably doesn’t care about stopping traffic to open the bridge, trapping a long
line of sweaty, desperate tourists in dire need of restroom facilities. The
tourists had better toughen up. If they ever get across the Hood Canal Bridge
they will find the restroom facilities of the Olympic Peninsula can be an experience
that tests the endurance of the human spirit. <br />
What
do we care? They’re just tourists. That’s why we put a season on them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Of course the tourist can always avoid the Hood Canal Bridge
by taking the Ferry from Whidbey Island to Port Townsend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a scenic cruise where The Strait of
Juan de Fuca, The Georgia Strait, Hood Canal, Admiralty Inlet and Puget Sound converge
in a tide- ripping cauldron we call the Graveyard of the Pacific. Curiously,
the ferry has permanent list that officials assure us is normal in ships built
by the highest bidder. Riding the Port Townsend Ferry is like being on the
Titanic, with cell phones. If you should arrive in Port Townsend safely, use
caution. You may be asked to sign a petition. </div>
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You can avoid the Hood Canal Bridge and the Port Townsend
Ferry with that other death wish, a drive around Hood Canal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Prepare to be stuck in an endless line of
crawling traffic on a road so crooked that it seems to be going in
circles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The urge to pass is one of
Man’s most powerful instincts. Even if passing one car will only put them
behind another car that is behind 25 more, they will pass.</div>
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All you can do is maintain course and speed and pray a deer
doesn’t jump out. Deer are sensitive woodland creatures with a finely-tuned
sense of revenge. They wait until every year at about this time to jump in
traffic, causing accidents just to get even for hunting season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO9cIakf-7L9vVkL7_JZgvgqzIa5TXsWBbzb0J1ZGryDRA4SNvHnaLgi5AgAdVGDp8J_jS0CMaAGEriAqu6U5X7c2XbvAxver3QdQnqy3u3VMelRM_w0i4CGAfssyGd5Ls6Y5WK_Kum5xk/s1600/Deer+just+waiting+to+get+revenge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO9cIakf-7L9vVkL7_JZgvgqzIa5TXsWBbzb0J1ZGryDRA4SNvHnaLgi5AgAdVGDp8J_jS0CMaAGEriAqu6U5X7c2XbvAxver3QdQnqy3u3VMelRM_w0i4CGAfssyGd5Ls6Y5WK_Kum5xk/s640/Deer+just+waiting+to+get+revenge.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Deer waiting for the right moment to get revenge<br />
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With any luck at all you'll make it to Sequim. That’s the
good news. The bad news is Sequim has an elk herd that blocks the highway
whenever they feel like it. Once a quiet little dairy farming town, Sequim has
turned into a retirement center we call “God’s Waiting Room”, Today’s Sequim
has so many big box stores they block my view of Wal-Mart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Sequim is not an Indian word for traffic jam but it might as
well be. People in Sequim drive around with little dogs in their laps causing
the rest of us to ask, </div>
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“Please, let the dog drive.”</div>
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Leaving Sequim the tourist heads west. Port Angeles is only
17 miles away but there are so many worse places to see on the way.</div>
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Deer Park is at the end of a single lane dirt road that will
make you kiss the ground if you ever see pavement again. Also known as Deer Fly
Park for the tremendous thirst of the insect population this scenic area
provides a majestic viewpoint to many more miles of bug infested forest.
There's a picnic area and a small campground. As I drove through I thought the friendly campers were waving at me but they weren't. They were swatting at
bugs. Activities at Deer Park include slapping each other as an excuse for
swatting insects and trying to eat while keeping the bugs off your food.
Remember to dress in many layers since the bugs are liable to eat their way through
the first couple of them. Next time instead of going to Deer Park I might just make a donation to the local blood bank. I wouldn’t send my worst enemy to Deer Park but a tourist?
Heck yeah. </div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dsoTx0B3Cc0/UcC_o5xYRxI/AAAAAAAAAvo/VfHhhbqkBz8/s1600/port+angeles+harbor+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dsoTx0B3Cc0/UcC_o5xYRxI/AAAAAAAAAvo/VfHhhbqkBz8/s640/port+angeles+harbor+(2).jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Port Angeles Harbor</div>
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Inevitably the tourist reaches Port Angeles. Also known as
The Gateway City, The Second National City, New Cherbourg, Old Dungeness, False
Dungeness, Winsor’s Harbor and Puerto de Nuestra Senora de Los Angeles. No
matter what you call it; Port Angeles is a town with an identity crisis that’s
17 miles from everywhere. <br />
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17 miles to the North across the treacherous Strait of Juan
de Fuca there is Victoria, British Columbia, Canada. They
speak Canadian eh? There is no Canadian word for “Sewage Treatment Plant.” The
Victoria City Mascot is a little brown figure they call, “Floatie”. Victoria’s
City Motto is: “Flush twice, it has to make it to Port Angeles.” </div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dNOlGpKS364/UdHezUJl0EI/AAAAAAAAA1g/jqe_2611bJY/s1600/Coho+Port+Angeles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dNOlGpKS364/UdHezUJl0EI/AAAAAAAAA1g/jqe_2611bJY/s400/Coho+Port+Angeles.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
The Coho <br />
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If you have a criminal record the Canadian authorities will
find out about it in the time it takes to ride the Coho Ferry from Port Angeles
to Victoria, where you may be sent back on the next boat. Those without a
criminal record can expect to have their belongings searched and privates sniffed
by dogs looking for whatever, drugs perhaps. Although smuggling drugs to
Victoria with its’ booming B.C. Bud industry would be like smuggling beer into
a brewery, eh. The only thing worse than Canadian Customs is getting
through United States Customs when you try to re-enter your own country. If you
have baggage it will probably be searched. If you don’t have baggage they’ll
want to know why. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve sent a lot of
people I don’t like very much to Victoria. The weird thing is they seemed
to like it.</div>
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It is also 17 miles south of Port Angeles to scenic
Hurricane Ridge within Olympic National Park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-language: HI; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Visitors are asked to travel
lightly. Drive across the traffic counter, get an informative brochure printed
on recycled paper and get out. That would be too easy. </span> </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UHZlca18u58/UcDBoKv-QNI/AAAAAAAAAv4/tlFcV2f2D3Q/s1600/trail+to+badger+valley+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UHZlca18u58/UcDBoKv-QNI/AAAAAAAAAv4/tlFcV2f2D3Q/s640/trail+to+badger+valley+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Trail to Badger Valley</div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-language: HI; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">For that
special someone you really don’t like I would suggest a side trip to the nearby
Badger Valley. </span>Named for some imaginary badgers a pioneer thought he saw,
Badger Valley is a lot like Deer Park except you have to hike into a hole to
get there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then instead of driving away
to escape the bugs you have to crawl back up out of a steep valley. Keep an eye
on the weather. In the worst hiking tragedy to ever occur in Olympic National
Park, people died in a blizzard trying to get out of Badger Valley. Always keep
in mind while you’re hiking to Badger Valley, the marmots are trashing your
car. </div>
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17 miles to the West of Port Angeles you will find Lake
Crescent but there are so many worse places to see on the way. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-language: HI; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">The Elwha
River Restoration project is a great experiment for scientists from all over
the world to study, or a bad joke where the majestic Elwha River has been
transformed into a slurry too thick to drink and too thin to plow. </span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0d4GY3YyYdQ/UcDDYeozKXI/AAAAAAAAAwI/wlz1q61B0S4/s1600/Lake+Aldwelll+Lake+Bed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0d4GY3YyYdQ/UcDDYeozKXI/AAAAAAAAAwI/wlz1q61B0S4/s640/Lake+Aldwelll+Lake+Bed.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Lake Aldwell Lake Bed</div>
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The dried up former Lake Aldwell Lake Bed looks like a
clear-cut of massive stumps with a muddy ditch flowing through the middle of it.
Leaving this scenic mud-hole we continue up the Elwha River to a larger, deeper
mud hole. </div>
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The Lake Mills was once one of the best trout fishing lakes
in Washington State. The Dam site is closed off to public entry for good
reason. The Dam Removal is a work in progress with eroding mud-banks and sheer
cliffs for skilled professionals hooked to a crane only. The bed of Lake Mills is
a depressing wasteland that will take decades to heal. It is a devastating
reminder of the destructive power of man. The only thing worse is the
destructive power of nature which has carved this river for millennia.</div>
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The unfortunate tourist continues up Whiskey Bend Road which
was not built according to legend, by following the sheriff who was chasing a
moonshiner through the woods, but it might as well have been. Inevitably the
tourist comes to a trail head. Leaving their vehicle at the mercy of gangs of
bandits who patrol our National Parks stealing from the unsuspecting who leave
valuables in their cars, our tourist begins walking to one of the more
disappointing destinations in the Olympics: Goblin Gates. </div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mqVvK-65sw4/UcDEpBC6VJI/AAAAAAAAAwY/oL68HMdJFc4/s1600/Goblin+Gates+Elwha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mqVvK-65sw4/UcDEpBC6VJI/AAAAAAAAAwY/oL68HMdJFc4/s640/Goblin+Gates+Elwha.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Goblin Gates</div>
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Named by members of the 1890 Press Expedition who may have
been suffering the effects of the Whiskey Bend Syndrome, Goblin Gates makes you
wish our explorers would have kept the Indian name, whatever that may have
been. I have stared for at Goblin Gates for years and never seen one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>W. C. Fields yes, but no goblins. </div>
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Bitter and disillusioned, I continued to the next
practical tourist joke: Geyser Valley, named by that same impressionable Press
Expedition for an imaginary auditory phenomenon that may have been the drumming
of a ruffed grouse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Years of searching
by this wilderness reporter have revealed no trace of geysers in this once
pristine wilderness valley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-18Xn4aCn04E/UcDFWw0PTKI/AAAAAAAAAwg/w3i6THGAMv8/s1600/Geyser+valley+Elwha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-18Xn4aCn04E/UcDFWw0PTKI/AAAAAAAAAwg/w3i6THGAMv8/s640/Geyser+valley+Elwha.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Geyser Valley</div>
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Have some fun. Don't tell the tourists there are no geysers
in<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Geyser valley or that a hike through
the present day Geyser Valley is about as scenic as walking through a gravel
pit. The old growth forest of Geyser Valley with its ancient trees and fluffy moss
was recently flushed down the river by a massive landslide -flood event leaving
hundreds of acres of desolate wasteland that will take decades to heal. Even worse,
since Geyser Valley is deep within the boundaries of The People's Democratic
Republic of Olympic National Park, a World Heritage Site and crown jewel of the
National Park System, there are currently no loggers to blame. No charges have
been filed. </div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bedpx6DYUFY/UcDGy4GxHLI/AAAAAAAAAww/htp7hE7NRVs/s1600/Elwha+Trail+signs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bedpx6DYUFY/UcDGy4GxHLI/AAAAAAAAAww/htp7hE7NRVs/s640/Elwha+Trail+signs.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Continuing up the Elwha trail our tourist encounters the
effects of the decayed infrastructure in our National Parks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Frequent signs along the trial commonly post
blatantly inaccurate mileage readings when I know for a geologic fact what with
plate tectonics and all, the trails have gotten longer since I was hiking them as a kid.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L0zQvayNWaw/UcDHJBtbHRI/AAAAAAAAAw4/IzeeuWdkZt4/s1600/Humes+Ranch+Elwha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L0zQvayNWaw/UcDHJBtbHRI/AAAAAAAAAw4/IzeeuWdkZt4/s640/Humes+Ranch+Elwha.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Humes Ranch</div>
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Inevitably our tourist reaches Humes Ranch. This once
legendary fleshpot of the upper Elwha sits decayed and abandoned to remind the
tourist they missed the party by a hundred years or so. The Humes Ranch Cabin
was built around 1900 by the Humes brothers who were on their way to the
Klondike Gold Rush at the time but they decided to settle in the Elwha Valley
instead. </div>
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The Humes brothers were varmint hunters who killed wolves,
cougar and bear for the bounties that were paid at the time. They also guided
parties of mountaineers and hunters deep into the interior of the Olympics.
Grant Humes was a writer who in his later years said that there was more to
hunting than killing animals. He established a game refuge on the ranch. </div>
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With the passing of the Humes brothers the cabin was
abandoned until 1940 when Herb Crisler moved in with his new bride Lois. The
Crislers spent years filming what would become the Disney movie, “Olympic Elk”
using a Humes Ranch as a base of operations. </div>
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The social scene at Humes Ranch is described in excruciating
detail in the 1989 tell-all book “An Olympic Mountain Enchantment” by Ruby El
Hult. Ruby was a young journalist in 1949 when she came to Port Angeles to write
about the Olympic Peninsula in a book that would eventually be called “The Untamed
Olympics.” Ruby describes Humes Ranch as a busy place where as many as 50
people stopped for a visit one Memorial Day weekend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Crislers were accommodating hosts who
supplied their overnight guests with fresh vegetables and hot rocks that were
to be put in the sleeping bag to keep warm at night. Which inevitably lead to
the immortal line from a lonely male hiker,</div>
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“You mean with all of these pretty girls around I have to
sleep with a rock?”</div>
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Then came the fateful morning when Lois went off to town but
couldn’t get the truck started. She came back to the ranch early and caught
Herb and Ruby on the lawn swing. Lois was nobody to mess with. </div>
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In her book “Arctic Wild” Lois writes about filming in the
Arctic. She describes being left alone in grizzly country with no rifle. Lois
figures she’d just hit the grizzly in the head with her hatchet if it came to
that. The Crislers brought 5 wolf cubs back to their ranch in Colorado. The
wolves were kept in a series of pens that would give them some freedom. It is a
seven year experiment that did not work. Lois wrote,</div>
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“We would strain every nerve… and it would all be as nothing
to the wolves but would keep us poor.” With a disturbing prescience Lois
continues, </div>
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“We should learn Buchenwald, for its making is in our
hearts, in the terrible “sweet” and “nice” ones too.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t want to ruin the rest of the story for
you so let’s just say Ruby was lucky to escape with her life. She didn’t see
Herb again for another fifteen years. By that time Herb and Lois had divorced.
Humes Ranch was abandoned as it is to this day. </div>
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<o:p></o:p> </div>
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The good news is that The Park Service restored this
historic cabin. The bad news is that they took away the welcome mat. No camping
is allowed. The unlucky tourist is advised to move along where they soon
encounter even more environmental degradation.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W_LT76DKN3w/UcDHz7plHqI/AAAAAAAAAxE/Eqi-2VcRBRk/s1600/Convolution+Canyon+Elwha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W_LT76DKN3w/UcDHz7plHqI/AAAAAAAAAxE/Eqi-2VcRBRk/s640/Convolution+Canyon+Elwha.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Convolution Canyon</div>
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Elwha River </div>
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Convolution Canyon was also named by the 1890 Press
Expedition. With all the landmarks in the county named after bears, burns or
whiskey the Press boys finally got one right. They speculated this spectacular
canyon may have been formed by massive landslides.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They even supposed that it could have been
the site of the legendary “Last Pow Wow”. </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-language: HI; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">That was a rumor spread by
then territorial Governor Eugene Semple about the local warring tribes meeting in a
secret valley. The tribes declared a truce and engaged in athletic contests
until they were buried under a land slide by the evil Giant Seatco. He or she must have had a busy schedule. Seatco was
accused of the same of land slide-massacre events at Lake Crescent, the South
Fork of the Quinault and on the Wynoochie River.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only one thing is for sure. Convolution
Canyon has been falling into the Elwha River since the last ice age. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-language: HI; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;"></span> Back then the Elwha River was dammed by a three thousand
foot thick wall of ice that was clogging up the Strait of Juan de Fuca. This
created a huge lake that must have lasted for thousands of years. When the ice
melted it released a flow of sediment that would have made the current mud
holes behind the old dams seem like mud puddles by comparison.</div>
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These prehistoric mega-mud flows did not stop the salmon
from running up the Elwha. By July of 1790 Captain Quimper was buying
hundred pounder's at the mouth of the river. Huge runs of salmon and steelhead
continued running up the Elwha even after the dams were in.</div>
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In 1945 story in the Port Angeles Evening News by Jack
Henson describes hundreds of King salmon spawning in the Elwha below the lower
Lake Aldwell Dam. I observed similar runs of salmon in the Elwha in the 1970’s
How these runs could survive so long after the dam was built in 1911 and wait
to crash in the 1980’s is one of the great mysteries that modern science has
failed to address. </div>
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Meanwhile Seatco kept pushing landslides into the river. In
November 1934 river mud was polluting the Port Angeles Industrial Water Supply
line. In the 1960's another landslide from the west side of Convolution Canyon
fell into the Elwha forming a lake. This lake washed out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the 1970's there was another slide and
another lake. It was the hottest fishing hole in the Olympics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All you had to do was stop at Humes Ranch for
some grasshoppers then hike up to Lake Elwha for giant rainbows and Dolly
Varden. It was good, too good to last. One day the stupid secret lake washed
out again with a flood that killed a whole forest clear down to Long Creek. The
river would never be the same. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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The Elwha River Dam removal is an experiment asks a
question: will dam removal restore the runs of salmon to their former
numbers?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re not sure how many salmon
were in the Elwha before the coming of the white man but it doesn’t matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Modern fisheries management, like many
organized religions is based on a consensus of what we believe to be true.
Experts agree there may have been several hundred thousand salmon in the Elwha
and that’s good enough for me. Who wouldn’t want to see a historic run of
salmon return to the Elwha. The economic benefits alone would be worth
millions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the Elwha River Dam removal
is a real experiment in salmon restoration then we might want to look at a
river that was not dammed to compare how the fish are doing in a pristine
environment.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-moAdt45JZx0/UcDJgg6vitI/AAAAAAAAAxU/So0-Cy-6TT0/s1600/Upper+Hoh+River.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-moAdt45JZx0/UcDJgg6vitI/AAAAAAAAAxU/So0-Cy-6TT0/s640/Upper+Hoh+River.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Hoh River</div>
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The Hoh River flows
out of the opposite side of Mount Olympus from the Elwha. While the 1911 Elwha
Dam blocked off all but five miles of the 38 miles of spawning habitat in the
Elwha River. The Hoh River has never been dammed. It should be good fishing
right? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> No. T</span>he Hoh River is another good place to send people you don’t
like very much.</div>
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On the way to the Hoh the tourists can experience the death
defying drive around Lake Crescent. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
located in a haunted valley cursed by evil spirits since that fateful day in
the dim past when the Quileute and the Clallam were having a battle. The evil
Giant Seatco stood upon Mt. Storm King and buried the combatants under a
rock-slide that separated Lake Crescent from Lake Sutherland. Ever since then
there's been something weird about Lake Crescent. <br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k3d5I3H0iMo/UcDe_iCDLlI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/9qhGKa-Io2o/s1600/mt+storm+king+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k3d5I3H0iMo/UcDe_iCDLlI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/9qhGKa-Io2o/s640/mt+storm+king+(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
Mt. Storm King<br />
Lake Crescent<br />
<br />
The Natives avoided Lake Crescent and so do I. You don't need a fishing license to fish in Lake Crescent since
it's in a National Park but you will need an attorney to figure out the rules
that all pretty much boil down to the same word, no. </div>
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The road around Lake Crescent follows an old elk trail. It’s
greasy and treacherous after a rain and it rains all the time. Just across the
lake you will find an even worse route, The Spruce Railroad Trail is the
perfect place to send someone you don’t like very much. It’s the only place I
have gotten a tick. Others have gotten them as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fortunately there have been no cases of Lyme
disease but I ain't going to be the first one. There are even rumors of poison
oak along this trail. Yuk!</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z4VKsU7Po_U/UcDLN-eJ6NI/AAAAAAAAAxs/Tg8y8lb2Ef0/s1600/lake+crescent.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z4VKsU7Po_U/UcDLN-eJ6NI/AAAAAAAAAxs/Tg8y8lb2Ef0/s640/lake+crescent.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Lake Crescent</div>
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West of Lake Crescent you are in logging country. You may
see a road sign that says “Danger falling trees.” Do not to be alarmed.
Maintain course and speed. Many loggers can hit a stake with a falling tree but
darned few of them can hit a moving target. Where there are loggers there are
log trucks. Tourists frequently complain that log trucks act like they own the
road. Do the math. A fully loaded log trucks weighs around 90,000 lbs. You
don't. Log trucks act like they own the road because they do.</div>
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With any luck our tourist will make it to Forks. Described
as a “Festering wound of a town” Forks got an Honorable Mention in the book,
“Absolutely Worst Places to Live in America.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the Sunday New York Times a Seattle writer
called Forks a “big-eating, hard drinking town that Seattleites find “forlorn”,
“Godforsaken’ and “ugly.” </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 16pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">These meandering screeds all had one
thing in common — they hated loggers. They blamed the loggers for cutting down
trees, endangering salmon and even changing the climate in books and newspapers
that are printed on paper that comes from wood that is cut by loggers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 16pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Forks was once the self-proclaimed
logging capitol of the world. Then the loggers were blamed for endangering the
spotted owl. The survival of the loggers was threatened. They joined the Spotted Owl as
fellow endangered species whose population continues to decline. Then something
odd and wonderful happened. Groups of tourists began taking each other's
pictures at the "Welcome to Forks" sign. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 16pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The Twilight books by Stephanie
Meyer made Forks a worldwide tourist destination for vampire groupies and those
who study them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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While there is a disturbing trend in modern journalism for
writers to use fleeting celebrity references as an excuse for responsible
reporting, it was never that way with Stephanie Meyer and me. Her books about
Forks have sold millions of copies worldwide. I have also written about Forks.
My books have sold under a million copies. Luckily, the economic vagaries of
the publishing industry are irrelevant in the pursuit of an art form. As
writers, Stephanie Meyer and I share a kinship that is beyond words. We both
have a warm spot in our hearts for Forks. It is the friendliest town on the
Olympic Peninsula. I would never recommend Forks to anyone I don’t like very much.<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 16pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-language: HI; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Have them continue south of Forks
over roads that seem about to collapse over the side of the mountain,
because they are. If you drive too far you will reach the Pacific Ocean.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-language: HI; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;"></span> </div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x1iHexW8Ykc/UdHpTyx4bgI/AAAAAAAAA2Q/XiLjGB7iciE/s1600/pacific+ocean+sunset+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x1iHexW8Ykc/UdHpTyx4bgI/AAAAAAAAA2Q/XiLjGB7iciE/s640/pacific+ocean+sunset+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-language: HI; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-language: HI; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Pacific Ocean</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-language: HI; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;"> People
should stay away from the ocean no matter how much you don’t like them. Our
ocean beaches are a treacherous mix of deadly rip tides and surf logs that
kill. Turn around and go back to the Hoh River</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IaOtcia0nq8/UcDLqJbrNQI/AAAAAAAAAx0/qUJufWSrBik/s1600/Roaring+Hell+Rapids,+Hoh+River+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IaOtcia0nq8/UcDLqJbrNQI/AAAAAAAAAx0/qUJufWSrBik/s640/Roaring+Hell+Rapids,+Hoh+River+(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-language: HI; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Roaring Hell Rapids Hoh River</span></div>
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If you really don’t like these people, have them stop at The
Hoh Oxbow Campground. After driving around in circles for hours someone in that
carload of tourists is going to need to go to the bathroom. Finding adequate
restroom facilities in the wilderness could be one of the most important
survival skills you can have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Our tourist visitors to the Olympic Peninsula are generally from
somewhere else. They could be from back east like Idaho or down south like
Oregon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These foreigners are
unaccustomed to the local diet that relies heavily on the three basic food
groups:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>grease, sugar and alcohol.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Add the effects of sleep deprivation and
mixed medications to<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the stress of a
vacation grudge match with a vengeful significant other and the surely brood
of teenage demon-spawn and it can add up to an emergency situation for the
gastrically-distressed.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tK2xTn-5_5c/UdHliTrIG4I/AAAAAAAAA1w/mfs0gPtRQ9s/s1600/068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tK2xTn-5_5c/UdHliTrIG4I/AAAAAAAAA1w/mfs0gPtRQ9s/s640/068.JPG" width="480" /></a><br />
Outhouse of the Doomed<br />
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Remember you never liked them very much anyway. Send
them to the outhouse of the doomed at the Hoh Oxbow campground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most folks won’t be able to stay inside
longer than two seconds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyone who
stays in longer than 30 seconds is presumed disabled from the fumes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A rescue attempt would be futile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only first aid I know is, ‘check for
wallet.’<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CXSQLy6HwTY/UcDManaOsnI/AAAAAAAAAyE/qMc57IUyKVQ/s1600/Hoh+River+at+Oxbow+in+June.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CXSQLy6HwTY/UcDManaOsnI/AAAAAAAAAyE/qMc57IUyKVQ/s640/Hoh+River+at+Oxbow+in+June.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Hoh River Oxbow</div>
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Not all wilderness adventurers however, are cut from the
same cloth. There are some who are able to endure the rigors of the pit toilet
for periods of a minute or more and emerge from the ordeal with no ill
effects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like the camper who was laying
in his tent one night and heard a rustling sound that upon investigation,
seemed to be coming from beneath the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We have a saying in the deep dark woods that, ‘a man’s best friend is a
good sharp ax’ but it wasn’t true in this case.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As our camper grabbed an ax and chopped his tent floor to pieces to
reveal the true identity of the night time visitor, the civet cat or spotted
skunk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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It is an eternal wilderness truth that you can never find a
flashlight when you need one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The tent
zipper will stick when you least expect it. No matter, our screaming camper
tore his way out of the tent to emerge gasping in a refreshing Hoh Rainforest
sprinkle. </div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately the
skunk was fatally injured.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The soggy
camper crawled back into the leaky tent in a vain effort to find his keys, so
he could start his truck and turn on the heater.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Big drops of rain splattered like buckshot
forming a bloody, skunky pool in the middle of the tent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dawn’s early light found our camper swathed
in a leaky down sleeping bag that had been chopped up in the mayhem. Unable to
find the keys to his truck he left a trail of feathers to the outhouse on his
way to setting a record for staying in the longest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> There I</span> discovered the secret to
enduring the outhouse of the doomed. Get sprayed by a skunk first and a trip to
the outhouse will seem like a day at the spa. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hhY7K4x3_6I/UcDQ2g0TwXI/AAAAAAAAAy4/H2XYPxkzbVQ/s1600/Hoh+river+Spring+Chinook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hhY7K4x3_6I/UcDQ2g0TwXI/AAAAAAAAAy4/H2XYPxkzbVQ/s640/Hoh+river+Spring+Chinook.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Hoh River Spring Chinook</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_hr1Q0ifCSQ/UcDNK22wRGI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/LsjYQ_drB6o/s1600/No+Fishing+Hoh+River.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-language: HI; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Fishing
with a hook and line on portions of the Hoh River that are inside Olympic National Park was already limited to catch and release of
all native fish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You could only keep a
hatchery fish with a clipped adipose fin. </span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-language: HI; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;"></span> The Hoh River flows out of a nearly million acre National
Park down a valley that’s<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>been preserved
by The U.S. Forest Service, The Hoh River Trust, The Western Rivers
Conservancy, The Wild Salmon Center and $12 million dollars in federal funding
under the Endangered Species Act. This protection extends down to the mouth of
the Hoh where the river enters the ocean inside another pristine wilderness,
the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Olympic National Park Coast Strip,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>which is co- managed by NOAA as the Olympic
Coast National Marine Sanctuary.</div>
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The entire length of the Hoh River is being studied,
restored and administered by the greatest minds of science. The Hoh River
studies are legion. Floating the Hoh River one observes plastic ribbons left in
the trees and tied to rocks by scientific researchers as evidence of yet
another study. Restoration efforts include buying property from willing
sellers, building log jams and eliminating the practice of planting hatchery fish.
Fishing in the Hoh River has been administered by a complicated system that
divides the river into seven different zones, each with an array of seasons,
gear restrictions, and bag limits that will make your head spin. </div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_bVXifP2p6k/UdHnpL04FSI/AAAAAAAAA2A/EE-cGJhbXMY/s1600/No+Fishing+Hoh+River.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_bVXifP2p6k/UdHnpL04FSI/AAAAAAAAA2A/EE-cGJhbXMY/s320/No+Fishing+Hoh+River.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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This year Olympic National Park closed their 2 sections, the
mouth and the upper Hoh River to hook and line fishing even for hatchery, fish until Sept 1. </div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NVA__M9Mh50/UcDPY9qs4MI/AAAAAAAAAyg/ckWpf-IggLU/s1600/Hoh+River+fin+clipped+hatchery+summer+steelhead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NVA__M9Mh50/UcDPY9qs4MI/AAAAAAAAAyg/ckWpf-IggLU/s640/Hoh+River+fin+clipped+hatchery+summer+steelhead.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span id="goog_1202654902"></span><span id="goog_1202654903"></span>Hoh Summer Steelhead Clipped Adipose Fin</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e-XRFNYynTA/UcDQHN4ZZvI/AAAAAAAAAyo/MHLggjg8nr0/s1600/Hoh+River+fin+clipped+spring+chinook+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e-XRFNYynTA/UcDQHN4ZZvI/AAAAAAAAAyo/MHLggjg8nr0/s640/Hoh+River+fin+clipped+spring+chinook+(2).jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Hatchery Spring Chinook With Clipped Adipose Fin Hoh River</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EyT9y3ai1io/UcDQcPRerxI/AAAAAAAAAyw/dU7jpZvCjtw/s1600/Clipped+Fin+Summer+coho-+hoh+river+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EyT9y3ai1io/UcDQcPRerxI/AAAAAAAAAyw/dU7jpZvCjtw/s640/Clipped+Fin+Summer+coho-+hoh+river+2.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Summer Coho with clipped Adipose Fin Hoh River</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-language: HI; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Some
hatcheries don't bother to clip their fish for a variety of reasons. Other fish
hatcheries clip other fins. The ventral, pectoral and dorsal are hacked off at
random for reasons my research has failed to discover</span></div>
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Winter steelhead with clipped ventral fin, Hoh River</div>
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Winter steelhead with clipped dorsal fin Hoh River</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w0jmLG9hZgY/UcDSuLX8OmI/AAAAAAAAAzo/cLHOJENZHVM/s1600/clipped+dorsal+and+ventral+fin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w0jmLG9hZgY/UcDSuLX8OmI/AAAAAAAAAzo/cLHOJENZHVM/s640/clipped+dorsal+and+ventral+fin.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Winter steelhead with clipped dorsal and ventral fin Hoh River.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-language: HI; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">This can
make for an interesting series of fishing regulations. I have spent years
studying the fishing laws in an attempt to translate them into English. The
most difficult part of cracking this code was the little known “credit card”
edict. Also known as “The Game Warden Employment Security Act”,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>that requires you to release any fish whose
dorsal fin is wider than the width of a credit card, whether it is clipped or
not.</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2esuwy0aZ84/UcDT9NQ2xOI/AAAAAAAAAz4/ZcLBZ7p2Y24/s1600/credit+card+fishing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2esuwy0aZ84/UcDT9NQ2xOI/AAAAAAAAAz4/ZcLBZ7p2Y24/s640/credit+card+fishing.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Hatchery Fish?</div>
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The clipped fin rules were designed to allow a selective
harvest of hatchery fish because they are presumed to be different if not
inferior to the wild ones. What is the difference between a 20 pound wild or
hatchery steelhead? Scientists are still studying the question. You wonder how
the hatchery fish, the summer Coho, steelhead and spring Chinook got inside the
National Park in the first place, since no one would admit planting them
there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
Scientists have told us for years
that salmon and steelhead return to the river where they were born.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately in the real world, fish are
constantly getting lost. It’s a genetic trait that allowed salmon to colonize
the extent of their range.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I thought catching hatchery fish in a National Park was a
good thing for the environment since it would eliminate the hatchery fish they hate and
fill up my smoke house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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So if the Hoh River which has never had a dam must be closed
to fishing for conservation, when can we expect to fish the Elwha once the dams are removed? Those who
ignore history are doomed to watch television</div>
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Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-2184705763593397832013-06-11T15:27:00.000-07:002013-06-11T15:27:13.395-07:00The Curse of the Kushta-Ka<div style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WYVI9pICrJo/UbePyK069aI/AAAAAAAAAuM/za5ijYjZHVY/s1600/sitka.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WYVI9pICrJo/UbePyK069aI/AAAAAAAAAuM/za5ijYjZHVY/s640/sitka.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />
Sitka Alasa<br />
<br />
The Curse of the Kushta-Ka<br />
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I think it was the obscure French philosopher
“What's-his-name” who said,</div>
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“Revenge is a dish best eaten cold.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A fine example of this quaint expression was
encountered on a recent canoe journey near Sitka, Alaska. It was part of a
canoe grudge that began sometime in the last century with an epic run down the
Dungeness River in high water, with the Lost Alaskan in the bow. White water
canoeing is a team sport. Communication is the key. At one point the river took
a sharp right. We went straight. </div>
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Crashing a canoe is not unlike wrecking a lot of things
like, friendships.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the hindsight of
years I had hoped the petty grudges and thoughts of revenge would erode into a
fond memory of a wilderness adventure. I should have known The Lost Alaskan was
going to get even if it was the last thing he did. </div>
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The free fishing trip to Sitka was what got me. Once called “The Paris of the Pacific” for its hospitable
people and lively social scene, Sitka has a connection to the Olympic Peninsula
that goes back before the invention of history.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
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The Ice Ace age locked up so much of the planet's water that
the ocean was 150 feet lower than the sea level we enjoy today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A thousand mile wide land bridge called
Beringia appeared between Siberia and Alaska which allowed the migration of
animals, plants and people between the two continents. The exact timing of the
appearance of the land bridge and the coastal migration route of the earliest
people is anyone's guess since its mostly underwater now. </div>
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They figure Beringia disappeared for good about 10,000 years
ago. It was too late by then. 13,800 years ago someone stuck a bone spear point
in a rib bone of mastodon at the Manis Mastodon Site near Sequim. It may be a
coincidence that the Pleistocene Mega-Fauna disappeared in the New World
shortly after the arrival of early man but the same thing happened in Indonesia
and Australia.</div>
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The Sequim mastodon hunters probably started fishing once
the mastodons went extinct about 10,000 years ago. While there are legends of
Chinese Explorers and stories of Japanese shipwreck survivors washing ashore,
the stone-age cultures of the Pacific coast lived in relative isolation until
the European Age of Exploration. </div>
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We are not exactly sure when the first European visitor
arrived. Around 1600 the Ozette Indian Village was buried under a mudslide. In
the 1970's archaeologists uncovered brass tacks and a European bead among the
artifacts at the site. They could have come from Sir Francis Drake who may have
sailed here in 1579. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Called “El Draque”,
(The Dragon) by the Spanish, Drake sailed across the Atlantic and around Cape
Horn then up the west coast of South America pirating treasure from the Spanish
who had stolen it from the Incas. Drake sailed north to a location that people
have been arguing about ever since. King Phillip of Spain put out a 20,000
ducat, ($6.5 US million) reward for Drake's capture. Drake decided to set out
across the Pacific to avoid the Spanish Armada that was after him. He needed a
place to land and repair his ship; The Golden Hind. Drake buried an estimated
17 tons of treasure to lighten the ballast for the rest of the way around the
world. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On his return to England all of Drakes’
charts were declared a “Queens Secret” by Elizabeth I and later burned in a
castle fire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All we know for sure is
that Drake claimed the Pacific Coast for England calling it “New Albion” a name
that stuck to the region for centuries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
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To counter English land claims the Viceroy of New Spain sent
the Greek Navigator Apostostolos Valeridnos, AKA Juan de Fuca to find The
Strait of Anian. This was the name of a mythical body of water located somewhere
north of San Diego that may have come from one of Marco Polo’s maps. The Strait
of Anain was said to run directly from Cathay to Europe. In 1592 Juan de Fuca
claimed he found this mythical Strait at around 47 degrees north latitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He claimed there was a large island and a
rock pinnacle or obelisk at the mouth of this strait. </div>
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The Russians had discovered Alaska in 1741. For supporting
the missionary work of the Russian Orthodox Church the Czar Alexander I granted
the Russian American Company exclusive rights to claim land and hunt for fur
south to Baja California.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In 1775 the
Spanish sent Captains Heceta and Quadra up to Sitka to support the missionary
work of the Catholic Church, look for gold and enforce their own land claims as
far north as Unalaska in the Aleutian Islands. </div>
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In 1778 Captain James Cook came to the Pacific Coast. The
English government had offered a prize of 20,000 pounds to anyone who could
discover the Northwest Passage. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Captain
Cook didn't find a Northwest Passage or Strait of Juan de Fuca but then he
missed the Columbia River and hundreds of miles of shoreline in the fog that
typically hugs this coast. In one of the strangest navigational mysteries in
history Cook named Cape Flattery at the mouth of the Strait of Juan de Fuca
because it flattered him with hopes of finding a harbor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cook charted the Pacific Coast north from
Cape Foulweather to the Aleutians in a voyage so tough he forced the crew to
eat walrus meat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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To make clothing for their northern journey the starving
crew on Cook's ship had traded with the Yuquot on Nootka Sound for sea otter
furs. Eventually Captain Cook was killed in Hawaii but the survivors reached China
where the furs brought an astounding ten dollars apiece. </div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In 1787 Charles
Barkley discovered a wide body of water at 48 degrees north latitude. There was
an island later named Tatoosh and a stone pinnacle or obelisk but it was on the
southern not the northern shore as Juan de Fuca described it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Barkley named his discovery the Strait of
Juan de Fuca<br />
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The Strait of Juan de Fuca<br />
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In 1792 the American Captain Robert Gray discovered the
Columbia River and traded some iron chisels and beads for sea otter and beaver
pelts which he traded for tea in Canton. Gray continued around the Cape of Good
Hope to Boston becoming the first American to circumnavigate the globe. </div>
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The discovery that a few scraps of metal, some glass beads
or an article of disease infected clothing could be traded on the Northwest
Coast for a sea otter pelt worth a fortune in China set off the treachery and
slaughter of the fur trade. Alcohol, gunpowder and disease were introduced to
the stone-age cultures with devastating results.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By 1800 the entire west coast of North
America had been claimed by the Spanish, English, Americans and Russians who
ignored each other's competing claims and the Native's right to the land.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fVcTTlTqaZ4/Ubef_Un4FAI/AAAAAAAAAvY/NJNu8NfBrOM/s1600/Mt.+Edgecumbe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fVcTTlTqaZ4/Ubef_Un4FAI/AAAAAAAAAvY/NJNu8NfBrOM/s640/Mt.+Edgecumbe.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />
Located near Sitka. Called L'ux by the Tlingit. Named Montana de San Jacinto (Mount Saint Hyacinth) in 1775 by Spanish Captain Bodega and Mount Edgecumbe by British Captain Cook in 1778. Photo taken from Pirate's Cove. It was the location of a band of Tlingit who raided fur traders on their way to the Russian Fort at Sitka<br />
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The Russians had built their first fort in Alaska in 1799 in
Sitka. The Tlingits resented the Russians for taking their land, using their
enemies the Aleuts to exterminate the sea otter and disrupt traditional trade
patterns between the tribes. In 1802 the Tlingits burned the Russian fort.
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In 1804 Russian-American Company Manager Alexander Baranov
returned and burned the Tlingit Town, Noow Tlein and built a new fort, Novo
Arkhangelsk or what we call Sitka today.</div>
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It was a great land for furs but too far north for
agriculture. In 1808 Baranov sent the Russian ship Sv. Nikolai under Navigator
Nikolai Bulygin from Sitka to claim land for an agricultural colony somewhere
south of Vancouver Island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead the
ship was becalmed and wrecked on the Olympic Peninsula just north of the mouth
of the Quileute River. <br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tkAlEYy5pl4/UbecQ5V26cI/AAAAAAAAAvA/2WROo5XzKEg/s1600/Site+of+Nikolai+Shipwreck+at+mouth+of+Quileute.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tkAlEYy5pl4/UbecQ5V26cI/AAAAAAAAAvA/2WROo5XzKEg/s640/Site+of+Nikolai+Shipwreck+at+mouth+of+Quileute.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Site of Nikolai Shipwreck at mouth of Quileute River<br />
<br />
Just across the river lay the largest Quileute village,
LaPush. The Russians knew the Natives south of Cape Flattery had a fierce
reputation. On July 14, 1775 Captain Quadra had landed and erected a large
cross as part of a possession ceremony near Pt. Grenville. Later that day he
had sent seven men on a landing party to get water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were attacked and killed by an estimated
300 Quinault Indians who had apparently understood the meaning of the
possession ceremony. Quadra named a nearby island, Isla de Delores. </div>
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In 1787 Captain Barkley of the British Ship Imperial Eagle
lost another boat load of six men at the mouth of the Hoh River. Barkley called
it the Destruction River a name that was later transferred to the island in
memory of his crew. </div>
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Destruction Island</div>
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In 1788 John Meares was at Friendly Cove at Nootka Sound
when he was offered a dried human hand that was said to have belonged to one of
Capt. Barkley's men. When Meares demanded an explanation Chief Maquinna said
the hand had come from a distant tribe. This confirmed Meares suspicion that
the Indians were cannibals a common though unproven accusation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both sides of the fur trade thought the
others were cannibals. Captain Vancouver once offered some venison pie to an
Indian aboard his ship who wouldn't eat it until the old navigator showed him
the venison haunch the meat came from.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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In 1796 the trading ship Ruby under the English Captain
Charles Bishop was anchored in the Columbia River.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ship was visited by a canoe full of
Indians from the village of Queenhythe located somewhere to the north. The
Chief of these Indians said a longboat crew which included a Mr. Miller was
invited to shore where they began to trade. The Indians killed them all. Their
clothes and bodies were divided and sent to neighboring tribes. Captain Bishop
arrested the Chief and planned take him back to England where he could be
punished by Mr. Miller's father. Later Captain Bishop was forced to release the
Chief, in order to trade with the Chinook Indians.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Losing sailors on these around-the-world voyages was not
uncommon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Russian explorer Alexsi
Chirikov lost men when first meeting the Tlingit off Kruzof Island in
1741.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fifteen well armed Russian sailors
in a longboat went to shore and were never seen again. It was assumed they were
killed by the Tlingit but the Russians had muskets, pistols, a small cannon and
two signal rockets. There was no sound of any firing. The Tlingits claim the
Russians who came ashore didn't want to return to the ship because of the
cruelty and oppression on board. Many sailors of the European Navies were
impressed prisoners who would not survive the disease and hard labor on their
forced voyage on high seas. Running away from the ship to live with the natives
was an attractive alternative to burial at sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To this day there are families on the Olympic Peninsula who can trace
their lineage back to sailors who “Jumped Ship.” </div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Quileute of
LaPush had every right to be war-like. They were constantly at war with their
neighbors for plunder and captives who raided them in return.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After the arrival of the fur traders who
routinely enslaved, poisoned and robbed the natives, the Quileute quickly
learned to never trust a white man. </div>
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At first the relations between the Quileute and the Russian
survivors of the shipwrecked Nikolai were cordial but things quickly
deteriorated. The Russians headed south in a running battle, hoping to meet up
with another Russian ship that was believed to be in Gray’s Harbor. The party
included Anna Petrovna, wife of Captain Bulygin. She was captured during an
attempted crossing of the Hoh River.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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The survivors hiked up the river and built a timber
blockhouse similar to the one preserved in Sitka.</div>
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Russian Blockhouse, Sitka</div>
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During the winter Bulygin tried to ransom his wife with some
of the crew’s remaining firearms. Anna Petrovna refused to join her husband’s
camp in the wilderness saying she was being treated very well by her captors.
She advised the others to surrender to the Indians who would ransom them back
to the first passing European ship. </div>
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This drove the Captain mad. He tried to shoot Anna, the
interpreter, the Chief of the Hoh and himself. Bulygin surrendered his command
to Timofei Tarakanov, a Russian Promyshlennik that is a
hunter/trapper/trader/mountain man whose skill in the wilderness and dealings
with the Indians kept the shipwrecked survivors together and alive through the
winter. The castaways survived mostly on dried salmon obtained by trade from
the same Indians they were fighting. </div>
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Eventually all of the shipwreck survivors were captured,
drowned or killed. Out of the 22 people who set out on the Nikolai, 13 survived
to be ransomed by the American Captain Brown of the brig Lydia in May of 1810
at Neah Bay. </div>
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This ended the Russian attempt to claim the Olympic
Peninsula. By 1867 with the expense of the Crimean War, the near extinction of
the sea otter and the hostility of the Tlingit, Russia decided to sell Alaska
to the United States. </div>
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The Tlingit had already made a name for themselves in
Washington Territory. The northern tribes of Tlingit, Haida and Tshimshans had
a long history of raiding south in war canoes that carried 60 or 70 warriors.
People from these tribes would work in sawmills and farms in Victoria where
they were entitled to the diplomatic rights of British subjects. As such they
could not be extradited by American authorities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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In November of 1856 a party of Northern Indians was
threatening the sawmill at Port Gamble. The U.S. Steamship Massachusetts
shelled a number of canoes which may have killed as many as 50 Indians
including a Chief. That summer the Tlingits returned to Whidbey Island and
murdered Col. Isaac Ebey for revenge. </div>
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In 1859 the Schooners Blue Wing and Ellen Marie were
attacked with 17 people murdered and the ships burned and sunk on the west side
of Vashon Island. American officials went to Victoria to demand the guilty
Indians be turned over but were refused. </div>
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As a new possession of the United States, Alaska faced the
constant threat of a general native uprising. </div>
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The Territory was administered in part by the U.S. Navy who
in 1871 sent the Sloop of War U.S.S.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Jamestown commanded by Captain L.A. Beardslee to Alaska to stop the
slave trade and free native prisoners of war. Captain Beardslee surveyed and
named Glacier Bay and reopened an important trade route to the interior, the
Chilkoot Trail. </div>
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In 1895 as Commander of The U.S. Navy Pacific Squadron, then
Rear Admiral Beardslee brought the warships of the Fleet to Port Angeles harbor
for the summer. Rear Admiral Beardslee was such an avid angler. He caught 350
trout on his first trip to Lake Crescent. The locals honored the Admiral by
naming a trout after him, the Beardslee.</div>
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Lake Crescent</div>
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Port Angeles was just a little fishing town until the
seasonal influx of up to 20,000 sailors livened up the social scene. Many fine
establishments were built in Port Angeles during this period to service the
entertainment needs of the U.S. Navy. The untiring efforts of the local
moonshiners and easy access to Canada with its vast reserves of whiskey
guaranteed our Navy would not go thirsty on summer maneuvers. At the time it
was said the Port Angeles girls wore wool socks in the spring and silk
stockings by summer. </div>
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You could get all the salmon you wanted in Port Angeles by rowing
around inside of the harbor dragging a hand-line with a hammered brass spoon.
By the 1900's the inventions of diesel power, refrigeration and the tin can lead
to the industrial exploitation of the fisheries with predictable results. Port
Angeles was home to a commercial fishing fleet and a salmon cannery whose
“American Flag” salmon provided steady employment until the salmon ran
out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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In 1962 Port Angeles declared itself “A Sportsman's
Paradise” as part of its Centennial Celebration. Port Angeles was home to a recreational
fishing fleet of charter boats that took tourists from around the world out to catch
salmon. There was a yearly salmon derby that as the biggest celebration in
town. Catching a salmon was as easy as trolling a flasher and herring past the
mouth of the Port Angeles harbor and out into the Strait of Juan de Fuca.</div>
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In 1974 The Boldt Decision gave the Treaty Tribes the right
to fifty percent of the salmon harvest. This set off a fish war where each side
tried to kill the last fish. </div>
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In the 1980's an Atlantic salmon fish farm was established
inside Port Angeles harbor in a spot well-known to the locals as the best place
to catch a salmon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By 1994 catching a
salmon became a complicated matter of quotas, seasons and gear
restrictions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Salmon fishing in Port
Angeles Harbor was outlawed. The yearly salmon derby was discontinued.</div>
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Fisheries management became a cycle of abuse where Alaska
intercepted fish bound for Canada who caught fish bound for Washington. People
in Washington were forced to go to Alaska to catch a fish. </div>
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The invasion of Alaska by the Washington fishing fleet was
greeted by the Alaskans with a degree of contempt Washingtonians had previously
reserved for Californians. Alaska responded by using the sport fishing industry
to bait in even more tourists. Today a trip to Sitka is like a journey back in
time to 40 years ago when Washington was the Salmon Capitol of the World. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HZq44pIHFpM/UbeIgsAVtbI/AAAAAAAAAsc/_yu7IGQXTp8/s1600/Sitka+fishing+fleet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HZq44pIHFpM/UbeIgsAVtbI/AAAAAAAAAsc/_yu7IGQXTp8/s400/Sitka+fishing+fleet.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Sitka Fishing Fleet<br />
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<o:p> </o:p>I was excited to go fishing in Sitka until I learned it
would begin by paddling across a lagoon in a canoe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someone once wrote I guess it was me, people
have been drowning in canoes for years but they are still perfectly legal.
Unfortunately there was no way I could back out of the canoe trip, unless I
wanted to get stranded on a shin-tangle covered beach at low tide when the
bears came out to go clamming. </div>
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In Alaska there are many theories about how to deal with the
bears but it is generally agreed they only eat tourists. Some people carry
firearms. Others insist that bear spray is the best method of stopping a
charging brown bear at close quarters. Never use bear spray on a bear. It might
make them mad. Spray the tourist. The bear will get the tourist and give
everyone else a chance to get away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I got in the canoe. As fate would have it, I was in the bow.
The lost Alaskan said this particular lagoon was only dangerous in a rare North
wind and we had perfect calm. <br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0ND7cxEnyOM/UbeI1T1aSqI/AAAAAAAAAsk/MjmGTP4g_W4/s1600/The+bay+was+perfectly+calm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0ND7cxEnyOM/UbeI1T1aSqI/AAAAAAAAAsk/MjmGTP4g_W4/s640/The+bay+was+perfectly+calm.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The bay was perfectly calm.<br />
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We paddled a mile or so without tipping over and entered the
mouth of the secret creek. We began paddling upstream to the secret lake where
the steelhead swarmed.</div>
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<img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nJWoSPR_0jI/UbeJpcmG_uI/AAAAAAAAAs0/1cQw1t5pF_A/s320/sika+steellhead.jpg" width="320" /></div>
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Steelhead</div>
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The creek was shallow across the tide flats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got out and walked on the beach. There were
little holes dug all over the beach. I wondered what was wrong with these
Alaskan clam diggers. Don't they know you're supposed to fill in your holes?
Back in Washington we’d call in the SWAT team to cope with a situation like
this. Expressing my outrage to the Lost Alaskan he agreed and said,</div>
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“Bears.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SwCJ1zWz4zU/UbeKTnGlC0I/AAAAAAAAAs8/mxYPHDmEv2A/s1600/Le+Voyaguer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SwCJ1zWz4zU/UbeKTnGlC0I/AAAAAAAAAs8/mxYPHDmEv2A/s640/Le+Voyaguer.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Le Voyageur</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e47eYcvmLFE/UbeK2Ku_YNI/AAAAAAAAAtE/G0MCpmtTMB8/s1600/le+voyaguer+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e47eYcvmLFE/UbeK2Ku_YNI/AAAAAAAAAtE/G0MCpmtTMB8/s640/le+voyaguer+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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After a while we ditched the canoe. We walked through a
dense rain forest of spruce and hemlock where I was introduced to the sport of
“post-holing”. That's where you walk through slush as deep as a post hole
making every step like ice-skating in a pool of frozen cement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where the snow had melted the forest floor
was carpeted with leftover fish bones from the fall salmon run. The leftover
fish parts are a sign of a healthy eco-system. It's the bear's job to fertilize
the trees and feed the many species of birds, bugs and animals that can't catch
fish for themselves. Since the eradication of the salmon on the Olympic
Peninsula our bears have been largely unemployed. </div>
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The Tlingit believed that animals are rational beings
capable of understanding human speech.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Encountering a bear they might speak to it and say, </div>
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“Give me luck,” Which would not be the first thing that came
into my head but whatever works. Bears were respected by the Tlingit but strangely
enough, it was the otters that were feared more than anything. The Kushta-Ka or
“River Otter Man” was a dangerous spirit who could drive you mad, change people
into werewolves and enslave the souls of those drowned at sea or lost in the
woods.</div>
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I was not about to let a silly native superstition deprive
me of a story about how a healthy eco-system could survive a modern industrial
fishery, no.</div>
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Walking upstream we came upon a fish weir. Except for being
made of aluminum it was not unlike the weirs described by the first explorers
on the Olympic Peninsula where the salmon were forced into a trap to be
harvested. The salmon in this weir were to be counted and released as they swam
upstream. If not enough fish make it upstream to spawn the fishing season was closed.
</div>
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In Washington we manage our salmon with an entirely
different system.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We dam the streams
every spring to trap and count the baby salmon going out to sea in hopes of
predicting how many salmon will return in the future. This is a lot like
counting your chickens before they are hatched.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vj5mSipx394/UbeLVriYsGI/AAAAAAAAAtM/vRqtUro4Cjg/s1600/smolt+trap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vj5mSipx394/UbeLVriYsGI/AAAAAAAAAtM/vRqtUro4Cjg/s640/smolt+trap.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Smolt Trap on Ennis Creek in Washington. Otters, bears, birds and poachers kill the fish trapped in these devices. Here a poacher digs worms to use for bait in the smolt trap.</div>
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When the salmon fail to return we blame the loggers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Washington efforts to restore the salmon
include shutting down the fish hatcheries and making log jams. Counting your chickens
before they are hatched is one thing but to use this analogy in Washington, we
kill our chickens before they get a chance to lay the egg. </div>
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Depressed and disoriented I made my way to the secret lake
where disappointment awaited. The secret lake was frozen over. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aIB5I7CulbA/UbeMVF_jWSI/AAAAAAAAAtc/xsOwKEMgpXE/s1600/Frozen+Lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aIB5I7CulbA/UbeMVF_jWSI/AAAAAAAAAtc/xsOwKEMgpXE/s640/Frozen+Lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Stupid Frozen Lake</div>
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I almost didn't need to see the river otters, but I did.
Were they the dreaded Kushta-Ka? All I know is a brisk North wind came up,
stirring the tree tops. We were forced to beat our way through the whitecaps of
the lagoon with the canoe on our return voyage. </div>
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I should never have tried to cheat fate and fish out in the
ocean off Sitka either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once out to sea
there was a mechanical problem. I wasn’t worried until some of the crew began
blowing up the life raft. They were just abandoning ship but it was nothing to
be concerned about. Apparently it’s something that happens all the time in
Alaska. </div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aZ5zMP8OGRM/UbeNbGAfPpI/AAAAAAAAAts/PW6X_H7DaL0/s1600/Abandon+ship.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aZ5zMP8OGRM/UbeNbGAfPpI/AAAAAAAAAts/PW6X_H7DaL0/s640/Abandon+ship.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Abandon Ship. This is not a drill.</div>
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The funny thing was I had not seen any otters yet. Those of
us unlucky to be left on board the doomed ship were able to limp back to shore
before the motor died. Then the weather turned into a fine penetrating mist
pushed by a brisk Alaska wind. There was no more talk of fishing. I returned
from Sitka fishless. It all made sense when I read my horoscope, “You'll love
seeing parks, buildings, boutiques, galleries and the creative works of
others”. </div>
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I wanted to write about my Alaska fishing adventure but my email
got hacked and my website crashed. The curse of the Kushta-Ka lives.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TrzkR4oYyIo/UbeOkebnZ2I/AAAAAAAAAt8/2DHHF_p2FV0/s1600/Admire+the+creative+works+of+others.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TrzkR4oYyIo/UbeOkebnZ2I/AAAAAAAAAt8/2DHHF_p2FV0/s640/Admire+the+creative+works+of+others.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com0Oregon, USA47.2195681123155 -116.63085937544.3823636123155 -121.794433375 50.0567726123155 -111.467285375tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-7118697339944096432011-11-13T10:23:00.000-08:002011-11-13T10:23:41.197-08:00Save the heritage apples<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FrC2U43PQmY/TsALA7AIG5I/AAAAAAAAAnw/-TmDHONoePg/s1600/winter+apples.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FrC2U43PQmY/TsALA7AIG5I/AAAAAAAAAnw/-TmDHONoePg/s400/winter+apples.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winter apples ready for the picking.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was daylight on the homestead.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Early as it was I was more than a little late for breakfast. The homestead cabin had been built in the 1890s by a pioneer.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Homestead Law of 1862 was the coolest thing to ever hit this country, unless you were an Indian. At the time they were not considered U.S. Citizens. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Indians were unable to file homestead claims on their own land. Everyone else just had to build a residence at least 12 feet square, cultivate a crop and live there five years. That gave you clear title to 160 acres of prime bottom land. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The railroad was coming. The land rush was on. Homesteading was a family affair. Your wife could file a claim. Your kids could too once they were old enough. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The prime bottom land was soon taken. What the Indians called “The Jimmy Come Latelys” were forced to move up into the thin soils of the foothills where farming got tougher. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The homesteaders chopped and burned back the forest to plant potatoes and cabbage amid the stumps. These “stump ranchers” went to great lengths to clear enough land to grow enough food to eke out a living. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">By the Great Depression farming got even tougher than that. Many of these wilderness homes were deserted and taken by the government for back taxes. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">That's most probably how this cabin came to be abandoned by its family. Since then it was used as a haven in the wilderness for trappers, lost hunters and those that researched antiquity. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In the 1980s the roof of the cabin collapsed in the snow. By the ’90s the 100-year-old homestead cabin was a pile of rotting wood buried in blackberry vines. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The orchard in the meadow was the only sign of man ever being here. These few remaining pioneer orchards are more than just pioneer artifacts. If it's true that we should consider the medicinal and food value of plants in the rain forest before we cut it down, it might be a good idea to save the seed of these fast disappearing heritage fruit trees. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The diverse varieties of apples in pioneer orchards can ripen at any time between august and February. The flavor of these apples, particularly after a frost makes the genetically engineered mush ball that passes for an apple these days taste like the cardboard box it came in. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm not the only one that likes these old orchards. If you want one of these old time apples you're going to have to compete with the bears. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You'll probably lose. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">These old fruit trees can grow to great heights and bears are just better climbers than we are. And if that last shiny red apple is a little too far out of reach, the bear can just break the branch off. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The bears not only provide a valuable pruning service they are good at eliminating one of the unpleasant surprises you can find in an apple tree, the bald faced hornet's nest. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Finding a hornets’ nest while picking apples can make you scamper down the tree like a squirrel. Bear will just eat the hornet's nest and keep on picking apples. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I've watched bears sitting over a pile of apples the size of soft balls, holding the apple between its paws, chopping them up in her jaws while sucking the cider out, a picture of pure enjoyment. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I scared her off. I would have stolen her apples, if they hadn't landed in bear manure. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My best advice would be to get your apples off the tree. </span></span></div>Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566842302171612548.post-60382905599914404852011-11-02T06:47:00.000-07:002011-11-13T10:26:09.792-08:00The wolf problem<div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Espelxy2CNA/TsAFyXhri-I/AAAAAAAAAnc/nm6CKhrnuZ8/s1600/elk+erosion.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Espelxy2CNA/TsAFyXhri-I/AAAAAAAAAnc/nm6CKhrnuZ8/s400/elk+erosion.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Erosion caused by elk feeding on saplings.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Do not be alarmed citizens. There is no plan currently being proposed by any known government biologist to re-introduce wolves to the Olympic Peninsula. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The howl of the wolf is a true symbol of the wilderness that has not been heard here since the wolves were bounty hunted to extinction back in the 1930s. It was a familiar scenario that was played out across the West. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">With the coming of the railroad the human population increased to the point where there was no room for wolves. They had to go. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Since that time, many other species of fish and wildlife such as the 100-pound salmon and the Olympic Mountain moonshiner have become rare, endangered or just plain extinct due to the rising human population. Biologists are only now just beginning to explain how each of these individual creatures is vital to the health of the ecosystem. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">For example, I have long contended that the reason for the decline of our salmon runs are caused by “nylon pollution.” </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It is my own term for the fact that our salmon are being overfished throughout the extent of their range. I thought there is just too much nylon fishing gear in the water for the fish to survive their journey. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GXEhNyqO_yI/TsAGnmCa79I/AAAAAAAAAnk/MFv4Sp6QaZw/s1600/nylon+pollution.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GXEhNyqO_yI/TsAGnmCa79I/AAAAAAAAAnk/MFv4Sp6QaZw/s320/nylon+pollution.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nylon pollution kills.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was wrong. According to the biologists, it's not nylon that's killing the fish, it's the elk! </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Without the wolves to eat them there are so many elk along the Hoh River that they have killed off the trees, causing erosion, siltation and a rising water temperature, all of which is bad for fish.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">According to biologists, if we could just get the wolves running the elk, trees would once again grow along the river, stopping erosion and shielding the water from the sun's harmful rays. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">People who may have seen the Hoh in flood stage, when giant spruce trees roll down the river scouring the gravel bars like freight trains, might doubt the elk have destroyed the river theory, but they're not biologists. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The biologists know that any possibility of wolf reintroduction is still too controversial. So instead, the wolves will be “trans-located.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You probably can't tell the difference, which once again shows why you're not a biologist. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Rest assured that no Canadian wolves will be used in the trans-location effort. Only American wolves will be eligible for this program. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Trans-location calls for moving the wolves from areas in Washington state where people want to get rid of them into places where people don't have wolves yet. However the wolf is reintroduced or trans-located doesn't matter with the health of the ecosystem at stake. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Any responsible wolf trans-location effort would have to include the restoration of the wolf habitat and a corresponding reduction of the human population. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">While no biologists is suggesting that people be forcibly removed from their homes for wolf habitat restoration, we would expect those who support the wolf trans-location to move voluntarily. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Any reactionary anti-wolf obstructionists whose bourgeois sensibilities foster an unhealthy emotional attachment to their homes are liable to change their tune and become willing sellers once they are surrounded by howling packs of wolves. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ideally, the initial wolf trans-location effort would establish a healthy population of wolves where they would provide the most benefit to the ecosystem as a whole and provide optimum enjoyment to the people who want the wolves in the first place. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times New Roman; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">That is why I would propose we first trans-locate the wolves to a place where people love them, our state capitol in Olympia. </span></span></div><div><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
</span></div>Pat Nealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08533831847500581242noreply@blogger.com1