Texas Snowbirds

       During our travels after returning to the mainland from Hawaii in the latter  80's we spent much of one winter in south Texas.  Much of our stay there was very pleasurable but not all of it.  It was late Fall when we arrived there and our first stay was an RV park in north Houston.  While there I discovered that one of the straps holding our blackwater (sewer) tank had broken and that tank could have dropped, making a real mess for us.  Fortunately I had spotted the strap hanging down and took the RV to a repair shop.

     Thanksgiving evening we found a pay  phone on the outside of a park building, unprotected from rain or wind, and called our family.  We were homesick and lonely as we didn't know a soul in the park.  The next day was Sunday but since the weather was better I took the truck into town to find out why it had lost so much power.  All I found was a shade tree mechanic who determined it was the carburetor and sold me a new one.  That wasn't the problem so I was out $400.  I couldn't get my money or the old carb back.  Big lesson!

      The next day I took the truck to a major garage where it was put on an analyzer and the trouble was found to be an ignition wire.  That old Jimmy had all of her 450 horses back and the big bridge was a pussycat to get overkill

     Next stop was Goose Island state park of which I had mentioned in another blog.

      Final stop in south Texas was an RV park in Donna, Texas, a few miles south of McAllen.

The place was great, including an indoor-outdoor heated swimming pool, massive recreation hall, many activities and fabulous potluck dinners every Friday night.  At least once a week many of us drove into McAllen for a luncheon at Luby's Buffet restaurant.  Excellent food, especially their Million Dollar pie!

      The roads around Donna had many roadside stands where fresh fruit could be purchased. 

The Grapefruit were as sweet as oranges which we snacked on while sightseeing the area. While we were there, Grace's sister, Pearl came to live with us and we three had a great time there.

     One side trip we made was to the border west of McAllen where for 25 cents we boarded a tiny ferry which we had to pull across by hand to Mexico.  On their side we had to walk several miles inland to a small town of which I can't remember the name.  We bought some souvenirs in that town.  The people were very friendly although their English and our Spanish talking didn't mesh well.  We managed to get a Mexican to take us back to the little ferry for a paltry sum in his sick, old jalopy.  We got back safely to the US side without incident but we found out later that what we did was foolish and dangerous.  Oh well, we made it.

      The trip home to Salem was mostly uneventful except on the road between Burns, Oregon and Bend when I heard a loud bang and looked back in my side mirror to see a cloud of vapor and pieces of black plastic.  The straps under the blackwater tank gave way and dropped that tank to the pavement. Tank and poop all over the roadside!  We limped home using public bathrooms.

     The RV trailer was still under warranty and when the tank was replaced and installed I was only out part of the cost of labor.  The straps they put back in place were much stronger than the factory originals and hopefully the next owner had no more poop tank problems.

     

Inflatable Adventures

For most of my life I have had boats of one kind or another.  The largest, of course was the battleship, West Virginia which was my home in the South Pacific during WWII.  Progression from there on was a 12- foot wood skiff, a 15- foot cabin boat that Grace and  I built, a couple of  Fibre- glas 14 and 17 footers, a 23- foot Fibreform cabin cruiser, a pontoon boat and the most unique, a  13- foot inflatable made by Bombard.

      We were living in Honolulu, Hawaii after I retired from the state of Oregon in 1983.   A salesman took me for a ride in one powered by a 25-horse outboard and I was hooked! I made several trips out in the ocean from Ala Moana harbor  after I bought   it and enjoyed the craft immensely. 

      It was made of tough fabric impregnated with man-made vinyls and had aluminum floorboards and a transom stout enough to handle high-powered outboard motors.  According to sales brochures given me by the sales person the boats prototype had won two different races  on the swift, dangerous Salmon river in Idaho.  It rolled up In two packages--one for the hull and one for the aluminum floorboards.  It was a hassle to put it together so before long I bought a small trailer so I could keep in inflated at all times.

     When we returned to the mainland I sold the trailer, rolled up the Bombard and shipped it back to our home base in Oregon.  We bought a 5th wheel trailer and a one-ton pickup, put the boat on a special rack over the pickup cab and headed east.  On the rack overhead the boat faced stern-to forward and made quite a sight as we travelled down the road. The  pointed tubes of the boat looked like torpedos about to be launched.  We got stopped by a state patrolman late at night on a freeway in Wyoming who was simply curious as to what that monstrosity actually was. I think he was bored on a dark and lonely night.

    In Michigan we stopped at a grocery store and when the female clerk brought our groceries out to the pickup she looked up in awe at that monstrosity on the rack over the pickup and timidly asked, "Are those bombs?"

    We had no activity involving the boat until we arrived in Texas, near  Corpus Christie, at a great state park called Goose Island.The campsites were all located up against a low seawall next to the waterway called Aransas Pass.  The water there was very quiet and just a couple of feet deep next to the wall.  Great access for use of the inflatable. Across the waterway was  Matagorda island, a part of the Barrier Islands that extend down the Texas shoreline. A great area for fishing for sea trout and Redfish.  It was relatively safe to get there except for the many underwater mounds of clam sells which, if struck at too great a speed, would slice the bottom out of an inflatable.  I lucked out on missing all those mounds going and coming but didn't fare so well with a spiny catfish.

      I invited a camping neighbor to join me for a short venture offshore from the camp and he had the misfortune of hooking  one of those catfish. Their fighting  weapons are two needle-sharp spikes they poke out ridgedly from each side of their head.  In bringing the fish in towards the boat he let the fish swing in against the hull and we ended up with a tiny pinhole in the hull which leaked air a bubble at a time.  I fought that tiny leak for the rest of the time I owned that boat.

      Surgery on one of my knees while we had moved on to Arizona put me out of the boat business for some time and I ended up selling it to a dive shop.  If it is still in use I suspect it is still doing duty retrieving SCUBA divers in some saltwater in the  Pacific Ocean.

        

West Virginia Tales

In looking through the West Virginia Battleship Association's website I found many good stories of that ship's battle history during World War II but noticed there were no stories about that ship crew's shoreside adventures, many of which I had personally heard or experienced during my years as a crew member of that great "wagon..  I'll  relate some of them as well as I can remember them even though they took place nearly 69 years ago.

STEAMY SOUVENIR BUYING
We were able to get some R and R at times in between battles out in the South Pacific.  When it was considered safe to do so we were allowed to go ashore to  fenced off areas separated from the local civilians.  One such place was in Leyte harbor in the Phillipine islands where we had been  shelling Japanese troops with our 16-inch guns.  After the enemy was forced well back from the shoreline where we could safely relax, consume some 3.2 beer and barter with the locals across a fence I saw one old woman beckoning me to come buy her photo packets of young women who were bare from the waist up. while we were dickering over the cost I noticed a steamy stream of liquid flowing out from her ankle length skirt. It dawned on me she was peeing while we talked! I still bought the photos.

BARF LIBERTY
After some other battles we made our way north to do some more bombarding at the island of Okinawa, following a grueling period of doing our share to battle the Japanese at Iwo Jima.  When the Japanese were pushed back far enough for the area to be reasonably safe for us, the skipper turned us loose for some more boozing and sightseeing in a larger area than had been available for us at Leyte.  One of my buddies managed to get more than his share of the 3.2 beer, consumed, enough to make him sick.  Nearby was an unused water well with a 3-foot wall around it.  He leaned over the edge of the well and let loose all he had in his stomach, as well as a mouthful of dentures.  That stunt got him a trip back to the Sates for new teeth.  That was the last I ever saw of him..

There are some other shoreside stories farther down in my lists of blogs so if you are interested, scroll down to them.  As time goes on and I get triggered into thinking about them I'll tell some similar stories.

In September, 2013 I hope to attend the annual meeting of the West Virginia crew and their family members in San Diego, CA.  The crew members are so few now this 2013 meeting may be the last one.  I hope to hear some more tales from those able to attend the meeting which I want to add to this blog.

Teenage Mechanics

TEENAGE MECHANICS
In 1939, when I was 15 years old and my best buddy was 16 years of age we graduated from fixing bicycles to full-size toys -- motorcycles and vintage cars.
One of our early ventures was a 1910 Indian motorcycle, in pieces, in a woman’s shed. It had belonged to her son who went off to war and never returned. He had purchased the bike new but it had little use before he left. We gave the woman some boxes of berries and hauled parts of it away on a large red wagon. and wheeled the bike home.
My friend, Bud Rice, also had a car, a 1928 Ford roadster, which required a lot of our mechanical skills during the time he owned it but that’s for later in the story.
After much head scratching and perseverance we eventually got that motorcycle all put together and ready for riding, except for one thing. It wouldn’t start! It had twist grip rod and universal connections to the valve lifters and the throttle. Yeah, valve lifters! By twisting the grip we could lift the valves so there was no compression to fight against. One rider would stand alongside the bike with hands on the handlebars and run alongside while a partner pushed on the fender from the rear. Pushing until we were up to a running speed the rider would hop on the bike and drop the valve lifter to give the motor compression. The other guy kept pushing until the compression brought him to a halt. I don’t know how many miles we pushed that stubborn bike around the city without luck. Originally the bike had pedals and a stand to hold the rear wheel off the ground but the pedals and stand were missing.
Next try was towing it behind the Ford convertible and that was a bit dangerous with about 15 or 20 feet of tow rope. That didn’t cause it to make any pops.
Finally, at a motorcycle junk yard we found a bike shop that re-charged the magnets for us. The. Magneto would then work on that Indian. With it in place, one short push and the motor started. It had a clutch lever that came up alongside the gas tank and let the motor run without moving the bike. By one of us sitting on the back fender it would easily handle two people.

On one of our more exciting rides, going at full speed, Bud’s mother pulled alongside us in her automobile and announced we were during 60 miles an hour. That was great until, suddenly, the throat on the carburetor screwed off and that Indian came to a chugging stop. It took us awhile to backtrack and find that missing part before we could get it going again to take it home.
That Indian ended up by being loaned to a cousin trying to use the motor for a garden tiller for a Victory garden during WW!! while Bud and I were away in the Navy. The next one was a much later Harley Davidson. With a kick starter no less. After an accident hitting a dog that caused me to go over the handlebars and onto an unforgiving cement street, my parents bought me a 1929 Chevrolet sedan to lure me away from motorcycles.
I’m not sure what year Bud’s Ford convertible was but I believe it was 1928 or 1929. Whatever it was , it had a “flat” crankshaft that required an occasional pulling of the pan, filing off the rod caps to tight them, as much as possible. One time, I recalled we got them so tight we couldn’t turn the motor over with the crank. So, to overcome that problem, we towed it with another vehicle with another good friend, Dave Rice, jumping on the crank as we towed it, in gear, down the road. How we kept from running over Dave I’ll never know. He survived and once it turned over it would start easier. Until it was time to tighten those rods again.
Our inventiveness showed up on the next vehicle, a 1928 Whippet. It cost us some money to get it done but we were able to install a second transmission in backwards. Bud had bought another Whippet for $10 to use its transmission tied to the back of the first transmission. The best cruising speed was with both transmissions in second gear. It was great fun to drive backwards down a major city street in Portland and pass a city bus with passengers gawking wide-eyed at that crazy backwards-running sedan.
In forward motion, in order to get up to its fastest speed, we had to be going downhill. We got up to about 80 mph on one trip with a boot in one tire making the wheel flop up and down a bit. At that time we couldn’t afford new tires.
Bud Rice and I somehow survived those years, even making it through WWII in the Navy. And, today we are still the best of friends. Have been ever since our friendship started in the 5^th grade some 75 years ago. And, we still do some tinkering in a much safer way.
　
　
　
　
　

Pontoon Boating

“That’s my eighth one in less than two hours,” I remarked to my fishing companion, Bob Skrbac, as I lifted a fat, fighting smallmouth bass to the deck of my 20-foot pontoon boat.  We were fishing a backwater off the Colorado River impoundment, Lake Moovalya, on the California-Arizona border.  Over my right shoulder I could see the beautiful Moovalya Indian Casino across the lake near Parker, Arizona. The smallies were liking the white plastic worm I was presenting rigged for drop shotting.

I had started fishing for bass on the Colorado and other nearby waters several years before when I had joined the Parker Bassmaster Club.  I had retired several years prior to that and only after starting to spend my winters in a mobile home park in Earp, California did I find that bass fishing was fun.  Born and raised in Oregon and Washington, I knew only trout, steelhead and salmon.

I joined the club as a non-boating member and attended the club’s monthly tournaments, learning from the locals what a crank bait was , or a spinner bait or one of the other special enticements bass fishermen use.  I had to pay fees the same as any other club members for the tournaments and it cost me quite a bit to learn the how-tos before I was able start racking up points like the big boys.

It was fun and it wasn’t long until I purchased my own used but serviceable 18-foot bass boat.  Life was good until I suddenly developed a fragile leg which made it hazardous and difficult to climb into or out of a conventional bass boat.  I was having to amble around with either a crutch or cane.  Even getting into the boat from a dock was a bit hard on my ego to have to sit on the dock and swing my legs into the boat.
Climbing into it while it was still on a trailer was out of the question.  It was with a heavy heart that I had to sell that beloved bass fishing machine.

Bank fishing was not a viable solution to my need to fish and fishing docks, which were nice up on Lake Havasu, but were not the answer either.

My wife, Grace, knew I was hurting and saw an ad for a used pontoon boat at a marina on Lake Havasu and suggested we go take a look at it.  I was not very interested.  After all, I was not a party kind of guy.  But, we looked, and with more urging from Grace, we bought it.  She wanted the large brass ship’s bell that was hanging from the overhead!

The mobile home park, Bermuda Palms Park, is on the Indian reservation near Earp, California, and with its dock on the shores of Lake Moovalya, it was the perfect answer for me.  I could look and walk about one hundred feet from the front porch of my home to get out onto the dock where my boat now resided.  No launching or unlaunching.  All I had to do was throw off the lines after firing up the motor and I was back in the fishing game.

For a person who couldn’t climb into or out of a boat, it was the answer to my prayers.  The flat, level deck of the boat was flush to the elevation of the dock and I could even swing from the dock to the deck with a pair of crutches.  Two fishing seats on the front deck made it similar to fishing from the front deck of a bass boat.  To finish converting it, I installed an electric trolling motor to the front of the deck and that worked perfectly.

The boat was pretty rugged.  I could shove it with the outboard or electric motor deep back into the bulrushes to a honey hole.  It had aluminum twin hulls that could withstand quite a bit of abuse.  And, I didn’t have to worry about the paint job.

Even on the days I wasn’t planning on fishing, we did have picnics on board with neighbors or friends.  The swing-out barbecue was great for those hamburger sandwiches to go along with the potato salad , baked beans and yes, even a pie or cake a time or two.  When company came, which was often, we used the pontoon boat as a ferry to carry us over to the Indian casino for some gambling and lunches.  It had a 50 horsepower outboard which didn’t make it a speedster but did wing us along at a respectable speed.  Most of the time the visitors wanted to go slow anyhow, to see the scenery along the shoreline.

The boat had a hard top with curtains all around and clear plastic windows so that it was possible in rainy weather to travel around with the curtains all in place to keep everyone dry.  When weather was decent and a breeze was needed through the cabin the curtains could be rolled up all the way and secured with built in straps.

The day came, after another couple of years, when we had to give up our home at Bermuda Palms in Earp and move back full time to Salem, Oregon.  We were unable to bring the boat back to Oregon due to so much stuff to haul back so we sold it and got a decent price.

Nothing physically changed for me back on Oregon shores and I still missed a boat for fishing.
We don’t have the same ideal setup for keeping a boat close to where we live, but another answer was found.  While gazing down on the docks from Detroit Marina, we saw several pontoons snuggled away between finger docks down below.  An inquiry at the dock office revealed that one of the boats down below was for sale.  The clerk gave us a phone number to call and the owner lived in Salem.

The owner agreed to bring the boat down to Salem (he was planning on doing so anyway) and when Grace and I saw it, we knew we wanted it.  The owner didn’t try to hold us to an outrageous price even though used pontoon boats were scarce in the area, and we were soon owners.  A call to Kane’s Marina at Detroit reservoir bought us the rent of a finger dock at the marina that was near perfect.

The following summer, when the owners of Kane’s found out I was pretty handicapped, they picked a spot for us right off the end of the ramp to the docks.  We can put the boat in the water in early June and leave it there until right after Labor Day when the lake level is being dropped to winter levels to catch flood waters.

We found that fishing for trout in Detroit reservoir is as good as any we might hope for.  We have had kids, grandkids, relatives and friends out in that boat, many who do not fish, but they enjoy the ride. When we have people with us who have not been out on the lake before, we give them a cook’s tour up many of the backwaters and inlets where there are some great views.  Detroit lake also has floating portable toilets so no one has to start hurting before relief is found.  The deck of the portable floating toilet docks are about the same level.  And, picnics are real fun up in some of the secluded inlets.  This boat also has a top but it is a heavy canvas convertible top where the curtains can be rolled up all the way and the top can even be laid down over the stern to get the overhead all clear so a person can have more room to cast.  In rainy Oregon weather the curtains can be used while underway and will keep everyone aboard dry.  The boat should not be towed on the highway with the top and curtains up.

This present boat also now has an electric trolling motor on the front of the deck and it is held in place with an alligator mount same as those on the bass boats and just as handy.  It is not powerful enough to troll against the wind but is ideal to hold the boat in the right position off shore with the wind blowing so that wind trolling can be done or lures can be worked along the shoreline.

Our pontoon boat came with a live fish well which I have not used as yet but that is in our future plans for fishing such lakes as Foster reservoir where an abundant number of bass live or one of the coastal lakes which also contain warm water species.

I can heartily recommend the pontoon boat for those who have handicaps as I do.  But, such a boats is also great for the person with a family who worries about the safety of kids on the water.  Pontoons are extremely stable and make it great for even the little toddlers.  Put a life jacket on them before leaving shore and don’t let them get near the front of the boat.

Kids in a family enjoy pontoon boats for all the extra fun they can have.  Ours has a removable boarding ladder which is great for those who like to swim.  When not needed, it folds to a flat package that easily stores out of the way.  It has special brackets on the deck which make for a very stable ladder to get back aboard.

Skiing is possible if the outboard motor is large enough.  I have a 70 h.p.  motor on the back of mine which has enough umph to pick up a skier who is not too hefty and will pull that person on skiis at about 20-22 miles per hour.  There are many water toys on the market today that can pull multiple riders to provide much fun.  But, a motor need not be large to have fun with a pontoon boat.  Many can be seen tooling along with a 25 horsepower motor at a respectable speed.

For anyone who might be interested in pontoon boats, call one of the marinas at Detroit Reservoir and make a reservation to rent one of their pontoon s.  You’ll love them like I do.  But, a word of caution, the State of Oregon now requires that anyone operating a boat of ten horsepower or more must have an Oregon Boat Education License so better use the time right now to study for and take the exam.  The exceptions for this year are: you don’t need the license if you are more than 70 years old.  Even those 70 years old or more can benefit from the knowledge of safe boating that can be gained in study for the license.  Another exemption for those renting a boat of 10 horsepower for instate resident or out-of-state is a training session by authorized personnel at a marina and completion of a form signed by the marina personnel.  It must be carried on board by the person renting the boat.

Shark Bait

In 1945, on board my ship, battleship West Virginia, we were engaged in the bombardment of Leyte in the Phillipine islands.  Using our big 16 inch guns we were pulverizing the shoreline and inland for many miles to pave the way for Marines and soldiers to take the island.  During our maneuvering  the WeeVee ran aground and damaged a screw (propellor) to the point we had to disengage and head for a drydock in Espirito Santo, New Hebrides which was many hundreds of miles away.  The drydock was the only one large enough to hold and lift us out of the water so repairs could be made to the prop.
The drydock was located in a very pretty cove surrounded on three sides by stately coconut palm trees.  The water was deep blue and crystal clear with a shallow shoreline just right for swabbies to get out of the heat.  Only one problem.  One of the drydock crewmen had rigged up a strong line complete with a hook and a chunk of meat which he tossed over the side.  I didn't witness the action of catching but a huge shark, I suspect a Great White shark, had grabbed the bait and a winch was used to pull him up onto the dock.  We still wanted to go swimming so the skippers stationed a group of Marines, equipped with automatic weaponry, along the rail to shoot any sharks who might be inticed by the thrashing, joyfully loud sailors.
No more sharks were seen and we had a lot of fun hunting for little octupi and Cat eye shells.  Wading in knee deep water I could see the octopus, about the size of spreading across my hand.  They were dark in color and we never did get biten by any.  They tickled as they squirmed around on my hands.  We released them unharmed.
The Cat Eyes were really what I wanted.  About the size of a walnut, or slightly smaller, they were pale yellow on the underneath side blending up to dark brown along the sides.  The center did look just like a cat's eye and they were beautifully polished with black freckles around the rim of the "eye".  They were plentiful and didn't need any treatment except to dry them up if they had any little animals inside.  I gathered up a small sackful of them and was able to stuff them first in my locker and later in my seabag as I was honorably discharged in 1946.

Travelling Article

When a writer sends out a article in a newpaper or other publication it is seldom known what the impact will be or how far it will go. As an example I once wrote a column for a daily newspaper about a young lady and her boyfriend who had gone fishing in a coastal stream in Oregon. She related that she had walked out on a log suspended over a pool to try to reach a place in the stream where a trout might be lurking. As she stood near the end of the log, the bark slipped plunging her into the water with a considerable splash. The eruption on the pool's surface startled a trout so much it leaped up onto the bank. The boyfriend jumped on the trout and wrestled that slippery critter to subdue it, making no effort to rescue her from her unwanted bath. She slogged up out of that pool very angry at the guy whose priorities were such that he chose the trout over her.

Shortly after that article appeared in the newspaper, Associated Press picked up the story and printed it. Later, the Stars and Stripes publication picked up and printed it. That wasn't the end. A national outdoor magazine picked it up from Stars and Stripes and printed it in a column entitled, "The Gist Of It". I knew nothing about the article's travels until the magazine sent me a check for ten dollars, explaining what had happened.