Heavenly Valley

    So the year is 1972, I just quit American River community college after a whopping two month stay. Didn't even make it through the first quarter. Didn't like Sacramento and I really missed Tahoe. So I pack my stuff in the Camaro and come home. My folks were disappointed but were understanding . They insisted I get a job NOW as they said I wasn't going to just hang out and party with my friends. As luck would have it they were leaving for a two week trip so I had the place to myself.
     I didn't want to work at the casinos so I thought about applying at the mountan I grew up on , Heavenly Valley. I drive up there and they wouldn't even give me an application....my hair was too long. So I get a hair cut and go back ...nope, still too long.This calls for drastic measures. I get my hair cut a third time, real short and get dressed in the latest '72 fashion. A matching brown Levi suit. Flared bell bottom trousers, matching jacket and a buttoned up white shirt. Man , did I look like a dork! But hey, I got the application and after the interview a job! Starting wage ? The princely sum of $2.25 an hour. And I quit school for this?
    The ski area wasn't open yet, no snow, so they give me a bucket of paint and a brush and I start painting the interior of the main lodge. I noticed this strange little man kept checking on my painting. He eventually introduced himself. His name was James Bond. Now this guy is about as opposite from Sean Connery's 007 James Bond as you could imagine. He's short with a bad comb over and he's over the top gay. He's the interior decorator / special events planner for Heavenly Valley.
     One day as I'm painting he tells me Iv'e been transferd to his department and I now work for him. Now I have nothing against gay people,but this was a little awkward as I was the only person in his department and he seemed to really like me, I mean REALLY like me..He would walk me around from one building to the next pointing out colors he wanted changed or different drapes and such. This was not only strange but  embarassing. I knew nothing about interior design and I hated his color choices and the whole thing ...well, it was just plain weird!
     Fortunately the old guy that ran the lift crew, Frank Moore, rescued me and put me on the chair lift crew. Now these were my type of folks. These chair lift attendants are all a little crazed, a littlle shady and always up for a good time. What a cast of chararcters! I fit right in with this bunch of weirdos.
     Once the the boss discovers I can ski he sticks me up at the very top of the mountain, the top of the sky chair. I'm in a tiny hut with a heater and a portable radio. Also it's a little
 over 10,000 feet in elevation . A great view of the lake and basically you  just watch skiers disembark from  the chair ride without any difficulty. Once in awhile someone will have a ski come off or they fall as they stand up to get off the chair, thats when you hit the stop button halting the chair and you help the skier get it together.
      I knew all the guys on the ski patrol and they let me join them for the sweep.When the last skier gets off the lift at the end of the day all the patrolers gather at the top of the mountain and break up into pairs and each pair takes a different run looking for anyone that's either lost or injured. So your'e sweeping the slopes to make sure no one is left there through the night. It's really quiet except for the ocasional shout of  one of the patrol guys or myself  yelling out "last run" or "everybody head down to the bottom, the lifts are closing". This was done to make sure all the skiers make it to the bottom and are safe and sound.
      I really enjoyed this. Youv'e got the whole mountain to yourself, the sun is going down and it's just you and some other guys that are good skiers. As I make my way to the bottom of the mountain I'm making big turns on empty ski runs. By now it's getting dark and its time to lock the doors and gates, turn on the lights, make sure everything's secure and head home and start a fire. Come back tomorow and do it all over again.
      After awhile I started working on the tram, but thats another story. Take care, Bob

Happy New Year!

     So Happy New Year, ya hear! To be honest I'm not a big fan of this holiday. After Thanksgiving, Christmas and my birthday I'm kind of in a holidaze and don't even stay up for the event. To me it just means putting up a new calander and trying to sleep through all the noise in the neighborhood, gunshots, fireworks, barking dogs and drunk tourists shouting in the street. The town is packed with people and we've got lots of snow and for the time being clear skies.

     This last storm was pretty good but it was also very wet. Started out as rain then turned to snow then got real cold. The electrical, phone and cable lines are all coated with a thick covering of heavy frozen snow . Some are so low to the street you can touch them just walking by.. The power has been on and off the last couple of days. Because it hasn't warmed up the trees are also heavy with snow. A girl Christy works with had part of a tree break off from the weight and crash through her roof, no one was injured but her house is a major mess, a lot of damage. Across the street I've noticed a tree starting to lean over towards their garage and it's a big tree.With a saturated soil these pine trees actually come down pretty easy, either with the force of the wind or just an old crack in the trunk or the weight of the snow.

       Well I'm headed outside to watch some tourists that are snommobiling in the street . They made a ramp out of one of the berms in front of there house and are flying through the air . Always a good show! Take care , Bob of the boat......talk to you next year

Deep Sea Fishing

    So once again back into the way back era of Woodwardia, in the Santa Cruz Mountains. Ever so often on a weekend my Dad would take me deep sea fishing on one of the charter boats that operated out of the pier at Santa Cruz. This was a big deal for me. He'd wake me up really early and he'd be filling his thermos with coffee and I'd wolf down some cereal. We would whisper in the kitchen as we got our gear together so as not to wake up the rest of the house.Get into the car and head for the ocean while it's still dark.
     We always stopped at this small cafe that was on the pier and have a bite to eat and they had sea sick pills there which I always gulped down . Bitter, but they did the job, never got sick once on the rolling ocean.Make our way down the pier to the boat, lunch pails in one hand and fishing poles and tackle box  in the other.
      These charter boats were all wooden and had many layers of peeling paint...pretty rough,  not fast, but they worked. About 25 to 30 feet in length with the Capt.'s wheel house close to the bow. Right behind that is the the head or bathroom , or thoroughly disgusting place that served as a cubicle to relieve yourself. Benches on the back deck, both port and starboard with each side seating about 5 or 6. A burlap sack tied to the railing in front of you to hold your fish and up by the head several buckets of bait. Squid, Herring and some other chopped up stuff that was un unidentifiable.There was also a bucket of rusty railroad spikes that you used as a weight to get your baited hook down to the bottom.
      So it goes like this . You tie on the railroad spike, tie on an enormous hook, baited with your choice of sea food and slowly lower your line over the side of the boat slowing the descent with your thumb on the large open faced reel. Too fast and the line will "bird nest" and then you've got a real mess. When the line stops spooling out you've hit the bottom. You reel up about 10 feet or so and wait.
      Becuase your hook is so deep in the ocean and cod aren't great fighters you can't really tell when youv'e got one on. I reeled up so many times thinking I had something on and then only to find an empty hook.
       Mostly we caught rock cod or ling cod but once in awhile some other denizens of the deep. The boat heads back to the pier and there's guys there with little cleaning stations set up who will, for a price, clean and wrap your fish.
       So little Bobby goes home with his wrapped up fish, a little sunburned  and real happy for his time spent on the ocean with his Dad .What say Dad , do it again?
       Take care, Bob of the boat

Happy Holidays

   Merry Christmas!!! I want you all to have the best day ever. Hug your partner or call up an old friend or family member. Fix a favorite meal and relax thinking of old friends and days gone by.I'll let Christy sleep in a bit and then start the coffee and a fire.
    We didn't get a tree this year or decorate the house. Just wanted to save a few bucks and not have to deal with all the mess. We went to a party last night and had a really good time. Bobbi and Anthony always put on a great spread of food and there house is always warm and welcoming. Home made tamales, baked ham and lots of other dishes.
     There was traditional Christmas music playing on the TV. Well there was anyway until I got my hands on the remote. With a little help we were able to find my kind of music. The Supremes, Shirelles, Four Tops , Temptations...you know, all that late 50's early 60's early Motown stuff. This gets a bunch of people up and dancing in the living room , myself included. Although to describe my gyrations as dancing would be stretching it a bit. I was actually sort of hopping about the room like a rabbit, a rabbit with bad knees and my arms pumping out from side to side as if to fend off an attacker. Great fun!
   Well eventually someone changed the channel back to more traditional music and everyone sat back down and talked and ate more food. Oh well, we had the place rockin' for a little while there.
    Christy and I are making baby stew today, an old family recipe from my Mom's side of the family. And no it's not made from babys. Small cubed pieces of round steak about the size of a sugar cube. Potatoes cut up the same way. Brown the meat with a diced up onion in a pot with a little oil. Par boil spuds to soften them somewhat. Add water, flour , butter to pot along with worsetrschire sauce and some spices especially pepper (bobby likes his pepper). This, if done correctly makes a thick tasty stew.
    The story goes that my Mom's family cooked this up as they moved to California via wagon train in the 1800's. They used buffalo meat as opposed to round steak and there have been a few other modifications to the recipe as well.
     So have a wonderful Christmas. I'm not a religious guy but I still get swept up in the spirit of this holiday. Gotta go, it's time to open presents and start working on the baby stew. Oh yeah,  almost forgot, the stew has to simmer a long time and needs to be stirred a lot so it doesn't burn to the bottom of the pot. So you'll know where I'll be today, in the kitchen with my sweety.
      Take care and have a very Merry Christmas. Bob of the baby stew

Vegetable Confession

     I'd like to start off by thanking those of you that have taken the time to respond. I've received some compliments, some complaints and some suggestions. All of it much appreciated. I'd like to thank Susi , my former neighbor and forever friend for her letter about calling the Pogonip or freezing fog "the Crawling Eye Fog". So named after the the early 50's movie "The Crawling Eye".Good one Susi! I watched the movie again after you sent that and it brought back lots of memories. As a bonus, in the movie there's a tram car that went up the mountain that is identical to the one I used to work in at Heavenly Valley. So yeah, fog, mountain resort, tram car, crawling eye, it all works for me!
    My sister Linda wrote me about my hatred of Brussel sprouts back when I was a mere sprout myself. When we lived in the Santa Cruz mountains , the rule, for me anyway, was "you can't leave the table until you clean your plate". I had no problem with the meat and potatoes but with the creepy disgusting vegetables, there was a problem, big time!
    I tried feeding Brandy our boxer dog the vegetables under the the table but got caught right away. The dogs big floppy jowls and slurping sounds were a dead give away. So as my Mom was busy in the kitchen and everyone else had left the table I was there left alone , staring at the Lima beans or some other disgusting green abomination. So I came up with this.
    I'm sitting there all by myself at the table , just me and the lonely vegetables. I grab a fork with my left hand, place Lima bean in the curved part of fork, bend back wrist and place right index finger on tines of fork, then while releasing finger and flicking my wrist  the Lima bean takes flight. I always aimed for behind the couch and usually made it, if I didn't , Brandy would snuffle up my error.
    Now I was successful at this for quite some time until I tried it out with a Brussel sprout. The weight and round shape gave this little green flyer a much further trajectory. On my first attempt with a brussel sprout it hit the living room wall leaving a green smudge and bounced off, landing on the couch. Our dog having watched all this saved the day and gobbled up the sprout. I had to come up with a new tactic.
     My favorite game at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk was Skee-Roll. You roll a wooden ball up this ramp and it hits a little bump and flies in the air to hopefully land in the center bulls eye hole where you get the most points . So my Skee -Roll abilities come into play to rid my plate of  the dreaded green spheres. When no ones looking I give the sprout a mighty underhand hurl and watch it bounce across the living room floor headed for its new home under the couch.
     This went on for some time and then the day came when we were moving and taking out the furniture. Uh oh! As the couch is moved into the truck my Mom sees all the dried up vegetables. "Whats this? It looks like little Lima beans and green beans and are these brussel sprouts?". I say, "Well mom, I guess I better go out and help Dad load the truck". Once again I didn't get in trouble for my bad behavior. I was just lucky I guess.What I do know is this ... I bet that old Boxer dog was eating healthier than I was!
      So that's my vegetable confession. Nowadays I  like my little green and yellow buddies and I sure as hell don't have a problem "cleaning my plate". What my Mom said , like so many moms said back then, "their are people starving in Asia, eat your food". Well what a turn around thats become! China owns America and people are starving here. Who'd have thought that would become a reality ?
       The rain snow mix continues with about 4 inches of heavy snow so far. Take care , and eat your vegetables, Bob

A British Sports Car

       So all those many years ago in San Jose , for a time we lived in a nice home in a neighborhood called Willow Glen. It was a large corner house with a three car garage and a persimmon tree in the backyard. The house was located so that I could walk to the local park or going in the other direction I could walk to the little shopping area that had the movie theater where I could watch the monster movies or science fiction films that I loved . The elementary school was also close by so I never took the bus, always walked.
       One day my Dad comes home from work and says "We're moving to Tahoe". Now we had been vacationing at the lake since I was born, in fact my Mom and Dad honeymooned here in '53. I'm all excited about moving to the lake and then my dad brings in a pair of skiis he bought at Mel Cottons, an old sporting good store in San Jose. Now this was a long time ago and ski technology was still really lagging. I had bamboo poles, skiis with cable bindings and black paint for the base and top it all off with rubber ski boots. I'm ecstatic and immediately lace up my rubber boots, clamp myself to the wooden skiis and start shuffling across the living room carpet while poking holes in the rug with my bamboo poles with the metal tips.
       Well learning to ski on snow, not carpet, is another story. What I wanted to tell you was about this same time my Dad buys this used Triumph TR3 little sports car . This thing is tiny. A red two seater convertible, wire spoke wheels with low slung doors. This car is powered by a small four cylinder engine but what it lacks in power it makes up for in handling. It was like a go cart with a red metal body.
        My Dad , back then ,always liked to show off his driving expertise and maybe give his passengers a bit of a scare. He'd leave the driveway going through the gears , winding out that little four cylinder for all it was worth. Waaarrmm, pphh, a quick shift then waaarrmm pop pop..This went on until he got the car to the proper speed and then the fun began.
        When "the coast was clear", He'd crank the wheel into a hard turn ,breaking the rear tires lose and slide the rear end around and then accelerate and do it all over again.Now this car was so low to the street you could put your arm out the low doors and touch the pavement so it made for a pretty exciting ride. There was a small grab handle mounted just above the minuscule glove compartment. That little chrome handle was used alot as this car had no seat belts and there was the constant threat of being thrown over board.
        The little red Triumph was sold before we moved to the lake as it was not exactly what you'd call a "snow car". You don't see too many of these cars on the road anymore, probably rusting away somewhere or in private collections and rarely driven.
                                           .        .        .
        So another storm on the way and it looks to be a mixture of snow and rain and lasting several days.Our driveway is clear now and we're okay with food and the car and truck are full of gas plus I've got extra fuel for the snow blower. I'll report later as to the severity of the precipitation.
        Take care, Bob of the boat

Pogonip Edition

     So for the second morning in a row, the Pogonip has rolled into the basin, at least in this neighborhood anyway.  Pogonip, for those unfamiliar with the term, is a Shoshone and Washoe Indian word for freezing fog. The Washoe believed that the Pogonip could kill you if you breathed it in for too long. The frozen crystals get into your lungs and you die. Fable, myth, truth?     

     I do know I loved skiing on days like this. Heavy fog covering the lake, but as the chairlift climbs in elavation you break through the fog and it's sunny and beautiful. You look down on the fog covered lake and it's all so surreal. Big cotton balls covering the lake and up to about half way up the face of Heavenly Valley. You just left a grey cold damp place and within minutes you're in the sun, floating on the snow carving big turns.

     Then the reverse happens as you ski down to the parking lot. One minute you're in the sun the next you're in the cold and damp fog, making your way to the base in search of the truck, hidden in the mist. Make your way to the old blue Chevy,  unbuckle your ski boots, slip on a pair of tennies and crack a cold beer stashed in the bed of the truck. Wipe your brow from the wet fog and and stare off into the pogonip. Drive home and build a fire, get out of your ski clothes and start dinner as the fog hugs the house.

      Ya know, my Doctor, Physical Therapist and Attorney all told me to not go skiing anymore but there are times where I feel like saying "screw it, I'm going!".  Now this would be a risky proposition as I no longer have insurance and my workman's comp. case has yet to be reviewed by the state. Maybe just a little cross country skiing in the meadow? We shall see, as I don't want to do more damage to my knees and back than I already have from being a garbageman for 31 plus years.

      Looking out the window at the fog and reflecting on all those years of skiing and loving every minute of it makes me happy and sad at the same time. Happy that I was able to do it for so long and having such great memories of my times on the long boards in the sun, and yet sad as I can no longer do it.

      So if you're in the fog, try and get up in altitude, into the sunshine, and if you get high enough, into the sparkling snow with the sun beaming down, dry crunchy snow beneath your skiis and a beautiful ski run ahead of you.   Watch out for the trees on the sides and stay focused on the moment. Big wide fast turns,  rythmically turning left and right, your hair blowing back and your thighs feeling the burn from the work out as you shift your weight from side to side. As you carve a left turn your weight is on the inside edge of your right ski, a small pole plant and a slight lifting or unweighting and you turn to the right,  now with your weight on the left inside edged ski.  At the bottom of the run you're slightly out of breath but exhilerated and rushing towards the chair lift to go back up and do it all over again....and again and again and again.

      Well the pogonip has burned off so I guess I'll go out and fill the birdfeeder and get on with the day. Gotta get ready,  another storm is heading this way on Tuesday. A lot of the snow has melted in the last couple of weeks. My neighbor Ron rode his snowmobile up to Blue Lakes yesterday and said the snow was disapearing fast.  So come on, let it snow!   My back is almost healed up from the last storm!

            Take care, Bob of the boat