July 27, 2002—Siouxon Falls, Washington

 
After breakfast Dennis, Joe, Carol, Erin, and I headed down to the creek. Joe and I both attempted to cross by hopping rock to rock, but I was thwarted early on by my failure to climb atop a log extending into the water. I ended up swinging over the log entirely, holding on upside down briefly, then dropping feet first into the water. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I exist exclusively for your amusement. Anyway, Joe bopped over and back without issue, and eventually, I completed the same feat, though I was already a little waterlogged from my initial failure. Ah, Comedy, thy name is Ty.

After lunch we left camp and took the dogs for an extended hike along the trail. Since we didn't have to carry packs for this excursion, going was fairly easy other than blisters from hiking boots experienced by some travellers. And oh the sights to see: Several beautiful waterfalls, excellent swimming holes, and fishing spots. Just walking along the forest trail breathing in the clean mountain air seemed to lift the soul.

We returned to camp, ate dinner, and built a campfire. The logs we used as seats around the fire were a little tough on the tush, but that's only because we spent hours talking, dreaming up a list of potential baby names, roasting marshmellows, and simply enjoying the moments.

The clouds cleared, the stars came out, and we slept.

 July 26, 2002—Siouxon Falls, Washington

 
Dennis, Joe, Carol, Erin, and I packed up our gear, loaded the dogs in the Trooper, and took off for Indian Heaven. Our plan was to hike and camp through the high mountain lake country over the course of a pleasant July weekend.

This plan was relatively quickly thwarted by more mosiquitos than I have ever seen. You could've bathed in Off or Deet, and it wouldn't make a difference. We got about a mile up the trail into Indian Heaven before stopping mid-trail and, at Dennis' suggestion, holding an informal pow-wow about the wisdom of continuing. We quickly determined that despite our intense love for the great outdoors, that immensity of feeling did not extend to the thousands of little flying creatures who had descended upon us like locusts from a bad B-movie and who were, even as we discussed matters, attempting to suck the very blood from our veins.

Now both individually and collectively, we're not quitters. But we're not a group of idiots either, so I have no qualms in saying that we got the heck out of Indian "Heaven" as fast as we could. We discovered on the drive out that the guidebook said that "mosquitos could be a problem in July" around Indian Heaven. More precisely, they'd probably skeletonize a cow.

So our hearty band of adventurers were forced to think on the fly, and guidebook pages a-turnin' as we drove down from the mountains and away from the locusts, we hit upon the inspired idea of Siouxon Falls, part of the Gifford Pinchot National Forest. (Later research determined that the name is pronounced "soo-sun," but we called it "sue-on" for the duration of the trip.)

When we arrived at the Siouxon Falls trailhead late Friday afternoon, we were virtually the only car in the parking lot. We did a moderate hike of a couple miles and set up camp on an overlook not too far from the creek below Horseshoe Creek Falls. We dined on fajitas the first night, with all concerned agreeing that (1) getting out of Indian Heaven was a really, really good idea and (2) these fajitas were, like, the best camp food ever. I continue to be very impressed how we turned defeat to victory in such short order.

We slept that night under overcast skies, with the white noise of the waters and the occasional creak of the trees bending in the wind lulling us toward dreamland.

 July 25, 2002—Battle Ground, Washington

 
I spent most of the day working on All Along, a song I wrote back in March but only now have gotten around to recording. I finished most of it, but I didn't get the vocals done, so it's gonna have to wait until next week. I did, however, managed to get a bunch of tracks (without effects) on Zeke, so I'm somewhat hopeful that Zeke may prove sufficent at least in the short-term for album production. Not having to spend $3k on a new G4 system this year would make me pretty happy. Whether a new G4 system itself might make me happier than saving the $3k is an open question.

Speaking of saving, I've been keeping a running total of the wealth percentage for us this year, and so far, so good. My goal has been five percent for this year, and we're currently running about 5.5 percent. Although we'll have a lot of expenses in the back half of the year, I'm hopeful that we'll meet our goal. Next year I'm going to aim for 7.5 percent, and in 2004 I'll be focused on 10 percent. That all may prove unrealistic, but god knows it's a game I love to play.

Erin and I headed up to Battle Ground for a fantastic salmon and rice dinner with Joe. Carol and Dennis joined us later in the evening so that we could load the backpacks in preparation for our three day campout at Indian Heaven. We'll be leaving tomorrow morning after a night of comfortable rest at the five star Hotel Kann. Expect to see some images of the trip posted online come early next week.

 July 20, 2002

 
Our friends Darci and Scott came down from Vancouver for an afternoon lunch. We'd not seen them in several years—since our return to Oregon at least—so this was a good chance to catch up and give them the house tour. Scott has his own construction clean up company, and, in light of yesterday's remodeling experience, I had a lot of questions for him. Given all the building going on in Washington it sounds like he's had no trouble finding clients and keeping busy.

Just a brief comment about the continuing plunge of the stock market. I don't know when this thing will bottom out, but investors should have confidence that it will. If you're invested in A-rated companies and if you've diversified your portfolio, the current market doldrums represent nothing more than a spectacular (perhaps once in a lifetime) buying opportunity.

Good companies will continue to make money, and shareholders will ultimately be the beneficiaries of that. If you're bemoaning the collapse of your tech-heavy stock portfolio, I can't help you. Most of those never made a profit let alone toyed with an A-rating from ValueLine. Whether you knew it or not, you weren't investing, you were gambling. That's a shame, but that's why knowing and researching where you're investing your money is important.

I don't mean that to sound harsh, I'm just tired of the news media presenting us with story after story of people who had all their savings invested in Enron. Look, I had some exposure (via one mutual fund) to WorldCom. Did it whack me a bit? Sure, but only a bit, and that's sort of the point.

Anyway, those interested can still find my Investing Resources help in the Opinions section.

 July 19, 2002

 
I have long admired my friend Joe's courageousness when it comes to tackling home improvement projects. He'll build decks, fences, gardens, and what have you without blinking an eye. The rest of us could do these things too—though we might not do them as well—it's just that Joe is brave enough to do them, whereas most people are not. (I do think that Joe's work, especially in the woodworking end of things is much better than average, though.)

So I had the good fortune to spend today helping Joe tear out the main living room window in his house and frame in the openings for the three windows which will replace it. I know Joe appreciated my help, for he said so, but I'm telling you that I'm not sure that I didn't get the better end of the deal. I received great first-hand experience with drilling, sawing, bracing, insulating, framing, hammering, stapling, sheetrocking, and so on. On top of this, Joe's dad came down to help out, and he's a construction genius (not to mention a really nice guy). I had the opportunity to talk with him extensively about all manner of building topics.

By the end of the day we had everything ready for the new windows. They're on order and will be here in a couple weeks, and I'm really looking forward to seeing the final results. Joe, his dad, and I agreed that the new windows will be a huge improvement for the living room and kitchen in terms of view and light, but I think the bigger story for me is actually that some of Joe's courage may have rubbed off. Our bathroom remodel this fall isn't looking nearly so daunting, and for that, the education of this experience, and the chance to hang out with Joe and his dad, I'm grateful.

 July 18, 2002

 
After a weak breakfast at Barr's, Dad and I headed out to Rowe Creek Reservoir in hopes of finding some water. We didn't find a lot, but we found enough to fish in, so fish we did. Dad hauled up a couple dinky catfish from the bank, but they were undersized so he threw them back. I had a little more luck using Dad's float tube to paddle out to the middle of the lake, kick back and cast from there. I landed one 10" trout (which Dad later teased me was "only about half an inch shorter than the one Bret got last time") and had several nibbles beside that.

Unfortunately, Dad's float tube proved very pleasantly seductive, and kicking about in the cool reservoir on a hot summer day was too powerful a pull for me to ignore. Yes, that's right, I'm an idiot once again: Sunburn city is my new home.

We decided to do a late lunch in Dayville in search of better fishing, since Rowe Creek Reservoir really was dramatically lacking in water, but as we turned onto the road next to the south fork of the John Day River, our next intended fishing destination, it quickly became clear that we'd be thwarted. The south fork didn't have enough water for rafts, fish, or much of anything else. (See Dad's comment on this in Quotes.)

It was in Dayville that we learned that one of the Oregon forest fires was within 10 miles to the south (the direction we'd been heading) and that the town was on an evacuation alert. Even better, we were informed that a SWAT team had been called in from Bend because some yahoo had holed up with a gun and was threatening to commit suicide—only he didn't want to do it, he wanted the police to shoot him.

(At one point in our meal a local farmer came into the restaurant complaining loudly about the local sheriff, and how it took the sheriff 14 shots to kill a buffalo and how now he won't just shoot this guy but needs to call for help from Bend to shoot this guy. The farmer wanted to start a recall campaign to get a new sheriff. Dad and I found this all very funny.)

So, at the end of the day, Dad, I, and 10" trout on ice headed back to Salem. We would've liked to find a few more of his fish brothers to have over for dinner in Salem, but given the threat of fire, the lack of water, and the appearance of suicidal gunmen, I think we did OK.