F3 Tornado in Wallowa

I was camped about 5 miles out and saw the clouds. Something prompted me to go into town. The road was covered with leaves...a curious sight.

The aftermath showed the hail

was coming horizontally

See all the leaves?

Dents all across the side

7

The old Methodist Church

Whiskey Creek Rd

It's the shortcut from Wallowa to highway 3. It enables one to avoid the town of Enterprise. Maps said either way was about 53 minutes. I've managed to stretch it out to more than 24 hours with an overnight atop a hill with a better view than the one below of the Eagle Cap Wilderness. But at this point I don't even bother trying. Maybe with a 4x5 digital, but not with a $900.00 android phone.

This stump, about 30 inches acrosst, prompted speculation about what the forest might've looked like.

Iconoclasts...Providing Perspective

Every now and then I meet a live one, one that stands out from the crowd. Such was the case the other day when I stopped into the Wallowa Band Nez Perce Trail Interpretive Center looking for art and information on the upcoming pow-wow.

Now, one of the things I've noticed about the folks I'm generalizing about here is: They're much more open. Interrogation doesn't phase 'em the way it does some folks who after a few questions start acting as if they have better things to do. And so it was with Ms. Wynans.

We'd been at it for about ten minutes (just gettin' rollin') when I noticed she kept her hand to her throat and her voice was a bit hoarse, as if she maybe had a cold. Concerned, I asked if it was painful for her to talk. The next thing I knew she was telling me about her tracheotomy. And not only is she a cancer survivor, but she also teaches school.

Now this is unusual. I mean, how many tracheotomists do you know? And how many of them are in public relations and when they're not, put themselves in front of a crowd of youngsters on a daily basis?

And that takes me back to the title of this post. I AM biased, but maybe you too have noticed how women come out the other side of adversity more adroitly than men?

I know a couple of guys who've been to the hospital lately. While the trips weren't minor (we've reached that age, don'chya know?),  the fear and accompanying complaining was terrible!

By contrast, I've known a dozen women who've undergone major surgery, chemotherapy, lost their partners/husbands (divorce and/or death) and, although they didn't cake-walk through it, their flailings exhibited a level of aplomb -- something the guys never had a clue about.

As the conversation progressed, it became evident Ms. Wynans had NOT settled for the conventional responsibilities and materialism. "I mean," she said, "how BORING to do nothing but the same as everyone else." As one who likes to wring the life out of every moment, I watch for folks of similar attitude.....and they're rare.

As we talked she took a fan down off the wall. She'd found it at a garage sale and, since it was hot in the office, she began fanning herself. I admired the fan and after a bit asked about whether it was old or not. She began to play -- hiding behind it, parodying a geisha. Her smile conveyed delight in the moment and made her coquetry wonderful!

So there we were, probably an hour (or two?) into the conversation and laughing like a couple of children!! It's been three weeks now and I'm STILL cogitating over what it is that makes simple fun so delightful. So maybe you'll wanna skip the ruminations that follow, but here goes:

Play requires a willingness to be vulnerable and most are too afraid of what others will think. Some will play with their significant other, but sometimes not even then. But it takes more than courage. (Courage: perseverance when you know you SHOULD be afraid.) It takes "satiable curtiosities" about one's self and what one might become when given an opportunity to grow. And it needs a person who is sensitive to the player's nuances...as individuals and appreciative of their beauty....as human beings.

And our conversation had that feeling. And in the midst of this we touched on immigration. And she said I sounded like Luis Urrea. I didn't know of Mr. Urrea's work, but several days later something (subconscious?) saw The Devil's Highway  in the Halfway library sale. (I'd bucked hay there as a teenager and went to see if it had changed; not much.)

The Devil's Highway talks a bit about some of the reasons for the mundanity; it's heart-breaking; it'd be so simple to change. And yet, everyone goes on swallowing what they're spoon-fed, doing what they're taught, what they're told.

Travel is fun. But it's people like Ms. Wynans that make it a real pleasure. Oh, the landscapes, sunsets and wildlife (where?!!) are enthralling, but I relish the moments when I encounter someone who gives me pause for thought. And it's amazing how the sunshine seems brighter and the moonlight more captivating.

Iconoclasts: Perspective AND glimmers of hope.


12/24/15 - I'm getting the Solstice cards out and couldn't find Ms. Wynans' address. I went online to look up The Interpretive Center's and discovered her obituary. I had hoped to see her again in 2016. I wish you could have met her. She was amazing!!

Tamkaliks - Wallowa, Oregon

Ms. Wynans - Office Manager & Coquette

Tamkaliks, the Wallowa Band of the Nez Perce celebration began Friday evening, but I'd driven back from Halfway and was tired.

Saturday was bright and hot...a fine day, but a potter told of how she'd lost much of her ware Friday afternoon when a tornado blew. Several other folks had sustained damage and one artist who had two booths had given up and left.

I was moved by the Grand Entrance which included many of the dancers and attendees. The coming-of-age ceremony for a young man who'd gotten his first salmon was almost unbearable as he was given center-stage and tasked with telling the story of his catch. He paused so long there were a couple of encouraging whoops. Eventually he made it through and his accomplishment (bravery at that moment) was recognized by a round of generous applause.

Around 3:00 pm after enjoying a bowl of the best menudo I've ever had, I decided it was too hot and, boarding my trusty R.V., headed west.

Somewhere around 75 miles later I realized I'd forgotten my mail. I was on a back highway with practically no traffic, MY kind of road, and figured it could wait another day. And as luck would have it I found a beautiful copse next to the Grand Ronde River for camp. I spent Sunday driving back and was glad to find the spot in Lostine Canyon (more photos on Flickr -- here) available.

All the driving took it's toll. When Monday morning dawned I was reminded of what it felt like to HAVE to get up.

By noon I'd managed to get bathed (a MAJOR accomplishment), packed and into town. After getting the mail and some groceries I stopped in to visit with Ms. Wynans, Office Manager for the Wallowa Band Nez Perce Interpretive Center. We'd had a fun visit several days before in which she told about supervising the pow-wow and I wanted to congratulate her on a fine event. We chatted about her new fan (see image); she'd given a demo of one during my previous visit and someone (not me), apparently having heard of her proclivity, had, over the weekend, left her a new one.

It's a pretty area with interesting people. I look forward to visiting again.


12/24/15 - I'm getting the Solstice cards out and couldn't find Ms. Wynans' address. I went online to look up The Interpretive Center's and discovered her obituary. I wish you could have met her; she was amazing! 

Halfway Or Bust

There's a big pow-wow comin' up in Wallowa, Oregon next weekend. It's a Nez Perce get together called Tamkaliks. I'm hoping to find some contemporary Native artwork, a rarity in these parts.

In the meantime I thought I'd visit Halfway, a little town I bucked hay in in my late teens. I took the scenic route, an undesignated road (hwy 39?) that leaves highway 350 about 7 miles East of Joseph.

You just never know who you're going to meet.

Unsure of which road I wanted, I pulled off onto one that looked likely and flagged down an oncoming truck. The man who leaned out wanted to know why I was going to Halfway. I explained about my youthful employment history. He said he was 40 years old in those days and now 83. He asked my age. He then went on to say he'd just come from a day of ranch work. He added that he'd rolled an ATV a few weeks ago and fractured 4 ribs. I asked what he attributed his stamina to. He said, "I'm afraid to quit." He then said to follow him as he was going to the road to Halfway.

A few miles down he pulled over and signaled me to pull in next to him. We got out and commenced. He'd been a designer of the first jetliner, the Boeing 707. He'd also hand-made parts for the next version, the Boeing 737. He said he'd grown tired of city life and moved out here some years back.  His daughter had gotten her Bachelors & Masters degrees in history and after several years recently gotten her Ph.D. at the age of 48. She now teaches at two Universities and at an online high school.

A deer stepped out onto the highway and that led us to the the wolf problem. They'd lost eight cows, including a bull, to the wolves this year. I asked how the wolf issue got going and he said it was the bureaucrats back east.

We were about to part ways when he asked if I played baseball. I mentioned my head-on collision when each of us yelled "Mine!!" but neither stopped. He then said he had alot of things in his truck and reaching in, pulled out an old catchers mitt. "My Dad bought this in 1923," he said. I admired it and told about my first-baseman's mitt.

He said he'd shown it to a friend the other day and the fellow accused him of having stolen his. It turned out the man's grandfather had given him an identical mitt and he thought this fellow had somehow gotten a hold of it. As seems normal in this part of the world, misunderstandings and disputes are quickly cleared up without the gunplay that so often accompanies similar incidents in New Mexico.

About Halfway: There was a bookstore, a drugstore and a gift shop or two. At some point the town had been "discovered" and was populated by a plethora, similar to Portal, AZ, with retired Ph.Ds. An interesting place...if you know someone.