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! 

An Ale By Any Other Name....

Monday morning. Usually there's a good crowd of friendly folk.

I'm more an LSD guy, but lately it's been alot easier to buy beer. My beer drinking began with a friend's home-brewed stout. It took years for me to wonder, but eventually the question germinated: what makes a stout stout? Something about the name -- Terminal Gravity Brewery -- prompted me to think it was here I might find an answer.  

The back story: I was in the San Pedro (pronounced Pee-droh) Yacht Club the other day looking to sign on in exchange for a ride down to Panama. San Pedro is Los Angeles' main port and I was in the Club vetting  the skippers and vessels when the discussion turned to different kinds of beer. I was having my usual, a stout, but when asked what KIND I liked, I was at a loss. I rattled off a couple of names but wasn't sure if it was the wheat, barley, malt, or, as in the case of donuts, the hand-oil that made the difference.

The Brewery Proper

Now to T. G. Brewery. In answer to my question, Dean Duquette, one of three owners, gave me a tour of the brewery. By the end of a fascinating, fact-filled hour I realized the answer was too complex for my limited typing ability. But in a nut-shell: a stout is an ale made with a darker roasted malt.

Dean Duquette

And if you're at the South end of Enterprise, Oregon (on the road to Joseph) stop in...and just drink it. It's good. And there's music on the veranda some days.

STOP!!! STOP!!! A Thrift Store!!!!

Like myself, many others find entertainment in the thrift stores along the way. If you happen to be on highway 95 between Grangeville and Cottonwood, Idaho, you'll find a fine collection at Second Hand Treasures located in the old Fenn store...on the right if you're going west. It sits back from the highway about 300 feet (.1 Km) on a rural road.

I, being Lucky Herrmann, happened along at the serendipitous moment when a bevvy of women were disembarking. It was Saturday, a day they're normally closed but they'd chosen THIS one as Women's Excursion Day.  Apparently not resenting my maleness, they beneficently allowed me entrance. I found some great German comic books from the early sixties. As we were reveling during the cash exchange she commented that Fenn is a German Community. (Day're effry vare!!!)

Hours are stated (on the business card) as Tuesday - Friday 10 - 4, but the proprietress said it was open when it's open and closed when it isn't. All proceeds support Summit Academy (The link is NOT an expression of support. I'm a devout agnostic.)

AaWWW MaaaAAAAaaannnn!!! (excerpted w/o permission from Captain Underpants)

I passed the first anniversary of my brush with helium the other day. I have to say, it went by more lightly than that batch of refried beans I whomped up.

I'd read Final Exit when it first came out and was enthused when some years later they discovered helium.

Last year I was 58 and had had enough. However, soon after I opened the valve I began to feel as if a cloud of bees was descending around muh hedbone. 'Twas uncomfortable. I shut off the tank, waited an hour for it (muh hed) tuh clear, drove to the store for a bottle of gin and had a few. Then I tried again. Same thing.

I was annoyed for several months. I called one of the more vocal proponents, a physician, to alert him of the "side effect." He gruffly said, "No one's ever survived it. That's impossible." End of conversation.

I'm writing this to share (in that beauuteeful way) with all of you who are looking forward to this option.
As an aside: I suspect a high level of physical pain might over-ride the discomfort. But it was sufficient to thwart me  -- undt vonce vee Churmenz put our (alleged) minds to sompsing....!!

It was disappointing to learn it ain't the eezee-peezee transition it's touted to be.

Perhaps this explains why some people flail their arms.

Good luck.

Clear & Pure

Don't hit jus' look so modest settin' thar? Evry now an' then yuh stumble ontuh a product that does MORE than youse expects...an' this hyarz one uv 'em.

Yessir, ah bin washing muh hairz wid dis stuff fer sev'ral weeks now and ah'm tellin' YOU! Hits even taken the skid marks outten mah drawerz (underpants).

Interestingly, it makes very little suds, same as yucca root. But it gets things clean....same as yucca root.

"One ounce per load," they said when I called to inquire (laundry, not hairz). I teaspoon for hair....mebbe less.

Use as directed. Mileage may very. Offer void where prohibited bylaw.

They Seen Yuh Comin' - Laundry Prices in Enterprise, Oregon

Boy Howdy!! The Fambly-style Laundromat & Carwash in Enterprise (in the NE corner of Oregon) is $2.50 for a regular size washer and $6.00 for the commercial type that goes round. Tha's the moz 'spensive ah've ever seed. And the dang thang hung up after muh 2nd qwartr.

Ah wuz worried ah wuz gonna hav tuh moov tuh uh-nudder musheen when hit finely straightened up. The owner 'splained the problem tuh me, but hit didn't make hit none easier. Small town surprises...and not a Holiday Inn (No Surprises...remember?) in sight.

I CAN recommend Dollar Stretcher grocery. In spite of the name ("The name sucks," said the owner, "but we're gettin' 'em trained.") They have local bison (excellent!) and beef.

The organic food store is next door. Good stuff there too, Maynard.

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.