Twenty Hours and $152 per Pound

These are the famous hunting cousins, Gary and Larry, in search of chukars in the hills above the Deschutes. Although this blog is all about chukars, you will not see any actual chukars in this post.



After leaving home at 4 a.m., we drove to The Dalles, then south through Dufur and Maupin to the Deschutes River. We left the car by the river, took the canoe across, and hiked up here.



Chukars like rocky spots. I kept to the top where the going is nice and flat while Larry and Gary worked the sides of the canyon.



Despite Larry's attempts to convince me otherwise, I'm not a fan of guns.



After hours of trudging along in the cold, wind, and a bit of rain, Gary had four dead chukars while poor Larry had none. Gary hauled his dead birds around in his backpack, and I never saw them. This is why you won't get a picture of a chukar in this chukar-themed post. As it got later, the rain began to freeze. Everything was slippery as hell. I played the grandma card and elected to slide down the last (and steepest) part. In my defense, I must mention that this is much steeper than it looks and there is ice on the grass. Larry and Gary side-stepped down the hill like a couple of tough guys, but I beat them to the bottom. I would also like to point out that I bought this very nice Marmot raincoat at Sierra Trading Post in Cody, WY. The only thing wrong with it is the color. Larry says this is why he didn't get any birds: my coat scared them away.





It was almost dark by the time we got back to the canoe, and the rain had begun to freeze. Larry ferried me across the river and called for Wilbur the wonder hunting dog (as in "I wonder why we brought him?") to swim over like he's done a million times before. After various attempts to get him to come, Gary and Larry went back across the river in the dark, freezing rain, hog tied Wilbur and strapped him into the canoe.



More fun to come! Larry and Gary loaded the canoe in the freezing rain.



We drove almost to The Dalles before putting on the chains. The road was a sheet of ice.



When we got to The Dalles, we discovered that I-84 had been closed most of the day but had recently reopened. It was 1:00 a.m. before Larry and I made it back home.



Generous Gary gave Luckless Larry a couple of his birds, and Larry made this peanut coconut chukar dish where all the peanuts and coconut fell off the meat and burned in the bottom of the pan.



We enjoyed a hearty meal while tallying the trip expenses: $65 gas; $20 vehicle wear and tear; $25 breakfast in The Dalles; $65 hunting license; $10 boat permit to cross the river; $5 shotgun shells. Larry figures the meat in our chukar dinner cost about $152/pound.

Skagit River Eagles

Larry picked me up after work: 3:00 sharp,



and we drove to Seattle under partly sunny skies.



It was dark by the time we arrived in Seattle, and Larry enjoyed the big city lights.



Larry enjoyed a little time for reading at the Seattle daughters' cozy apartment.



Saturday morning the rain moved in, and we headed NE of Seattle to the Skagit River.



The rain turned to snow, so we stopped at this tiny church to pray for sun.



We slept in the car, spending 14 hours wrapped in the down sleeping bags to avoid freezing to death.



Larry launched the canoe in the snow.



I wore the same life jacket Kyle wore on the Salmon River a couple of summers ago.



We saw bunches of eagles, probably over 100, but I was too afraid of tipping over the canoe to count. They winter on the Skagit River where they eat spawning salmon. Some years there are as many as 800 eagles on a few miles of river.



It's not as cold as it looks. All in all, a beautiful day.

The Great Grocery Challenge

It had been two weeks since we'd been to the grocery store, and Larry and I were out of food.



Instead of buying groceries, we took on The Great Grocery Challenge: which one of us would cave first and go to the store? We both held out for days. It looked like it would be a long, bitter draw. Larry cooked up some of his specialties.

Here you see Larry's famous Rice and Bean Fajitas (the beans and rice had been in the fridge for over a week; the tortillas for several weeks; and the last few drops of sour cream).



The breakfast feature was oatmeal with whipped cream (we were out of milk). Good thinking, Larry!



Sadly, The Great Grocery Challenge ended prematurely because we were having guests over for a little weekend party. Being forced to whip up a few party treats, Larry and I declared a tie and both went to the store. Here you see four of our guests dressed as elves: Marty, Ken, Susan, and Dean.



And now, one last question to ponder: Who drank all the beer, wine, and booze? 1) Larry's son, niece, nephew-in-law and their friends -- OR -- 2) my daughters and their friends -- OR -- 3) Larry's friends who came to our party?





P.S. A special thanks to the mysterious stranger, a young man unknown to Larry and I, who helped clean up after the party. He gets an automatic ticket to the summer raft trip for being so helpful and efficient in the face of an overwhelming mess. Whoever he was, wherever he is, that guy knows how to stack trash and load a dishwasher.

Larry's Friends

Larry invited some of his college friends over. I hadn't met most of them before, so it was very interesting to see what kind of folks he hangs out with.

This is Bernice, an old girlfriend from the University of Oregon. She was his first overnight raft trip "guest" back in 1974.



Another old girlfriend, Julia, is currently head of the radiology department at OHSU and enjoys scrapbooking in her spare time.



This is Joe, Larry's organic chemistry lab partner in 1975-1976. Joe and his wife (below) live in Kalamath Falls where Joe works for Pacific Power.



Robin, Joe's wife, teaches first grade and takes care of their two teenage kids.



This is James. After his father passed away in 1985, James lost the family home due to a gambling and drinking problem. Thanks to Larry's generosity, he's currently living in a spare garage space at the Natural Resources Academy where Larry works.



This is Chuck. He played on Larry's intermural football team. Larry played center and Chuck was a defensive end. They still meet once a month or so for beers and to discuss the salmon fly hatch on the Deschutes.


Larry invited some o

South Coast Special

After Christmas, Larry and I drove south along the Oregon coast, starting out in a hideous rain.



The rain stopped by the time we reached Winchester Bay.



We had sun in Bandon and a great view from the window of our otherwise dumpy hotel.



Larry gathered a bit of gorse, a plant introduced by Scottish settlers in the 1800s to make the Oregon coast feel more like home.



Today gorse is an invasive species known for its thorns and hunted down by environmental enforcers like Larry.



The next day, we visited Cape Blanco reputed to be the westernmost point in the 48 states.



We were there at sunset, after everyone had gone home. With no witnesses, Larry busted through the "No Entry Beyond This Point" signs to stand on the edge of the world.



Not being so brave, I stayed safely away from the edge of the world.



Upon leaving the lighthouse, we found one dead porqupine on the road and this little fellow who hid from us in the grass.



Ken liked Cape Blanco, too.



The next day we continued south.





The New River was formed about 100 years ago when floods remodeled the beach, dumping sand over the mouth of a river. Invasive grass species grew on the dunes, anchoring them in place. These dunes cause the river to flow north for about 12 miles before it finds its way to the ocean and are nesting grounds for the endangered Snowy Plover. In this picture, the dunes are on the left and the ocean just on the other side of the dunes.



These wild turkeys got lucky--Larry left all his guns at home.



We spend a day hiking in Redwood National Park in northern California.





Larry thinks this burl makes a good snack.



The tiny forest plants were amazing, too.





Larry finally got sick of Ken tagging along everywhere we went, so he dropped him off Oregon's highest bridge (about 345 feet). I can't quit seeing poor Ken falling all that way in his little elf suit.