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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Small Retro Trip Report, featuring Boom 'n' Dave, who "managed" their way into this super-top-secret and bona fide intelligence-gathering spot that Ma Bell used to keep tabs on us.
That intrusion, however, is now a thing of the past. Today they do it with computers and "they" are "the friends of Tom Carlottabull."
BELIEVE IT OR NOT!
I never have gone up there, myself. I vlewed the spot from the air on my 45th birthday in a private plane, though. Don't remember how it looked.
As a pilot for the Army in the war, Boomer trained at various San Joaquin fields, like Tulare. He didn't fly over the Sierra Nevada at all, just over the valley. He remarked once on how f*#ked-up the air was even back then over the place. You can really tell the ground atmosphere's junk from up there.
Dave Lemmel passed away at a very young age, in his early fifties. He was a good mechanic and purchased Dad's Goliath from him. We had a VW to replace that French ride. Then Dave was forced out of PT&T when the Bell System was broken up and things were vastly re-organized. He took an early retirement, a pittance, really, and was a bus driver for VIA from then on, hauling bodies to and from Yosemite and Merced. I never knew him except to say hello.
Dad's brother, Chuck Bermingham, was trained by PT&T as a technician, who serviced and troubleshot equipment at sites like Mt. Bullion. I believe he did work on it once and stayed at our place while he was thus employed. He had more training time than anyone I know. He loved it, because it was easy for him to absorb and he got much better pay as a result, nearly every time he trained he qualified for more money.
RIP, Chuck, Boomer, and Dave, three company stand-up guys, along with Grampa Bill, who ran things in the Redding "plant."
As long as I'm talking about my dad--
The gentleman being seved is Dad's best friend, Nick Puglizevich, who owned half of Gus 'n' Nicks Liquors and Delicatessen in Merced. His partner, Gus Drumm, retired AF brass, was his partner, and he played golf with Boomer and his other buddies every Wednesday for thiry years or so. And his wife, Bunny, was one of Mom's best drinking buddies. There must have been close to fifty people there that night, boozing it up. Nick and Mike ended up in the pool fully clothed. I remained sober as a judge, just not straight.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Anent the recent musings and conversation about conservation of cattle range, not against encroachment by the pistachio, necessarily, on the plains, but in the footies.
But the article does say Merced County, so this will probably be addressed as well in meetings, one hopes.
I'll explain why this concerns me so much. I grew up here on Olive Ave. back when we had a view of the hills out of our bedroom window, including the coneheads. It was part of growing up, seeing the view erased by actual housing tracts like they grew in Sacramento in the fifties. It is still happening and it's because of the burgeoning population in the central valleys, like it happened in Orange and LA Counties, etc. This is the selfish aspect.
The righteous aspect is that without an automobile-oriented infrastructure, none of this would be possible. It's why I have been so reluctiant to buy a car until recently, in part. I figure my dues have been paid, my C footprint is significantly smaller than many folks', and I'm only going to be driving occasionally as I age, presumably.
I've gone past the angry, and am simply depressed and chagrined that the people in charge have no clues, for the most part.
Fossil Climber, it's with envy that I think of where and how you and Cindy live and of many of the posters here who live in out-of-the-way spots or locales that are in no danger from encroachment, I feel the same about your situations--envious.
One galling note, the meeting scheduled for Modesto is being held in the Pistache Room! Haw-Haw-Haw!
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Donini got a gift of pickled beets from me that I got from Geri. Can't beet that.
A Courtship Story.
They are living in sin, OMG! At that age, too!
It's nothing to be embarrassed about.
This woman's a lot of fun to talk to about country ways.
And Norman, "Mr. Olive," was in the Reservoir Dogs movie, but his scenes were all cut.
He cussed too much and kept sucking down martinis.
This shook Quentin, and it stirred him to action.
"You're sh#t-canned, old man, so f*#k off!"
"I'm sh#t-faced, you punk, so stick a pickle up your butt!"
BELIEVE IT OR NOT!
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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ATTENTION MUSICAL MIGRATIONS TODAY FEATURES A MUSICAL TRIBUTE TO
the great and humble bumble bee of the guitar, uke, and other fretted instruments who recently got deceased from something deadly, I guess. I don't know when (recent) or how he got the chop, but his juke-box at home is probably jammed with goodies.
HE'S ECLECTIC, NON-ELECTRIC AND A GOOOOOOD SINGER, TOO.
http://www.ashevillefm.org/musical-migrations
[Click to View YouTube Video]This video's shot at the Freight and Salvage, a place I frequented in 1968/1969.
It's just fate I never was able to hear Mr. BOB but I got happy when this guy, a freak named Shine, played there one night. I was with this lady who played (Diane) guitar well and we sat and listened to Shine and she calmly told me he had been one of her instructors. Then he broke a string. He didn't care. He kept playing with aplomb and the rest of his set was kind of un-memorable, as these things are after forty-some years.
John Shine/She's Looking Better Every Beer
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=stRi_9qxNoM&list=PLA2A1AC231A451607
I wish I'd have waited for Diane to finish school before getting serious about settling down and marrying. Fate dictated otherwise.
If you check out the song on the video which plays right after this beery lullaby, it's called If I Knew Then and only kinda says what I mean.
Howdy, Gypsy!
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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Well I'll try to ketchup.
Meanwhile SuperTopoGigio
Keep you fingers crossed, I am.
There was a tall woody object
everything was love (past tense)
Along came man with fire
[Click to View YouTube Video]
Boomer's photo. San Miguel Mtn. in the far background. Otay Mtn. is to the south. Otay?
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Hey, Pineapple!
You got chops like these guys.
Your art is so cool.
He's Not Timid on the Stage, as you may or may not know.
Listenin' to Our TT, 'tis a joy in the morning, with his finely-tuned buddies Don Reid and the drummer (f*#kinwhat's his name?) and (I missed the mid-week Facelift campfire melodies last fall) APPARENTLY needs no stage but his own stool and a fire.
Show me the way to the stage, man.
And which way to the bar?
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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What can the schmeglies make of it?
Manure sooo right!
They shitnot themselves.
I bet a lots of times that they even get a turd party to watch the watchers.
As for mice, man, I hasta tellya in pictures what I got up to today.
Yesterday it was trees, a tractor, a train, and a trailer.I got yelled at from this property about two minutes after I took this photoid. I had stooped to shoot this wall. She thought I might have been up to something, because her family lived next door to the yard in front of which I was standing.
Who drinks Regal Pale anymore, anyway? Do they still even brew it? Or is it Keysnot Light now? RP is way down the chain, cheap beer-wise/compared-to-anything-wise, at least several links down from PBR, which, as we all know, tastes good even if it's warm.
Nuffa that. This aft was spent sniffing tarweed between here and Snelling/Merced River bottoms, which was where I started out to visit, maybe even a run up to introduce myself to Khanom in Greeley Hill, but that's gonna hafta be tomorrow. I was seriously sidetracked by a sheep's foot sitting on the side of G Grade/Snelling Road.
AT&T is laying cable along the east side of the road. there was a mast set up along the side of the road before I came to the CAT/sheep's foot/feet/whatever. I passed them by as I was going elsewhere, and even though I was tempted to stop, I didn't. I took photos of the CAT, came back to see if the mast was still up, but they'd pulled in the mast and outriggers and gone to the yard by then.
I did something that I never do. Even though this acreage (it's a damned section of unfenced land, looked like, after I got to where I could tell) is not posted, I remember taking photos from here and there is a gate which related it was not permissible to pass tresses here. F*#k that.
There was a ready-made mouse hole in the fence by the culvert below the bridge sitting on the Old Snelling Road, the one that followed contours that had been used since Snellingers needed to get into Merced City.
Snellingites? Snellingians? Snelling-welling citizens?
Actually, Delores wrote this book, Merced Falls, Delores Cabezut-Ortiz, MCHS, 1988. That's a historical society effort, one of the first books they sponsored, I think.
Anyhow, this creek which the old bridge spans (so does the new one, but it's just 3 culverts) has no name that I know. I did my "watercourse routine," like I did at Camp 4 and with Sentinel Creek to some extent, and hope to do with Tenaya Creek later, after Facelift.
Harley handkechief. I forgot to snag my ballcap on the way out of Middle Earth, so I realized my head was gonna fry and did the only thing of which I could think.
[This last grammatic construction sucks, does it not? I can't begin to think of another which lends itself so easily to forget about. About which to forget. No prepositions at the end of a sentence. It's the most ridiculous preposition proposition that I've ever head of.]
I traipsed, I traveled, I tramped, I trod,
And then I scared up an owl, by god.
I would attribute this to Athena, a godess,
Since it's an owl which guards her bodice.
That might be the wise thing to do,
Attribute the owl's presence to you,
Who sits gracefully, faithfully, alone,
Guarding the place I call home.
I did not get the shot of the owl. He sprinted away before I could aim the camera. I sat under his silly willow and took silly pix.Not Athena. Maybe Minerva, with other wisdom.
I'm headin' for the rack!
Mo' lata on the excursion, my version.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Before I toddle off to the sac, here is today's sunsight from the fifth floor balcony. And I also give you the bird free of charge.thought you might like to see my perch.
Falcons coming later!Hype? Nope.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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Crashed in Otay Lake, avoided dam, during WWII.
Resurrected 2010.
Shipped to Florida for restoration.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Speaking of ponds, wait.
I need to go to Greeley Hill right now.
I'll be back.
But here.
Yep, another effin' vulture-looking feathery object...
Sorry, it slipped in.
After the episode out in the hillsides, I drove back townwards and hit the local hot fishing spot at Lake Yo. More on everything. More Taco Sauce, please, zBrown.
Gonna go check some Mariposa County veggies out with the Rev.
Bye, said the stanger.
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Marlow
Sport climber
OSLO
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Mouse
This is a test. Do you get this one? One thing I can tell you - the old man is on his death-bed still carrying the fire...
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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Say all you ballwhackers and ballwhacker fans.
Rebounding from a loss to end pool play, [Chula Vista] Eastlake rode six strong innings from Nick Mora and a late offensive surge to a 12-0 win over Nevada on Friday in the Western Region semifinals at Al Houghton Stadium
One more win and they're off to Penn.
Could be both the positive and negative we've been hearing about lately.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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Aug 10, 2013 - 12:45pm PT
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O T A Y! Otay Mtn. looking west to Point Loma.
Otay Mountain Border Patrol Vehicle from Mexican perspective (2010)
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Aug 10, 2013 - 04:22pm PT
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Well, TT, it is indeed an osprey haven, and this has been confirmed this morning by older bro that the birds around his place are the same brand. That was suggested to me by Marcel last week that the one I shot out at Mike's on the Merced was an osprey. There are eagles out there on occasion. They seem to be there on a migratory basis, though. We are speaking of bald eagles. I knew that you'd likely know.
And zBrown, have you indeed been to the top of the peaks whose markers you posted? How else get the photos, you may ask in rebuttal. I know. Just want the facts. Likee the view from Otay.
And NO, Marlow. I can't get the joke, if joke it is....Give me a little longer, though, because I just returned from a journ to Greeley Hill and Merced Falls. Our parents ashes were let gently slip into the waters of the lower Merced River. We were represented by the three generations of descendants and it went smoothly. The ashes had been blessed by catholicity and God was on our side of the river for a short time, at least.
Things went with no hitch. Wind direction, check. Slow troll speed, then dead in the water. Then AWAY THEY GO. RIP, mom & dad. True love ways.
This water's as cold (tested, by golly, by authorities) as Pinecrest Lake and Tenaya. It comes straight out of the bottom of Lake McClure. Brrr...
[Click to View YouTube Video]
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throwpie
Trad climber
Berkeley
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Aug 10, 2013 - 04:43pm PT
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Adios indeed. I've informed my daughter, with her approval, that I want to go over a Valley waterfall. Not important which one...I just want to take that ride. Hopefully my ashes will have some self awareness as I'd hate to miss out.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Aug 10, 2013 - 08:20pm PT
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I'll keep that in mind, cuz urinal pal.
Put my cremains on the Mt. Clark beach; I won't be too easy to reach for a while
But in many long years they might reach the rapids down at Happy Isles.
We're all fertilizer or fish food
Even when we're in a good mood
It just doesn't matter any
Just put on each eye a penny
It beats being barbecued or stewed.
Like I said, I was in Greeley Hill visiting Camp Runamucka, the Rev's hideout.
Jeffrey Stubbs was their guest last week for the week. He has a travelling lifestyle, to say the least. He had a couple of boxes of books which he'd gotten in VERO BEACH, FLORIDA. That's Lem Mathis' (the Rev's dad) home town.
It is quite a good selection of books that was left with the Rev. Both his dad and mine were pilots in WWII and one book I found is Old Man in a Baseball Cap, a series of momologues in everyday speech about the experiences of a man who flew bombers over Italy and other spots. That was a wierd thing to find the day before Boomer's ashes were settled.
Stubbs is a cousin of the late Ned Gillette, murdered by bandits in China while on a sojourn there. the Rev's ski collection contains a pair of red Kastles which belonged to Neddly, given to him by JS.
There are lots of things the Rev has collected over the years, aside from his congregation.
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