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One of the things I’m most grateful to my parents for is teaching me to have a strong work ethic. It’s funny, when you own your own business you can easily work 80 hours a week because you’re putting that time into your own dream- into yourself. My parents owned their own business and I saw how hard they worked. I admired it. But they always took the time to make sure the camper was packed and we were on the road almost every weekend to camp. We were in 4-H and not only did we raise sheep, my parents were involved as leaders. To this day they have been the most entertaining and awesome of people for dressing up as munchkins and doing a wrong, just wrong dance/sing along to “We Represent The Lollipop Kids” from The Wizard of Oz during one of our meetings. I can still remember my dad wearing one of my striped shirts, way too tight on him, with his hair slicked over his head and my mom wearing an equally hilarious outfit and entertaining a bunch of us in the 4-H group. I don’t know if I have enough space in my letter to really give justice to my sister Dawn and her best friend Christy doing a totally choreographed dance routine to a Salt N Pepa song at that same meeting, so I’ll just leave it at that. But that night, that silliness always reminds me of the most important things in life. The important lesson of: Enjoy your life. Even if you think you don’t have the time, do it anyway. Lately I have been going through a major life change. Since I’ve worked for myself or by myself for so long, I rely a lot on my passions to fuel my work. Most people work and then do something passionate to relieve the stress. I’ve been doing it backwards. I always think about my parents as great examples. My dad really took pride in his work, and was never a worka-holic but wanted to always end the day knowing he did a good job. My mom was the same way- always dressing on point and trying to be the most positive, friendly person around. They never knew it, but I was watching. My dad would spend his days off reloading, shooting with us, tumbling his casings that we thought of as pirate’s gold, or fixing broken machinery for his work crew. My mom was always taking care of us, working in the garden, making delicious food for our outings, and made sure we picked up our clutter and kept our rooms clean. There was always laughter in our home. It’s only been recently that our loved ones have encouraged Tony and I to slow down and enjoy life more. It’s funny, we always mean to and then next thing you know I’m starting another business or we’re on to some other adventure. And if you’re anything like me, it’s always easier to work than it is to relax. Especially when you are still building a business and trying to make ends meet. You tend to get tunnel vision. But not anymore. Even though Tony and I own three businesses, we’ve decided to make actual living of life a priority. From now on, we’re going to take small trips and write about them for you. We’re going to actually bike the Chipman Trail. We’re going to take our Airstream camping on the weekends- no matter what. Since we’ve decided this we’ve been thoroughly enjoying summer and I have loved putting the passion of this free time into the magazine so much. I hope you see it and feel it especially in this issue, because I have truly enjoyed this spark of happiness! What I’m trying to tell you is that while it’s wonderful to work hard, don’t forget to give yourself the gift of life! Enjoy it, savor it. Yes, even if it means you don’t have anything perfectly planned. Even if it means you spend a little more money on gas and hotels and wake up more Monday mornings feeling hung over from the weekend, at ages 37 and 40! Why not? And if you have children, I hope you are all engaging in the silliness of sprinklers, dress up, camping, or just having fun in your own backyard. For the rest of this summer I hope you live just like my parents taught me that I’m just now beginning to understand. Work hard, but dress up and sing songs from The Wizard of Oz. Don’t worry about how much work you have to do, because the task of enjoying life is #1 on the list. And even if you think you don’t have time to laugh and enjoy your life the way you should, well, do it anyway. Love,
Heather Niccoli Editor-in-Chief Home&Harvest Magazine P.S. If you know of something local/semi local that Tony and I should try, let me know! Email or write anytime. We look forward to it!
editor | sales | design heather niccoli 208.596.5400 heather@homeandharvestmagazine.com publisher tony niccoli po box 9931 moscow, id 83843
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Words: Tony Niccoli Photos: Heather Niccoli
Heather and I have been really making an effort to take more days off this year and just slow down and enjoy life. It’s been a little strange letting go more often. Part of owning your own business is knowing that the work is really never done. As soon as you finish a project you have already discovered three new ways to improve or grow – and while it’s definitely rewarding, it can also be exhausting. But this year our focus has been turning more and more to balance. And we have re-discovered the importance of a weekend and time away. But rushing to travel during your weekend, or trying to pack in too much can also start to feel like work. So we have been spending a lot more time exploring in our own local area. Taking the time to camp locally, get out on more day hikes, and visit attractions in our own back yard. We are finding that the weekends seem to last much longer, and the summer is taking on a slower, more enjoyable pace. So when Heather suggested that we take a day off and drive down to the Dworshak dam, my first response was something like, “That sounds great! And maybe in a few weeks I can get caught up and take a day or two.” But I quickly remembered our new pact, and move the relaxation up on the schedule. And so there we were, on a Tuesday afternoon, planning to close the shop on Friday and get away. We decided to have a little 3 day weekend, but we wanted to stay close to home and the dam, hatchery, and little towns on the way made for a perfect day out on Friday. Dworshak is the tallest straight-axis concrete gravity dam in the Western Hemisphere. That simply means that while many dams get strength from their curvature and the resulting outward pressure of the water against the extreme sides, Dworshak stays in place due to its incredible weight. The water pressure is even along the entire straight axis and the dam can’t be moved because it presents more force of inertia than all the pressure behind it. Gravity holds the dam and the dam holds a reservoir that stretches almost 54 miles and has 189 miles of shoreline. In front of the dam, at full depth, the water is 645 feet deep. But there is enough concrete in the dam to pour an 8” thick, 6’ wide sidewalk that would stretch the entire way around the world at the equator. And the weight of all the concrete keeps the dam in place and the water controlled. It’s the third tallest dam in the US – and it only loses by a few feet. In fact, by some measurements – if you include the keyway – it is actually 1’ taller than the Hoover Dam. The upriver side, holding the mountain of water behind it, is a smooth vertical wall, but on the downriver side, the dam gets much wider by its base and tapers to the top. Later, as we stood at the observation deck looking down that front side it was really amazing. But the best view isn’t the dam itself, but the river, canyon walls, and town below. The land around the dam, the reservoir behind it, and the dam itself are owned and managed by the US Army Corps of Engineers – with parts leased out to the state for increased park opportunities. When we arrived, we met with Paul Pence, the Natural Resource Manager from the Corps of Engineers. He showed us around the visitor center, and then took the time to tell us a lot about the work his team does both to manage the dam itself, and provide recreation for visitors.
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For Paul, the main drive and excitement in getting to work at Dworshak is managing the resources and making the most fun and opportunities possible for families that visit. He told us some pretty amazing stories about wildlife encounters over the years as well, including seeing a cow moose teach two baby calves how to get over floating logs when they were stuck at the bank and couldn’t find their way up to the shore. Turns out that was just the week before our visit when Paul was fishing with some friends way up the lake. I asked how that was and he said “...about 100 bass that day between us, but the highlight was definitely the moose.” Dworshak is just that type of magical place, where you can almost forget about non-stop bass because the day had so much more. The dam was constructed to achieve 5 main goals: flood damage reduction, hydroelectric power generation, creation of recreational areas, fish and wildlife preservation, and better navigation. The dam is built near the point where the North Fork of the Clearwater joins the main stem. It has always been a natural blockage point, and overly large seasonal runoffs create a backup through this valley and up the area that is now the reservoir. For thousands of years, this flooding didn’t present a significant problem as the Nez Pierce living in the area moved seasonally and followed the patterns of wildlife to higher ground as the river swelled in the spring and summer. But as the population grew, and more settlers followed the rivers to the promise of fertile farmlands and potential gold and silver claims, the yearly flooding became a much more serious issue. Especially in years of heavy snowpack when towns like Orofino could be wiped out and forced to rebuild. Between 1911 and 1967 the area flooded over thirty times, several with major property damage. But the population continued to grow, so both flood control and power supply became more and more important. The area for the dam, originally called Bruce’s Eddy, had been discussed since the late 1800’s, and by the 1950’s the Army Corps of Engineers was studying the possibility of creating a major project there. It was later renamed the Dworshak Dam to honor the Senator from Idaho who had worked to help get the funding and approval for the project through congress. Our tour started at the visitor center next to the top of the dam. There you get to see some examples of local wildlife, and upstairs there are some amazing views out over the dam and across the lower section of the lake. You sign in for the free tour and meet up with your guide on the main floor. We met Bruce and Cindy Flesher at the front desk. They are volunteers that come up and camp next to the dam in the summers to provide tours, work in the gift shop and visitor center, and help the Corps staff. This is their 4th year volunteering, and they work a 4 day on, 4 day off schedule with another couple to make sure people get to enjoy the dam.
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Without the visitor center volunteers, there wouldn’t be enough in the budget to allow tours in the busy summer months when most people want to visit, so we were really happy to hear that they were willing to donate their time. Bruce seemed to know every fact imaginable about the dam, and Cindy was there to remind him of how everything worked for sign-in and payments in the shop, as well as sharing a little more local history with the group. They started coming to the area over 20 years ago when Bruce was entering local fishing tournaments. He still thinks it’s “the best place in Idaho to fish – depending on what you’re fishing for.” And with his chase for small mouth bass, it really is the best place around. As the group was gathering for the start of the tour, he asked if anyone lived in the local area. We were the closest in the group, coming down from Moscow. The others had come from Oregon and central Washington. Bruce just smiled. “Good, if nobody is from here, and nobody knows about the dam and the area, I can lie all I want.” Our tour started in the basement with some displays about the history of the region before the dam, and some stories about the last log drives that went down the river. And then Bruce called up to have the main doors unlocked, and we got to go out into the dam itself. The hallway there is called the 1603 gallery.
When the dam is at capacity and the reservoir is completely full, the water is 1600 feet above sea level. And as you cross the dam on the tour, you are just 3 feet above that. There are amazing picture windows as you cross each section, and the tour stops to let you have a view and learn a little at each of the stations along the route. Finally the hallway ends, and we went up to the observation deck. This is where we had the most amazing views! You can see all the way down to the hatchery and back across the lower section of the reservoir. The view is breathtaking and the absolute best part of the tour. After that, you get to walk back to the visitor center across the top of the dam itself, with views over both sides. If you aren’t just going up for a day tour, there are some great options for camping. The reservoir has boat-in spaces that can only be accessed from the water and provide amazing privacy. Or for a more traditional car or RV camping option you can go to the Dworshak State Park just up the road. The land there is owned by the Corps of Engineers but leased to the state to manage. They have great facilities, and it’s pretty close to the marina as well. You can also head across the bridge to Dent Acres for more RV and Tent camping spaces.
One of the challenges that Paul was explaining to us, is the desire to make the absolute best facilities for locals, vacationers, and families along the reservoir and out in the water. As the depth changes throughout the year, some of the shore based activities become less accessible. To get more use, the Rangers have started building ATV paths, horse paths, and more hiking trails that become accessible as the water drops. So even when you can’t get a boat to shore for the boat-in camp sights they are creating more opportunities to get out there. One of the most loved features they created are the floating destination docks. This was an idea born of the drive of the rangers to find ways to best use the reservoir as the water lowers. By creating floating docks out in the middle, they are accessible by boat only and available at any water height. The docks have an open middle so boats can tie out around the outside and children can safely swim in the center without any risk of being pulled away from the boats by current, or any danger from passing boats in the area. They have been an instant hit with families, and there are now 7 available on the lake. It’s like a huge patio with its own built-in swimming pool. Paul said that they have been noticing more and more young families moving to Orofino and the surrounding areas following the availability of good jobs in the area, and that has brought more boats out in the evenings all summer long. While you are in town, make sure you check out the hatchery! The Dworshak National Fish Hatchery in Ahsahka is the largest steelhead hatchery in the world. It’s open for viewing 7 days a week and has a self-guided tour with signs along the way that teach about the fish, the process for spawning, and the resources there. You can even view some Chinook spawning this August and September. Make sure to check online or call ahead to confirm the schedule. And if you aren’t heading back to campfire to cook dinner, you can just drop into Orofino for some great restaurants before you head home. We had heard that the Edge had a beautiful view and really good food, and the recommendation didn’t disappoint. We had some chowder and a seat by the windows looking out over the river. It was an ideal end to wonderful day of exploring. Late summer is the perfect time for an adventure. A little get-away without having to leave the area. So get out there and enjoy one of the most beautiful areas in northern Idaho. It’s a dam good idea.
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Coffee Cake
Tony and I have been in training all year for this contest and we can’t wait to taste your coffee cake. That’s right, this year we are asking you to bake a scrumptions coffee cake for the 2019 Latah County Fair. Here’s the lowdown: Contestants must prepare a coffee cake of their choice using huckleberries as the star ingredient. That means in the cake, topping, glaze, frosting or filling! Entries must be submitted Sept. 11 th from 3-8 at the Latah County Fairgrounds. Please bring 4 slices and a printed copy of your recipe. Judging will be based on taste, originality, creative use of huckleberries and overall presentation. Grand Prize winners in both youth and adult categories will have their recipe printed in Home&Harvest magazine and gift basket. 2nd place will receive a gift basket, and third place will receive a cookbook. We are excited to taste your creations!
KEITH crossler
With my time in the Moscow Volunteer Fire Department, I’ve been able to gain experience, take classes, and learn all types of “tricks” of the trade. One thing I picked up on early and has really nothing to do with the fire service, is pyrotechnics. Who wouldn’t want to light off the big fireworks, right? Of course when I was asked if I wanted to help out, I jumped right in. The first shows I helped with was more about helping with set up and tear down. But, the more you get involved, the more you get to do. I’ve known Monte McMillan for many years. About as long as I can remember. He joined the MVFD in the 80’s and I got to know him growing up. Then I got to become a member with him. He’s one of the good guys that I give a lot of what I’ve learned over the years the credit to. From the hard talks on the fire ground from my rookie mistakes, to the chats we’ve had after meetings. And it was Monte that got me into the fireworks. This was one of my first years helping out with the Elk River show and I was really excited about it. Monte, myself, along with a couple of other guys showed up early that afternoon to start the basic set up. We lay out the display down the center of the airstrip (which is closed of course), then we identify where the grand finale will be set up. Truthfully, this really isn’t that much fun, but you’ve got to do the work in order to have the fun. A couple of hours later, we’ve pretty well got it all assembled. Angled this way or that, for the best effects during the show. We sort through the inventory of product and see what there is and more or less see how we’ll load all the product. Now we wait, take a break, eat a little something, until we load the show. First we load the finale so it’s all in place before we load the main show. Sometimes there aren’t enough mortars to load the entire show in to, so after things start, someone will follow behind to load more product as the show progresses. Finally, it’s dark enough and the show begins. I’m the re-loader this year. So after it begins, I wait a couple of minutes, then start loading the extra shells. The show goes off just as planned. What takes us a few hours to get all in place, is all over and picked up in less than an hour. It’s late and we’re all tired, but back home we go. I remember that night pretty well as I was tired and had the windows down, music loud to stay awake. Things changed a bit as I was getting closer to Troy on the drive back. There was a glow in the sky that just seemed brighter than it should have been. I picked up my fire radio and clicked it on. Being out of our area and doing the show, I didn’t have it on. As it beeped on, I heard one of our engines check en-route to Troy for a mutual aid response. I jumped on the radio and tried to reach our on duty command officer to let him know we were just a couple of miles outside of Troy and to see what else they needed. Of course as I started to drop down into town, our radio reception was gone.
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July/August 2019 21
So, I just proceeded into town. As I came on to Main Street, you could see the embers, the glow, and all the chaos. It was at this moment I realized that the log deck at the cedar mill as burning. It was right next to the highway. Traffic was being diverted, so I followed the cars through town and parked in the gas station parking lot on the far side of town. I slipped into my gear and walked in to see where I could help. Our engine pulled in shortly after I walked in so I hooked up with them. The engine was parked at the only hydrant that was close by. We were right across from the fire and we pulled a larger diameter, 2 ½ inch line. We set up right on the edge of the highway, probably 50 feet or so from the burning log deck. It was hot. If there was only one thing I remember the most about that night, it was how hot that fire was. All our gear on, face shields down, and it was intense. We worked the deck for quite some time, and it really didn’t feel like we were making any progress. Water was the big issue at this event. Troy’s water system couldn’t handle what we were asking of it. Our engine became the point of water distribution. Not only were we operating a couple of lines off of it, the engine would fill water tenders while nursing the water situation. They were literally sucking water out of the hydrant. The basic operation was for us to use our lines on the highway side, water tenders running water down into the mill for the engines down there, and the mill had an operator in a loader trying to move the log deck and minimize the fire load and loss. Hats off to that operator for sure. He was using that machine like I’ve never seen before. It was really impressive. By the end of the night, I’m pretty sure all the tires were flat, the windshield was cracked from the heat, and at the end of it, a ruptured hydraulic line that shut the loader down. The gas station even opened up for the firefighters that night. If we needed to fuel up an engine or get something to drink, they were there for us. It seemed that everything was starting to wind down about the time the sun was coming up. Progress was being made and we were getting the upper hand. At one point, we started soaking things down with foam. The foam helps penetrate the wood and it helps with getting a more complete extinguishment. I talk a lot about experiences and learning things as my career progresses. This call was another one of those times. Watching the pump operator on our engine that night was amazing. How he finessed the pump while watching gauges, with multiple lines and functions. It made me appreciate that role more than I ever had. It’s probably one of the reasons I enjoy taking that role now as much as I do. We later learned that the likely cause of the fire was from fireworks. There were reports of some kids shooting bottle rockets towards the log deck that evening. I don’t believe that it was confirmed or a person was ever identified, but it was the likely cause. Please be careful with fireworks and remember that those hot little things, even if they seem minor, can cause a lot of unintended damage. I also love the feel of community in an event like this. Loss is huge and the event is huge. But in the moment, all the people that will come together is something bigger than you can even put in words. People from towns almost an hour away, coming anyway. Just to help. And they were mostly volunteers. It wasn’t about being paid to do a job, it wasn’t about making money for your department. It was about helping a business, a town, another department in that time of need. The sense of pride of working together is a fantastic feeling. It’s horrible that these types of events have to happen, but I would be there every time if I could, just to lend a hand.
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UI Commons | Moscow | Kendrick | Plummer | Potlatch
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Gayle Anderson As this issue hits the stands, harvest is beginning and soon the roadways will make way for the grain trucks loaded with a year’s worth of work coming to an end. The farmers are bringing in their crops to the warehouse and this is their paycheck. Unless you are friends with a farmer, generally you wouldn’t know one if you saw one of us in the grocery store or sitting in the bleachers at a football game. These are the people who are farming the land that usually five generations have farmed the ground before them. The farmers that I am talking about are the ones where this is their full time job, generally not the ones you see at a farmer’s market. One U.S. farm feeds 165 people annually in the U.S. and abroad. The global population is expected to increase to 9.7 billion by 2050, which means the world’s farmers will have to grow about 70 percent more food than what is now produced. And because there are so few of us, less than 2% of the US population, that when those in the non-Ag sector connect with a true farmer, that they are full of all sorts of questions about our livelihood. Back in 2009, I started blogging to showcase what an average American farm family looked like. It was to provide a face behind what goes on America’s dinner table. I wrote about day to day farming activities and explained what farmers did and why. Most importantly was the “the why” to give the reader the up front and accurate viewpoint of how food is raised. The blog today still is an up-close and personal view of what my world looks like and the people in it. Currently I have expanded more into a farm/lifestyle blog when I transitioned out of actual farming and into having someone farm my ground. And through the blog I have had people from all over the USA reach out to me. And I wanted to share some of the more memorable contacts. This first particular contact had a unique twist to it. The really strange part of this story was just a couple weeks after the initial contact from a reader. I was at the Genesee farm-wives wine club and the daughter of a farm-wife friend happened to be visiting her folks and decided to attend the monthly gathering with her mom. I was telling the daughter, who works as a legislative aid in Washington DC, about this teacher from Washington D.C. who had reached out to me because she wanted to see a real live garbanzo farm. I invited her out and offered her a stay in my home. The daughter said, “gosh I work with this man whose wife is a teacher and she wants to see a garbanzo farm, I wonder if it’s her?”.... well lo and behold it was! Talk about a small world and chance encounters. Here is part of my blog post on this:
“The email request was simple; two sentences that made me smile and get excited to again be able to reach out to someone interested in Ag so she could see for herself how her food is grown. “I’m an 8th grade history teacher from Washington D.C. and I’ve read about you. I’d love to visit your farm and I’m up for a road trip if you are willing!” If you have lived any length of time in Idaho, you probably know that Idaho often gets mistaken for one of the other “I” states as well as Ohio, but since she was a history teacher I was reasonably confident she knew where I was located. And I invited her to come on out for a visit to see what my life in Ag looks like, just like I’ve invited you. I was a bit nervous that my farm maybe would not measure up to the vision of what she pictured how a farm would look like. I explained I didn’t have animals, other than the spoiled farm dog who thinks she is in charge of ranch security and 3 feisty chickens that like to run amuck and attack my garden. Plus my farmhouse wasn’t the iconic white clapboard version but rather something that looks like a cross between a grain-bin and farmhouse. Amy assured me that a trip out West and seeing the wide expanse of land that didn’t contain pavement would be the highlight of her summer, as well as a lifelong dream. And so the adventure for both of us began, as Amy let me plan her time here. And boy did I fill up her days with tours and visits. I took a day off from my office job to personally take her to visit the Pacific Northwest Farmer’s Co-op and the Lewis-Clark Grain Terminal, the rest of her stay here was jam packed in hopes that it would hopefully quench her thirst for understanding all aspects of Ag. The picture is of Amy and me at the Lewis-Clark Grain Terminal - watching grain being loaded onto a barge! Each evening when Amy returned back to my place, we’d eat dinner and she’d fill me in on what her day looked like. Plus I’d quiz her on her life of living in a row house in a large city. While she loved the wide open spaces, she loved city life. Here we were two women sharing our life stories because Amy had found me on the web. And we’ve continued to remain in contact with each other. After Amy left, she texted me before she boarded the plane home, “I’ve met the most amazing people and learned so much more than I could have thought! And regarding how our food is grown, well everyone needs to see this for him/herself. Especially in this country since we take so much for granted. I’ll never look at flour or another grain the same way, as I can’t believe all the work that goes into that bag of flour!” ~Amy” From readers Karla and Angel: I asked Karla to tell me in her words what she & Angel saw, and this is what I received: Here is our perspective of Idaho while we’re traveling:
• Idahoans love the outdoors! Not only we’re amazed by the amount of people participating (and the cheerleaders!) at the Triathlon in Boise, but also the number of people we constantly watched on bikes, fishing boats, and camping along our travels in the state. • Fresh meat, it’s the best! Nothing like a fresh piece of meat from the grill (we ate in Salmon in Moscow) ...so good that I couldn’t stop complementing the restaurant while my piece of meat lasted. • #1 in genuine hospitality. After traveling various states in US, both Angel and I agreed on that Idahoans are the most kind people we have encountered so far. From the store manager who helped us with places and directions once she knew we were looking for a few cultural experiences to the former farm-wife who opened the doors of her house to us to talk about how farm life is like. We encountered many people along the way as well; and they were kind, open nicely to talk. • Amazing landscapes galore! Nothing I’ve seen like going from a desert climate in Boise to the lush forests of Garden Valley and McCall in just a few hours; or going from moon-like landscapes to the gorgeous hills in the Palouse. Home&Harvest
July/August 2019 27
There was much more than we expected and since our trip we’ve been wondering / planning about when going back to Idaho. ~ Karla (Karla & I still keep in touch.) A couple of other amusing contacts was when a Christian music producer wanted to film a music video on our farm. He described the scene that he wanted to take place and could picture the female singer standing in a wheat field at sunrise as we were harvesting all around her. I had to explain that one, we don’t harvest at sunrise because of the dew and moisture content must be at an acceptable level to the warehouse, so typically harvest begins around 9:00 a.m. (ish) when the sun has dried up the dew. Plus combines are noisy and put out a vast amount of wheat chaff and his singer would get covered in the itchy stuff if the wind blew the wrong direction. He took my advice and shot the video in the middle of the day with the combine in the background quite a distance away. The next one was from the Food Network who tracked me down and told me they were doing a segment on dangerous farming practices that involve producing food. They asked if they could come film us after we burned our wheat stubble after harvest. We explained that no one (or at least in this area) did that anymore and we used better farming practices to productively utilize wheat stubble. We suggested they come out during harvest or maybe our Dinner on the Farm series if they wanted an accurate portrayal of how food is grown and harvested, but they were steadfast in their vision of field burning and declined our offer. I never did see that segment, so I’m not sure how it played out. It made me rather sad that they wanted outdated practices and sensationalism rather than true farming practices. And lastly the most recent, a few weeks ago out of the blue I had an author reach out to me to establish contact as she is doing research for a fictional book she is writing. She said my early farm blogposts gave her valuable insight for her setting on the Palouse. It was a blessing to have her reach out and I think it was some universal encouragement (as well as a good swift kick in the behind) to get me back into action. I’d been struggling with a cookbook memoirs project, lagging on my blog post updates and this wonderful author gave me some inspiration as well as some pertinent advice & guidance. Events that come out of the blue that offer help and assistance in just the right way I call “God Kisses” and I wrote a blog post about it. Once again a bond has been formed. She’s going to send me one of her novels and I in return am sending her a bag of garbanzo beans from the field, a bag of lentils and the Pea & Lentil Cookbook from the Pea & Lentil Commission. Bonds formed with people whose path I never would have crossed with had it not been for deciding to sit down one day at the computer and tell people about my life out here on the Palouse. Who knew? And whether or not you blog, you have a story to tell in your own way. And sometimes if it means you need to step outside your comfort zone, that may be where you connect with others in a meaningful way. Conversations shared, ideas, visions and maybe even helpful insights come about. In closing, as you see those combines, tractor or trucks hauling the crops in, say a prayer of thanks to those humble, hardworking men and women whose life is dedicated to their generational farms. These are the people whose livelihoods grace our dinner tables every night. And for that, I am ever grateful to have once been a part of that world as it gave me insights and experiences I never would have had. And now new adventures await and I’m excited to share them as I discover them. All my best, Gayle
Introducing the all-new
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in a Life
Lumber camp
08 04 001
25-03-139
By Zachary Wnek
The lumber industry in Latah County had a large impact on our land. The industry, dominated by the Potlatch Corporation, feasted on the Western White Pine and worked to cut and mill the yield locally. This success was built on the people who worked long hours and often in harsh conditions to cut and refine this natural resource. Those who worked in the industry often lived in lumber camps where they would be dedicated to their craft. Life in these camps was an adventure. I have selected a few first hand accounts from the Latah County Historical Society archives to show how people lived and thrived in these conditions. Lumber camps were small towns unto themselves. One of the most important places of these towns was the kitchen. Breakfast and dinner was served when lumberjacks woke up and returned to camp respectively. Camp cooks worked to keep everyone fed, however they relied on flunkies to distribute that food to the populus. In the early days of lumber camps flunkies were men, Axel Anderson remembers when that all changed: Laura Schrager: Did they have many women flunkies in the beginning when you were in the woods? Axel Anderson: Not in the beginning. No. But after the World War I, you see, then they during that time they started it in the camps. See all the young fellers were gone, and the old fellers- they wouldn’t do it - they were too slow to be around in the kitchen, only cooking. But the flunkies, you know, they had to be light on their foot and could travel. And the young fellow, you know, there were all out in the war and in the army, so they started to get the womens in. Lumberjacks worked up quite an appetite before heading out into the woods Lena (Molly) Erickson Justice (LJ) and her sister Mary LeMarr (ML) were flunkies in the Potlatch Lumber camps and worked with the cooks. They recall serving lumberjacks breakfast to the interviewer Laura Schrager (LS):
ML: They served family style at logging camps. Our job was just keep the dishes filled. Vegetables and meats. LS: Why did you have to get up at four thirty? LJ: You had a lot to do. You had to get your table, course, we had a lot of silverware and plates and cups and all that. ML: You put those out the night before. But there would be butter to put on the tables and milk. Fruit and things needed for breakfast. … ML: We had to have bread on the table. … In addition to that then they’d have pancakes every morning, toast, hashbrown potatoes, bacon, eggs. … ML: They’d have hot cereal. And we’d have to put milk on their cereal, so we’d have canned milk, that’s the way we did it. As well as a can of milk for their coffee. … Then we always had dry cereal and cornflakes, shredded wheat maybe and bran. … And then we’d have to fix the table so they could pack their own lunches. Get out the bread and the butter for that. It took a while to get that ready. Then breakfast was always served at six. So then they have the hot part of the meal ready, pancakes, bacon and eggs. Set that on the table LJ: It was like thundering herd, when the door opened. When we unlocked the door, there they come. Clompity clomp. Potlatch Lumber Company Camp 8 was located about two miles north of Bovill. Camp 8 grew once the Washington, Idaho, & Montana (W. I. & M.) Railroad reached camp. Lumberjacks began bringing their families to Camp 8, however the camp was only planned for only 76 people. The camp quickly reached capacity and an area about ¼ mile south of Camp 8 was setup for families. This community was constructed with slab wood from sawmill waste and was christened “Slabtown.” Being only 1 ¾ miles north of Bovill the social lives of Slabtown and Bovill were connected. In an oral history interview Kate Sanderson Waldron recalls riding the train downtown (Bovill) for shopping before heading back to Slabtown to make supper. Kate Sanderson Waldron recalled two distinct classes in the Bovill / Slabtown area. There’s two classes of people here; there’s the tavern class, then there’s the church class of people. There’s two distinct classes. But they’re not uppish or hateful towards each other. But there’s a lot of ‘em that never darken a church door. And there’s a lot of us that do, but we’re not enemies by any means.
a a
02-01-016 Slabtown, north of Bovill, circa 1912
a a
25-03-077 Potlatch Camp 6 logging crew and bunkhouse
25-03-043 Loaded railway car at Potlatch Camp 6
25-03-086 Potlatch Camp 5
a 25-03-115 Potlatch Camp 8
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25-03-135
25-03-126
Kate Sanderson Waldron recalls all sorts of parties in Bovill and Slabtown including Christmas parties, forget-me-not clubs and bridge and pinochle parties. They used to have big dances in Bovill at the recreation hall that Potlatch built for the town. People came from all over to come to Bovill for their events. “Bovill was quite famous. People liked to come to Bovill. They enjoyed coming... it was in the woods and it was quite an outing for ‘em and especially when cars came on the scene so that they could come in. And they used to have big dances and people would come clear as far as Garfield to Bovill for the dance.” Occasionally lumberjacks would take time off after a big payday and head up to Spokane. The idea behind going to Spokane was usually shrouded in the need for new clothing. Melvin Carlson recalls that for everyone he heard say that was going up to Spokane for clothing, nobody came back with even a stitch of new clothing, and they were broke. Melvin Carlson remembers what would happen to the lumberjacks in Spokane: “They’d get drunk before they’d get there, and people there were nothing but living off of them and they just keep them drunk until they were broke. They had no money so no stores would give them any credit and they’d come back to camp early with no money.” Lumberjacks in camp earned themselves some colorful nicknames. Oscar Olson remembers some of his favorites: Broomface Brooks - on account of his moustache, Dirty Shirt Martin - the man who wouldn’t wash his shirt only buy a new one when it became a nuisance, Butterfly Pete - the man who could run across a log drive light as a feather and wouldn’t get his feet wet. However, the most interesting of these characters is Cruel Jimmy. Jimmy was on a log drive when he and his partner were breaking apart a jam. Jimmy’s partner got his leg caught between some logs when the jam shifted a bit. Without a moment’s hesitation Jimmy: “had an axe there right handy and he just chopped his pardner’s leg off right there, one blow of the axe. Cut his foot off.” … “he saved his partner’s life, sure. Saved his life, but had to cut off his foot. Because that big jam was starting to boil over, you know and would have taken him.” Despite saving his partner’s life Jimmy earned the nickname Cruel Jimmy, a name that stuck. Some lumberjacks preferred to hibernate in the Winter with the company of ‘sporting girls’. These businesswomen took care of the lumberjacks… for a price, even after the lumberjacks went broke for the winter. Dan and Joe Maloney Murphey explain: “the first month (chuckles) they’d been living with these girls up in the sporting houses all winter and they’d been carrying ‘em along from the time they went broke, maybe for two or three months, and then the girls would come in the first two months and pick up their checks. (chuckles) They’d get ‘em and sign ‘em and hand them over to ‘em. (Laughter).” Life in the lumber camps was hard work. Lumberjacks, flunkies and tradesmen worked for mutual success and created communities around their work. While the camps have been disbanded (to my knowledge) the personal experiences have been recorded and preserved. These personal stories weave together the narrative of lumber in Latah County and in the Inland Empire.
08 04 001, cover photo: Potlatch Lumber Company, Camp 6 25-03-139 bylinepage: Camp 6 mess hall with cook Moore and other kitchen staff 25-03-135 - Left, above: Camp 4, Moose Meadows, near Bovill, 1908 25-03-126 - Left, bottom: Breaking up a log jam on the Palouse River, 1905
Vegan Oatmeal Cookies
Kitchen:
Emory Ann Kurysh Makes 3 dozen (Variations include chocolate chips, raisins, butterscotch chips, and more!) Ingredients: 1 cup vegan butter, room temperature ¾ granulated sugar ¾ cup brown sugar ¼ cup applesauce 1 tsp vanilla extract 2 ½ cups large flake oats 1 ¼ cup unbleached all-purpose flour 1 ½ tsp baking soda 1 tsp cinnamon 1 tsp salt ½ cup unsweetened coconut 2 cups raisins (or other)
Let’s Spice Things up with New Oil, Vinegar & Dipper Flavors! STA SPICE FIE
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Steps: Preheat oven to 350°F. In a medium-sized bowl, cream together the butter, sugar, applesauce, and vanilla extract.
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Using a tablespoon, roll a ball into the palm of your hand. Gently flatten, then place on non-stick cookie sheet. Bake for 8 minutes. Allow to cool before transferring them!
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In a large bowl, add remaining ingredients. Stir until just combined, and then fold in wet ingredients. Mix well.
(Store at room temperature in an airtight container or sealed bag for up to 7 days.)
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My Mother’s Banana Bread Ingredients: ½ cup butter 1 cup sugar 1 egg 1 cup bananas, overripe & mashed 2 tsp vanilla 2 cups whole wheat flour ½ cup milk, soured 1 tbsp cinnamon 1 tsp baking soda ½ tsp salt 1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips Steps: 1. Preheat oven to 350°F. In a large bowl, cream together the butter and sugar. Next add the egg, bananas, and vanilla. Then combine the remaining ingredients and mix well. 2. Pour into a greased loaf pan. Bake for approximately 1 hour or until toothpick comes out clean.
Kitchen:
Emory Ann Kurysh
Berry Tart
Kitchen
Gayle Anderson
Crust: Process: 1 ¼ cup flour ½ cup powdered sugar ¼ teas salt Add & pulse: 1 stick (1/2 cup) cold butter 1 egg yolk Process flour, sugar & salt in a food processor until just combined (about 15 seconds). Add butter and pulse until mixture resembles coarse crumbs, then blend in the egg yolk. The mixture will not hold together and will be crumbly. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. In a 9” tart pan press dough over the bottom and up the sides. Bake 12-15 minutes. Home&Harvest
Streusel: ½ cup flour ¼ cup coarsely chopped walnuts ¼ cup cold butter 3 Tbs brown sugar In a food processor, pulse all the ingrediants until crumbly In the cooked crust, add fruit, then sprinkle the streusel over the fruit. Bake 400 for about 40-45 minutes or until the streusel is golden brown.
Filling: 5 cups fruit ( anything such as: blackberries, raspberries, cherries, strawberries) 10 Tbl sugar 1 TbL lemon juice 3 Tbl brown sugar In a bowl, add fruit and rest of ingredients to and gently toss to make sure fruit is well coated.
July/August 2019 42
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happy avocado brownies
By Gayle Anderson 2 ripe avocados 2 cups sugar ½ cup baking cocoa 4 Tbl butter, melted 2 eggs 1 Tbs espresso powder 2 tsp vanilla 1 tsp coarse salt 1 cup flour ½ cup chocolate chips In a mixing bowl, (cut avocado in ½, scoop out avocado pulp) add avocado pulp and sugar into a mixing bowl, mix till well blended. Then add the remaining ingredients and mix well. Preheat the oven to 350. Spray 9x13 pan with a cooking spray and spread the batter evenly into pan. Bake 30-35 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean. The brownies will be moist and dense.
Running Apps By Tony Niccoli
This year we have been running a 6 part series in Flank to Flame intended to get someone with little to no prior experience on the grill up and running, and slowly progress to their basic skills as they become more familiar and more comfortable with cooking outdoors on open flame. If you have already mastered the grill I hope that a few of the recipes will still give you something new to try, and you may even be reminded of some techniques you have forgotten along the way. And for the novice grillers, more than anything I hope you are having fun. In our first article we looked at basics and brats, we moved up to steaks next, and last issue we took on fish tacos. This time we are going to make a bigger jump. We are going to multi-task. One of my favorite things to do on the grill is run an entire meal. Starters, a main course with sides, and even dessert. Now attempting all of this on the same day can mean that you don’t get to spend any time away from the flame other than a quick pause to eat, and if you are entertaining it can keep you from your guests unless timed perfectly. You can achieve some of that with careful planning, and using items that take similar cook times and heats, or by front-loading a lot of the work earlier in the day so only final cooks and heating is taking place while you have the guests eagerly awaiting your next course. It may sound difficult, but it’s really just the fundamentals of grilling – repeated, and possibly repeated again. And the first step to getting there is taking on two items. To make this as simple as possi ble, we won’t be cooking two items at once (with different cook times and temperatures). We instead will focus on one appetizer, and then a simple main course. So picture greeting your friends with a cold beverage, and a warm welcome, then quickly serving up some delicious grilled shrimp. You will have time to walk away from the grill and entertain as well as enjoy your own cooking, before returning for gourmet burgers. Don’t worry – you’re ready for this and we will keep it simple and fun!
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We start with Shrimp-on-the-Ken (because always serving shrimp on the Barbie is sexist and outdated). Shrimp cook quickly and dry out just as quickly so you want to do everything possible to keep them succulent and moist. Start by running them close together on a skewer. The first one on there can be stabbed through the tail and then head, doubling it over to create a stop. After that, skewer through the head only and press each one down until it is firmly against the last with the tails all wrapping around on the same side. Creating one long block like this makes them cook more evenly, and will help retain moisture. Brush well with oil before the go onto the grill, and then liberally season. You can use just salt and pepper if you want to keep it simple – especially if you plan to serve them with a dipping sauce – or you can old bay or a seasoning salt of your choice instead. Either way, don’t skimp on the oil or seasoning. You really want to pack in that flavor, and the oil will also help with moisture retention. Grill them on a hot grill – this makes timing perfect if you are working with charcoal, because the shrimp can go on as soon as you are up to temperature. That gives you time to enjoy them with your guests while you wait for that grill to get to the correct temperature for the burgers. Give your shrimp 2 minutes on the first side, and 1-2 minutes after the flip, keeping the lid closed for both sides. They easily release from the grill when they are ready to flip, and to check when they are done just cut one – the inside will have turned from the clear/grey to a glistening white. As soon as you pull them they are ready to serve. If you have your dipping sauces and serving plates already prepared before you start this is a perfect appetizer. You only need to be away from the guest for one minute to get the grill started, and then about 4 minutes total to cook and serve once the grill is ready to go. Slow down a little – enjoy them and be a good host. We don’t need to rush here. If you are cooking on gas, you can drop the temperature to medium high or just leave it set to high. Burgers will do well in that range. If you were cooking on charcoal and put the shrimp on during maximum heat, you should have plenty of time to eat them and socialize before you get that drop to high or medium high so you can start the burgers. If you read my previous article on burgers you know the drill – I was very detailed with making patties, seasoning, and some tips and tricks. But if you missed that, or are just starting, the basics here will have you covered.
Start with making your own patties the morning of your cook-out. Sure, you can buy pre-formed and seasoned hamburgers in a box but they will never be the same. Use an 80/20 mix of quality ground beef and don’t overwork them. Just lightly form disks, and don’t stress little cracks on the edges. Once you get more comfortable you can try mixing bacon or lamb in there, and even adding some onion or breadcrumbs into the mix, but for me its hamburger and not meatloaf so I keep it simple and traditional. 80/20 for me with a brushing of oil and lots of salt and pepper. And that’s it! Before you oil and season the patties, push your thumb into the center about half way through the patty to create a divot there. If you have ever had swollen football shaped burgers you know what I’m talking about. During cooking, as the meat loses moisture it will seem to swell in the middle and tempt you to press it down with you spatula. Don’t fall for it! Burgers never need to be pressed. You’re just feeding all the flavor to the flame. By only flipping once, and never pressing them, you keep moisture in the middle where you can enjoy it. You never miss the spatula flame-up press, you can throw away that silly grill weight and corresponding spray bottle, and you get to smile as friends and family compliment your juicy burgers. Go 3-4 minutes on the first side with the lid closed and then flip, again you can expect them to easily release from the grates if you had enough oil on there and enough time before the flip. That next side will get 4-6 minutes depending on the temperature your guests request. Remember to keep the lid closed for most of this cook, and put cheese on 1 minute before you pull them. This is also great timing to sear the buns. Once cooked, they should rest for at least 2 minutes off the heat (and outside the bun). The rest allows the meat to reabsorb all the juice that would normally run out onto the bun and plate with the first bite. And it give you just enough time to get everyone around the table and grab yourself a beer. Take a bow my friend. If you just seamlessly pulled off a double cook, without running around frantic, ignoring guests, and burning the food, you just graduated another level. You are now really becoming a grill master. Think about it – how many cook outs have you been to with an absentee host, or food that wasn’t timed correctly for courses, or someone running around like a crazy person trying to keep up with the grill? Well, that’s not you. You are 4 lessons in, and already a grill master. And if it was you on this attempt, at least you got to enjoy cooking outside. It took me a lot longer to get to that point stumbling and figuring it all out on my own. Laugh it off and try again next weekend. Or tomorrow night. That’s what summer is for, after all.
search
hing deer for a huge fallow, the palmated
I’ve always admired the fallow deer, small bodies with giant palmated antlers that resemble a moose/ caribou. Coming in many colors ranging from black to white, with versions in-between, some carrying fawn-like spots! These creatures have a wide array of vocalization, from barking to bleating to growling. Their origin is believed to be from the Mediterranean region of south Europe, however because they’ve been sold and raised all over, their exact origin isn’t for sure. Being one of the options of animals to hunt in New Zealand as well as affordable and tasty and beautiful, I signed up for this hunt also. Remember the last issue with my article on our New Zealand hunt? While we were getting familiar with this area and looking for the stags, we happened to spot this fairly large white fallow buck. He stayed a good distance from us but against the green background this animal stood out quite strong in contrast. Aaron (our guide) and John both agreed that this was a really large buck, however I believed there may be bigger ones around. After getting my stag and my father getting his, it was my turn to go after my fallow deer. My mom, dad and I and John and Aaron all sat on a hillside glassing the vast expanse of this area. I won’t lie, I saw so many fallow deer, all sizes of bucks and a ton of does. As I sat with my binoculars to my eyes I kept telling myself no, that one is not as big as that white one we saw, and I would keep passing up different deer. At one point it hit me that I have never got to sit back and look at so many animals and choose which one that I was going to go after. That I was truly trophy hunting. In all my years of hunting I took what was given to me. And of course I’m going to eat this animal but first I’m going to pick the one I want, which was a strange new concept. I had this similar feeling in Texas when I went after that dall sheep. I really sat there for a minute and thanked God that I was given this life and these opportunities. We must have looked over these hills for 45 minutes or so not seeing anything that compared to the big white buck we had seen. I had told everyone that I wasn’t a huge fan of the white color, but that I wanted a brown one with spots but my biggest desire was one with big palms. Just about then this monster came out of a ravine between two hills. His antlers were super tall and very wide, fur reddish brown with contrasting white spots and strutted by himself hundreds of yards away as if he had no care in the world. One side of his antlers had jutting spikes, and the other was rounded off. Aaron exclaimed, “Holy hell! That’s a monster!” John agreed that this was a huge fallow. And since I’ve never been one who is any good at judging antlers and still in the learning process said if you guys think this is bigger than the white one then I think we should go after it.
By huntress Dawn Evans
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John explained to me that the side that didn’t have spikes was due to damage when he was in the velvet. But said to me if that was something in the future that bothered me he could rebuild the spikes that were lost on that side. After pretty quick deliberation we decided to go put a stalk on this animal. Running to my parents I said to them, “Mom, dad, you guys stay here and watch and behave yourselves, we are going to walk down and see if we can go get this guy.” They looked up at me like little kids and said they would be good, haha! Aaron told John and I to work between the hills to keep covered and to get a closer shot. From up above, the rolling hills don’t seem very steep, until you have to navigate them. Not to mention huge chunks of grass that trips you with every other step you take, trying not to fall while keeping a hidden eye on the fallow we were after. Finally, we rounded a big hill and dropped into a natural pit blind and set up. This fallow had tucked himself into the thin line of trees that followed a dried up streambed. And just like my stag, this had downed trees covering his vital area. I was really proud of my parents not yelling down, “Did you get him yet?!” Aaron set up his spotting scope so he could film this shot as he has never filmed such a big fallow being taken. He asked me before I shot if I would tell him so he could push record. Jeez, I must have laid there for half hour watching to see what way this giant would move to. Aaron and John were messing around behind me, but I was too intent on watching the deer to see what was going on. Finally! Mr. Fallow took a few steps forward and I said quickly “I’m gonna shoot!” Followed by a squeeze of the light trigger. Down he went! Well he kinda stumbled around for a minute then crashed. Aaron was like, “Ahhhhh! You didn’t give me enough time!” I apologized for that being where I hunt you get limited shooting time and I took the first chance! I do wish I would have caught that on film however. John and I walked down to where he laid. Aaron went down and retrieved the car, and I cannot believe where he drove the little Suzuki! But it sure made that pack-out easy! As I admired this animal, he was everything I wanted in my fallow buck. Big palms, spotted red brown coat and a black racing stripe down his back. Come to find out his teeth were incredibly worn and he was a super old buck! We took a lot of pictures but it was hard with all the shadows in the intense sun. Upon returning, we took this beautiful animal to the meat shed, a concrete enclosure with screen on the small windows to skin and butcher. The flies in New Zealand are crazy! Within half hour they lay their eggs on any dead thing they find. Pretty much the only predator in New Zealand. Disgusting! John taught the young guide, Lucas how to cape for a full size mount. Which I guess is what the plan is for my first fallow!! So spoiled I feel lately! We had all the meat packaged and flew it all home. The only problem is the butcher didn’t mark what was what so we play the game of guess the meat when we pull these packages out of the freezer. We scored this fallow at over 269 inches. Looking at my two amazing animals so far on this trip, I felt I was in a constant state of dream land. Nothing felt real. All of this I always believed was out of my league. Not to mention price range. I must say I prefer this kind of vacation way over sitting on a beach, or taking a cruise. I didn’t even feel a desire to leave the property and go sightsee in New Zealand. I was having the time of my life! But, one more creature, the Himalayan tahr. I’ll save that story for the next article.
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Treasure of New Zealand’s High Country!
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Late last year I became aware that my daughter, Dawn, as well let as her partner, John were going to New Zealand to hunt red stag and maybe other species. Okay, I thought, this is wonderful and I am very happy for my daughter who is a hard core big game hunter. Well, John is an accomplished and talented taxidermist in the Sandpoint as well as a well-traveled big game hunter who has several trips to New Zealand under his belt as well as many other pluses. In the course of his New Zealand hunts, John became good friends with a guide over there named Aaron and this was to be the guide for the hunt. Now, a short time after I heard about this hunt, my phone rang and on the other end was my daughter, Dawn. “Hey dad, would you and mom like to go to New Zealand with us to hunt Red Stag?” WELLLLLL it took about two seconds to say yes. Somehow, I will work it into my busy retirement schedule! The red stag is a close relative of our elk and is a magnificent beast. Actually, I have seen one stag already and that one was in my backyard in Moscow. This was a unique experience and will form the basis for a future article. But wait, if we are to travel halfway around the world and spend fair ka-ching, what about other species? In the area where we are to hunt on the south island, fallow deer and Himalayan tahr are also available. Well, the only fallow deer I have seen was at the base of Moscow Mountain and it really didn’t float my boat. But the tahr! This is truly a very regal goat and majestic in every way. Gotta be red stag and tahr! The hunt was to take place in early April, which is the start of New Zealand’s fall. Time ran short and a considerable amount of preparation was necessary. The selection of the proper rifle was at the top of the list. The last few years I have done all my hunting with two rifles, a 340 Weatherby Accumark with bipod, Picatinny rail topped with a Night Force 3.5 x 15 scope or a Sako A7M stainless synthetic, fluted barrel topped with Picatinny rail and a Night Force 3.5 x 15 scope. Don’t forget the bipod. Now the Weatherby 340 has sub MOA accuracy and throws a 250 grain bullet at 3000 fps. Think of it as a supercharged hammer of Thor. The only problem with this cannon is that it weighs 12.5 pounds and the thought of carrying it up a goat mountain did not seem like the most brilliant idea. Yeah, a few years ago I would have taken it but now I am a little older and wiser. The Sako 300 got the nod. I know this rifle well and have used it in long range competitions. The bullet selected was the Hornady 178 grain ELD. Less than ½ inch groups are the norm. Best of all, weight came in at under 11 pounds. Normal hunting gear for the Pacific Northwest is more than adequate for New Zealand. But the boots! Oh the boots! For years I relied on Goretex, Thinsulate boots with Air bob soles and was delighted. Can’t find good Air bob sole boots anymore and I have a decent pair of Danners with a new, high-tech sole. This sole does not provide adequate traction so I had a local bootsmith resole the Danners. I tried to get Air bobs but had to settle for the original Vibram, which is not bad, but is definitely not an Air bob. This is bad thing number one. Bad thing numer two involves Boeing’s 737 Max Jet. I had nightmare visions of flying on this turkey and winding up being pre-buried about 26 feet underground. Fortunately, this lemon has been grounded. Bad thing number two is out of the picture! On to bad thing number three! Shortly before we left, a lunatic used a semiauto rifle to kill many people in Christchurch, New Zealand! With the impending gun ban it did not take our party long to decide it would be best to use guns furnished by our guide. After a long, uneventful flight, we landed in Auckland. At the airport we observed two young hunters with their rifles being escorted to a room marked “security.” Glad we didn’t bring our rifles!
One we landed and settled in, our guides spent several days with spotting scopes scanning for tahr. We spotted several good ones and they actually were coming down to lower, not so steep levels. This was great as to get to the classic tahr areas would require a helicopter ride, costing a cool $1,000. Sometimes things work out well! We started our stalk and wound up climbing the only steep slope within miles. I found out just how lousy of shape I am in despite doing considerable running the last several months. I made it almost to the top and my Vibram soles failed me and I went down. I used the butt of the gun to catch myself and in the process severely injured my left rotator cup. Surgery is now down the line. Well, I crawed within 50 yards of a half dozen tahr hiding in a little bowl but was spotted before I could shoot. Tahr went everywhere! Okay, guide Aaron and I followed several and spotted them at about 200 yards quartering away. I took a rest over Aaron’s pack and touched one off. No reaction to the hit, we followed the tahr for another quarter mile or so at which point they turned left and started climbing a steep slope. The wounded one stopped and Aaron whispered after looking through his range-finding binoculars, “350 yards.” The Zeiss 20X scope was adjusted the appropriate amount and the tahr dropped instantly. Good! Nobody likes to see a wounded animal escape or suffer. We hurried to recover the meat, horns, and cape of this magnificent animal and beat nightfall. The rifle I used and furnished by the guide was a Browning A Bolt in 300 Winchester Magnum. It was blued steel, synthetic stock, topped with a variable Zeiss 20X scope on a two piece mount. It, like all rifles I saw over there had a suppressor up front. Silencer to the uninformed. The mount was not quite what I would like to see with a scope this heavy but the rifle was quite accurate. The Zeiss scope is quite good but not in the same category as the Nightforce piece mounted on my own 300. Ammunition was factory Hornady 150 grain Whitetail Hunter at close to 3300 fps. I would have liked to have used a heavier bullet-preferably bonded but the political situation dictated otherwise. Both bullets were recovered. No bone was encountered. The tahr I shot weighted approximately 250 pounds and being a goat is quite muscular and tough. The first hit was headed to the lungs but did not have enough weight to penetrate and was recovered on the diaphragm after entering ahead of the hindquarter. Recorded weight was 79.3 grains. The second bullet was dead broadside and stopped on the hide on the off side. Recovered weight was 126.8 grains. Bullet performance was quite good but this bullet and load are much better suited for use on lighter framed animals. Penetration was between 12 to 5 inches for either. A heavier or more strongly constructed bullet would have finished the job on the first hit. All of us considered this a great success and we brought home great trophies and even some meat! All in all, this was a fantastic adventure.
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2
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May 12, 1951 Today I started my year working for Mr. and Mrs. Julian and Helen Andrews in Genesee, Idaho. Helen is Mother’s cousin. I’ll perform housework and other chores. I can’t believe I’m here, but Mother begged me. Apparently, Helen has a difficult time keeping help and called Mother, frantic the new home (TH or town home) in Genesee, along with the country home (CH) at the farm, would overwhelm her without having “a girl.” I agreed only on the condition I marry Walter immediately upon my return to Minneapolis, either after one year when Walter is finished with college, or, if I get my way, this Christmas when I go home to visit. We shall see. May 27, 1951 The days fly by working at both homes. Mrs. A and I go out to the CH to work for Mr. Andrews during the day, then go to the TH at night. I have two of everything to manage. Mr. Andrews pays me well, but not double and certainly not extra to put up with Helen’s unbalanced moods and tantrums. I sure miss Walter. I’ve almost convinced Mother and Dad to let us marry when I go to Minneapolis in January. (No Christmas visit for me. Helen threw an absolute fit. I must stay to help with holiday parties and meals.) June 8, 1951 Mrs. A and I visited Mrs. Becker (Charlotte) and Evelyn today. The two ladies took their tea on Mrs. Becker’s porch, while Ev and I took ours in the kitchen, gossiping quietly about my employer’s strange situation with two homes. Ev thinks Mrs. A has paranoia. I’m inclined to agree. Ev has a car, so we’re going to a movie tonight in Moscow, but we can’t eat at the Nobby Inn after the show because Helen refuses to be alone in the TH longer than a few hours. July 4, 1951 Independence Day! No independence for me, though. I’m cooking and serving the Andrews’ guests at the CH, both lunch and dinner. Exhausting, no doubt, but I received a letter from Walter yesterday and am saving it to read tonight. Happy 4th! August 20, 1951 Haying started right after the 4th. I enjoy cooking for the big crew, and all the men are nice. Helen insists I not speak with them. I do anyway. Rather than have me stay at CH for simplicity, Helen requires I drive her to TH every night after dinner. I only catch a few hours of sleep before I have to get back out to CH to cook breakfast. Then I dash back to TH, pick up Helen, take her back to CH, and whip up lunch. Helen naps or reads while I tend to the garden and prep for dinner. Then we do it all over again the next day. Ridiculous. Walter, I swear the money I’m making doing all this crazy woman’s work, I’m buying myself a new red scarf and some hot pink lipstick!
November 22, 1951 Thanksgiving. I’m extremely blue. I miss my Walter and family. I wanted to go home but Helen needed me to stay. It’s the first Thanksgiving ever not being home. Mother insists that if I treat Helen with kindness, it will pay off. She’s right. If I do anything Helen dislikes (like stop off at the post office to visit with my friend, Ethel), she completely goes ape. It’s not worth it. I do what Helen wants and limit my time visiting friends when she’s gone to Moscow or Lewiston for lunch or shopping. December 10, 1951 CH Christmas party. Ev came to help me. Farmers, businessmen, and friends—adults only, no kids—filled the house. Decorating started the day after Thanksgiving, and Helen was still fussing around this afternoon while Ev and I slaved in the kitchen. Ham, turkey, goose, elk, casseroles, salads, fruit and vegetable trays, and an entire table full of deserts. I’ve never assembled so much food at one time in my life. And I get to do it again next week for the TH party. I’m earning my way back to Walter, though. January 18, 1952, will mark the happiest day in my life. I haven’t told anyone about getting married, not even Ev. I’ll tell everyone when I return on February 1. December 17, 1951 TH Christmas party was a repeat of the CH Christmas party, minus the farmers. That’s so Helen. Less guests meant a little less work for Ev and me, though. Mother and Dad sent my plane ticket (my early Christmas present), so I’m getting excited to leave Genesee in a few weeks and marry the most handsome, remarkable man I’ve ever met. December 24, 1951 Christmas Eve. Mr. and Mrs. Andrews requested I stay at TH tonight alone. I fixed them a lovely candlelight dinner and left them in the glow of the Christmas tree lights at CH. It’s nice to have a moment of solitude, but I wish Walter was here. I miss him desperately. He sent me a present, the dear. I’ll open it tomorrow. December 25, 1951 Walter sent MY RING! It’s a gorgeous gold band with a big diamond, at least half a carat. I put it on immediately. I wore it until I had to go out to CH and make Christmas brunch. It’s hanging on a long gold chain resting against my heart for now. It’ll only be secret for a while, though. When I return from Minneapolis, I’ll be wearing it as Mrs. Walter Drake. Merry Christmas to me! January 31, 1951 New Year’s Eve party at TH. Same crowd as the TH Christmas party. Everyone got drunk, so they didn’t notice Ev and me sneaking champagne at midnight. I’m just getting to bed; it’s 3am. Oh, the mess those folks make! Mr. Andrews is coming in to spend the day with Helen tomorrow. I’ll cook brunch, but they’re going out for dinner, so Ev is coming to watch TV with me. Happy New Year! 1952 is MY YEAR!
January 10, 1952 Mr. and Mrs. Andrews dropped me at the airport in Spokane. I’m waiting to board. Charlotte agreed to let Ev help Helen while I’m gone. I bet Charlotte (and Ev!) gets the short end of THAT stick! I’m so excited to see my precious Walter and become his wife. He’s my everything. January 15, 1952 Mother and I purchased a beautiful light blue suit, a white silk blouse, and beautiful new white gloves for me to wear on my wedding day. Dad said he’d order me a corsage. Walter gave me a new string of pearls. He also made reservations at The Grand Hotel for our Honeymoon. I’m over the moon excited. I’ll finally be Mrs. Walter Drake. January 17, 1952 Only one more sleep until I’m married! January 18, 1952 I’m lounging on a chaise in our suite at The Grand, wearing a fluffy, white robe, waiting for Walter to finish his shower so we can share a nightcap. The room at the Courthouse where the justice of the peace performed the vows was encased in beautiful dark wood with a simple, but elegant chandelier hanging above us. I felt lovely in my new suit, and Walter, well, I’ve never seen him look more handsome. Our parents and a few close friends joined us. Ten in all. Dad took us out to lunch at Jax. Steaks, seafood, and strong cocktails made us giddy. Walter hauled me off to this luxurious suite in enough time for a little nap, some alone time, and a delicious late dinner at the 5-8 Club (where I devoured a Juicy Lucy burger). My heart is bursting with emotion. I’m so honored and happy to be Mrs. Walter Drake. This is just the beginning! February 2, 1952 Back in Genesee. Mr. and Mrs. Andrews picked me up at the airport yesterday and treated me to a nice dinner before we drove home. Mrs. A dissolved into tears after Mr. A left. I wanted to go unpack but realized I’m back at work, a 24/7 endeavor with Helen. She shared she had a miscarriage a week after I left. Devastating for them both. I comforted her and fixed her several gin and tonics. She finally passed out. February 3, 1952 No mention of the crying jag last night. It was like it never happened. I told Mr. Andrews I had some big news to share with them. He suggested dinner tomorrow night at TH. February 4, 1952 It’s almost 11pm, and Helen is upstairs still yelling and screaming at Mr. A. He didn’t do anything. I did. I got married. When I told them, Helen’s reaction was completely unexpected. She flew off the handle. What does it matter if I’m married?
I’ll still do my job and stay the agreed amount of time (but no longer). I attempted to reason with her but finally gave up. Mr. Andrews allowed her to carry on. As I headed downstairs to retreat to my room, I saw a look on his face I’ve never seen on him before. Anger. I haven’t heard him yell, so bravo for his strength. No matter how upset Helen is, I refuse to feel guilty about my happiness with Walter. February 14, 1952 Walter sent a dozen roses, which put Helen over the edge. She sent me to CH without her. No Valentine’s Day celebration for them. When I returned, I only had 11 roses in the vase in my room. February 28, 1952 The past two weeks have been horrid. Helen has decided to tell anyone who will listen how I betrayed her by getting married. Ev and Charlotte told me not to worry, to hang on until the end of May. There’s no crime in getting married. It’s incredibly uncomfortable to be around Helen, but I do my work and say very little. March 12, 1952 I’ve been so sick the past week. I finally asked if could go to the doctor. Helen reluctantly allowed it. She said it’s just the stomach flu. I think different. March 13, 1952 I’M PREGNANT! Doctor Smithers said I’m about five weeks along. I’m over the moon! I called Walter from the doctor’s office to tell him. (I gave them money to pay for the call.) He was elated! I asked the doctor to not tell a soul. Mrs. A will be very fragile about the whole situation. Doctor Smithers knows of her troubles and agreed. I have to figure how to tell Mrs. A. Do I tell Mr. A first? Do I tell her with Ev and Charlotte with me? Walter said to just tell her. Worst case, he said he’d send me a plane ticket to go home. I’m so tempted. I told Mother what was going on, and she asked if I would stay until the end of May to fulfill my obligation. She and Dad were very happy about the baby. Honestly, I’m so focused on my husband and baby, I can’t worry about Mrs. A’s sadness. I’m going to be a mother! March 27, 1952 I told Mr. Andrews about my baby when Helen was in the house napping. I assured him I understood the sensitive situation. He was thrilled and hugged me. He suggested dinner tomorrow at TH to tell Helen. He said if she gets too upset, he’ll haul her to CH to calm down. He also said if things got too treacherous, he’d pay to send me home. What a wonderful man. March 28, 1952 I returned from picking up groceries to find Mrs. A left to go to lunch with friends. While I waited for the washing machine to finish its cycle, I went to my room to do my favorite thing, count the money I’ve earned. When I opened the small-
box hidden in my underwear drawer, my money was missing. All of it. I frantically looked everywhere, but there’s nowhere else it could be. I was so shocked and horrified I threw up. No one has been in this house except Helen and me. $872. Gone. I know she took it. I was so mad, I made a long distance call to Walter, which is a big no-no. He said he’d wire money and to let it go. Then he said to be careful, it’s obvious Helen is in a mental spiral. Later… I shared news of my pregnancy at dinner. I also suggested Helen check her valuables, as my money had gone missing. She stood, stomped to her bedroom, and slammed the door. Mr. Andrews smiled and said, “That went better than I thought it would.” He told me he’d reimburse the money. I thanked him. He suggested after I cleaned up dinner I should retreat to my room. I’m to call him if a problem arises. Again, I’m not sorry for being married or pregnant. Even Miserable Helen can’t squash my happiness. April 24, 1952 My belly is starting to swell. I feel terrific, other than Mrs. A has gone on a complete rampage to ruin me. I don’t care much. I like the people here, especially Ev, Charlotte, and Ethel, but I won’t live in Genesee after May 30th. Mother and Dad sent my plane ticket and discussed my departure with Helen. Ev will take me to the airport on the 30th. Walter wired me money, and Mr. Andrews said he’d settle up with me when I leave. He’s trying to spend more time with Helen to keep me from being her target, but it’s spring planting. He’s busy. Helen barely speaks to me and glares at me and my belly. I do my work and say nothing. May 7, 1952 Ev told me Helen”s gossiping my baby is Mr. Andrew’s. How dare she! I’m married! Mr. Andrews approached me yesterday, apologized, said he’d spoken with Helen about the gossip, and told me to hold on, only thirteen days until I leave. It’s stressful, but when I go to bed at night and am still, the baby kicks at me. It feels wonderful and weird. My future is in those kicks. May 13, 1952 I’ve spent the last hour in the hallway closet, yelling for Mrs. A to unlock the door. The stupid lock is still messed up from when the house was moved. We need to remove it. I guess Mr. A’s mom put it on the outside of the door up high so he would stay out of the closet when he was a toddler. The more I yell, the more I hear Helen laugh a sick, deranged cackle. She’s going off the deep end. Thank goodness I keep my journal and a pencil handy in my apron pocket so I can write while I wait for her to stop playing games. I yell out every so often, including that I will relieve myself on the floor if she doesn’t let me out. Finally, the lock clicked, and I heard the front door slam before I could even open the closet door. I didn’t see her until dinner.
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May 29, 1952 After all the unpleasantness Helen has caused me, I’m ready to leave. Genesee’s a wonderful town, but I’m relieved to go home to my husband tomorrow. I told Ev she was welcome in Minneapolis any time, but I’d never venture near this town again as long as Helen lived here. In the morning, I’ll fix Helen breakfast and clean up, then skip my big belly to Ev’s car when she arrives to pick me up to go to the airport. Walter will be waiting for me when I land. I’m finally going to live as Mrs. Walter Drake, soon-to-be-mother, and eventual journalist. My blessings are abundant. May 30, 1952 She did it again. I’m sitting here in the closet waiting for her to unlock the door. When I came in here to get flour for the pancakes she requested, she rushed behind me and slammed the door. I heard the lock click and then her sick laugh. She yelled, “Oh, I’m sorry, did you get trapped again by that pesky lock? Hope you get out before you have to leave.” I yelled back, “Unlock the door, Helen!” At least I had the sense to tell Ev to come into the house and get me if I didn’t come racing out when she arrived to pick me up. I’d told her previously about getting locked in the closet, and she assured me she’d get me to the airport on time even if she had to slap Mrs. A to do it. Wouldn’t that be a sight?! It’s been an hour. I hear Helen getting ready in the bathroom. Now I hear her high heels clicking on the wood floor. I yelled for her to please let me out, but she isn’t coming. I hear her banging around in the kitchen. She’s doing something at the stove. Now I hear popping and crackling. Now I hear the front door slam. I think she left! I yelled for her, and there was no reply. The popping and crackling are getting louder, and I swear I smell smoke. This realization sends me to sheer panic. It’s FIRE. Please, let Ev come now to get me and save me! I shoved the sack of flour to cover the door crack, hoping it’ll help. It’s not working. Smoke’s seeping in. The smoke is making it hard to breathe. I couldn’t get the door to give an inch. I threw everything at it, including me. It won’t budge. My heart is beating so fast; I feel faint. On floor to escape smoke. Still snaking in under door. Helen locked me in and left. Terrified. Scared. Angry. Praying. So much praying. Please, Ev, someone, anyone come soon. Choking. Coughing. Walter, we never got to start our life together. I’m so sorry I didn’t leave sooner.I don’t want this, Walter. I’m scared. I love you. Mom, Dad, I love you. Forgive Helen. Shoving journal behind lath on back wall. Praying someone finds me or my journal to know what really happened today, the day my baby and I died.
***
Both Kit and Tom sat with silent tears trickling down their cheeks, feeling the impact of Rose’s entire story. Their precious ghost, Rose, and her baby were murdered, and Kit and Tom were the only two people who knew it and that Helen did it. “Tom,” Kit whispered. “This is why this house—Rose— spoke to us. This.” She tapped the journal’s cover. She jumped up and stepped into the closet. “I hear you, dear Rose. Mrs. Andrews stole your voice, but now I will give it back. I will tell your story.”
***
For two weeks, Kit slaved and toiled, tinkered and crafted Rose’s story. Her editor raved and immediately approved it for her nationally syndicated column. Julian and Helen, Walter, Rose’s parents, everyone had long since passed. But now, thousands of people would read about Rose. No longer silenced in the closet, Rose and her baby would receive their justice. Sixty years late. Kit arrived home, exhausted but triumphant. She poured a scotch on the rocks in honor of Rose. She settled onto the hallway closet floor, light off, doorway only open enough for a crack of light to peek through.
“Cheers to you, Rose.” She took a sip of her drink. The burn of the golden liquor went down her throat the same time a tear slipped down her cheek. “Thousands of people will read about you. I shared everything you shared in your journal. I couldn’t have done it without you. Thanks for choosing me and nudging me along. I promise Tom and I will create countless happy memories here in your honor.” The familiar faint breeze with a chill kissed Kit’s cheeks, and the smoky smell she’d grown fond of lingered in her nostrils. Then, suddenly, both were gone. Kit never smelled the smoke or felt the soft, breezy tickle after that day. Rose and her baby were finally free. This fictional story was inspired by true events.
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