Riverjournal aug2016

Because there’s more to life than bad news

A Newsmagazine Worth Wading Through

NORTHWEST

ADVENTURES:

Finding Family, the Grey Line and Oh, Baby! Plus more inside.

Photo of Mt. Hood by Ernie Hawks

August 2016 • FREE

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We’ve Got It Covered

All About Weddings

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Repair & Recycling

Lawn, Garden, Snow Equipment, Generators, Pumps and Older Outboards.

Custom Wedding & Event Supplies

Dishes, linens, chairs, tables, tents and more. Expanded selection covers any event, big or small.

1201 Michigan St. • Sandpoint www.weddingsinsandpoint.com

208.263.9748

Two doors west of the Hope Post Office

I Buy Batteries Ron Powell

I buy, sell and repair Auto, Truck, Marine and ATV batteries

All Seasons Garden & Floral

31831 Hwy 200 Sandpoint Open Daily Monday-Saturday 9 to 6

208.265.2944

Trees, Shrubs & Perennials Fruit, evergreen, shade & ornamental!

BUY ONE, GET ONE HALF OFF!* Equal or lesser value. Use by Sept. 15. May not be used with other offers.

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An independent optometrist with 14 years local experience.

Call Carol Curtis, Asso. Broker, GRI, Realtor 208-290-5947

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Flowering beauties, stately sentinels or flavorful fruits, we’ve got the tree you need!

Paul Koch, O.D.

Offices conveniently located in the Vision Center at Ponderay WalMart

4203 North Boyer, Sandpoint • 208-263-8414

Who’s the Best Chef?

Daily at 3 pm

Flying Mammals Tuesday at 9 pm

Ranch Sorting Barrel Racing Tuesday at 7:30 pm Wednesday at 7:30 pm

Hypnotist Chris Mabrey Tues. & Wed. at 6 and 8 pm

Rob Ot the Robot Wednesday at 11 am

Kid Davie’s Magic Show Tuesday, 7:30 pm

Bashful Dan’s Dance Party Wednesday at 9 pm

Challenge of Branch & Dean Champions Thursday at 9 pm Country Sensation

Friday at 7:30 pm

Devon Wade Friday at 9 pm

Demolition Derby Saturday at 7 pm

The River Journal - A News Magazine Worth Wading Through - August 2016 ~just going with the flow~ P.O. Box 151•Clark Fork, ID 83811 www.Facebook.com/RiverJournal (Webpage under redesign) 208.255.6957 • 208.266.1112

STAFF Calm Center of Tranquility Trish Gannon • trishgannon@gmail.com Ministry of Truth & Propaganda Jody Forest • reach him in the great beyond Sales & Other Stuff David Broughton• 208.290.6577 • davidcbroughton@gmail.com “We are what we repeatedly do.

Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.” Aristotle Proudly printed at Griffin Publishing in Spokane, Wash. 509.534.3625 Contents of the River Journal are copyright 2016. Reproduction of any material, including original artwork and advertising, is prohibited.

The River Journal is published the first week of each month and is distributed in over 16 communities in Sanders County, Montana, and Bonner, Boundary and Kootenai counties in Idaho. The River Journal is printed on 40 percent recycled paper with soy-based ink. We appreciate your efforts to recycle.

Internet....

Everywhere

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DIVE INTO SUMMER

with Sandpoint Parks and Rec

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www.SandpointIdaho.gov Scholarships available.

• Youth advanced sailing- reg. by Aug 10 • Rhythmic and Acrosport Gymnastics. Reg.

by Sept. 7 for final session. Ages 6-18 •Self-esteem, Education & and Empowerment through Dance. Reg. by Sept. 9 • Preschool Aikido, reg. by Aug 31. Ages 4-6 • Adult dance classes include tango, cowboy cha cha, bolero, country swing and belly dancing.

• Adult intro to woodworking. Reg. by Aug 17 • Sandpoint Parks & Rec offers a variety of activities for youth, adults and families.

FIND IT ALL IN OUR SUMMER ACTIVITY GUIDE The Summer Activity Booklet is available now! Get your copy at the City Rec office, the Sandpoint Library or online.

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August 2016

All Shook Up If not us, who? If not now, when?

Those two questions have become my personal mantra. As a person with a chronic (it isn’t going away) and progressive (it is going to get worse) disease, I believe I have a personal responsibility to participate in medical research—even though it is doubtful that I will ever see the benefit. Before you, the reader, assign altruistic motives to me, please consider that a major part of my motivation is very, very selfish.

Most medical research, including many drug trials, may not yield tangible advantages for ten or even twenty years in the future. That means I’m unlikely to ever see any positive results based on my needle sticks, blood draws, spinal taps, biopsies or brain scans. But… and it is a big but, my sons, grandsons and future generations may (and I emphasize may) be the recipient of a cure or means of prevention.

I am approaching a state of benign melancholy (whatever that is) as I write this column. I’m sitting outdoors in the baking sun of inland San Diego watching my oldest grandson graduate from high school. Along with many pleasant memories intrude thoughts of mortality and hopes that no future generations will need to deal with Parkinson Disease.

I imagine that many readers may be thinking along these lines: “So what?

This has nothing to do with me!”

Pay it Forward

by A.C. Woolnough

A.C. Woolnough is the Asst. State Director for the Parkinson’s Action Network.

ACWooly@gmail.com Putting aside the enormous personal and societal costs of such diseases, I would argue that it has everything to do with all of us. Almost everyone knows someone who has dealt with cancer, Alzheimer’s, or some other severe condition.

Many people do not realize that (almost) anyone can participate in medical research—as a subject (human lab rat) or as a control (someone without the disease or condition). Using any search engine, one can seek out an area of interest or focus and locate a study that needs volunteers. For example, those interested in PD can go to Fox Trial Finder, register, input some basic information and see a list of studies they may be interested in and qualified for.

As an aside, to the best of my knowledge, Idaho has little, if any, medical research and certainly not for PD. As an alternative, next time you see Rep. Labrador, Sen. Risch or Crapo, you might ask them to support federal funding for medical research.

The bottom line: It’s up to us and the time is now!

American Heritage Wildlife Foundation

preserving wildlife through rehabilitation and education. An Idaho 501(c)3 and North Idaho’s only non-profit with permits to work with mammals and birds.

YOU CAN HELP!

PINTS FOR A CAUSE September 14 at Idaho Pour Authority, 203 Cedar in Sandpoint, 5–8 pm

COMEDY NIGHT FOR WILDLIFE September 17 at the Sandpoint Center (Columbia Bank Bldg.) with Kermit Apio.

6 pm. Tickets $20.

Appetizers provided, silent auction, raffles

Annie’s Orchard Plants • Shrubs • Trees • Landscaping Supplies

Mon-Sat 8am to 5pm • 1 Mile West of Clark Fork • 266-1245 PLUS Annie’s Orchard Antiques, Equipment Rentals and Kayak Rentals!

Don’t Travel Miles... Check Out Our Piles!

Sip n’ Shop for Wildlife

Oct. 5 at the Pend d’Oreille Winery, 301 Cedar in Sandpoint. 5–8 pm.

Scarecrow Contest

through October at Hickey Farms. Entry fee is $10, prizes awarded!

American Heritage Wildlife Foundation

www.AHWF.org 208.266.1488 August 2016

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Finding Family—It’s Easier Than Ever

by Trish Gannon

Not that each of us didn’t try.

Cheryl Allen and her sisters knew “Christa, Starla, Dara and I all tried they had another sister, somewhere. having 14 siblings. [Linda also found to find her,” said Cheryl Allen. “We When the girls were young, in the early siblings from her father’s side.] And for figured that Mom had to have help doing 1960s, they were told their mother had us, it really helped us to get through this, so we found the guy who had told a nervous breakdown, and they went to Starla’s death.” us Mom had a nervous breakdown.

But stay with family friends for a while. But Geri Lee had also looked for her he told us, “If your mom wanted you to later in life they learned their mother, missing sister. “We’ve always known know, she would have told ya.”

Then we newly divorced and with five children she was out there,” she said, “and my talked to Mom’s doctor, and he told us already, had given birth to a baby that mother just pined for that baby.” But that some things are better left alone.

So she put up for adoption. those adoption records were sealed. we didn’t have much to go on.”

Geri Lee and her siblings knew of “The seven of us (Geri and all her But Linda, their “hidden” sister, a sister as well. During World War II siblings) always knew we would never was also looking for her family, and she her mother, separated and with three be able to find her, It would have to be decided to do DNA testing. children, gave birth to a little girl after a her finding us.”

There are a number of companies short romance with a young sailor on the But Geri was an avid genealogist, that offer DNA testing for ancestry and/ U.S.S. Arizona. That ship famously went and when DNA testing was made or medical purposes.

Ancestry DNA, down in the Japanese attack on Pearl available for ancestry purposes, she 23andMe, and Family Tree DNA are the Harbor, and the little girl was placed for jumped on the bandwagon. “Mainly three biggest.

Linda did hers through adoption.

I did it because I wanted to know Ancestry DNA (owners of Ancestry.

I also knew I had a sister somewhere my ethnicity,” she said. “I wanted com, one of the largest source-recordsout there in the world. Some time after to know if I really was a mixture of based genealogy websites).

Ancestry my father died, I learned that he had Portuguese and Norwegian.

I got my will not only give you information on fathered another girl, born almost four results in two weeks and sure enough, your results, it will look for “matches” years before me and to a woman he the family stories were true about our with other people who have also was not married to. My mother and background.” shared their DNA test results, giving father had tried to adopt her but were But Geri did her test through unsuccessful—probably due to my dad’s an approximation of the degree of Ancestry DNA and that information relatedness. past criminal history. By the time I became a part of the database. And Linda’s test results led her to a fourth learned about her it was too late to ask eventually, she was notified of a “close cousin who happened to be an avid my father for information, and my mother match” with someone else—someone genealogy researcher, and the cousin never wanted to talk about it. whose DNA suggested they were joined in the hunt All three of us, in the last year, found “immediate family.”

In the meantime, Cheryl’s daughter those sisters, and welcomed these “Because this lady’s name sounded Amanda had begun to do genealogy “new” siblings into our lives. Doing so, Norwegian to me, I thought she must research and entered some information however, involved serendipity as much be related on my dad’s side,” Geri into the FindaGrave website.

This as it did effort. explained.

She and Loriann began volunteer website lists gravesites Some of the difficulties in each of exchanging messages, trying to throughout the country, and sometimes these cases involve both the relative determine the connection.

“I asked her those listings include personal youth of the missing sisters, and the about her ethnicity and she didn’t know information about the person buried. fact that adoption records are sealed. it.

That surprised me, because people The fourth cousin found the information Many public records held by various generally have some idea,” Geri said. there that Amanda had entered about government offices are kept private for “Then she told me that she had really her grandmother, which led to the 70 years, not only to protect the privacy discovery of the rest of the family. “Then started doing genealogy for her mother, of the people those records pertain to, because her mother was adopted. And this cousin basically stalked us on but to shelter that information from that’s when the penny dropped. I told Facebook,” Cheryl laughed. identity thieves as well. And while these her “Call me, or give me a number Linda was afraid the family might days adoption records can, in some where I can call you.” Loriann is an reject her, so initially contact was made cases, be unsealed by the child involved army nurse who was working in Italy through the distant cousin.

But not in the process, they cannot be unsealed at the time, but the phone rang almost until just shortly after one of the sisters, by any of the other parties. immediately... and eventually, another Starla (Staglund), had died.

“I really While it may still be possible to set of siblings was united. Rita—Geri’s think Starla had something to do with discover a wealth of information sister and Lorianne’s mother—had been it,” said Cheryl.

“This has been such an regarding individual people living today, looking for her family for a long time. incredible journey for all of us.

My sister discovering their name—particularly I am a genealogy buff myself, and Linda went from being an only child to their adoptive name—is close to have frequently tried to “find” my own impossible.

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August 2016

missing sister. But the chances were never good. My mother couldn’t (or maybe wouldn’t) remember the name of my father’s girlfriend, the name of the baby girl, nor would she even tell me a date or place of birth. I did find a Jackson, Tennessee city directory for 1958 that listed my father as living with a “wife,” Sue Presley, but Dad never married this woman, and a Sue with an unknown surname turned out to be not much of a lead. In fact, despite my focused searches, it would be idle curiosity that led me to my sister Anne.

Random chance led me to read a story on a genealogy blog about a controversy with the FindaGrave website. People can apply for “ownership” of a listed gravesite; with ownership, they can add additional information about the person buried there, generally along the lines of obituaries or family lineages. But the only requirement to “own” a listing is to ask for it, and oftentimes these grave listings are owned by people with no connection to the family.

Sometimes, these people post erroneous information about the person buried and infrequently these owners refuse to correct the non-factual information.

I was surprised that such a thing could be true, and I immediately wondered whether it had happened with the listings for any of my own family. The first listing I checked was for my father.

I knew his grave was listed on FindaGrave as he was buried in a military cemetery, and I had frequently come across a link to it on other internet searches. But I had never actually gone to his listing. I was 23 when my father died, and I already knew when he died and where he was buried. The site, I thought, had nothing to offer me regarding my father’s life.

But when the page opened up, I saw a note had been appended to his listing. “Hello Daddy,” it read. “I never got the chance to know you in life. I have searched and searched for you. You knew me as Maria LeAnne Presley at the time of my birth.” It went on to give her current name and an address where she lived. But the note had been posted sixteen years ago.

So I cyber-stalked this woman. She

no longer lived in Ft. Lewis, Wash., the address she had given, but her married name is not a common one and I only found three of them in the U.S.—with a likely candidate living not 30 miles from my father’s home in Tennessee. And when I looked through her photos on her Facebook page, I came across one where she looked so much like my father it was like seeing him walk into a room again.

Yet another sister came home.

There are many reasons why families become separated, and many reasons why they might wish to unite again. As my own sister wrote, “I don’t mean to alarm anyone, I just want to know my Daddy.” And like Cheryl said, “There’s diabetes and cancer in our family. A child deserves to know that.”

The world today gives opportunities for that to happen that weren’t available

even a decade ago. The three of us—in Heron, Hope and Clark Fork—found our sisters thanks to an interest in genealogy, and the power of social media.If you are looking for a long lost family member, consider giving the genealogy route a try. The Mormon Church has incredible genealogy resources available, and local Family History Centers (Hayden Lake, Sandpoint and Bonners Ferry in Idaho, Plains, Libby and Missoula in Montana) are staffed with volunteers who will help you on your journey.

DNA testing for ancestry purposes might also be beneficial. Costs range from $99 to $199 in those top three companies, but bear in mind that the person on the other end of your search (or a child of theirs) must also have done DNA testing for a match to be made.

August 2016

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A Bird in Hand

also explains why they tend to stay near the shallow sides of the lakes.

by Mike Turnlund The American white pelican is a Do you love AMERICAN WHITE stunning bird in the air. They’re one of birds, and the heaviest flying birds in the world.

PELICAN: If it looks like a want to know They are all spotlessly white, except more? Check pelican, it probably is. for the dramatic contrast of their black out Mike’s bird wing primaries.

Black and white. They photos, online I love getting and answering emails also fly with their heads resting back at birdsidaho. about birds from River Journal readers. on their shoulders, just like a Great blogspot.com.

Most typically these emails are requests blue heron. In my opinion, both the for help in identifying a species, often mturnlund@gmail.com American white pelican and the Great from photographs. Otherwise, questions blue heron equally look prehistoric limited in their preferred habitat.

But are centered on specific species when flying; to my imagination akin to where that habitat does exist, you might information. But on occasion I get the feathered pterodactyls. And of course, very well find pelicans.

For example, the “what the heck are you talking about?” they have the huge yellow bill with the greater Yellowstone National Park region inquiry. These emails tend to question unforgettable throat sack. This sort of is rife with them. both my intelligence and my manhood. defines them as, well, pelicans.

But what about our area, which Wow, I didn’t realize birds were so As side notes, both parents encompasses the sophisticated and controversial. I blame Trish Gannon for participate in incubating the eggs and enlightened readership of the River this. Cannon fodder, I tell ya… feeding the young. In the fall they’ll Journal? These are less friendly pelican One time I even had a reader tell head south and west toward the coast, lands, but quite a few of these birds me that such and such a species I had where they’ll spend the winter. The make themselves available for our written about “does not exist around breeding adults also grow a strange enjoyment anyway.

And be mindful of here ‘cause I ain’t never seen it.” growth, like a fin, on the top of their that: the only reason we do have any Hmmm. Well, I beg to differ because not beak. It’s very peculiar, but I’m sure pelicans in our region is so that you can only does “such and such a species” they find it quite attractive. The growth enjoy them.

They’re here for you; I’m live around here, so does “this here falls off when the appropriate hormones sure of this. and that species” too. Just because quit giving the mated couples visions of Unlike their coastal cousin, the a local has never seen a specific bird babies.

Brown pelican, white pelicans are not doesn’t preclude its existence. I think So where can a person see the divers.

Seeing brown pelicans on the that perhaps they need a new pair of American white pelican around here southern Pacific Coast diving from great binoculars and something better than a with any certainty? The almost surefire heights and into the ocean below to color-by-number bird book. place is the Kootenai Wildlife Refuge grab prey is quite impressive.

The white I wonder what such a person might in Boundary County. Mosey on up to pelican is just less dramatic by nature. think when I state that we have pelicans Bonners Ferry, follow the signs west to Instead, they prefer to leisurely cruise in our neck of the woods; ‘cause I’ve the refuge and then follow the car trail around on the surface of a lake and grab seen ‘em. Scores of them. All at once. that cuts through the wildlife viewing any fish within reach of their stretched What in the world are American white area. Bring binoculars, a good bird book, necks and scooping pouched bills.

That pelicans doing in this little part of and a lunch. You’ll see lots of different is why these birds avoid such lakes like paradise? Are they lost? species, including such favorites as our own Lake Pend Oreille: it’s too deep.

No, they’re not lost. Pelicans are the Yellow-headed blackbird and the These are not diving birds.

So they common inland breeders, but just not Western Meadowlark. It is truly a need to be able to nab fish that can’t around here. Almost any place in the birders’ paradise and warrants multiple escape their maws with a quick descent West that is outside of the Rockies visits a year, as you’ll never know what into the deep.

In fact, if you do spot plays host to these summer breeders. is in store for you.

American white pelicans on a lake, they But that doesn’t mean you won’t find I suppose for the uninitiated, finding might be working together in a small them in mountainous regions—they just pelicans in our region is a bit odd. But mob to flush fish to each other.

And this don’t prefer them, as the mountains are for many of them, our home is their home, at least for the summer. But they’re not much more odd than some of the other seasonal visitors that live up here too. You know whom I’m talking about.

WATERFRONT • RESIDENTIAL • ACREAGE • COMMERCIAL So now’s your chance to add the Buying or selling, our experienced staff can help make American white pelican to your birding life list. I have… multiple times. And your real estate dreams come true!

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August 2016

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Oh, Baby!

One of my backpacking friends — perhaps the best kind — once asked me about 36 hours into a back country trip if I was okay. I lied and said I was, and asked why he inquired. He said, “You haven’t said, ‘Oh, baby!’ once.”

I was surprised. For one thing, I really wasn’t really very okay. I was stuck in my head, worrying about “stuff,” not present to the present. His perceptive question caused me to come out of my worries and pay attention to where we were, which was good, for we were in wilderness. And, if there is anyplace you might want to be paying attention, it is in wilderness.

For instance, wilderness can turn time upside down. Case in point: Shouldn’t a measly 17-mile hike take a lot less time than four days? Hikers on the Appalachian or Pacific Crest Trail crank out 17 miles a day and more.

Sometimes much more. But we didn’t. In fact, it really took five days to go those 17 miles, but we took Sunday off. Sort of.

We only hiked a mile or two on Sunday.

With no big loads. No 40- or 50- or, in the case of one of us, 65-pound packs on Sunday. Sunday, is after all, a day of rest, right? So, we rested. Sort of. At least we tried to.

It’s hard to rest physically in wilderness. Wilderness calls us out of the sleeping bag, the tent, camp, a malaise, depression, apathy, self-centeredness and drags us into its world by our senses.

See the wilderness. Touch it. Listen to it. Smell it. Taste the wilderness. And still the senses aren’t exhausted. Add the senses of humor, wonder, reverence, respect, awe, humility.

Council website at tristatecouncil.org.

Hay’s Chevron Gas • Convenience Store Unofficial Historical Society

Oil Changes Tire Rotation by appointment

208-266-1338

by Sandy Compton

“Oh, baby!” is a favorite expression of mine, and I use it often, especially in the back country. I use it to express all of the listed senses and more. There are so many opportunities: the prospect of a moonrise over a far and craggy range interrupted by a thunder storm that graced us with a late day rainbow instead; the balsalmic tang of subalpine fir on a warm day; the subtle colors of layered stone in a glaciated basin half full of snow; sweet spring water pouring pure and straight out of the rock; sweat dripping into our eyes as we climb something we are not quite sure we can climb with a little more weight on our backs than we think we can carry; arriving at a panorama to die for, particularly if you aren’t watching where you put your feet.

There’s that thing about paying attention again. Wilderness makes it necessary. Pay attention or else. You might get hurt. You could even get killed. But, mostly, you might miss some of the best moments of your life. So, pay attention.

My hiking friends sometimes make fun of “Oh, baby!” They make efforts to count my daily use of the expression, coming up with ridiculous numbers like 2,376, which is ridiculous because it’s probably way too low. But quantifying “Oh, baby!” moments doesn’t work.

Like a healthy relationship with the Spirit, an “Oh, baby!” moment is a qualitative experience. It doesn’t really matter how many you have, but that you have them. And the wilderness provides plenty. If you are paying attention.

“Oh, baby!” moments are not all pleasant. Being immersed in an alder

The Scenic Route Sandy Compton’s book The Scenic Route, as well as his many others, is available online at bluecreekpress.com, or at Vanderford’s Books or The Corner Bookstore in Sandpoint.

mrcomptonjr@hotmail.com patch for more minutes than about a half, for instance, can be an “Oh, baby!” moment. Or worse yet, being stuck in mefe (Menziesia ferruginea) on an 80 per cent slope in search of an elk trail.

(My fault, totally. Sorry, fellow hikers.)

Digging out the raincoat on short notice and trying to keep the panic level to a minimum when the lightning storm rolls over the top of the rocky ridge you are treading.

Talk about “Oh, baby!”

But, pleasant or not, “Oh, baby” moments are real: they might be raw as a heel blister ripped open; wild as a cow elk barking at us for stealing her bed spot; sublime as pink cotton candy clouds riding rocky ridges above a camp sheltered by piles of ice-shattered stone; or tough as a 1200-foot vertical ascent on a 45 per percent slope. Real. Really real. And guaranteed to make you pay attention.

Near the end of our five-day, fournight 17-mile (and 16,000-plus total vertical feet), we marked our final descent out of the back country by picking a few huckleberries and trying to keep our minds off of sore feet, achy knees and the prospect of being back in our too-busy “real” world. As we hiked the last few yards through the trees and my faithful old blue truck hove into view, somebody in the group said, “Oh, baby!”

It wasn’t me, but I don’t mind sharing. Oh, baby!

For more of Sandy Compton, visit www.bluecreekpress.com. His books are there, at Vanderford’s and the Corner Book Store in Sandpoint, Cabinet Books in Libby, and at amazon. com

m | Vol 17 No. 18 | November 2008 | Page 5 August 2016

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The Hawk’s Nest “Always check a good local map before heading out,” is what I was told many years ago by a sage and experienced outdoorsman. Probably the next bit of advice is making sure you know how to read a map.

So last week we headed out with our trusty map. It was a road trip so the atlas seemed adequate for the job. Okay, I know it isn’t a “good local map” but it did show quite a few roads in the area where we were headed.

As we prepared we saw a faded grey line between two roads that would cut off several miles. We also knew this road was in the heart of the Oregon Cascade Mountains. There was no number or any identification on the gray line but we both thought it looked interesting.

Now for a little background; we have gotten away with this before. For example, there was that time in the Bitterroots one of us had to walk for miles ahead of the SUV to clear large rocks. We were going so slow and had to get in and out so often we finally buckled the seat belts behind the seat so we didn’t have to deal with that ping, ping, ping intended to save our lives. It turned out to be a glorious drive and we did fine until the road was closed due to a fire.

Nothing we had showed an escape route.

We finally simply decided to take a track heading in the direction we felt was right.

And we got away with it. So, when we saw a thin grey line our experience supported our decision to go for it.

Now, back to that sage advice given so many years ago. There should be an addendum to it. Something like: “unless you enjoy wondering where you are and

Following the Grey Line

where you are headed.”

See, what happens is the gray line on a white map doesn’t transfer to a back road in an unfamiliar wood. Another behavior one might want to nip in the bud is using a U.S. Road Atlas for back county forest service roads. However, as we drove down Highway 26 in the mountains south of Mt. Hood we came to a road (a track, a car path, the footprint of an ATV), which looked very promising and was about where the thin grey line would be if it were painted on the earth.

Our goal for the day was Breitenbush Campground near Detroit. You didn’t know about Detroit, Oregon? Maybe you, too, should follow the thin grey line. By the way, it isn’t far from Idanha. We were really quite impressed because some of the road was paved and even painted.

Signage, on the other hand, was iffy.

Mile markers seem to start at a random numbers and get larger for a while until they start getting smaller to another random number. A few miles past the last one we saw, which was eight I believe, we came to 92. Like I said, it was a pretty good road but to make that many miles in about twenty minutes seemed a bit unreal.

One concern we developed early on was the fact that signs, including mile markers, seemed to be pointed in every direction, including straight up, and didn’t seem to give any answers that made sense. We saw one saying Breitenbush was 31 miles that-a-way only to see the road (track, car path, ATV footprint) disappear into the trees that were descending a near cliff.

Now, while we wondered where we

Cedar Outlet

Fencing • Decking • Siding Garden Project Lumber Opening April 7-8 for the Season

by Ernie Hawks

Ernie Hawks is the author of “Every Day is a High Holy Day: Stories of an Adventuring Spirit,” available on Amazon, Kindle or in your favorite bookstore.

ernestmhawks@gmail.com were wandering, the sights all around were fascinating. Steep treed hills lined with conifers. Sweet, whitewater streams slammed against boulders. A couple Roosevelt Elk checked us out from a safe distance. Behind us, Mt. Hood rose to over 11,000 feet of pure grandeur. White glaciers filled valleys between lateral moraines of ancient gravel. The sky was clear but clouds hung on the lea side of the peak looking like a vapor trail as if the mount was flying to the west.

We did cross the Pacific Crest Trail a couple times but didn’t see any famous hikers; it must have been an off day.

After pondering our situation for a few hours and a few miles (we will never know how many) we came across a man on the road. We asked him if he knew how to get to Breitenbush. “Camp, hot springs or lake?” was the answer. We didn’t know, but thought camp sounded best at the time.

“Just down here to the junction and left 20 miles.” “Thanks,” but he was gone.

So we followed the same route our instincts had been leading us and set up camp in time for dinner.

You may be asking if we learned our lesson. You bet. Always follow the thin grey line for the best adventures.

Ernie’s photo of Mt. Hood graces our cover. You can find more of his photography at PhotosbyHawks.net. And you can purchase his book, Every Day is a High Holy Day, at local bookstores or at Amazon.com.

1-208-263-1208 1 mi. north of WalMart on Hwy. 95 Page 10

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August 2016

The Winners in the Toilet Bowl

One of the problems that exist with monthly publications like ours is so much happens between the day of our deadlines — usually the 24th of each month — and when we hit the newsstands sometime around the 10th of the following month. July was one of those months when stuff happened that won’t see the light of day in the River Journal until now in early August.

Case in point: The Bonner County ‘Lame Duck Dynamic Duo’ of County Commissioners: Suddick & Kelly. They have been running a concentrated campaign of scorched earth when it comes to Planning & Zoning personnel and processes for months now. Late in June — right after our deadline — they passed a resolution removing the requirement for Panhandle Health District (PHD) to approve septic siting for new home sites.

What was the rationale for making this ridiculous move? These ‘Lame Ducks’ said it was done to save the property owner a substantial amount of money upfront when building their new ‘McMansion’ here in Bonner County. I was immediately reminded of the old TV commercial showing a mechanic recommending an oil change on your car. The tag line is, “You can pay me now or pay me later.”

Why does that matter you ask? For starters I don’t think it’s a great idea to let raw sewage go anywhere without taking a look at the potential impact on neighbors, streams or nearby wells. I, for one, wouldn’t want a new septic system adversely impacting my sole source of water.

Granted, PHD can be somewhat bureaucratic and sluggish when it comes to approving permits but normally they get the job done in a reasonable amount of time. Siting a septic system is done for the good of the applicant and their potential neighbors. It is a process that must be followed for the good of everyone concerned.

Many lots simply are not appropriate for conventional septic systems. The PHD is tasked with analyzing the site, checking soil types and determining if the proposed disposal system is appropriate. This is important work!

by Gil Beyer

Mistakes in siting a septic system can result (and have resulted) in thousands of dollars of remedial work needing to be done.

The reason the Commissioners used to eliminate this requirement from the permitting process? It costs too much and is a burdensome nuisance to the applicant. The ‘Lame Ducks’ won’t have to deal with the fallout of their actions.

I see more litigation in our future that will be paid for with more taxpayer money. You can pay the fee — currently a maximum of $950 for a complete analysis of the site — or you can face expensive litigation and repairs when your inadequate or badly sited system fails. Like the man said, “Pay me now or pay me later.” Of course, your neighbors will now also have to bear the expense of suing you into the bargain.

I talked with some building contractors I know. The consensus of their thinking on this move could be summed up as follows. “Are they freaking nuts?!” And that was one of the milder comments I heard.

That brings me back to a much larger problem we face when elected officials lose their seats. It’s bad enough when an official loses in the General Election in the fall, but to lose in the primary gives the losers an opportunity for a great deal of mischief between their loss and the end of their term. These ‘losers’ have months to make the incoming candidates sorry they ever ran for public office.

This is especially true at local levels. It gives the ousted pol about seven months to bury a bunch of IEDs and conventional landmines to wreak havoc on the citizenry that had the audacity to vote them out of office. I’m not saying that all outgoing office holders are that venal or are seeking revenge on those who had the unmitigated gall to vote them out. It simply gives the loser an opportunity to take some vengeance. We, as humans, naturally seek ways to get even for slights we perceive to have been done to us.

I have a proposal I’d like to put forth. Let’s institute regulations that

Here in the Middle A retired Navy man, Gil Beyer has served as a library trustee and on the county Planning & Zoning board, (where he had the distinction of being fired from a volunteer position). He is currently the county Democratic State Committeeman and LD1 Chair.

40vintage@gmail.com prohibit outgoing office holders from making any changes to established policies, procedures and processes that will have an impact that extends beyond the term of the lame duck.

This would allow a period of calm between the turmoil of campaigning and the installation of the newly elected candidate. I would call this “The Let Cooler Heads Prevail’ regulation. We simply don’t need to give any sore losers more opportunities to for revenge.

There are other things going on that should be talked about. One is the ‘write-in’ campaign of Terry Ford for the office of Bonner County Sheriff.

Now I know that a write-in campaign is a tough row to hoe, but there was a winner as a write-in this past May. I think that with enough effort it could be done again. After all, in the closed GOP primary, Terry only lost by 1,100 votes out of 5,990 votes cast. If you add in all the unaffiliated voters and people registered with other parties, I believe that Terry can win over the incumbent ‘Constitutional Sheriff.’

There is also a rumor going around that there is some interest in having a write-in campaign against the newly elected County Commissioner, Dan McDonald. Dan’s margin of victory was only 1,446 in the, again, closed GOP primary. Under the wonders that are Idaho Law, a write-in has until October 10, 2016 to file as an Independent write-in candidate. Anybody out there interested?

Until next month have a great summer and learn about the people who are saying they want to represent you.

Do they really want to represent you or just to push their personal agendas?

August 2016

Page 11

by Scott Clawson You all know them; they often call into question your very own sanity or at least that of someone very close to you (like, for instance, right next to you). I’m easily reminded of a day when I was still in my 20s and I found myself in the middle of our living room, screaming, “WHERE’N HELL’s my G@>!A?%#<$*&!’n KEYS?!!”

Which, mysteriously and, I must say immediately, appeared in my clenched fist as though conjured by a higher power. I could go back even further but my mother might eventually read this and start asking some mystery-oriented questions of her own.

Another one spans the last 33 years!

How is it possible that I’ve personally stepped in, over and around no less than 4.5 billion Elk duds (scientific term: Wapiti poop) and have yet to see even one of their benefactors on the hoof!

Every other critter that fertilizes this place does so with impunity, going so far as to stare right at me while doing it on the deck. I’ve learned to watch my step.

Here’s a recent mystery, however, that concerns the subject of pots and pans. Actually, it was a lid but it was the only one in our collection of misfit

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utensils that fits an actual pan and therefore qualifies. For what I cannot recall at the moment (age related phenomenon), but I do remember that it, the lid (not my memory), disappeared, or in the modern vernacular (of news reporters everywhere), “went missing.”

I immediately suspected abduction but then remembered we haven’t had a dog to blame on anything for a few years, so my thoughts jumped to the cat.

Then I calmed myself down by noting the fact that our cat has never actually been inside our abode due to my own ability to thwart illegal immigration and, at opportune moments, can sound exactly like a grumpy old man! I’ve had practice.

So, I followed my wife around, double-checking as she searched the cabinets. [Here’s a sub-mystery, if you will: why, if not for the bragging rights alone, would a spouse follow its mate in a search pattern? For they only do this while awaiting the opportunity to say something mood setting yet tactful such as, “AHA! Blindness seems to run in the family!”]

My wife “moved on” to more rewarding opportunities, like laundry, while I went ever deeper into my search, a type of “tunnel vision” real guys get into when they should be doing chores instead of “helping.” This took me to all of the unofficial lid hiding places our house has to offer: such as drawers (except the ones I personally had on, although I was tempted at one point to pat my wife down), fridge, dryer, freezer, washer, medicine chest, toilet tank, tub/shower, under sofa cushions, etc. No luck! I considered asking some pertinent investigative questions then remembered how it is that we recently celebrated 44 years on the same journey without any lawyers getting involved.

If not in the kitchen or even the rest of the house, a great place to find a big ol’ sauce pan lid, other than where it was purchased, might be outside in the garden where I immediately suspected it might be passing along vital homestead secrets to various species of edible crops that they may as well, “Just commit suicide right now before you get

yanked or plucked, scrubbed, chopped, sometimes frozen, cooked and eaten or just swallowed raw while you’re still alive! And you may as well forget about your dreams of ever having sex and going to seed!”

Let me point out here that it’s a good thing the average gardener can’t hear the ultrasonic screams of severed young fruits and vegetables or they’d be forced to buy them already butchered for the same reason I get my chicken at the supermarket instead of raising them for myself.

So I grabbed a cold brew and moseyed out the front door, not wanting to get too wound up over a stupid lid on a nice Saturday afternoon.

I checked the compost bin with a pitchfork (like I was looking for stowaways in a hay wagon), then the rest of the garden, the wood shed, the shop, both vehicles, the garbage can, the barbeque and under the cat, all to no avail.

Another nice place for a lid to pass the time is “the Great American Potting Shed.” Sadly, this is something we don’t have. What we do have is an ex-‘dog containment facility’ annexed under one eave of the woodshed. For lack of a dog, things just naturally started growing in there and this often attracts things like flower pots, fertilizers and expensive ornamentals designed to be irresistible to deer and, therefore, hidden from view, which is sort of ironic if you think about it (like a gladiola might). But it wasn’t there either, even underneath.

I was now out of places for lids to either get lost or go missing, whichever you prefer. There was still the boat, however, but it was snugly covered up and bungeed down and I was reluctant to confront an obviously well motivated piece of cookware by poking my head under a dark tarp like some idiot might.

That kind of impulsive stupidity has caused me to spill way too many beers over the years as it is.

Two days later, while I was rehydrating with my mouth under the gooseneck of the kitchen sink and with my head twisted sideways, I noticed that lid sitting on a simmering pan

August 2016

Acres n Pains Scott Clawson ruminates on life somewhere in the backwoods of Careywood, and turns it all into humor. And he’s even on Pinterest now! (Facebook, too.)

Give Us a Try Before You Buy!

AcresnPains@dishmail.net of homemade spaghetti sauce. Three words, whose initials would be: WTF!, burbled from the faucet.

“What are you burbling about?” my personal chef wondered.

“Where’d you find THAT?” her personal dishwasher clarified, while wiping his face on my tee shirt.

“In the stove drawer,” she smartly replied.

“Don’t you find that a bit odd?” I said.

“Not really, that’s where it belongs!”

See what I mean about sanity?

In the interest of filling up more pages, I was thinking of delving into some “political” mysteries here but, judging by the sheer volume of the Benghazi Reports alone, I would need just over nine million pages which would leave very little room for the following advertisements.

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August 2016

Page 13

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