Adventure 656: Memoriam for George Esher Williams Jr.-Part One

We took an overnighter to Lewiston, Idaho, the town of my birth and the home of my father through his formative years. Our intent was to scatter some of Dad's ashes in places he lived. There will be another phase in Coeur d' Alene where I will scatter a few ashes on the hillside formerly owned by my great grandmother where George spent time as a kid. The final phase will be in Bend on Dad's birthday (July31) where we'll place the final bits in a grave next to Margaret, George's wife of over fifty years. We stayed overnight in Hell's Gate State Park. We drove around Lewiston finding sites, and afterwards we spent some hours hiking the trails around the state park. It was a good overnighter. And in cribbage news, the Cager fell in three games to forfeit the Hell's Gate Championship.

Arguably the best time of year to tour the Palouse.

We did couple of five mile loops on the hillside trails above and behind the state park. They are clearly marked and service hikers, bikers, and horse riders, and range from easy to difficult. The view from the ridge trail is especially nice.

For dinner we ordered take out from the deliciously decadent Effie Tavern, a downtown dive home to the  famous one pound dinner plate sized Effie burger.

One will feed four. In this case, one fed two. We had to take two cracks at it.

Dad grew up in the Lewiston Orchards near the corner of 23rd street and Grelle. It has fallen into disrepair in the seventy years since he lived there. When grandpa George and grandma Rosa and their six kids lived there, the place was pristine. I sprinkled some of George Jr. next to the patch of lilac bushes in the front yard.

I'm not sure, but these bird houses could date from Geroge's time.

Grandpa and Grandma moved to this house at some point after their kids were grown. My brother Tom and I lived here with them and George after my parents split. Many memories flooded back, including one scary one that surfaced. See the top window in the front. I was in a sniper's position with my bb gun. Tom was in the front yard. I caught him right in the cheek just under his eye. I thought the gun was unloaded, but one bb remained. Needless to say, I lost bb gun privileges, got the razor strap across my bare bottom, and have lived with the memory seared into my cranium ever since. Other memories, too many to count, are much better. We sprinkled a little of George here.

I lived in this house until my parents separated when I was in fourth grade. More memories... including climbing the now defunct fir tree next to the house. Tom and I were swinging like weights on a metronome when Mom ran our and screamed her warning note, "Timothy Allen, Thomas Michael, get down from there this minute." We sprinkled a little of George here.

We  also took time to visit my  Mom's parents who lay at rest in the Lewis and Clark Memorial Garden.

We sprinkled the last bit we had in the swim area along the Snake River where Dad used to take us swimming as kids.

Judy said a few prayers; I wished him peace.

The cops are still looking for a Wiley Cager with a handful of lilacs.

Wildly successful journey to the old home town.

Adventure 655: 42nd Annual Nordman Logger's Day

Spring Fling Two found us venturing North to our favorite place: Priest Lake. We had two modest goals: 1) Ride our bikes 2) Attend Logger's Day. We were wildly successful. We camped just off Highway 57 behind a copse of pines next to the airstrip that fronts the Ranger Station at Hanna Flats. Liz nuzzled the Liz Mobile abreast of us, awnings facing in. We had a mini- wagon train circle except we weren't a circle, we were an equals sign. No matter, we had the fire pit I brought, the dry wood Liz brought, and a sky full of bright stars above us. The weather was perfect, we rode thirty-two miles in three trips, and best of all, Logger's Days was a great hit. Somewhere near three hundred folks gathered to watch two-person cross saw races, chain saw races, axe throwing, pole running, and tug of war. Competition was friendly; the contestants were all skilled. People were happy: the beer and jello shots flowed, the food was hot, tasty, and filling, and the vibe was one of warmth and gladness. I saw one masked man; I myself tethered my mask around my neck submitting willingly to a ...When in Rome... mentality.   Justin, TC, and Falcon made the trip, and afterwards joined us for dinner at the campsite. We saw my cousin, Douglas. He had boated over from his cabin with his bike on board. He stopped by the camp sight for a chat on his was back to Noraville. Saturday night Liz and I stayed out until most of the stars blanketed the sky. Since it is a waning sliver of a crescent moon, the sky was dark, and because we were at the edge of the runway, our view was unhindered. And all night long we were serenaded by the frogs. It was quite ironic to choose this weekend's activity given the general populace's political stance, but in every sense this was an example of a close community upholding proud tradition, their own and the country's as well. The event opened on time with a gaggle of elementary school kids reciting the pledge of allegiance. From there the contests were administered with skill, safety, and aplomb. There was a moment of silence midway to remember members of the community who had passed during the past year. It became more of a toast, but it felt pure hearted. People gathered around and cheered each event. A good time was had by all. We left before the event ended because of the obvious flow of beer and  jello shots. Needless to say we didn't want to push our luck. It's true, after all, that the local boys noticed a sissy boy in a dew rag walking around with a couple of biker babes.  Who knows what they were thinking? We made it safely back to camp, and generally realized that life is good, especially today.

The men used this chainsaw to saw three inch disks of this log. The winner's time was well under two minutes.

Chile Verde with Hooley beans and fresh baked corn muffins.

This gal has obviously practiced with the ax a bit. 

Falky out flying a kite with his dad.

Three planes took off during our stay. We saw no landings.

The cross cut competition was fierce for both men and women. Waaaay harder than it looks.

Biker babes up on the porch (They weren't sure they could safely mingle with the locals).

Kicking off the biking season.

There's two biker babes.

Art shot of the day: Falcon and Mimi's reflection