Alaska Adventure; Part Twelve

17 June 2013; In and Around Skagway --

This day, the 65^th Anniversary of my marriage to The First Wife (the One and Only), began with sunshine and warmth; a beautiful day to remember our wedding day and the joy of the more than 63 and half happy years we had together.

It was also a beautiful day to ride the White Pass and Yukon Railroad out of Skagway to the top of White Pass, with views of blue-sky outlined mountains along the way. We climbed aboard the antique, but restored and upgraded, passenger cars of the late 1890’s and inched along behind a modern diesel-electric locomotive toward White Pass.

The narrow-gauge railway went past the Gold Rush cemetery that we had visited the previous afternoon, so we heard again of the local legend of “Soapy” Smith and Skagway hero Frank Reid.


We saw numerous impressive waterfalls teeming with melt-water from snow fields – and a few glaciers – lounging on the hillsides and valleys a thousand feet or more above us. Along one stretch of the way we were on a man-made ledge with a vertical (or even overhanging!) wall on the uphill side and a near-vertical cliff on the downhill side.

A narrator on board this excursion train told of the sad tale of the greedy entrepreneur who used a massive number of horses as pack animals to carry prospectors’ supplies from Skagway up and over White Pass. Each prospector had to have at least 2,000 pounds of supplies in order to be permitted into Canada by the Northwest Mounted Police. The horses were usually overloaded, underfed and generally treated cruelly. As a consequence, many – in fact, most! – eventually died along the rocky trail that preceded the railroad. Many stumbled and fell to their death; others, unable to go on, were simply pushed over the cliff and left there to suffer and die, their bodies ultimately to rot and decay; the area was called “Dead Horse Canyon”.
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A Surprised-to-be-seen Brother Ahead

We crossed a couple of picturesque trestle bridges, each of which incorporated a curve such that those of us in the foremost car could photograph the rear cars of our train. Some people stood on the platform between the cars to capture the views fore and aft. Two tunnels entertained us with the presence of near-total darkness as these ancient passenger cars had no interior lights of any kind.

White Pass marks the boundary between Canada and the United States. Shortly after crossing the Pass and the border, we stopped and waited in our rail car while the engine was disconnected from our end and reattached to the opposite end; we thus became the “caboose” for the return trip back to Skagway.  Because none of us on the excursion train were allowed to get off the train, we did not have to have passports.

Grumpy was fascinated with this abandoned, old wooden trestle, a remnant of the road bed completed in 1899. Its dilapidated condition reminds us of how fortunate we are to be living in the age when steel-structure had replaced these wooden, decay-prone bridges.

When we returned to 82 degree Skagway, some of us enjoyed the shade of a handy tree to savor the local ice cream. Our ferry to Bellingham had a 1700 departure, so our stay in Skagway ended and our voyage down the "Inside Passage" began as the  Southeast Alaskan sunset bade us "goodbye" and "bon voyage".

Tomorrow morning we will wake up as the ferry leaves Auke terminal (Juneau).

Morning's First Breath -- and a Thoughtful Idea

11 March 2010; Grumpy's Castle in the Morning --

Here it is almost income tax deadline and Grumpy has not had a posting on his BLOG since January! What has been going on? Well, not enough to be worth talking about, I guess; but something came up this morning that inspired me to share. [As a preface to this story, the reader is reminded that Grumpy has been a volunteer driver with Group Health for about a year now, taking elderly or disabled people -- mostly widowed women -- from all over South County to their medical appointments. The First Wife can become wary of a lady who becomes a repeat rider!]

Grumpy usually staggers out to the kitchen in the early morning and hour or so after the First Wife has already been up and laid claim to the morning newspaper and a cozy seat in the dining nook. Grumpy usually comes over to her, mumbling something that might be interpreted as "G'Morn'n", or maybe "Garmin are moaning" -- and rubs the First Wife's back while sneaking a playful hug.

This morning, after the back-rub and playful hug, as Grumpy was making his way back to make the morning pot of fresh-brewed coffee, the First Wife offered this helpful hint: "Don't forget to brush your teeth this morning before you go to pick up 'your Lady' (referring to the rider that Grumpy was scheduled to transport to the downtown Group Health facility); your breath smells strongly of garlic from that Italian salad dressing you had last night!"

Grumpy thought this comment over for a few moments and responded, "A garlic a day keeps the widows away!"

The First Wife maybe reconsidering whether on not she will be reminding Grumpy to brush his teeth anymore on days when he is a volunteer driver.

Highlights of Our Week's Vacation in Florida

June 29th to July 6th 2009; via Satellite from Florida --

The Grand Mother (aka, First Wife) and Grumpy (aka, Grumpy old man) spent a memorable week here visiting our oldest son One-Eyed Jack (aka, Popeye, Harry, also Son Ward) and his wife Peggie with grandson Joe (the Geek). This post will present photos representing the highlights during our time here.

The Grand Mother chose to fly down here to Florida rather than enjoy the adventure of riding the 3,100 miles in an UNairconditioned pickup, driven by two men who, together could claim three eyes and three ears. But before going to the airport to meet the Grand Mother, Grumpy had to undergo a transformation which would "purify" him from the smell of fishes and other accumulations which seem to thrive on a Grumpy old man who is away for a time from the "civilizing influence" of his First Wife:

Yes, before becoming "suitable" for greeting the Grand Mother, Grumpy had to endure a cold-water torture, administered by a fully-loaded garden hose gleefully aimed by Peggie, in One-Eye's back yard! This short, unedited slide show reveals the truth.

June 29th: The Grand Mother arrives! After her happy, surprised expression in spotting Peggie, she looked Grumpy's way and gave him a big smile. As he drew closer for a welcome kiss, she said, "Pee-yew!! You have a beard!" Grumpy later gave a "lame excuse" about "forgetting his razor" -- it didn't pass muster.

June 30th: Breakfast at the Waffle House! The unique nomenclature for each egg and hash browns combination is half the fun in coming to a Waffle House. Grumpy had his two eggs over easy with "regular hash browns, scattered, smothered, and capped" (spread out with onions and mushrooms).

Early evening, June 30th: The "Trumpet Flower" only blooms at night. This photo was taken in the early evening just as the flower was beginning to open. Grand Mother's hand, holding the flower for better view and size comparison shows how huge this flower is!

July 1st: Old St. Augustine. The day-long walking tour (autos are forbidden!) in Old St. Augustine was made pleasurable by the Grand Mother being saved from the torture of walking by riding in a wheelchair. Grumpy and One-Eyed Jack got their exercise this day by being the motive power. Peggie and her sister, Gwennie, also took turns.

July 2nd: Dining at "Clark's Fish Camp". This was an unforgettable experience, not to be missed!!

July 3rd: A quiet day during which Grumpy was able to update this BLOG as well as finally getting his long-missed afternoon nap!

July 4th: The One-Eyed one fired up the old barbeque and prepared a delicious feast of steaks like the which no one else can fix. Peggie and the Grand Mother slaved away in Peggie's kitchen putting together accompaniments, including Peggie's potato salad, a cucumber and onion salad, and a fresh-fruit salad. The day's eating was topped off with a dessert of hot Apple Crisp served ala mode.

July 5th: One-Eyed Jack took us for a ride in the country to go Alligator hunting. We spotted no Alligators, but we saw some beautiful flowers and one rare, old turtle who obliged by posing for his (her?) portrait. He(she?) is a "Florida Gopher Tortoise", an endangered species of an unusually large size and probably an advanced age (they live 60-100 years!).

July 6th: Our last day in Florida, we did some last-minute shopping for things we might need on our flight back to Seattle (snacks on the airplane, souvenir post cards, etc) and then had an early lunch at "Chick-fil-A", a fast food place that serves real lemonade and where someone comes around near the end to ask how everything was, handing out moist cleanser pads to dry-clean our fingers and faces after the delicious repast.

And then, on the way back to the Retirement Castle on the Hill, we spotted this stork standing nonchalantly beside a local storm-water holding pond! We first cautiously took some pictures through the open window of the car, but then decided to "take our chances" on an even better shot without the obstructions of a chain-link fence. This final shot was taken with the camera lens poking through the opening in the chain-link; the stork was totally nonplussed!!

And now to bed; we must get up and be on the road at 0400 tomorrow morning for the 150 mile drive to Orlando International Airport for our flight home.

Replacement Wife

Monday Morning; Grumpy's Castle --
No, Grumpy is NOT -- repeat, NOT -- looking for a wife to replace the First Wife. This is a story of how an idle conversation between two long-time lovers can sometimes turn humorous. And maybe even get Grumpy into trouble!

The Grand Mother and Grumpy will have been married 61 years come this 17th of June. During that time Grumpy has been faithful and true to this, his only true love, but some family jokes (on the Noble side, Grumpy insists) have sometimes alluded to the "Red-headed" replacement wife -- in case of an early demise of the First Wife, of course. Now it is true that Grumpy has, on occasion, remarked to the First Wife about the unique attractiveness of one or two singularly conspicuous red-heads. These innocent remarks by Grumpy became the motivation for the First Wife to deny sharing her incomparably delicious Lemon Meringue Pie recipe with Grumpy because, as she so vehemently asserted, "You just want it so you can give it to your next, Red-headed wife!"

This morning, in the course of discussing the wisdom of the First Wife having chosen Grumpy to be her husband, she opined about how important it was to think about all of the attributes of a potential mate before making the decision to get married. As an example, she noted the skillful driving ability she had observed as a young girl while going steady with Grumpy. She also admitted to a couple of her genetic characteristics which Grumpy has reworded for clarification and lists here, namely: 1) Being English and therefore slow to get my jokes, and, 2) Being Norwegian and therefore reticent to admit that I am always right.

And so, grinning impishly, she said, "Those are some things you should think about before you choose your next, Red-headed wife!"

Grumpy laughed, but denied having any such thoughts. Nonetheless he immediately realized that his future would remain without Lemon Meringue Pies. Maybe he shouldn't have laughed the way he did.

Grand Mother's Good Eye--Part II

Some sixty years ago, the Great Grumpy was blessed by marrying a beautiful, blue-eyed blonde Norwegian girl who thus became the First Wife. However, only after we were wed did I come to realize that being a Norwegian meant a stubbornness rivaling that of the stereotypical German! Alas, two stubborn people in the same house -- at the same time!! What hath God wrought!?

Well, we managed to sufficiently suppress our different opinions as to the "right" way of doing things so that our marriage endured. In other words, Grumpy learned to say "yes dear" most of the time when he would have much rather told his Bride that "we will do it my way, or else!!" [To which the Bride would have asked demurely, "Or else, what?!"] Amazingly, most of the time we both agreed, and that made the other times forgettable -- until the "next time" came along!

Which brings us to the present time: As the loyal readers of this BLOG will note, the Grand Mother recently underwent retinal surgery on her left eye - her "good" eye. The after-effects of the surgery left her functionally blind in both eyes, her right eye having been blinded by the doings of a careless Retinologist several years ago. Thus, she was/is totally blind -- or is she!?

Grumpy has been called into duty to cook, put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and run it when appropriately full; make beds (mine never needs it! Ha!); read the Grand Mother's mail [both snail-mail and e-mail] and the daily funny papers to her; put drops in her eye and meter out Insulin dosages to her specifications. Grumpy also tried to commandeer certain other duties, including washing the dirty clothes, putting them in the dryer and sorting and folding them after they are dry.

Arguments ensued over such things as whether the dosage she "suggested" were adequate, too much, etc. After all, Grumpy could see the line graph that he produced showing her twice- or three-times daily blood sugar readings and her Insulin dosages (usually twice a day). And Grumpy, being an Engineer, could "reasonably predict the future, more favorable results" of a certain modification in the dosage considered "proper" by the Grand Mother. But after seeing the futility of his arguments, Grumpy meekly(?) said, "Yes dear" but then predicted that the Grand Mother would be in serious low-blood sugar trouble by 3 or 4 in the morning.

Well, much to Grumpy's surprise, the aforesaid Grand Mother was resting quietly and comfortably when he checked on her at 3 in the morning and, when he reawoke at 7 a.m. and helped her check her blood sugar, it was 91 [100 is ideal]!!

Another, more recent disagreement took place just yesterday. The Grand Mother decided it was time to wash the dirty clothes -- a whole week and a half's worth! I pointed out that she wouldn't be able to measure -- much less be able to identify! -- the soap; that she wouldn't be able to see to sort the colored clothes from the whites, or the polyester no-irons from the cotton stuff, set the washer and dryer to the proper settings, etc. "No problem," she says, "I'll have Darrell carry the hamper down stairs and help me measure and set things up."

And so she did.

But then later, I caught her heading downstairs alone. I inquired what she thought she was going to do. She replied, somewhat tartly that she was going to take the clothes out of the dryer, sort them and fold them! I followed her downstairs, arguing along the way that she couldn't possibly sort or fold them; I could "do it for her". Talk about an infuriating phrase! "Do it for her" was right up there with questioning her integrity in its insult value!!

So Grumpy just stood by her side, watching as she removed the clothes from the dryer. As she picked up a towel, I asked her to identify what she was holding; "It's a kitchen towel, " she said smugly (and darned if it wasn't!). She folded it and put it with a previous stack of kitchen towels.

Not to be dissuaded by her obvious streak of luck in properly identifying a terry-cloth towel (heck, I'll bet I could have done that!), I asked her what she had now (it was a pair of briefs). She immediately replied, "It's a pair of Darrell's undershorts," as she folded it properly and placed in his stack of clean clothes. But then she picked up another pair of almost identical briefs (mine this time) and, after folding them placed them on the different pile that included my T-shirts and other undershorts.

Grumpy gave up, conceding silently that this poor, crippled little "blind" girl (and still my beautiful Bride, although she will never admit it!), must have eyes on the back of her head -- just like she always told our kids when they were young! Grumpy was (and still is) flabbergasted, to say the least.

The moral of this story: Never question or underestimate the abilities of a stubborn Norwegian girl to know what is right more often than not. After all, she picked me didn't she!?