Dad

My Dad came to visit the other day. He lives in Discovery Bay, Ca on the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta. He was only here for a day and a half, but it was a nice visit. We went to Sturtevant Falls (water flowing nicely) then back down First Water and up The Switchbacks. Ben's cabin (#16) looks good with its front porch restored.

Jack Is Back

Well, not for real. But Canyon Dave has been bringing him around a lot. For those of you who don't know Jack, he lived at the Pack Station when Kim owned the place. He knows Big Santa Anita Canyon inside and out. He would often go hiking with a group of strangers and return when he felt like it. He belonged more to The Canyon than to Kim. It's a shame he has to live elsewhere, but I was glad to see him here, chasing donkeys like old times.

Fireside Chat and/or Nero Fiddling

Yesterday, Michael Kinney, head of the Sierra Madre Fire Safe Council, came to Chantry with what he admitted was a "dog and pony show". He called last week with the cryptic announcement that he had something that would "save the Pack Station". It turns out that someone (namely the manufacturer) convinced him that we need trucks with air-powered fire hoses. The idea was that we could knock down a fire immediately after it starts. I suppose as soon as someone drops a cigarette in the brush we would smell the smoke, hop in the fire truck and just drive it four miles along the two-foot-wide Stock Trail to Spruce Grove; and of course, the fire would wait for us to come squirt water on it.

I try to ignore all the yap and circumstance of our own Fire Safe Council, but it seems to me nothing can replace some good old-fashioned fire clearance. A fire will come through here some day and all we can do is hope for the best.

Broken Toy Under the Christmas Tree

I think my blog has been suffering from New Toy Syndrome. In the beginning I made a lot more entries than I expected. I played with the colors and the "frames page" set up. I thought a lot about what to write. Then I forgot about it.

Actually, winter happened as well. The internet access was at the porch computer. When the days got short and the nights got cold, I didn't want to sit outside and edit HTML. But 60 dollars later and with a lot of help form Sue, my computer in the Bunkhouse is now connected to the wireless network. Now I can "blog" at night. Besides, the website proper has a long way to go - photos, stories, more "news" items...

This Job Blows

I finally got something that everyone will hate but will save me lots of time and will really make the Pack Station look sharp: a leaf blower. Now I can get all those little Bay Tree flowers that turn black and can't be raked up. I can get the Bay leaves out of the gutter, the spider webs out of the eaves, and the dust back up in the air where it belongs.

My Garden II

To quote my good friend Canyon Dave: "See, that's why Mommy can't have nice things!" I've never seen such inconsiderate people. The planted areas are clearly defined yet the public still has managed to step on plants, sit on them, allow their dogs to pee on them and dig them up.

Which brings me to our own pain-in-the-ass asses. Normally when it's time to saddle up, I sprinkle some oat pellets around the hitching rail and they stay put until I get them haltered. The other day, while my back was turned, Slim and Bill spotted the newly planted Purple Fountain Grass and promptly mowed them down. I caught Slim with one of the plants in his mouth, root ball dangling.

I'm not going to give up and if the only thing that grows there is the Yarrow, I will be happy.

Whiskey's Butt II

Well, the vet cultured a sample from where the infection keeps surfacing. The bad news is that it is a deep-rooted Staph infection. The good news is that it is sensitive to even the least expensive medication. We will just give her the antibiotics every six to eight weeks for ten days each time and hopefully it will clear up. If it doesn't then she just lives with having to take her meds.

The pills dissolve easily in water and we are mixing that with Karo syrup. When we toss the oat pellets in the sweet mixture she just gobbles it up. Whiskey is too smart for us to just slip them in an apple. She will pick the pills out and eat the apple. So, it looks like she will be with us for quite some time :-)

Posted: Later November 20, 2006

As I was cleaning the lower corral this evening, before letting the animals down for dinner, there was a ruckus in the upper corral. Whatever had happened, it got Whiskey riled-up and she wanted to get the heck out of there. I managed to let her down alone but forgot that I left the front gate open. She went tearing off into the Picnic Grove at full speed. after a couple of laps around she came galloping back to the barn. I guess that old pelvis is feelin' fine!

Nice erection, Glen

Glen Owens, owner of cabin #62 and president of the Big Santa Anita Historical Society, has erected a flagpole in honor of Bill & Lila Adams. He built a rock foundation and a plaque is on the way. The aluminum mast w/ gold anodized finiale has a US flag and a California flag. Look for it at the front corner of the Pack Station barn.

The Pack Station Juxtaposition

I was just sitting here at the computer on the porch, the old Cracker Jack-selling porch now with wireless satellite internet, and wondering if I had anything to write today. I always tell people that the Pack Station is the best of both worlds. As I was staring blankly at the new flat screen, three deer walked through the yard. Pretty neat.

Whiskey's Butt

Whiskey the horse has had a very persistent infection at the base of her tail since her fall off the trail six months ago. The vet has repeatedly cleaned the wound and put her on antibiotics; both oral and injections. We don't know what else to do. This is getting VERY expensive. She is a part of the family, but this is also a business. If nobody wants to take her and take on the vet bills for a 25+ year horse, do we put her down? What a miserable dilemma.

Ray's Ticker

Ray Underwood of cabin #101 was up this morning. Some of you may think of him as a grumpy old man, and maybe he was. But he is now happy-go-lucky with his new pacemaker. He has been repairing some of the old tack for us. He has resewn two pairs of our vinyl bags and added new straps. Today he brought up Cisco's old sawbuck saddle which he fitted with new leather. He has even rebuilt the old tack repair tool box that he and Bill Adams used to use.

My Garden

I installed a garden this weekend at the Pack Station. It wraps around the deck, oops, I mean handicap ramp, and makes the benches even more inviting spots. The decomposed granite soil makes a great base with good drainage, but there is virtually no organic material. I added plenty of donkey poop and composted forest product.

In case the Forest Service reads this, all the plants are native. The Cuphea is native to Mexico, the Callistemon is native to Australia, the Bulbinella is native to South Africa...

Mt. Zion Trail Days

I'm done listening to complainers that never help out. You know that type that resents the Adventure Passes because they have "already paid for the forest with their tax dollars" and "besides, as a US citizen, this is my land to use freely."? I have those leanings myself, but you can get a free Administrative Pass if you become a Forest Service Volunteer and OK, it's your land - take pride in it by helping to clean campgrounds and maintain trails.

There are cabin owners right here in the BigSAC that couldn't care less about the rest of The Canyon. As long as they can get to their little corner of it they're fine. Or maybe they think that paying ten dollars for one of Jack Schuck's bacon-wrapped filets will take care of everything. Did you know that when I built the trail across the landslides (with a little help from Glen Owens and Darryl Forrester) I actually got complaints that they were too steep or not wide enough? I left the tools at each slide for anyone to pick up, but no one did.

But I digress. The point of the filet mignon and the Burnsian Baby Backs is to get people together and boost enthusiasm for accomplishing something beneficial. I hope we can all get together regularly to fix an area of our beloved canyon and have a good time doing so.