South Lake Tahoe

This is my 3rd visit to SLT.  April, 1968, was the first one, an overnight stop on my way to Minnesota from Tacoma, WA, via Tijuana.  The long way home.  I had 30 days leave before going to Panama for Jungle Warfare School, then to Vietnam.  Figured I should see some of the country, might not have another chance.  2nd visit was about 30 years ago to do some downhill.

These 3 pix were taken at the Emerald Bay viewpoint.

The castle is about 2 miles away, pix taken at 10x zoom.  It's located close to shore and to the left of the island pictured above.

We visited Tallac Historical Site after Emerald Bay. Tallac was touted as The Grandest Resort in the World 100 years ago.  Only the wealthy and elite here, thank you very much.  If you needed to ask how much it cost, forget it.  Dozens of vintage buildings on 40 acres bordering Lake Tahoe, now a major tourist attraction, the buildings nicely maintained and furnished with period stuff.  The main lodge is pictured below.

This is one of several buildings that housed the worker bees: gardener, maid, cook, butler, etc.  The higher up you were in the pecking order, the larger your quarters.  The butler had the largest room which wasn't all that large, nor should it have been, given his checkered past.  True, it was never proven, but he was and still is, the prime suspect in the heinous murder - did it in the study with a candlestick.

Hope Valley, CA

Hope Valley, population 210, is a narrow valley with steep walls, carved out by the west fork of the Carson River.  Ponderosa pine trees, aspens, huge boulders and clear, tumbling waters grace our campsite at the Hope Valley Resort.  Gorgeous!

West Fork of the Carson River.  Trish says the boulders in these parts should be taken for granite.

We went in to South Lake Tahoe yesterday to play pickleball (me) and ride bike (she).  Lovely day for it.  Heading back there today for sightseeing and lunch.

Bristlecone Pine N M

Giant redwoods can live to be 2000+ years old.  Impressive.  However, some bristlecone pines have been around for 4700 years and are the oldest trees on earth by a considerable margin.

The Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest is in the White Mountains, east of Big Pine, CA.  Death Valley is just over the hill, and a big hill it is, over 10K altitude.  We visited the area while camped in Bishop, CA.  The visitor center was supposed to open at 10 AM but was still closed at 10:20 so we bagged it and headed back down the long, winding road to our campground in Bishop.

This viewpoint is at about 9000' altitude on the road to the bristlecones, fantastic panorama of the Sierra Nevada Mts.  Trish is taking a picture of Artie for her therapy dog travelogue.

Adrift

Adrift

Acrylic on Canvas

8' x 10"

Yeah, I know: it's kinda weird.

In Memoriam

Location: Alpha One Outpost, the northernmost outpost in the Republic of South Vietnam.
Population: 110; one company of ARVN soldiers and 2 advisors, Captain Bill and me, 1st Lt.
Date: Mid-June, 1968.
ROE: fire only if fired upon.

"Probe the DMZ and look for signs of enemy activity," were the orders.  Our response: "Wonder which dumbass REMF came up with that brilliant idea?"  We could see a mile in either direction from the outpost, a huge sand dune a few hundred feet south of the Z.  Plus, there were motion sensors planted throughout the area.  Plus, a FAC (Forward Air Controller in a small airplane) could do a flyover any time to see if there was any enemy activity.

NVA artillery on the cliffs just north of the Ben Hai River, about a mile away from A1, had the high ground, a clear view of our outpost and the DMZ for miles around.  Their gunners were good, could drop a round in your back pocket at will, having numerous preregistered points in the DMZ.  They fired salvos into our outpost whenever they were bored, watched us dive into our rat holes, laughed their asses off.   They got bored quite often.  Our rat holes were bunkers dug deep into the sand and covered with 3' of sand bags, with only small firing ports above ground on all 4 sides.

Ours is not to question why.  Saddle up: steel pot, flak jacket, web gear, M16, 2 extra magazines, 1 canteen of water, 1 C-Rat.  It was a one-day op, didn't need sleeping gear.  An ARVN would carry our 25-pound PRC-25 radio.  It would be the 2 advisors  - Captain Bill and me - and 3 platoons of ARVN, leaving 1 platoon behind to secure the outpost.

BOOM!  "Incoming!"  We'd been in the Z about 45 minutes when the first artillery round landed 15' behind the HQ group - easily identified at a distance by our waving radio antennas.  Shrapnel bounced off my flak jacket and helmet, nearly knocking me to the ground.  Bill and I took off like scalded cats and dove into a huge bomb crater, our radio carrier not far behind.  Boom!  Boom! Boom!  One salvo after another.  Terrifying!  Deafening!  Pucker factor 10!

Bill got on the horn to HQ in Dong Ha, "Cobra to base, we're under artillery attack, need a FAC to contact Swordfish.  Yesterday!  Over."  Luckily, there was already a FAC in the air, monitoring a marine op several clicks southwest of us.  Base diverted the FAC, which called us for a sit-rep a few minutes later.  Bill provided our coordinates, said, "Crank up Swordfish and shut 'em down!"

FAC, "Roger that, Cobra.  Going off-push to contact Swordfish.  Bird Dog, out."  Swordfish was the battleship New Jersey, cruising a few miles offshore, the NVA guns well within their range.  The NJ had 16" guns, 2K pounds per round.  NVA guns were probably 105 MM, about 33 pounds.  No contest!  We cheered when the first NJ rounds landed, putting an abrupt halt to the barrage.

Silence never sounded so good!  As we cautiously emerged from the bomb crater I noticed my right pants leg was wet in back. "What the hell!?"  Did I get hit?  I felt around above the wetness, didn't feel any wounds.  I yanked out my canteen: holes on both sides.  "Holy shit!"  Yanked out the canteen cup: yup, nasty jagged hole.   Looked closely at the sturdy canvas canteen holder: holes on both sides.  So, where's the shrap?

I stripped off my web gear and probed around with my army knife.  "Plunk."  The chunk of shrapnel that had been lodged in my web belt bounced off my jungle boot onto the ground.  Bill was watching me, big grin on his face.  "You think it's funny, you freakin' hyena?"  That got him laughing out loud, which relieved the tension, forcing a wry grin from me.

We lucked out that day, thanks to our flak jackets, helmets and the numerous bomb craters.  Only a handful of walking wounded amongst the ARVN.  No KIA other than my canteen.

So, this Memorial Day, I salute my canteen, which made the ultimate sacrifice on my behalf, saving me from the loss of a kidney, if not my life.

The wooden skewer marks the path of the shrapnel, which still had enough momentum

to do me damage if my heavy web belt hadn't been in the way.

Much Ado About Nothing Much

Am I the only person in the entire world that isn't totally gaga about THE ROYAL WEDDING?  The only person who doesn't give a rat's ass?  The only person who's so fed up with seeing their pictures on the front page of every newspaper and cover of every magazine he's ready to puke?

I doubt it.

It must be a woman thing, something guys simply can't understand.  Guys understand virtually nothing about women anyway.  Oh sure, we act like we do.  What choice do we have?  We pretend we know what's going on in those devious female minds.  But honestly?  We're clueless.  And they bloody well know it, too.

Today's THE DAY, I guess.  The only reason I suspect it's THE DAY is because Trish turned on the TV while I was eating breakfast - something that never happens.  While chomping on my toasted cinnamon raisin bread, I hear this British swish announcer gushing his little heart out about THE ROYAL COUPLE and HER parents and BLAH, BLAH, BLAH.

I quickly snarfed up the rest of my toast, gulped down my milk and beat feet to the garage.  Barely made it.  Was mere seconds away from revisiting my toast after I spewed it up on the kitchen floor.

WHEW!

Let's Hang Out

You know what?  Small paintings go much faster than big ones.  Duh!

Let's Hang Out

Acrylic on Canvas

10" x 8"