Howdy Folks! It's A Fair Day

September means The State Fair of Texas.  
Visitors are greeted by the beloved and iconic 'Big Tex' and his booming baritone, "Howdy folks! Welcome to the State Fair of Texas!".  Before the invention of cell phones, it was always agreed upon by moms and her kids; "If you get lost, we will meet around the boots of Big Tex".

And now that we have cell phones, Grant called home from Missouri, and said that he had a scheduling change at work, which gave him two extra days off while he transitioned to his new schedule, so... it being September, he asked, why don't we plan to meet at Big Tex? 

Grant pulled in in the evening, got a some home cooking and we made plans to catch the DART train the next day that would take us directly to the Main Gate.  We would figure it out from there.  Ans so we did.

Looking over the schedule of events at the fair today

Fair grounds is populated with many Art Deco statues and murals

A cut through the midway
Didn't win a giant stuffed purple bear -
Didn't try to win a giant stuffed purple bear

The 'Texas Star' Dominates the skyline at Fair Park

We cheer on the African Acrobats at a free show

If you haven't eaten a Fletcher's Corny Dog, then you haven't been to the Fair

Add caption

State Fair is famous for its fried food concoctions -
We try go for the 'Fried Twinkies', an old standard.
No regrets

The Swan Boats

Fair Park - Home of the Cotton Bowl

Pig races!  Our porker wins!

A concert by the Marine Corps Band

More fried food, this time let's try 'Fried Cheesecake' - A winner

So long folks!

I'd say it was a fare day.

GTT - Gone To Texas, Inga returns with Sean

It'd been far stretch since she'd been back to Texas.  But she let us know that she'd like to come visit for a few days and bring her boyfriend Sean along to see her natal land.  We all said, "Boy Howdy! Y'all do come for a spell!"

We picked Inga and Sean up at Love Field in Dallas on a Friday evening and returned home for what was to become a beef-eating bonanza.  I put 4 steaks on the grill over the charcoal and we had a late dinner of steak, crusty bread, mangoes and an angel food cake for dessert.  Sean marveled as he told Inga's mother; that is ALL her favorite food!  Sue smiled, "You know, there are no happen-stance coincidences here."

Inga had a Texas-sized agenda laid out for the two of them, mostly to immerse Sean in all things Texan - at least North Texas, Texan.

On Saturday it was up and at 'em by mid-morning with a trip out the back door to meet Chomper and Isaac, the resident tortoises.  Inga and Sean each took a few pieces of melon and had those two curious and friendly reptiles eating out of their hands in no time.

Later on Saturday, Inga had set up a Tex-Mex lunch with her friend Brianna McCord to meet Sean.  Brianna's parents who have been our good friends since the girls were very little also came to town from their place in East Texas to meet Sean.  After lunch at Mi Amigos, Inga and Sean visited the Dallas Arboretum, a favorite spot for us and the kids when our family was young.  I find it gratifying to have the 'kids' return as adults and revisit the places which we parents thought of as special family places.

Come Sunday it was off to the west to Fort Worth for the two of them to visit the world renown Zoo and then a hearty meal at Cooper's Barbecue at the edge of the Fort Worth Stockyards District.  They actually bought more meat than they could eat, so they brought some home for our enjoyment too.

Monday, we all had lunch a our local Chinese spot, Yen China; where, I as a regular, am enshrined with my photo on the wall of the restaurant.  I had told the owner, Nichole, that Inga and Sean were coming from Oregon to eat there, so they got a big Chinese family welcome when we all arrived, and a special plate of pot stickers on the house for our celebration lunch.

Inga had purchased tickets for our home team, play-off bound, league leading Texas Rangers.  This was to be Sean's first professional baseball game, and he was suitably attired in a Ranger's jersey and had been recently converted to the love of the game by Inga.  They were rewarded by a 9th inning, come-from-behind walk-off win by the home team.  Inga, who makes things happen, also made sure that they were in the gallery for the post-game show and got interviewed by roving ballpark TV reporter Jim Knox.

As seen from our TV at Home
Ingsa & Sean interviewed on Post Game Show 

A shot from our TV
Ingas makes sure that visitors from Oregon
are featured after Rangers victory on Post Game TV Show

Inga gave Sean a tour of her former route to Sachse High School; which she has characterized to all of her Oregonian friends, as "The most sterotypical Texan commute to high school one could imagine".  Her drive to high school took her by the Whataburger (beloved Texas institution), past the gun range, then along side the FFA livestock barn, over a limestone hill, thickly filled in the Spring by lush Blue Bonnets (Revered State Flower of Texas) and then to Sachse High. 

More BBQ on Tuesday.  This time to downtown Garland's brew pub and smoke house.  It is a 'hipster' kind of place, so it was a good mix of Portlandia and Texas.

Unfortunately, Inga ans Sean did not pack a bag big enough to bring Portland weather with them.  though they thought that mid-September might be mild and pleasant, they got the tail end of Summer, with temperatures at 100 degrees.

A trip to downtown Dallas on the DART train brought them to the Perot Museum of Science for a day and the free Dallas Museum of Art.  However, by the time they had finished there museum trek, the food trucks were pulling away from their spots in Klyde Warren Park - so they missed lunch.  No worries, Whataburger is open late.

What is a trip to Texas without an order of your favorite Whataburger?  It is incomplete - that's what.  Oh no. Can't have that.  We all pledged to allow Sean to have his first Texas Whataburger.  Inga had raved to friends in tofu land about the flavor and the experience of a Texas Whataburger, but they all mocker her.  They pretended that she was raving about a "Water-burger".  Ha!  They made fun of Inga and her Texas boasting often.  So, it came out that this is what Sean's trip to Texas was all about.  It was to be vindication for Inga once she got Sean to disavow his "Water-burger" foolery.  It was time for tasting a Whataburger, a time for tasting comeuppance.

At the Door of Delicious Texas

Sean Orders his A-1 Thick & Hearty Burger

At Whataburger, they serve you at your table with condiment choices
along with your food & drink order

Smiles
You're eating a Texas Whataburger

Good Eatin'

Sean capitulates and agrees with Inga that a Whataburger is pretty dang tasty.

They pack up there Texas memories and return to the cool, gray skies of Portland.  They say that they will be back.

Happy Trails!

Curse of a Good Neighbor

Rumbmbmbm - putt - putt -puttt - puttt - cfghcfgh cough

The sound of my machine as I push it across by back 40 over an assortment of bermuda, dallis and crab grass and other species classified as weeds.  I had just finished cutting the green stuff in the alley and along the side yard when I see good neighbor Steve sauntering up my driveway.  I cut the engine, as I know I am about to be engaged in an extended "over-the-fence" chat.  

Steve opens the conversation, "When are you going to let me fix the choke on your mower?"  Steve, a fix-it guy extraordinaire, now retire from a telecommunications career, and former star employee at Home Depot; apparently can not bear to listen to my struggling mower engine any longer from his home across the alley.  I stammer like a lawn mower with bad carburation - "Would you do that for me?"

Steve takes a baleful glance at my machine and drops his diagnosis on me, "Sounds like you're not getting a good mix of oxygen in your engine."
Have you changed the air filter?"
I blush and say, "No".
"Have you changed your oil?"
I blanch and say, "No".

Steve bends down and disassembles the cover over my air filter and holds it up in the sunlight; no light comes through the dust and grease choking off the pores.  Steve looks disapprovingly at the sludgy air filter in his hand, then tells me to start the engine.  I pull the start chord and the engine comes to life with a noticeably smoother purr.

I tell Steve he has now shamed me into doing proper maintenance.  Steve says he is not here to shame me, but recommends a trip to Home Depot where I can find air filters to fit most models of mowers.

In my shame, I follow Steve advice and install a new, clean air filter.  I now burn a lot less fuel and me and my machine now hum the hymn of a suburban homeowner as I traverse the green, green grass of home on each and every weekend. 

Proof by Cornbread

Dang.  For the second time, Sue's cornbread came out of the oven looking just fine; golden brown on the top and smelling sweet and just right.  But for the second time, once I cut into the round of cornbread, its center parts oozed out across the pan.  This is not right.

We conclude it may be the oven rather than the recipe.  We scheduled lunch together downtown on Friday afternoon with the plan to swing by Staten's Appliances on Main Street for a consultation.  Mr. Staten has been in business there following in his father's appliance business before him since 1969.  I like the old low-ceiling cluttered shop stacked with used washers, driers and ovens; all made the old-fashioned way and built to last.  I have received DIY repair tips, replacement parts and a used washing machine from Mr. Staten previously.  Never disappointed. 

Harold listen to our complaints about the results of Sue's cornbread and sympathized with out plight.  He suggested several tests to diagnose whether we were looking at a new thermostat (in which case it is time for new stove), a bad lower oven element or a bad connection.  After testing, it looked like we were dealing with a bad connection.  I unbolted the lower heating element and and found that one of the plate-connections at the end of the wire had shorted and burned off.  I put the corrupted pieces in a plastic bag and told Sue to go see Mr. Staten and get some replacement parts like these.

She made the trip downtown the next afternoon and showed Mr. Staten what I had found; he nodded knowingly and had his son fetch a new wire and threw in a screw and a twist-cap electrical connection.  While he handed Sue a bag of fix-it pieces, he extracted a promise from her to let him know how it turned out.  How much for advice and a few notions?  "Free.  'Cause I didn't do anything".

Soon after I connected the new wire to the old heating element, Sue tested the baking effectiveness of Mr. Staten's advice and my handiwork with a batch of cornbread muffins.  The muffins turned out real fine.  And of course the first half-dozen were delivered (still warm) to Mr. Staten, making good on the promise.  When she walked through the door, Mr. Staten inquired with a smile, "How'd it all worked out?" "Taste and see!" She said as she produced a foil-wrapped serving of cornbread muffins. He smile generously and said he'd have 'em for lunch with a big glass of milk.
As we like to say around these parts, "The proof is in the cornbread".  

Feeling like testing your own oven?
Here's my recommendation:

Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees (F)
Combine in large bowl:
     1 Cup               Flour
     1 Cup               Yellow Cornmeal
     2/3 Cup            White Sugar
     1 teaspoon        Salt
     3 1/2 teaspoons Baking Powder

Sir into above mix:
     1           Egg
     1 Cup    Milk   
     1/3 Cup Vegetable Oil

Mix well and Pour into 9" Round Cake Pan
Bake for 20-25 Minutes at 400 Deg (or until inserted toothpick comes out clean)

If your cornbread does not turn out mushy - your oven is working just fine. Consider it "Mr. Staten's Proper Appliance Test".

Trouble in Paradise

Of tenants, trouble-makers and troglodytes.

On an early August morning, I get a call at work from Sue.  She says: "I just got an interesting call."  I say, "interesting is a loaded word."

One of the locals living near abouts our rental property in Washington went to the trouble to look us up on the county property tax rolls and track down our home phone number.  The caller asked Sue, if she knew what was going on on our property?  Pray tell - what are you trying to say?  Well, they wanted to let us know that our property had become the venue for large raucous gatherings of party-goers who raced their dirt bikes and ATV's in our back forty into the small hours of the morning.  Fire arms were discharged into the night and rumor had it that mayhem and immorality abounded amongst the revelers and occupants of the place.  Our response - The heck you say!

"Oh yes", we are assured.  And there is more to come...

Later we were supplied with a Twitter link that proudly advertised a 'fat ass' party at our address along with the promise to torch a car in our back pasture.  The tenant also posts his life goals and ambitions by proclaiming, "I like to fuck shit up".  I am thinking that that is my stuff that he is fricking up.  Am I right?  

Social Media Post of  Vehicle Arson on our Land
Is there a problem here?

We sent our property manager out to take a look and report back.  The report was not good.  The property was piled with trash, some hard-living had gone on inside the house.  The manager told the tenant that she would return in 48 hours for an inspection of the entire property.

Come Saturday, she arrived with two burly "mountain men" escorts to check out our property.  The tenant was either not home or did not answer the door... Hmmm.  So interior inspection was not conducted.  She found the charred chassis had been dragged out of the back forty and dumped with another burned car and a couple of dead cars near the house.  Evidence suggested that a marijuana growing operation was planned for the woods on our estate and an infestation of squatters was found to be living on our land down by the creek.  Needless to say, we were not pleased with the report we received and multiple violation of the lease.  After the poor report, we had our manager give notice that they had another 48 hours to get the place back to an acceptable condition. Unfortunately that did not happen.  Tenants were given notice they had 20 days to vacate the premises.   

It looks like my Oktoberfest involves travel to the Great Northwest, by plane or car, and some days invested in cleaning up the land and house and repairing the place for some new tenants ASAP.   

Trouble in paradise, our bucolic little homestead nestled under old growth firs along the Pilchuck Creek, with an old orchard swept up in spreading grass giving way to peacefully wooded land has been savaged.  So sorry to see what is ours and lent in good faith, become an encampment for those with no other purpose that to 'fuck shit up'.  In the end, that which you mess up comes back on you.  What you enjoyed messing up turns out to actually be your own life.  A life messed up royally.  Am I right?  Of course I am.

Alexander the Great & the Automatic Garage Door

Obviously, I am a science guy.  
But, I enjoy entomology as well as etymology; fiction strongly appeals to the "other side" of me.  I can become fascinated by biography, fine arts and historical events recounting human struggles, those narratives that have been pass down from antiquity are to me a delight. 

As a suburban homeowner, it appears best to be a renaissance man to have a breadth of knowledge and understanding to solve the problems of today.  Such is the case when I am told by my wife that the automatic garage door is malfunctioning.  She has anguish in her voice as she suspects this means another $340 charge to get it fixed by a professional.  I, the renaissance man am not so worried.  There must be a solution that can be had for less coin.

I press and re-press the 'close' button on the wall.  Indeed, the garage door is balky.  It runs down a foot, jams and retreats.  This is a problem - but is it best solved by science or the arts?

When I was in the 3rd Grade, I checked out of Rancho Elementary's school library a biography of Alexander the Great.  It was the beginning of my intermittent study of the classics and antiquities.  I learned that as a boy of 14, Alexander's father, King Phillip of Macedonia was offered a fine stallion for a handsome sum.  The problem was that the horse was balky, no one could ride it, much less train this beast. The king refused to buy the problematic horse. Alexander asked his father the king, to purchase the horse anyway, offering to repay the entire price if he was unable to train the horse.  The horse trade was made and the reins were then given to the young prince.  The horse was named Bucephalus (meaning Ox-head).  Alexander pointed the horse into the sun, so that Bucephalus would not be spooked by his own shadow.  Alexander's understanding of the interplay of sun, shadow and the horse's mind was the solution.  Alexander mounted his powerful horse that he would soon ride into battle after battle, until there were no more lands left to conquer. 


Faced with a balky automatic garage door that would not close mechanically I considered science, I considered mechanics and then reached back into antiquity for the solution.  I called my Queen to the inside of the garage as I stood on the outside driveway where I cast my shadow over the laser-beam safety trip.  I asked the Queen of the House to press the 'close' button and witness the smooth closing of the garage door.  She smiled at the mysterious solution and asked me to reveal the secret to taming the balky door.  

As with Bucephalus, the secret is the position of the sun with relation to orientation of the safety-trip beam.  The safety trip beam is a laser that is placed about 4-inches above the concrete and if the beam is broken the door will not close, indicating that a child may be in the path of the closing door. Tripping the safety beam prevents the door from crushing the child.  In this case, the morning August sun shines directly and brightly upon laser-receptor, washing out the connecting laser beam, essentially telling the unit that the beam has been broken, thus keeping the garage door from closing. 

All knowledge is worthy company, whether it is from ancient stories or from scientific experimentation.  Inspiration does comes from all points; sometimes a rigorous logic of the brain, at other times the cherished oft-told story of legend speaks to the heart.

***************************************
As an aside:  When Alexander the Great rode his steed, Bucephalus into conquered Persia, an alchemist came to present an amazing gift to the Emperor in his court.  The alchemist had mixed a potion that when poured over a silken wristband, the wristband changed color precisely every hour, on the hour - an accurate and most convenient way to tell time.  This is the first appearance of what became heralded as: 

Alexander's Rag Time Band. 

:-)

Square Chickens per Lightyear

Matriculating through Physics 401 as an undergraduate, we were implored by professors and TA's to always show our work, and for Plank's sake, SHOW YOUR UNITS -- or your answer will not receive full credit.  The inside joke among us students studying together when referring to any physic problem solution was to give the answer in "Square Chickens per Light-Year".  Very funny inside joke, right?

With the price of crude oil retreating, the retail cost of gasoline in these parts reached a recent nadir of $1.98 per gallon.  After filling my tank on my way to do grocery shopping at Walmart, I realized that if I purchased a 10 pound bag of frozen chicken breasts, the price per pound of chicken is also $1.98 per pound.

Keeping track of my units while doing these errands, I put 1.98 dollars on each side of the equations and find that to my amazement, rather than square chickens per light-year, I solved the equations and find that the universe is in sync:

$1.98 chicken-pounds/gallon!

And all this time I'd been led to believe the answer to the Universe was actually 43.  Go figure.

I'd like to solve the puzzle

In the long-running TV game show Wheel of Fortune that features host Pat Sajak and the long-legged and silent letter-turner, Vanna White; the contestants guess the letters of the alphabet hidden on blank tiles, and when enough letters are revealed, the contestant announces, "I'd like to solve the puzzle."  And if they correctly guess the words to the erstwhile blank phrase, they win fabulous and valuable prizes - like plane trips to far off destinations.

So, let's play Wheel of Fortune.  Sue you take the first spin--

Wheel of Fortune: Solve the Puzzle (A Location)

   ORD_ _ _

So the proverbial wheel of fortune turns in dramatic fashion for Sue at the end of July.  The wheel spins and fortunes are good, Sue gets an invitation to go to the International Presbyterian Youth Conference, known as Triennium, held every 3 years on the Purdue University campus. Expenses paid by the denomination for her to fly on Southwest Airlines [i.e., not ride the bus] to Indianapolis and then report for duty as staff, helping with information booth for those attending the event. It is a fast-paced good time.

Good times, but Saturday comes and it is time to return home.  So once again the proverbial wheel of fortune spins as Sue texts home, "I have set my face toward Garland, C U soon."  I reply, you have good fortune to be booked on United Airlines for your return, rather than Southwest, since SW had a complete meltdown of their computer system on Wednesday - what a mess!"  Sue catches her flight out of Indianapolis, will make a connection in Chicago's O'Hare (airport abbreviation ORD) and onto DFW.

Another spin on the wheel of fortune, this time fortunes are down.  I check online for her flight arrival time and gate information.  
   Flight DELAYED 31 minutes.  Recheck flight info 20 minutes later.
   Flight DELAYED 1:35 minutes.  Recheck.
   Flight DELAYED 2:18 minutes.  Recheck a couple more times.  

Finally I read, Flight CANCELED.  Good night.

Air traffic is backed up at her departure gate due to thunder storms.  The flight crew timed out.  Around 1 AM O'Hare personnel break out the cots for stranded travelers.  Weary would-be travelers are rousted by security around 4 AM, time to move back onto those uncomfortable terminal chairs for Sunday morning.

United agents working on rescheduling hundreds or maybe even a thousand who spent Saturday night in the airport.  Sue does not always do well with a lack of sleep, and she sends me a text Sunday AM saying, "It's a bright sunny day at Hobby [as in Houston Hobby Airport?].  
I reply, "So R U in Houston now??"  
She replies, "Yep!"  
Then after a moment, truth and reality dawn, she sends another text, "Oops, No. I am still at ORD.  I'm kind of punchy & groggy right now."

If you though Saturday at ORD was unproductive; wince, repeat and wince once again.  She was booked on a 10:30 PM flight out of Chicago, but the agent said she might get out on an earlier plane to DFW.  She texts the news of her ending captivity.  My reply, "Yeah. Right."

The wheel of fortune takes a spin for the worse on Sunday.  She is issued 10 boarding passes, most of them are worthless.  No planes to DFW available.  Then the Sunday afternoon more thunder storms develop over ORD with now predictable results:

   Flight DELAYED
   Flight CANCELED
   Flight CANCELED...

Can the wheel of fortune spin toward good - ever again?  Maybe.

The United agent says he can get her on a flight tomorrow afternoon.  Sue is incredulous, "That is exactly when these thunderstorms arrive, every day, can't you do any better???"  She suggests a late flight to Houston.  The agent asks, "So, would you like to go to Houston instead of DFW?  Answer, "Yes!  Just get me out of here."  Done.  She uses boarding pass #9 to fly out of ORD at around 1 AM Monday.

At least the plane does not fall from the sky, that's gotta count as good fortune, right?  An uncomfortable set of wee hours in the George Bush International Airport (Houston).  Boarding pass #10 says, "Arriving DFW at 08:39, Monday, 07/25/2016.  It actually works.  Her luggage was sitting outside the United claim office when we picked it up.  The United claims attendant asked us to wait until she was free before she checked us out with our baggage.  I said, "Let's just keep walking sweetheart."  And we did.

Now, time to solve that puzzle:  ORD_ _ _ (A Location)
Sue: "Vanna, I'd like to buy a vowel, 'E'."
Pat Sajak: "Yes, there is an 'E'."
   ORDE  _ _.
Sue: "I'd like to solve the puzzle - ORDEAL!"

I spent a year in Chicago one weekend [badda bing].  It was an ordeal at ORD.

Sue Suneson Wins! Yes, You have won a flight to Dallas-Ft. Worth International Airport, by way of a Chicago's ORDeal.  Congratulations.

If you have time to spare - Go by air. 

[The kids from Garland who rode the bus to West Lafayette, IN Purdue campus got back home before Sue did on the airplane - which is an ironic twist of fortune].

Two Medicine Trek

My plans were for a low-key drive to Polson, Montana.  Sit on the deck overlooking Flathead Lake, settle some estate business with Dad and sip in the view of water and the MIssion Range and just have an 'old folks' talk.  A simple plan, a simple life.

But with a half-dozen other youthful voices added to the social soup, it was arranged to make a visit to Glacier National Park, just 90 miles up the road for an afternoon of it.  When plans got to being made, it was noted that this being the 100 year anniversary of the National Park Service, that the parks are packed to the gills especially this year.  The trip we always take is the West Glacier, Apgar Village, trip; a drive (or now shuttle) up Going-to-the-Sun Road to Logan Pass and a walk up to Hidden Lake overlook and/or a walk around the Trail of the Cedars.  I lamented we've all done that over and over, let's go for something new.  Brian quickly seconded the motion and pulled out his phone and found some sort of app and let us know the time to get to Logan Pass was equivalent to driving to East Glacier and the Two Medicine area.  Agreed, let us take a Two Medicine Trek!  A breakout from our usual Glacier excursion.

Our car caravan makes a stop in West Glacier where we pay a visit to the Alberta (Canada) Visitor's Center.  They have "nice facilities", Canada is so clean.

At Alberta Visitor's Center
Inga comes face-to-face with a Bear!

At Alberta Visitor's Center
Mom comes face-to-face with a T. Rex!!

Feeling refreshed from the clean Canadian facilities and ready for adventure, our caravan circles around the south end of the Park boundary and heads east and then north again toward East Glacier.  

We will make another stop at the summit of Marias Pass which traverses the Continental Divide.  It was charted in 1889 by John F. Stevens and allowed the Great Northern Railroad to reach the western US (of course the Indians knew about the pass long before Stevens gets credit for charting it).  We stop for a photo op and a selfie with John Stevens before entering Glacier National Park proper.

Inga takes a selfie with John F. Stevens
Prinicpal Engineer with The Great Northern
Marias Pass

Incredible exposure of geologic over-thrusting of

Pre-Cambrian (1,4 Billion Years) sediments

over Cretaceous sediments (65 Million Years)

Our first stop inside the Park proper comes with a short trail to Trick (Running Eagle) Falls, where the waterfall begins in the middle of an outcrop, highly unusual, as every waterfall I've ever seen the water comes over the top of the rock face.  I fell in love with this unique design of 'Trick Falls'.

We will cross that bridge when we come to it.
Trail to Trick Falls

Streambed of red and green Super Belt Pre-Cambrian argillite

Tick or Runnig Eagle Falls

Mark & Sue

Lunch time comes at Two medicine Campground.

A cool Inga with a cold cut sandwich

A crow awaits an invitation to lunch

We form up a hiking party on the shore of Two Medicine Lake.

Brian & Amy - Trail Worthy

Sinopah Mountain at far end of Two Medicine Lake

Inga & Sue check out what's ahead

Some of the wildflowers and forest understory scenery.

Purple Asters

Indian Paintbrush

White Thistle

The selected trail will l lead us to Aster Park, Aster Falls and up the mountain-side to the Vista Point.

Sinopah Mountain from Aster Park Trail

Rising Wolf Mountain

Sinopah Mountain grows larger

Single-log Foot Bridge over Aster Creek

Aster Falls

Inga with a hop, skip & jump at Aster Falls

Top of Aster Falls

Over the brim of Aster Falls

Down coming cataract

Pool above the rim of Aster Falls

Keep your eyes on the rocks beneath your feet - they tell a story. 

Taking a lichen to this stone

Pre-Cambrian Slate

A Satisfying ascent to Vista Point on the Aster park Trail.

Coming up on Vista Point

Mount Henry

Wendy warms ups on the 'summit'

Inga chills out on the 'summit'

Rising Wolf Mountain shoulders Two Medicine Lake
Aster Park Vista Point

Flinsch Peak

The crest of Sinopah Mountain

Rising Wolf Mountain

Mount Henry over our sholder

We come back down off the mountain.  We need a reward for our efforts.  Inga has on her mind that the proper and fitting reward is a Huckleberry Treat.  Grandpa was easily persuaded to buy all around.

You scream, I scream, We all scream for ice cream.
Only Mark, Sue and Inga go for huckleberry shakes.
Thanks Grandpa!

Amy orders a single scoop of huckleberry ice cream

Wendy gets a face full too