Secret place

These shots were taken a few years after the (trail) was cut for access to the river. My first new car, a 1968.

The water was cold and clear. The granet pools were deep and a ball to jump into.

When I was discharged from the Army, I bought a 1957 V.W. bug. Along with working at the Navel Air Station in Alameda, I did as much camping in the mountains as I could find time for. One of the places I went was on Interstate 80 at the Eagle Lakes turn off. I would go as far as I could, then backpack in for the solitude.
On one such trip I found what may have been an old fire break, or even an old trail from the gold rush days. Everything was very overgrown, but with a little work and a few trips to accomplish the task, I cut my way through. It saved me about four or five miles of hiking. I named it, Secret Place. The trail I cut crossed the head waters of the Yuba River. If you stayed in the riffles you could ford the shallows and go another couple of miles. Real Private and quite.
About two years later I was in the Fire Department on the base and some of us on our days off would drive up for a couple of days. The area has granite water falls that end in deep clear pools. Real cold also, like snow melt. A wonderful place to go. It was 1967 and 1968 then.

In 1992 when Karson had his learners permit I had him drive Garian and I to Secret Place and spend a few days. The trail had been discovered and turned into a road. Fording the river was still the only way to get into the back country, tho. As Karson started the water crossing he gave it too much throttle and dug the rear wheels down and we were stuck. It was only maybe knee deep, so I used the bumper jack to lift each wheel and put river rocks back under the wheels. Whoosh and we were across.
When we got to the end of the trail, we found U.S. Forest tables and fire pits. So much for Secret Place! We set up camp and the kids went swimming. They caught a whole bunch of crawdads so we supplemented dinner with butter and garlic over crawdads. Garian wasn't sure about crawdads. She popped one in her mouth, swished it around and decided, nope, not this time. I saw mountain lion tracks over the top of bear tracks so we had some target practice for awhile. That would run the big ones over the next ridge for a day or two.
Two years later Garian had her drivers permit. Karson wasn't interested in another trip to secret place so Garian invited Regan DeVinney to come along. As Garian was crossing the Yuba river, in the riffles, just like she should, we lost air in the right rear tire. I went back into the river, up to my knees and changed the tire. We had sheered the valve stem off on a rock. When we arrived at the U.S. Forest service picnic area at the end of the trail, we set up camp. We did the target practice thing, just because. We went swimming in the granite pools and hiked around some. The trip had a few differences ,tho. We had campfire songs, we told scary stories, we french braided hair and every sound from the forest ended with a scream. A little different than scout camp. But lots of fun. The girls were real troupers. Girls camp had taught them all kinds of skills.
We haven't been back for some time. Its probably paved by now with a pay as you enter gate at the trail head.

Where the buffalo roam

1971 quick attack squad.

As you drive up Highway 50 from El Dorado Hills, I'm sure you have all seen the herd of buffalo. I met their great grandfather some years ago. This is that story.

A number of years ago, around the mid 1970's a grass fire was fast approaching Bass Lake Road and Highway 50. It started around White Rock road. Everyone was scrambling to keep the fire away from homes as it approached our area. I had jumped into one of our quick attack squads and headed from Cameron Park Station to Bass Lake Road. The fire was just crossing the pasture on the south side of the highway where a couple of buffalo were kept. These were the years before wild land fire gear was worn by everyone, so I was in a blue duty shirt and black pants.

I pulled in the driveway of the home at the top of Bass Lake road, pulled a two hundred foot, one -inch reel line and was stopping the fire from running through the pasture. I wasn't going to stop the fire, but I could save the pasture and direct the fire around the home and out buildings. As I was running the fire line, I felt, more than saw ,the huge head of a bull buffalo that came up behind me. His breath was sort of steamy and he seemed more than a little upset about either me being in his pasture, or the fact that a fire was running through the stubble of his pasture.

When I looked around behind me and saw this huge head, and it was really a major huge head, I took my nozzle and gave him a quick spritz with the hose stream. He looked at me just a little startled. He looked at me for a few moments, like what did you just do? Did you just spritz me with you nozzle? I don't think anyone had given him a spritz before. He turned and trotted a few feet away near a small oak tree that was about six or eight inches in diameter. He looked back at me, then at the tree. With one quick twist of his head he uprooted the tree, then looked back at me. That was my clue to finish putting this fire out from the other side of the fence.

I pulled my line back to the squad, relocated and finished what I had started from the safety of being outside of his pasture.

Did I mention how big his head was? It must seem bigger when you can feel the steam from them breathing.

Rich, Me and the Mopeds

I returned from my seafaring days in 1962. After a week making pea box's I got layed off and found a job with Montgomery Wards in their repair facility. This place was really big. I started out prepping refrigerators and freezers for delivery. I was working with a Mexican kid named Rich. We got along real well and had fun no matter what we were assigned to do. When it got quiet prepping, we were sent out to deliver anything that had been repaired at the center. We covered the whole Bay Area, so we put on lots of miles.

One day our boss asked if we could start crating a bunch of mopeds that needed to be sent somewhere. The crates were pre-assembled, sort of. Kind of like crate kits would be more like it. Anyway,we started crating these things, and there were lots of them. I guess we started running out of time to get the job done. The boss asked if we could come in and work on a Saturday with overtime. You bet we could.

The next day was Saturday. The guard at the warehouse was waiting for us when we got there and checked us in. After a few hours, and we were making good time too, we thought it would be fun to ride these things around the warehouse. It was dead quiet in there. We were alone with acres of concrete floors. We got some gas from the shop and we started having moped races. Great fun. Did I mention that these things required oil to mixed with the gas? We didn't do that. So when the engines seized, we crated them up and gassed the next two for another lap. Who in there right mind would send two young guys into this huge warehouse with mopeds and no supervision? We got them all crated before quiting time and about laughed ourselves silly.

New bikes

Linda and I got new bikes for Christmas. This is going to open new vistas for both of us. Alameda is a flat island, so peddling around town is a snap. Dad and mom have never bought new bikes. Dad would pick up a bike and make it like new. Mine was a Schwinn with a front spring suspension. Really cool for the time. Check out my leather cap with goggles. I was right out of the Christmas Story. Dad put up that fence behind us after I just about hung myself on a pile of old lumber that was on the back lot a few years earlier .



I was at a gas station on Webster Street on my bike and was watching one of the attendants showing someone how to get somewhere. He was pointing to a map that was taped to the window. He showed where we were and then ran his finger down streets making left and right turns to get where he wanted to go. He even gave the guy a free map. How cool was that. I asked for a map for myself and took it home. The map highlighted places like parks and schools and stores and even showed where Fosters Freeze was. Some new adventures were about to start for me, my new bike and a map. First stop, Fosters Freeze for an ice creme cone and caffeine. Wahoo Whoo. I wonder if I would get yelled at if I road my bike through the Webster Street tube into Oakland? Hummm

Box tops and Submarines

We always shopped on Fridays after dad got home. We all had to go, no one could stay home alone, especially me for some reason. While we were all following mom and dad through the store I saw it for the first time. On the front of the cereal box was a picture of a submarine that could be mine for only four boxtops and twenty five cents. I convinced mom and dad that I loved that cereal. It took four weeks to gag down four box's of that cereal. Lots of sugar really helped.Linda and Dottie wouldn't touch it. Mom and I mailed off for my submarine. Only six to eight weeks for delivery.

Now when your nine or ten years old, you have no idea how long six to ten weeks is. It"s like two months. Everywhere I went I was on the lookout for the perfect little body of water. We had tons of little ponds over on the railroad yard. I checked each one several times to be sure they would be deep enough and clear enough for my submarine. I had dreams about how much fun it was going to be. I saved all the old cereal box's and hung them around my room, and read and re-read all the sales pitches about how much fun the little boy was having with his submarine. Whooo Hooo. I couldn't wait. It was killing me.

When the package finally arrived with my submarine in it I knew all my dreams were coming true. But after opening the package I was a little disappointed. How little it looks in real life. It was no more that two inches long. On the cereal box it looked to be a foot long. The picture even showed clearance lights on the front and back. In real life the lights were itsybitsey little pimples that maybe you could put a dot of paint on to make it look light running lights.

I read the instructions. I needed baking soda to put in the little compartment under the submarine. Then when it dives under the water the baking soda causes it to rise to the surface. Sounds good so far. I filled the kitchen sink, put the baking soda in the little compartment, and while the whole family watched I dropped the submarine into the sink. It layed on its side and fizzed, like it had gas. The whole family lost interest within moments. I battled the problems until I ran out of baking soda and my fingers pruned up. You couldn't make it dive without tying something to it. Then it wouldn't come back to the surface. Taking it out to the railroad ponds didn't sound like good idea any more either.

The only things I learned from this whole thing is, you can gag down lots of bad cereal with enough sugar and have great dreams about a toy that was made in Japan just to sell bad cereal to unsuspecting little boys.

My sisters

My big sister, all grown up. It must be about 1957 or so. A Suit with a plaid shirt. Who dressed me, anyway?

My little sister is even growing up. I don't know how she survived me.

Cute sisters. I'm glad we usually got in front of the newest car in the family. It helps.

1951 Mercury.

Is my little sister cute in this shot or what? I remember the sailor hat. I think it was dads'.

Dad built this boat first. It was a real show piece with natural wood decks with tail fins and a twenty- five horse Johnson outboard. Dad even built the trailer. You name it and he could build it.

Confetti and stiches

When you're six or eight, you make new discoveries all day, every day. One of my friends from the next block over was at my house and we were getting into anything we could. Robert Perata was my age; we started kindergarten the same day. I think he had more issues than I did about anything that was un-safe. I still think it was his idea when we took my dads push lawn mower, turned it upside down and while he pulled ,I made confetti by feeding newspaper through the whirling blades. What fun. We had confetti everywhere.

Did you know that my middle finger sticks out past all my other fingers? I didn't pay much attention until I felt a quick tug and the sound of a little thump as the end of my finger left. It started spurting blood and a funny little end of a finger was laying in the confetti. Rob took a long look, and so did I. Right then our brains couldn't put the two things together. The end of a finger laying in the confetti and blood spurting from the end of a finger on my right hand. Rob made some kind of un-intelligible gurgling scream and took off running for home.

Dad had to leave work and come home for a trip to Kaiser in Oakland. Mom had the bleeding slowed down and my finger piece wrapped up on ice in waxed paper when dad got home.

It only took eight or so stitches to put it back on. Now I have a weather forecaster for a finger. I can tell when its getting colder, or rain is on the way. Way cool for a little kid.