A Taste of Honey

After some weeks away on various adventures, it was time to check on the bees and see about harvesting a couple of bars of honey!  The weather has been hot, hot, hot in Yakima, and I had some concern that the hive would be full of collapsed comb and angry bees.  But the girls seem to be getting along well and it looks to me that the colony is quite healthy as we move into late summer.

I've been getting a bit more practiced at hive inspections, and this time I was able to put my new inspection stand to use, something I cobbled together from scraps in the garage.  It allows me to put a bar up for inspection and photos, which is handy when working alone.  My new smoker works like a champ, though I try to not overuse it since the girls seem not to like it much.

The colony has expanded mightily since their installation in May.  They have more than tripled in size, and now occupy 16-18 bars and have a very solid brood chamber clustered near the entrance.  I harvested one bar several weeks ago, when I took some junior high students from the church on a hive tour.  I had one student fully outfitted in a suit working in the hive right alongside me, which was fun for me and for him.  The honey is really, really good, and I am glad that top bars allow for the option of cutting out comb as well as the crush-and-strain harvest method.

They had been busy over the last several weeks, constructing several new bars of honey storage, which they are slowly filling up. After checking out their work, I decided to harvest two bars from near the entrance which had been capped for some time.  This is probably the last harvest I will make this year, focusing instead on arranging the colony to survive this winter so that they will have a strong start in the spring.

I brought the honey home to crush and strain, but Tavish was into it before I could even get the buckets set down.  He "yikes it, reewy reewy yikes it."  After straining it overnight, I took the bucket of wax back up to the hive so that the girls can clean out any excess honey.


Meanwhile, Evie and I have started gathering materials for a solar wax melter.  Our plan is to melt the wax, and then use the pure beeswax as a primary ingredient in a line of lip balms that Evie is jazzed about creating.  We went to the Habitat for Humanity Re-store today and picked up a glass window, some metal flashing and some hinges.  A solar melter is basically a box that uses the heat of the sun to bring the wax gently to melting temperature and then sifting it out from any debris it may contain.  The finished result is pure beeswax.....pics of that will follow, should we succeed!

A Flock of Roosters

It all started with a simple idea:  How about we get a few guys together for a poker game?  That first poker game, played in 2003 in the basement of one of the married-student housing apartments at Princeton Seminary, led to the creation of a noble institution - the Rooster Coop Poker Society.  Twelve original members signed the Coop Constitution, and began a worthy fraternal and philanthropic fellowship.  During our seminary years, the Coopers held semi-illicit poker games in mildewy basements and empty apartments and managed to raise more than $2000 dollars for charities like the Heifer Project, Tsunami Relief, and Hurricane Katrina relief.

In 2006 our great Diaspora occurred, as Coopmen were sent far and wide to pursue their various ministry callings, in both parish churches and the academy.  We determined to meet once annually to continue our fellowship, to support one another in our personal, professional, and spiritual lives, and to strive against one another for our various perpetual trophies, including Little Jerry and the Green Jacket.  For the last five years we have done just that, gathering from all corners of the nation to some new and exciting location.  This year we gathered at a secret mountain lodge high in the Colorado Rockies, deep in the Sangre de Cristo Range.

Our time together is marked by shared meals, worship, check-in and prayer time, golf, poker, and trips to local attractions.  This year I shared the kitchen duties with Prof. Brennan Breed, fellow foodie and Old Testament Scholar newly hired at Columbia Seminary.  The menu through the week included rack of lamb, bison sliders, stuffed pork roast, taco assortments (carne asada, battered fish, carnitas) and there were even some vegetables!

We played our annual golf game at Four Mile Ranch, near Canon City, CO.  The course was a "target golf" type of course, extremely challenging, and made more exciting by the presence of rattlesnakes.  Fetching an errant drive could have dire consequences.  We did run into one or two of those snakes, but managed to avoid any trips to the emergency room.  It was a beautiful day to play and the only downside was that the Green Jacket wound up on the shoulders of Scott Castleman, who managed to control his game on the back nine and seal his victory.  Congratulations Scott.  Jerk.

Since we were staying so close to my beloved Arkansas River, we decided to spend our local activity on a raft trip through the Royal Gorge.  I used to guide on this river many moons ago, so it was a particularly sweet visit for me.  We couldn't have asked for better weather, and the water was running at a decent level for the Gorge, 1400cfs.  Our guide was green as they come, we were his third....one, two, third commercial trip on the Gorge.  Our run through Sunshine was illuminating - it was especially alarming that the guide was unaware that we had hit this rock until he saw the pictures after we got back to the lodge.  "Whoa, I didn't know we hit that!"  Yeah....no kidding.

T-boning the rock was just the beginning of our adventure through Sunshine....we did a 270 degree spin off of that and slid sideways into a downstream hole, and I got sucked out as we low-sided in a rather alarming way.  I have swum in the Arkansas many times, never in Sunshine, though, so there's a first for everything.  The picture has a lot going on in it....Castleman is playing hero with Miller, while Breed points out the guy in the water to everyone else.  "That guy!  Right there!  He's right there!"

The jury is out on whether Patrick Vaughn's hand is
attempting to push Miller from the raft.

We made it down the rest of the stretch without too much undue adventure, and the Gorge is still as breathtaking a setting as I remember, the trip takes you directly beneath the Royal Gorge Bridge, where the tourists watch the rafters 1000ft. below.  The next day we drove down to Colorado Springs to drop two of our number at the airport, and then several of us drove to the top of Pike's Peak, where we got stranded for a couple of hours, enduring lightening and hail that kept us trapped in the gift shop.

Luckily they had donuts.



Our time together each year is extremely valuable to me and I am grateful for these guys and their place in my life.  This particular year I was able to spend a few more days in Colorado with a few of the guys, and we decided to take the adventure up a notch.  On Saturday we climbed and summited Mt. Quandary, one of Colorado's 54 14,000 ft. peaks.  The weather was perfect, and on the way up we came across a group of mountain goats.  They posed politely for our photos.  

Since it was a weekend day, there were many others climbing to the summit and a sort of party atmosphere prevailed at the top.

But our legs and feet were not enjoying a party, and

we were very glad for a hot-tub at the hotel in Breckenridge.

On Monday, it was down to Castleman and myself.  I had begged a favor out of an old friend, Jeff Hoffmeyer, and he met us way up in the high country on a stretch of a private-access trout stream called the Tarryall.  Scott was just learning to fly-fish and the setting was perfect. 

 The fish weren't so big here, but they were still fun to fish for and I think Scott may have caught  a bug for this refined sport.  I did manage to pull a rainbow of decent size out of the 

Arkansas earlier in the week, which was gratifying.  Our time on Monday was marked by the kind of tranquility one can only enjoy when you are outside of cell coverage....it was good for the soul.


On Tuesday I enjoyed a solo visit to Boulder before catching a flight back home.  It was fun to walk Pearl Street again, to see the University where I had squandered time as a youth.  I shopped for souvenirs for the family and managed to catch up with Hoffmeyer one last time over a pint at the Walnut Brewery. Boulder is a special town and I hope to visit again soon, next time with the family.

In spite of....or probably because of....all of the crazy activities and adventures, I always come home refreshed and renewed, a little more focused for the many tasks and challenges that await.  Thanks, Coopmen, for your continued fellowship and for the chance to spend such a great week with you!

They Fought Like Warrior Poets

When the duldrums of late winter hit, a man is bound to make rash choices.  I think it was back in February that this particular rash choice was made.  Winter was straggling on, spring was nowhere to be seen.  Bird season was over, fishing season had not yet begun.  All this is to say, it is not really my fault.  I was vulnerable when the Facebook ad grabbed my attention.  It promised adventure, it promised challenge, it promised glory....it was targeting middle-aged me, and it found its mark.


"The Warrior Dash", the ad read, "a mud-crawling, fire-jumping, extreme run from hell."  A small ember of excitement sparked to life in my cold February heart.

"This fierce running series is held on the most challenging and rugged terrain across the globe."  It was coming to Washington in July, what luck!!

"Warriors conquer extreme obstacles, push their limits, and celebrate with kick-ass music, beer, and warrior helmets."  You had me at hello.

What every rash decision needs is an affirmation by another rash person.  I called up my twin brother, Alex, and pitched the idea.

"So," as I wrapped up my pitch, "I thought we'd run the thing in utilikilts and blue face paint, sort of Braveheart style."  In another family, these words would rarely, if ever, be uttered in a sentence, but Alex didn't blink.  "I'm in."

Thus began our Warrior Dash adventure which reached its epic conclusion on Saturday, July 16th.  The Warrior Dash is a strange combination of an obstacle course, a 5k run, and the Burning Man.  Almost 10,000 people swarmed the event site on Saturday, a strange menagerie of folks that had turned out to celebrate the Warrior spirit.  Costumes were many and varied, but even the freaks nodded and murmured with admiration when the blue-man group (a nickname I heard a couple of times) passed by.  My wife and the kids trailed behind us at a socially safe distance.

Flights of 500 were sent out onto the course every 30 minutes.  Alex and I found our way to the starting line and were corralled there like cattle with a strange cast of warriors that included Batman and Robin, a large man in a towel and shower cap, three men in business suits, Fred Flinstone, a few luchadores, and even a couple dressed as bride and groom.  We knew that the course had a good 1.25-1.5 mile stretch of running at the start to kind of stretch the line out, so we planned on keeping a brisk pace early so that we wouldn't get bogged down by the less ambitious warriors at the obstacles.  At the sound of the starting horn we darted out, ducking and weaving our way through the crowd, following the lively pace set by three young men in rather tight-fitting lederhosen (sans shirts).

Our plan worked admirably and we took the first obstacle in style, a series of high and low obstacles that we hurdled/rolled through without much problem.  We were off and running, proving our warrior valor. The track took us through grassy farmland and it had been trampled by the feet of warriors all morning, so had become rutted and muddy in places.  Such things are of no consequence to true warriors, of course, who consider a snapped ankle a minor inconvenience.  We pressed on, working our way through several more obstacles: a tall wall with ropes for climb assist; junked cars parked as barriers and surrounded by a field of tires; a precarious balance-beam zig-zagging over the ground; a large net platform to maneuver across; another large wall requiring a slide/jump down the back side; an army-crawl through a darkened structure in the mud; a battery of tires suspended by ropes.

Alex vaults fire.  That's a required warrior skill.

All of these were just a prelude to the main obstacles waiting at the finish line, of course.  It was there that warriors would be truly tested.  After emerging from a 300 yard stretch of muddy hell just before the finish line, we were funneled into the final stretch were the last three obstacles awaited.  First, a large a-frame of cargo netting, covered with a slow-moving mass of carnival freaks.  Second, three berms of fire that tired warriors had to vault over.  Third, and most diabolical:  a mud pit of truly epic proportion and devastating quality.

We crossed the finish line exhausted and 30lbs heavier consider the mud caked to our legs, arms, and kilts.

But we crossed like warrior poets.

We crossed like Scotsmen.

It was a great time, may have to do it again next year.  I'm sure I'll wait until late February to consider it fully.

Fourth of July Fun

I was ordained into the ministry on July 8th, 2006 - since that time, the Fourth of July has always snuck up on me as a holiday.  When I started as an associate pastor I could pretty much count on preaching on major holiday weekends, what we affectionately called "Associate Pastor Sundays."  These include, but are not limited to, Labor Day weekend, the Sunday after Christmas, New Year's weekend, Thanksgiving weekend, etc.  Being a solo pastor the situation is much the same, except I can now count on preaching all of the other weekends, too.  That's called upward mobility.  

Anyway, the holiday portion of the weekend usually ends up being something of an afterthought.  As the kids get older, it seems a little lame to let a holiday like the Fourth pass quietly, so we got a little more on the ball this year.  

The girls, brimming with patriotic spirit, decided that the best way to start the day was to bake a cake and decorate it like the American flag.  Shannon has recently perfected a rather perfect yellow/vanilla cake recipe...and I mean, it's really, really good...so she and Evie got started with baking before the day had really even got going.  In the meantime, I loaded Piper and Tavish in the car for a special trip into the Yakima Nation to look for fireworks!

Fireworks are one of those pleasures from an ill-spent youth that I can't resist.  Something about the smell of sulfur and gun powder activates pleasure centers deep in the limbic center of the brain.  I wasn't about to start them off with the bottle-rocket fights and roman-candle wars of my younger days, but they seemed ready for some entry-level firework fun.  They stepped up to the roadside stand with a healthy curiosity about the colorful packages behind the counter and we left with a couple of non-descript paper bags filled with dangerous and glorious potential.

Fireworks would have to wait until the sun sank a little lower on the horizon, something that would come very late in these Northwestern latitudes.  Shannon had gotten word that a local U-Pick place was opening for raspberries, so we loaded up the kids and headed out to hunt and gather.  The owner of the place recognized Tavish from last year, and offered to weigh him before he headed off to gorge himself on the waiting crop.  Then we could weigh him on the way out and just pay for the difference.  Tavish lived up to his reputation, and as the rest of us picked busily for the next hour, Tavish disappeared amongst the thornless canes, emerging with red-stained hands and face when it was time to go.

We vacuum-sealed the berries when we got home and put them into the new freezer.  It has been slowly filling up with our harvests from the summer, including salmon, peas, berries, and soon to add blueberries and some other garden gifts.  The afternoon was spent snacking on cake and watching the sun sink lower in the sky.  We had plans to watch the local fireworks display at 10pm, and we thought we'd have our own display before that.

At long last the hour arrived and we started making fire in the backyard!  We started with colorful smoke bombs, then moved on to a package of snakes, which Evie observed looked a little like poop.  Recovering from that, we lined up three tanks in an epic battle with a plastic bluebird, a GI Joe truck, and an ice-cream truck.  There was a lot of light and sound, few casualties.  Sparklers were fun, and provided for a couple of great pictures.  We ended the evening driving out to the east side of town and parking the car near the fairgrounds.  We heaved the kids up through the sun-roof on the minivan and they sat on blankets on the top of the car watching the display.  They were all asleep by the time we got home.  A pretty good holiday...

Like Peas in a Pod

Came home to find the family unit busy harvesting some of our first crop of Alderman peas.  The 'Wall of Peas' has come to full fruition, the 6' trellis is covered top-to-bottom with pea vines, which are now showing quite a few mature pea pods.  The kids had a great time picking these and then shelling them inside.  We had to stop Tavish from eating most of them, but eventually got them all blanched and into a vacuum-sealed bag and tucked away in the new chest freezer in the garage.  We should be able to harvest for the next several weeks, as we planted seeds three weeks apart this spring.

Ocean's Bounty

Several weeks ago I got an invitation for a late June trip to go salmon fishing on the Pacific Ocean near Westport, WA.  The salmon season is heavily regulated here in the Northwest, and at times the window of opportunity to chase these beautiful Kings is slim.  This trip was going to be two days of fishing, and would require some ridiculous travel efforts.  But the chance to fill the freezer was too tempting and so I headed out of Yakima at 11:30pm on Sunday evening, June 19th and headed west for about 4.5 hours, aiming for Westport and a boat scheduled to leave the dock at 4:30am.

Westport is located at the south end of Gray's Harbor, WA, looking out onto the Pacific Ocean.  Ocean fishing has a whole different feel than fishing the Columbia River and it's tributaries.  The boat was the same one I fished on a month ago at the Wind.  It felt large there....but when I found it moored at the dock in the boat basin at Westport, it seemed like a child's toy as it nestled there between large commercial trawlers and coast-guard cutters.  Clearly we were in a different class of water.  Crossing the bar at the entrance to the harbor can be notoriously bad, as outgoing tidal currents meet incoming ocean swell.  I popped a couple of dramamine and prepared myself for the worst.  The guys I had joined there had fished the day before, enduring conditions that they were still talking about, a little wide-eyed.  But that morning and the rest of the two days we enjoyed fantastic weather and smooth seas.


One of the real pleasures of ocean fishing is seeing your prey, in this case Chinook Salmon, in the context of the rest of the ecosystem.  The sea is alive with every level of the food chain, and it was fascinating to see the chinook as part of this larger system.  We cruised looking for circling birds, which were feeding on large schools of anchovies balled up into "bait balls", sometimes just under the surface.  The anchovies were sometimes schooled up large enough to cover a large parking lot, at times stretching a hundred yards.  The depth finder would show them spread out between 20-30 feet depth, at other times they made the surface ripple like it was raining as they flashed and darted at food made just their size.


The birds preyed on the anchovies from above, but other, larger predators worked on them from below.  At times you could see the anchovies leaping up out of the water in a kind of a wave that would travel from one end of the ball to the other - something was coming at them from underneath.  Often, it would be hungry chinook.  But there were all kinds of predators out: seals, sea lions, dolphins, and even whales.  And, of course, there were the fleet of boats out pursuing the chinook who were pursuing the anchovies.  A regular circle of life.


On the Wind we pulled candy-red prawns on spinners, but here it was lures only.  This meant no bait to worry about, which was nice.  The focus becomes on color and shape, and the newest trend is in ultra-violet colors that are part of the visual spectrum of the fish.  We trolled at fairly high speed, and varied the depth from 30-80ft, picking up fish all through the water column.  The catch was more varied than on the Columbia, we saw more wild fish and more coho salmon in the mix, both of which had to be immediately released.


We limited the boat, 2 keepers apiece, the first day by about 12:30pm and motored back to the boat basin to process the fish.  Enforcement was pretty sharp - a uniformed Fish and Game officer boarded every boat that returned from fishing, examining each fish to make sure it was legal, searching the holds of the boat for any hidden catch, and checking each on of our catch cards, to be sure they were filled out.  We had a pretty impressive fish box, lots of lookers coming by to see what we had brought in.  This included a 1500lb sea lion that had a reputation for being a bit too forward when he thought a snack could be found.


 The next day we had even more beautiful weather, and the anchovies were more plentiful than the day before.  The birds seemed to be sated, but we saw more dolphins and a pod of orca was spotted nearby as well.  We even watched a gray whale plow through a large section of fish at one point, about 100 yards off to one side of the boat.  The fishing was slower, and we had to cut loose a bunch of coho in the morning, but we managed to get 4 in the boat before calling it quits around 12:30.  This was a great experience, though the guys kept reminding me that the conditions we saw over the two days were not common.  I was glad for the chance to experience it and am especially glad for the freezer full of fresh salmon!