THE COLORFUL WEST

In the back country places of he Northwest USA one finds individuals that reflect their solitary world. In my book, North Cascades Highway, lived a capable construction worker whose very anatomy cried out that he was capable, familiar with the rough forest, opinionated, and yet appealing.  Wxxxx was built like a forest lookout tower -- tall, angular, sparse, with a quizzical expression on his long face, his head topped by a Stetson. It was easy to believe one of his stories about his mule that fell into a mudhole so deep that it left him standing up.  He loped, not walked, on those long legs, and his language in and out of the mountains could blister a pine tree. But he was a master guide, conscientious, and eminently capable. One of his clients had been the Governor of Washington State.

The children of the remote mountain country grew up on horseback and their animals were part of their families, they believed. One family adopted an abandoned sandhill crane, boss of the farmyard ." so totally that he was dubbed "Nero."  When the family hitched up a team to a wagon, bound for a village to buy farm supplies, Nero went, too.  With a wing spread of seven feet he walked beside he wagon, flapping his giant wings to keep up. More than one terrorized oncoming team viewed with horror such an apparition and ran away in fright, wagon and all. 

It is this other world of the West that  lends color to early journalists' works, hopefully including my own.

San Juan Logging

January, 2017.:

In my book, San Juan Islands: Into the 21st Century, I mentioned  that the islands were more noted for marvelous fishing rather than having large future forests like the size of the one pictured near Bellingham, Washington, on the mainland. The islands basically were long gone mountain tops, not so hospitable for tree roots. Yet original settlers found an old Lummi Indian longhouse (a dwelling) that housed three generations of residents in a 100x20' structure made from old cedar trees.  A few sawmills existed, especially one at Thatcher Bay on the southwest side of Blakely Island that was considered the largest north of Seattle in the 1890s

The key assets of the Spencer Mill were the commercial workboats in the islands that made possible transportation of the lumber to markets and, even more, the lively streams that fed two natural lakes of the island and  provided adequate overflow into the Sound to create water power. A small village grew up around the resultant waterfall and mill that included a tiny, picturesque post office.  On January 30, 1965, on a dark and stormy night passing ferry passengers on the Sound cried, "Look at the huge waves of water coming at us, with trees and debris swirling in it!." 

The small dam on the lake above Thatcher Bay had broken from heavy rain, sending a torrent of water down the steep stream bed into the Bay. Gone were a few waterside structures, especially the destruction  of the post office into a twisted mess, plus one of the main old mill buildings. For a few years, the  waterfall continued to attract residents like my own family for impromptu showers after wading a shallow lake of sandy bottom.  The dam itself had been patched up adequately and still exists. An old photo from the Seattle newspaper hangs in my own cabin today.

ROE STILL WRITING ABOUT NW

I APOLOGIZE TO MY READERS, AS I ADDED ONLY TWO BLOGS RECENTLY.

EXCUSES:  I SPENT MORE TIME AT BLAKELY ISLAND (SEE ABOVE) IN THE LOVELY SUMMER AND FALL OF THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST. Actually, this is also one of my published books that helps the reader to live vicariously on a San Juan Island with me and my family for more than thirty years.  Local summer residents (as we were, too) appealed to me to write a book about the island before all of the old-timers passed on. To my surprise, many strangers also have ordered this book from  booksellers and national  wholesalers.  Enough about why I loafed too much this summer.

In the following months I will continue sharing with you the writing of my 17 books, 10 of which are still in print, two of them recently published: THE SAN JUAN ISLANDS: INTO THE 21ST CENTURY (Caxton 2011) and THE COLUMBIA RIVER (Caxton 2013); Ongoing books that continue to be popular are: NORTH CASCADES HIGHWAY and GHOST CAMPS & BOOM TOWNS (from NW only), the latest two of the K-5 Marco the Manx series called ALASKA CAT and SAMURAI CAT (Montevista Press), RANALD MacDONALD (WSt.U Press) STEVENS PASS (lots of RR history), and several other titles out of print. One of the older books was made into a two-hour TV documentary for TV Asahi Japan) and is in the Smithsonian Collection, and so on.

AS FOR ME, I continue to be asked to travel occasionally to research magazine articles of diverse types, another possible video or movie, and another  book, maybe.  I ASK OF YOU THAT YOU WILL RETURN TO  MY WRITINGS AND OVERLOOK MY SCARCE OUTPUT. THANK YOU TO MY READERS OVER  YEARS PAST. www.joannroe.com for more. It is informational and not a sales site.

SAN JUAN ISLANDS NORTHWEST VACATIONLAND

Mount Baker in the massive North Cascades Range of Washington State is visible from most of the northwest, including the San Juan Islands that are scattered across the Salish Sea between Bellingham WA and the popular city of Victoria BC. The geologists and geographers say there are 172 such US islands, but only four of them are served by Washington State Ferries, These  are large vessels the size of small cruise ships for cars and trucks, people and all else from Anacortes to the port of Victoria on Vancouver Island . The rest of us get to our cabins on  the smaller islands by people-only boats from Anacortes WA or Bellingham (hundreds of personal boats). Others fly to small airstrips by private pilots or the few commercial airlines of various sizes. Once there and have unloaded the groceries one has a delicious feeling of being remote, of few cars and limited marinas or stores, but more crab pots, kayaks, orcas and even humpback whales at seasons. It is a collection of places where residents can temporarily forget the hubbub of commerce. The area has year-round moderate temperatures with ideal climates from about May to October from the 60s to 80s and in winter still in the 40s and 50s with the rainy season only less than 30 inches over a six-month period mostly, virtually 0 inches in the dry season.

My own extended family has had a toehold on one delightful island area for fully fifty years, with the generations continuing to spend summer sun on the beaches digging for geoducks or swimming in small lakes on an upper island site, setting out crab pots or hiking on old logging trails that have gradually been reinvaded by wild strawberry patches or pesky blackberry vines (with yummy berries galore in late summer). Dinners are late in this far northwest, making it possible to enjoy radiant sunsets framing the sky.

Relatively few native Americans settled on the islands, preferring to make them a source of hunting and fishing forays, partly because the Washington tribes were wary of northerly groups who came without warning from western Canada or Alaska in their 11-man war canoes to carry off the locals as slaves when they could. But that was a long time ago, and today the groups meet to have canoe races and barbecued salmon, instead.  In the upcoming posts I will tell you more about those early days and more.  The same publishers who told you about The Columbia River published my book about the later years of the SJI, San Juan Islands:Into the 21st Century. Even though I thought I knew everything about these lovely places by just living there part-time, I found I had to do much research and many personal interviews with residents to truly know what had happened in the last 75 years or so.

DEVELOP THE ART OF PHOTOGRAPHY

A typical magazine journalist is expected to develop the skill of creating interesting photography to illustrate his/her stories for magazines. Photography is tied deeply to becoming conscious of the sky, the weather, the lands that surround you. The image above is from California near Palm Springs, where towering mountains separate the maritime and the desert worlds. In a recent trip the clouds were hypnotic. Above gentle clouds danced across the blue sky, even as menacing dark and dangerous-looking systems climbed over the mountain tops to threaten the terrain facing me, looming higher in the blue sky every moment The darkening scene turned the foreground into a silhouette. What would happen? Would a clap of thunder precede a sudden rain? The movement of the clouds and the distant clamor of natural electrical systems told their story. Before long the clouds had risen to cover the sky above and create a breathless feeling like the impending rise of a theatre curtain on some drama.  Yes, this would be a photograph that would move future viewers of a magazine story.

Photos tell your story without captions. They set the stage for events you will relate. The mood of your artile's focus.  Look, Listen. Imagine.

THE ISLAND IN THE COLUMBIA RIVER THAT WASN'T

In the early 1900s a Russian immigrant, Alexander Zuckerberg, came to the Castlegar BC area of British Columbia as a teacher for local children, some from families of the Doukhobor coemmunal living homes nearby, some not. He noticed a lovely little island a few feet from shore in the Columbia River and tried to purchase it for a home.

When he initiated purchase procedures, the provincial government said there was no such island  Zuckerberg assured them the island really existed, and authorities sent to the site were amazed. He obtained the necessary papers and built the lovely little home above for his wife. Zuckerberg  linked the island to shore with a small bridge and  constructed a charming house in a Russian style.  manicured The industrious teacher manicured the woods around him with paths, gardens, and sculptures, irrigating the whole creation with a waterwheel to bring water from the river.

The two gentle people lived happily ever after on this unnamed island until his beloved wife died in 1960 and his attachment to their property waned. Today the small park is open to the public and monitored by the local Rotary Club, a haven of peace just a few steps offshore over a suspension bridge --  and now has a name of Zuckerberg Island Heritage Park.

Just one of the interesting tidbits about life, love and commerce from the 2013 book, The Columbia River, by JoAnn Roe

ODD MOMENTS IN WRITING OR RESEARCH

The last research for the Columbia River book was at the entrance of the river into the Pacific Ocean. What happened there was frequently chaotic, because the river's strong currents collided with powerful ocean waves. Many ships have been lost at this entrance near Astoria, Oregon, especially in earlier days of exploration. The narrow spit south of the entrance still shows remnants of ships and/or are described in the museums near or just inside the mouth of the Columbia. I described one amazing  event in my book.

In 1991, the survivors of a tragic accident at the Columbia's Bar that had claimed seven men and four boats on the same exact day in 1961 gathered to honor the dead in Astoria. I was interviewing them when we were told that a similar accident was under way on the Bar. The 75-foot trawler sank, two men died and one was missing, and seven others were rescued from the chilly waters. In both incidents professional Coast Guard rescue boats and crews were among the victims.  All this on the exact day and place 30 years apart!

Another time, another book, I searched fruitlessly for anyone who might have witnessed an event. Not long afterward on a major airline  I found the right man sitting next to me on the flight!

During book signings, a more likely source of information, of course, visitors appeared frequently who had experienced some event about which I had written.  '