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Lewiston, ID to Winnemucca, NV and Back |
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When we last left our intrepid heroes, they had just completed the perilous trip up the
Columbia and Snake Rivers to Lewiston, Idaho. Now on their overland journey to Winnemucca to return the
grandson, we join them as they prepare for the second half of their great adventure down river. Will
the boat be floating when they get back? Will the engines start? Will that #&$^@(! shaft
stay in it's coupling? Will there still be ice in the beer cooler?
Join us now as we continue with the final installment of [insert sappy yet emotional serial
music here] As The River Flows:
The trip to Winnemucca was as uneventful as any car trip should be. I know that by now you expect
more excitement from the trips that Debbie and I make, but I'm happy to be able to disappoint you
here. Boat problems are bad enough, let's not compound them with car trouble too. Debbie and I
wanted to spend some time with the grandkids when we got there, and we had been promising to take them
swimming, so we got a hotel with a pool after arriving. We took the grand kids to Wal-Mart to get them
some school stuff (and further spoil them), as well as some more supplies for the boat. Then it was to
the pool where the grandkids played in the pool with Debbie's daughter Dusti and myself. We all ate
pizza by the pool and generally enjoyed each others company as long as we could, knowing the emotional
moment of separating would soon be at hand. And it arrived just as expected. The grandkids bawled and
cried when they had to leave earlier than expected (tomorrow was a school day), and Debbie and I had
our hearts torn out holding them as long as we could. It was a wonderful time with Joshy coming up
river, as well as a quick and touching time with Mickenna and Skyler by the pool. But Josh and Regina
needed to get their kids home and reasonably rested for school, and they left.
(When I was a child I would spend my summers at my grandfather's home in Oldtown, Idaho. It was a
wonderful time. It made me happy, my grandfather and grandmother happy, and maybe even my parents
happy (nah, I'm sure they hated to get rid of me, er, let me go each summer). Driving out of there
the next morning for Lewiston, I knew somewhere my grandfather was smiling. For while I am not the
biological grandfather of Joshy (and his sisters), emotionally I assumed every bit of that role for the
time Josh spent with us, achieving a symbiosis with my grandfather in the circle of life.)
OK, enough of the sappy stuff - We've got a boat to move!
We drove straight through to Lewiston, stopping only for gas (and a fruitstand in Idaho somewhere).
And except for a hari-kari encounter with some birds (I managed to hit five on the trip back home,
four in a flock that flew right in front of me, and one big yellow wayward bird that was whacked by my
side mirror), it was another uneventful trip. We arrived in Lewiston sometime around 8 P.M.
Debbie, Dusti, and Dylan went to the supermarket to stock up perishables for our trip back home,
while I stay back and changed the oil in the engines. Each engine holds 3.5 gallons of oil, and
it's evacuated by operating a hand pump on the side of each engine. This takes sometime. By the
time they managed to get back I had finished one engine and was sitting and icing off the budding
blister on my hand. The therapeutic value of an ice cold beer bottle cannot be understated here -
I think it may have saved my life. Yeah - yeah, I'm sure of it.
In the morning we bade farewell to Dusti and Dylan, thanking Dusti tremendously for helping us out by
bringing the van to Lewiston. Then we were on our own.
We spent that Tuesday cleaning up the boat, finishing the oil change, and generally getting it ready
for the trip down stream. A very relaxing and satisfying day.
The highlight of that day though was a meeting with an old acquaintance from work. I use the
phrase old acquaintance
loosely here, for Bill McCallister retired from St. Regis shortly
after I started work there almost 25 years ago, and we never really even met. He was the maintenance
boss when I started work there, so I knew him from that perspective, but he was more a legend that
has grown in proportion in the intervening years. The circumstances around our meeting were interesting
in themselves. Talking to the Harbormaster, Jim, about who we were and what we did led us to discover
that his step-father, Bill, worked at the mill in Tacoma. It's definitely a small world.
He called Bill after Debbie and I left his office. While I was in the engine room dinking around, I
heard Debbie talking to somebody. poked my head out of the engine hatch and was pleasantly surprised
to be introduced to Bill McCallister.
I had remembered Bill as being a big man, but maybe that had more to do with the proportions of his
legend. Nevertheless, he looked hale and hearty, has a keen mind, and we must have talked for over
an hour. In that time our conversation went from events at the mill to medical issues, to salty talk
of boating experiences (Bill served on an LST during WWII). We could have talked for hours had Bill
not left his wife waiting in the Harbormaster's office. Debbie had occasion to go up there and
when she came back she informed Bill that his continued longevity was threatened by the inattention
to his wife. What was supposed to be a short visit turned out much longer than planned. We said our
goodbye's and parted, both with more spring in our step. A very pleasant encounter indeed.
The day had been beautiful and we capped it off with drinks and appetizers at Rooster's Restaurant,
overlooking the marina. (If you ever get to Clarkston/Lewiston, this is a must stop. Great food,
drinks, service and atmosphere.)
