Or What the H… Have I Gotten Myself Into? By Jim Farrell So far, the sailing trip north through the inside passage to Glacier Bay had been far and above any and all expectations either my best mate Becky or I had envisioned. The weather had been prefect. The wild life, eagles, humpback, orca, and…
By Jim Farrell Days on the Multnomah Channel during the dog days of summer can be lazy, relaxing, boring, exciting, or just plain retaliatory. That is, you can take a perfect day, a clear sky and all the intentions of good fellowship on a summer afternoon on the river, then at the drop of a…
By Jim Farrell Kq-a~-la~-o`k, meaning “a good place to land”, in the Salishan language the Quinault natives used, and then corrupted by European’s to Kalaloch, when they arrived. The beach was part of the coastal highway the Quinault, Quilcute, Hoh, Makah and other Pacific Northwest natives’ tribes used for trade, all up and down the…
By Russ Farrell My wife is afraid of the deadly brown snake, Afraid of the garden one, too. Just seeing, she shudders, when shivers, she shakes, She kicks up a hullabaloo. Our two oldest daughters, they learned from their ma Her fear of the temper of Eve” They’d shiver and shudder and scream if they…
By Jim Farrell Grandpa Dick told these stories to all who would listen, and Jim retold them to his kids in the 1970s, and now to his Grandkids. More chapters are coming. Chapter One Early in the day, Mom and Dad had left for Port Angeles to do the monthly shopping and visit some…