By Russ Farrell This old range in the kitchen We fed it alder wood. The darn thing made more ashes Than sixteen smokers should. The pan would fill I two days’ time, The draft plugs up in four, And Saturday when I come home The stove wouldn’t draw no more. I…
Chapter Six By Jim Farrell “You might think that this was the end of the story” Grandpa Dick said to the four of us as we lie around his rocking chair listening to his soft southern Missouri twang as the storm raged outside that little farm house nestled amongst the tall fir trees bending before…
By Russ Farrell This old Gus Nystrom, he lived down the road a-ways in a small shack affair and done his own cooking, on account of he was the only one living there. He’d quit the carpenter trade and was taking it pretty easy, except for some steelheading and stalking the mowich, except he would…
By Jim Farrell Many years ago, and they were back to the scene of the almost tragedy. Not only at the same island group, same island, but two of the same payers greeted them at the dock, as much surprised to see the other two as they were seeing them. The two were San Juan…
A voyage not meant to be By Jim Farrell While anchored in South Puget Sound, I was rowing around Jarrell Cove, on Hartstene Island in my Zodiac “Doggie Daze”, I happened upon Bob Lemon and his S/V Raven and started up a conversation that led to this story… … The romance of the sea draws…