©Bert Gildart:  The Alaska Highway is a 1,597-mile-long two-lane highway that stretches from Dawson Creek to Fairbanks. Much of the area through which it passes remains similar to the wilderness Canadians and the U.S. Army plowed through in 1942, taking 11 months to complete the monumental project of creating a road. Through primitive by today’s standards, the “highway” was deemed necessary after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. Military experts were concerned the Japanese might invade Canada, the Aleutians and other parts of Alaska–and they needed a way to move troops. Today, that “wild road” now helps recall a frontier type of life that was at times raw, and sometimes very lonely–as suggested by the legacy of one man, which now attracts visitors from all over the world.

When Janie and I first drove the highway in 1991, the road was twisty and curvy, but to honor the 50-year anniversary of the Alcan (Alaska-Canada Highway) much money was spent shortly after our first adventure to convert the old road into a more modern day one. Today, we believe the surface is good enough for Airstream owners to pull their trailers–and to enjoy one of the greatest adventures still remaining to RV travelers.

Travel slowly and you'll see more wildlife, such as the Stone Sheep, one of the four species of North American wild sheep.

Yes, you’ll have to travel slowly because of periodic frost heaving, but that will only allow you to see more wildlife–and enjoy the wild beauty the several provinces, and finally the state of Alaska, provides.

MOVABLE FEAST

What you do as you travel this historic route will vary according to your interests. Our itinerary calls for stops in Whitehorse, Denali and finally Skagway–to hike the historic Chilkoot Pass. As well, we also plan to see our many Gwich’in Indian friends in Fairbanks; and while in Fairbanks, I have obligations to magazines and will be covering the World Eskimo Indian Olympics in mid July. But our time is here and now-and it is the many things seen along the way that make this trip worth the while, for there’s a history of wildlife and a legacy of characters. In fact, the entire trip could be called a “movable feast.”

Highlights of our trip have been many and as time goes by we may find enough Internet Cafés and campgrounds with Wireless connectivity to detail more of the exciting features we’ve enjoyed. In the meantime, I believe Janie and I would agree that our stop at Liard Hot Springs ranks high. So, too, do the sightings of all the wildlife (bears) and the Stone sheep-and this latter for a very good reason.

Throughout North America there are four different species of mountain sheep (Dall, Bighorn, Desert Bighorn) and the Stone Sheep is another. (I described the species in my book published by NorthWord on Mountain Monarchs.)

LEGACY OF CHARACTERS

But we’re also interested in the history of the Alcan and in some of the characters who left their marks. At this juncture in our journey the Sign Post Forest in Watson Lake, Yukon Territory, fits that bill.

Sign Forest, growing daily and now containing over 55,000 signs posted from all over the world. Started in 1942 by a lonely G.I. who was working on the AK Highway.

The Signpost Forest dates back to 1942 when Carl Lindley, a homesick G.I. from Illinois was working on damaged signposts. Thinking perhaps of his sweetheart back home, he erected a marker showing the distance to his hometown in Illinois. For some inexplicable reason, the posting caught hold and today, the “forest” includes over 55,000 signs that come from all over the world.

Next stop may be Whitehorse, for the lady at the Visitor Center said it was an “easy” 5 to 6 hour drive.  But we’ll have to see about that, for we’ve discovered most travel much faster than we do, and typically to cover the 280 miles she’s described, will take us a day and a half. We’re slow, and to see all the sights–to meet all the characters from the present-and past!–we believe that’s the way to travel the Alcan.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Knife River is Archaeologist’s Dream

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©Bert Gildart:  At first Janie and I both thought we were seeing another black bear, but as we pulled our truck and Airstream onto the side of the Alaskan Highway, we both changed our mind.

“That could be a small grizzly,” Janie said. And I had to agree, despite the fact I thought it unusual for a grizzly to be near the side of a road. And although the Alaska Highway is remote, it still sees a fair number of cars, trucks–and even Airstreams–most every day.

Is it a a black bear or a grizzly bear?

Not more than an hour ago, we had left Liard Hot Springs in British Columbia to continue our journey to Fairbanks and the surrounding area. For several reasons, bears were very much on our minds–and so were ways to differentiate g-bears from black bears. We’d also been thinking about bears because one of their preferred food items was so abundant–something I well knew.

Years ago I had worked in Glacier National Park hired as an assistant biologist in the ennobling position as a scatologist. For three months I had gathered bear poop and then, later, in the park service lab, worked to identify the fecal material. The material was exactly like what Janie and I had been seeing the past few days at Liard Hot Springs. It was cow parsnip, but this was different.

TROPICAL OASIS

Because of the hot springs Liard was once referred to as a “tropic-like oasis.” Because of the warmth, cow parsnip is not only profuse in Liard, but it grows exceptionally high; and that may be one of the reasons we have seen so many bears in this area. In spring, it’s one of their favorite items of food.

Cow parsnip, a favorite food of blacks and grizzly bears alike is profuse and grows exceptionally tall at Liard Hot Springs.

So far, this trip has been as much about bears as anything else. Five years ago when Janie and I drove the Alaska Highway, we saw very little wildlife, but this year we have seen bison, stone sheep, caribou, black bears and now we both believed, we were seeing a grizzly bear.

The reason we were not decided is because of the bear’s youth. This must be a very young bear, perhaps a two-year old; one that may have just recently been booted from the family. Most sows, after all, are again ready to deliver a new crop of young, and young from several years ago must go.

Though it’s hard to say with any certainty, this bear probably weighed just a little over 200 pounds, and that made it difficult to determine at first whether it was a g-bear or a black bear, particularly when it was not turned sideway. Even then, the hump was not very prominent, but because of the dished-in face and what we think is the beginning of a hump, we’re calling it a young grizzly bear.

Anyone have any thoughts?

NEWS NOTES: We’re traveling the Alaskan Highway trying to post blogs when we have access to the Internet. Tonight we do for the first time in almost a week. We’ve seen much and will try and catch up when we’re parked for awhile. Meanwhile, the service we’ve paid good money for (telephone service in Canada) is not working, and we’re wondering why? As a result, we can’t call out on our Verizon phone. We thought we were paying for our service to link with the towers most used in Canada. Maybe when we get to Whitehorse our service will work; right now we’re in Watson Lake, Yukon Territory.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO

*Top Ten National Parks For RVers

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Not sure whether to go up--or come down

©Bert Gildart:  “Bears,” Janie said. “Black bears, and just look at those adorable little cubs. Three of ‘em!”

We were in Jasper National Park driving the tiny potholed road to Cavell Glacier (which we drove last fall), when Janie made her discovery. The bears were on a small wooded hill, out in the open, and they were all playing-though that’s not the way it appeared. First one would run over to a tree and assume a position that implied “climb.” Suddenly, another bolted over and attempted to pull it down. Several times it succeeded, then, on the ground they’d nip and snap, but without the force and anger needed to inflict real pain. These little guys were having a ball!

But what got us both was the size, and then we realized they probably had not been out of hibernation too long, and we recalled as well that all bears have a most usual method of fertilization.

DELAYED IMPLANTATION

Mating takes place in late summer, but sows store and delay final implantation of the sperm until their bodies are in a reproductive condition, which occurs in the fall.  Growth of the embryo then occurs, but there’s not much time before they’re born. As a result, when the cubs are born, usually in February, they weigh little more than a pound.

When we saw them just a day or so ago, none appeared to weigh more than 15 to 20 pounds. Little wonder cubs remain with the sow until they are almost two years old.

Unlike grizzly bears, black bears are excellent climbers, and as we watched the sow suddenly let out a grunt and all three scurried up trees, two in one. Seconds later several motorcycles roared up the road, and that’s apparently what had alerted the sow. When the cyclist passed the cubs descended and again we watched them and photographed them.

Though I’ve often seen black bears (and grizzly bears, for that matter), never have I seen a black bear with her cubs for such an extended period. What was particularly interesting is that one of the cubs was brown in color while the other two were black.

TRYING TO OBSCURE OUR INTENTIONS

We continued to watch and photograph them for well over an hour. Each time we’d hear a car approach, we’d turn as though we were removing something from the car. As well, I’d scurry with my tripod mounted lens to the far side of our truck.

Bear Cubs "battle," but it's all in fun.

From experience we both know that many people start yelling and screaming when they see bears, and that type of behavior certainly doesn’t benefit our cause.

Though Janie and I are not sure why the bears tolerated our presence for so long, we hope it was not because they had been fed. Generally when that happens bears loose all fear of people and begin showing up in campgrounds. Jasper National Park officials are working hard to prevent that occurrence and all of their campgrounds are designated “Bare Proof Campgrounds,” meaning they are barren of food when campers are absent. If not offending items are confiscated, campers may be issued a citation and in some cases, asked to leave.

Mamma looking on over three cubs

We worked with extremely long Nikon lenses (400 to 800mm) and are delighted for the rare opportunity that presented itself while in Jasper National Park. This park never fails as we learned last fall.

NEWS NOTES: We have no connectivity so our postings are being made from Internet Café’s-when we can find them. At the moment I’m in LouLou’s Pizzeria in Jasper, Alberta.

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SEVERAL YEARS AGO AT THIS TIME

*Never A Bad Day At Logan Pass

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©Bert Gildart: Departing tomorrow for Alaska, and it seems appropriate to post of few photographs from one of my favorite north-country settings, the Arctic Refuge, a place we’ve visited literally dozens of times. During those times we’ve seen grizzly bears, wolverines, thousands of caribou, and one day, we awoke to a snow storm. But it quickly lifted and left us basking in a wonderland.

Arctic flowers, it's all about adaptation to harsh conditions.

Two of my favorite photographs from that ADVENTURE include the ones posted here. Somehow these plants have evolved to survive harsh winds and cold temperatures. Look, for instance at the arctic dryad engulfed with snow.

No telling what features we’ll see this time, but we’re exciting about traveling the Alcan and then getting to Fairbanks and seeing our many Gwich’in Indian friends, with whom we lived for a number of years.

NORTHERN-MOST TRIBE OF INDIANS

The Gwich’in, for those of you who don’t recall from my many previous postings, are the northern-most Indian tribe in America (Eskimos live further north) and they have fought a wonderful and telling battle to preserve the core calving ground of the Porcupine Caribou herd, which is located in the northern part of the Arctic Refuge.

Beatuty of the Arctic Refuge, about 15 miles from Arctic Ocean

We’ll be posting as we go–and when we can find Internet Cafes. It’s expensive to purchase Internet access time through Verizon, but we’ll do the best we can to find cafes.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*Keeper of Kintla (This post continues to generate comments)

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©Bert Gildart: This past year Janie and I talked to several people who have had bad experiences with tires and hitches. We’re included in that group and about a year ago I posted a blog on the difficulty we had with a cracked receiver. Before heading for Alaska, we want to make sure everything is loaded correctly.

Yet another Airstream user, Tom, related a story about the factory installed hitch on his Chevy, which had actually cracked and then fallen off. And now, just a few weeks ago, I took a tire into my local service man, and he said one of the tires was not wearing proper, and that perhaps we’ve over loaded the trailer. I don’t think so, but soon we’ll know for sure.

NATURE CORNER: Live in the Northwest and now hearing a drumming in the woods that sounds like a motorboat? It's only the ruffed grouse, standing on a log, pounding out a warning, saying, in essence, "This is my territory; stay out!" High-speed strobes helped to arrest beat of wings.

With those concerns in mind, I’ve talked to a number of service people to determine if we might have any potential problems. Bottom line, it doesn’t appear that way, and here’s how we know.

FEEL SAFE

First, I made a visual examination of the factory hitch that came with our Dodge heavy duty ¾ ton pickup, and found nothing that should concern us. As well I called my Dodge dealer and the service people there said they had never “in their entire history” had a problem with a customer’s hitch. That makes me feel safe, but doesn’t mean I’ll stop making periodic inspections. After all, by inspection, we discovered the cracked stinger (link above), and that should never have happened.

Captions for above, which you should click on to enlarge and to see techniques: Left, shows easy set up; middle shows scale and downward force of tongue but NOT the hidden support (which is actually the fulcrum); right, shows scale and uncalculated weight, which is obtained by multiplying shown weight of 200 by length of 4×4, which is actually 4 in my case. Diagram shows 3 feet from trailer jack, but that’s OK as instructions say to multiply scale weight by length of board from fulcrum to other end support, which is the scale.

Since that time, we’ve vastly upgraded and now have a Hensley Arrow Hitch and the heaviest duty arrangement they offer. However, because of the problems Tom had, he upgraded the Chevy receiver hitch by replacing number 5 bolts with number 8 bolts and having a welder reinforce factory welds with reinforced welds. He says he’ll now drive with peace of mind.

EASY PROCEDURE

After inspecting the factory hitch for weak areas, I, too, feel I can drive with peace of mind, but that’s because of my evaluation. I also wanted to know tongue weight, vehicle weight and the weight of the trailer, and I’ve just obtained one of those parameters. Using a technique outlined in the Airstream manual, I’ve determined tongue weight, and because I have yet to talk to anyone who has gone through this little exercise, thought I’d include photos, showing just how easy the procedure can be. You’ll need a 4-foot 4×4, two short pieces of heavy duty piping, scales and a piece of board about the thickness of your scales.

In the manual, Airstream says you can use a longer 4×4 then what they show in the above diagram, and that all one must do is multiply the board’s total length by the weight shown on your bathroom scales. They use a three-foot 4×4 while  I used a four-foot-long 4×4; otherwise everything shown in the diagram remained the same, meaning tongue weight for my Safari LS with slideout was 800 pounds, almost exactly, as shown above.

Before we depart for Alaska, and once we’re fully loaded, I plan to drive pickup and trailer to a weight station, and then I’ll know whether or not we are overloaded.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*Rolling a Kayak

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©Bert Gildart: Here’s another lengthy comment from a reader who preferred to remain anonymous. This person’s thoughts add yet another perspective on this subject of dealing with prospective violence in campgrounds. The subject is one I’ve been covering in the four postings prior to the one on Virgil Ware, and which has generated much interest. (Protective Measures, Ranger Patrol Turned Violent, Defensive Measures, More Thoughts on Hostile Behavior)

The individual’s comments read as follows:

I’ve been following your latest blogs with great interest.

After your first blog, I was bracing myself for a host of responses from others suggesting that the best way to “be secure” is to carry a gun or some other lethal weapon. I’m often asked by fellow campers whether we travel with some sort of weapon. These seem to be an ice- breaking statement made by people who have already chosen to pack heat. When I answer “No,” inevitably I’m told about their gun and why they carry it. They usually try to convince me to get a gun, too.

Because of the importance I've placed on this issue of potential violence the other topics I often cover have been neglected... and I want you new readers to know that wildlife, natural history and adventure travel, generally with our Airstream--as seen through my photographic lens--is often the subject of my posts. To remedy: right now, here in Montana, blue grouse are now displaying for the females and attempting to stake out their territory. One good place to see this annual ritual is the Many Glacier Valley of GNP.

So I was pleasantly surprised at the opinions expressed by your contributors, who both talked about non-lethal ways to de-escalate a potential situation. In our years of travel, we never once encountered a situation in which anything truly threatening occurred.  Those few times that we were concerned, the “threat” was all in our minds. In my experience, campgrounds are generally safe places.

Many people would say we were just lucky, and I’m sure there’s some truth to that. But it is also true that we prevented situations from occurring by being diligent in researching places before we went, aware of our surroundings when we arrived, and cautious about situations that popped up during our stay. Our Airstream has wheels, and there is no point in sitting still next to bad neighbors like a housebound person might. If in doubt, move on.

“GUNS NOT OUR CHOICE”

While several friends travel with lethal weapons (mostly handguns), that’s not our choice. As your first contributor points out, there are very few situations in which lethal force is necessary, and many more times where it would be a huge mistake. I don’t want the temptation to make a huge mistake sitting in my trailer. Experts also say that brandishing a weapon you don’t intend to use is a mistake as well.

PREFERS PEPPER SPRAY

On the other hand, I’m a fan of non-lethal defenses like pepper spray. We used to travel with a small can, but it got confiscated at the Canadian border during a trip. We should probably get a replacement.

Bill makes a good point as well. People’s impressions can be formed on scant detail: how you dress, who you’re with, what your trailer looks like. It is just as easy to form a positive impression as a negative one, and we always try to do that. Introducing yourself to neighbors is always a good idea. Being friendly and flying a flag tells people, “I’m not a threat,” and letting people know who you are often means they’ll look out for you.

I often see people who are their own worst enemies. They shun others, scowl into other people’s campsites, never smile, and generally give off the impression that they are unpleasant. Troublemakers looking to harass another camper will generally aim for the target that seems most deserving of abuse. Don’t be the grumpy guy who yells at people for crossing his site. Don’t be the couple that pretends they didn’t see your friendly wave as you walked by. Don’t grab the children and tell them to go back to the trailer just because somebody with a tattoo is in sight. If you act fearful, you may just attract that which you fear most.

Thanks for covering this topic.

NOTE: Continued contributions are welcome on this subject of violence in our campgrounds, but in the meantime we’ll be switching topics, moving on to plans for our upcoming trip to Alaska. There’s much preparation required and I’ll be discussing a bit of that in my next posting. We’ll be departing in about three weeks.

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THREE YEARS AGO AT THIS TIME:

*Training People To Watch Bears

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©Bert Gildart:  What follows is advice provided by Bill D, a fellow Airstream owner and a gentleman I met this winter in Anza Borrego. Bill and his partner Larry are well educated, and have enjoyed successful medical careers. Bill worked as a charge RN for the Veteran’s Administration Hospital. (To understand why he has contributed his thoughts, scroll down and read my three previous posts.)

Janie and I have sought out America's most remote areas, and 99.9 percent of the time have ALMOST always felt secure. We'd like to think it has something to do with prepardness.

Now retired, both have developed an interest in history, much being devoted to the highly unusual life style of Marshall South, a man who took his family into the wilderness for 17 years. Bill, who shares my enthusiasm for South, has helped me with research, and  I count him among my friends.

From his home at Yaquitepec, South wrote hundreds of magazine stories and penned several novels, and Janie and I have written about the family in several blogs (Post1…Forerunners of the Hippies?, Post 2, Lessons from Yaquitepec). Magazine stories will soon follow.

I have also reported on the life of Bill and Larry, and did so this past February (”Ghost Mountain or Brokeback Mountain? Maybe There Is No Choice” ). Because of their lifestyle they are in a particularly good situation to offer advice about violence, for they’ve experienced their share of hostility and have given much thought to defending themselves and to defusing hostile situations. Provided here are Bill’s suggestions on dealing with aggressive behavior, and the important thing is that his techniques seemed to have worked, as follows:

By Bill D: Your recent article, “When To Consider Protective Measures Against Hostility“, struck a chord with us (I think we touched on that topic briefly when you visited us at our campsite at Vallecito County Park).  During the past two years of camping, we have experienced that just having an Airstream trailer is an attention getter, and the image of two men living in it kicks it up a notch.  So our “antennas” are always on alert to detect any attitudes of prejudice and/or hate, which could also lead to violence, as was the case of Satendar Singh in a California state park.

We take preemptive measures such as saying “Hi” to our neighbors as we walk our dogs and take time to talk to those who appear approachable.  We have found that flying the United States Flag seems to have a pacifying effect on any nearby “rednecks” or potential troublemakers. Below are two incidents that we experienced that could have resulted in violence:

As a former service man, Bill is patriotic, but also knows the American flag generates good will among some campers.

We were camping in the middle of the week in an almost empty, quiet wooded park near Julian, CA.  Late in the afternoon, several vehicles with men arrived across the park road from us and started to set up a tent while music was blaring out from their opened car door.  They started drinking and whooping it up with very loud talking, swearing and ugly laughing. Our Airstream was somewhat screened by thick bushes and we were flying the Earth Flag.  We contemplated the possibility of moving or returning home.

The next morning we raised the United States Flag on our high flagpole.  We were pleasantly surprised when one of the offending men walked over and thanked us for flying the flag. He said he was a Vietnam War veteran and appreciated it, and went on to apologize for their noisy behavior the night before.

On another trip, we were camping at the beach, which often attracts partying campers.  At first we thought we were lucky to have quiet neighbors, but when the neighbors of the site just on the other side of the bushes returned to their RV late in the evening after eating dinner in town, they proceeded to turn on very loud music that pulsated through our closed Airstream.

We contacted the Camp Host who talked to them.  They turned down the volume at 10 p.m. but I heard them laughing and talking loudly.  The music then returned and park rangers drove by and agreed that the music was too loud and they talked to the offending party. The music stopped and after the rangers left I heard them talk loudly about “those fags”.

I feared for our safety and the safety of our trailer.  So Larry stayed inside the trailer with the dogs while I stayed out in the dark near our Airstream and kept an eye on the trailer and any suspicious activity (I had an iron fire poker and ax nearby).  Around midnight I heard our neighbor’s footsteps approach and stop on the roadside of our truck. He shined a flashlight into our site, saw me, and he then returned to his RV. By 2 a.m. all was quiet and I retired.

The next morning I raised the American Flag high on our flagpole and we had no further problems with our neighbors, except for an occasional scowl from them as they walked by.  What I learned from this incident is that it is better to not complain or draw negative attention to a neighbor’s offending behavior (I’m sure it spoiled both of our evenings.)

As a preventive measure I try to find something neutral to say, an “icebreaker”, such as “Hi!” or “sorry for the diesel truck noise as I was getting the trailer in the right place”.  I am often pleasantly surprised when they say, “no problem” or “I didn’t even hear it”. That initial face-to-face neutral verbal exchange almost always seems to go a long way in reducing the apprehension that both parties undoubtedly experience when first moving in.  And, as mentioned above, flying the American Flag seems to help.  But if I felt we were in danger of violence, I would hitch up the trailer and put the outside gear back into the truck incase we needed to move early and quickly. Larry reports that people are not as receptive to him once they see that he is an Asian-American.

I agree with your assessment in your article, “Routine Ranger Patrol Turned Violent”, that economic hard times increase the likelihood of violence. I prefer to use the phrase, “potential perpetrators of violence”, rather than “Fringe Dwellers” (Marshal South was probably thought of as a “Fringe Dweller” by the community of Julian).  This morning I found an excellent book on this subject: Violence: The Enduring Problem, by Alex Alvarez and Ronet Bachman, Sage Publications, Inc., November 2, 2007.  The authors state that all violence, at some level, is the result of an “us” versus “them” mentality, and xenophobia, the tendency to have contempt for foreigners and other strangers, is particularly likely in times of economic hardship, increasing the likelihood that hate crimes and other forms of violence will occur.

The new law allowing guns in our national parks and wildlife refuges could increase the level of violence and could result in a war zone.

Bert, after my articles in my History Safari Express column about our trip to Julian and photographing the Marshal South frieze and unraveling the Marshal South story, I have posted subsequent articles that contain references to Marshal South and quotes from his writings (now that I have blanket permission from Diana Lindsay (Sunbelt Publishers), editor of Marshal South and the Ghost Mountain Chronicles):

“Ghost Mountain spring hikes“, April 5, 2009, ”Yaquitepec Spring“, April 29, 2009, ”Desert heat“, May 7, 2009, ”Ocean breeze“, May 16, 2009. (My annual trailer wash, wax & treat article will be posted this Saturday.)

As you might have heard in the news, we are happy that our marriage status, along with 18,000 other same-sex marriages, has been upheld by the California Supreme Court, and we look forward to the day that all people have equal rights.

Dont' let that rare incident spook you from exploring--and enjoying!--America's hinterlands. Just take a little caution, and be prepared! And now, SALUD to all out there on the road; your're welcome to join us. Just BYO.

Bill closes his article by expressing his thanks for my postings on violence, offering his permission to quote him.  And now I would like to offer others who might have thoughts on the subject of violence to provide their comments.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*By Their Beaks Shall Ye Know Them

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©Bert Gildart: Prior to posting my last two blogs, I wrote several friends who travel widely and asked for their thoughts. I think they are exceptional and have combined them. Individuals here have asked to remain anonymous, and I’ve certainly followed their wishes, appreciative they’d take time to  contribute to this dialogue, much of which is about the use of firearms.  Before reading this posting you should read my last two posts, revealing how we’ve gotten to this point.

Their Advice:

I believe that situations that are threatening when we travel in our RV must be handled in a defensive mode. Aggression against yourself or loved ones is what we are trying to avoid. When we find ourselves in a situation that is starting to or has the potential to turn ugly, how do we deal with it? Unless you are a cop or a person of authority for the park or campground, your reactions must be defensive not aggressive.

If you carry Counter Assault (Bear Spray), make sure you know how to use it. It's a nonlethal means of defense proven to be capable of turning a charging grizzly.

I am not an attorney nor have I had police training or come from a work history that dealt with community problems and wrong doers. My work experience comes from the world of dealing in industrial settings with people of purpose who do not seek out physical confrontation.

But, now retired my wife and I travel extensively to many parts of our country; into diverse cultures that make up the US and quite often camp in remote and private areas at places that are open to the public. Like all of you, there are times we become vulnerable to harassment that could become a threat to our personal being. This hasn’t happened often, but enough so that we have given personal protection some thought.

I am no longer a young buck that can intimidate a person bent on causing us trouble. Like the old bear in the forest, an aggressor knows I am more bluff than substance. MAYBE! With age should come a degree of guile and cunning. AND, maybe have smarts enough to carry a big stick.

First, I want to say that we should be aware of surroundings into which we venture. The ‘inner-woman’ in us, or at the very least, the woman beside us should be heard and her advice respected. Women seem to have a better intuitive sense about potentially dangerous situations. We should listen to that intuition and let it be a warning to us. Don’t knowingly put yourself into a corner and above all, if it doesn’t feel right to you, remove yourself from the area.

Let the CG owner and or the local police deal with the troublemakers.

There could come a time where you must face the danger because the police are too far away or the danger is sudden and imminent. Now what? Should you carry a club, knife, bear spray or mace or a gun for personal protection? Have you thought about what it would be like to kill or seriously injure another person? What would that person have to be doing to you or a loved one for you to take that drastic action? When you carry a lethal weapon you take on a heavy burden of responsibility for your actions…. and the consequences.

I have talked with firearm instructors about defensive weapons and their use. One was an attorney who centered his teaching upon the fact that carrying a weapon should only be used for personal defense when you were IN FEAR FOR YOUR LIFE OR THAT OF OTHERS OR IN DANGER OF GREAT BODILY HARM. Only if your life or that of someone else’s was in mortal danger could you use your weapon. That is the only legal justification for using a firearm for defense and the burden of proof that you used the weapon legally falls upon your shoulder and those of your attorney.

He made it perfectly clear that if you pulled your weapon for any reason, the cash register would start working against you. Threatening with a weapon for right or wrong reasons would likely bring in the police and the first thing they would do is arrest the gun to neutralize the situation and then sort out the facts later. Here, you would need a lawyer. Ka-ching, ka-ching!

If you end up shooting somebody whether justified or not and that person died, you could look at an attorney bill that probably would clean out your net worth. Attorney bills tend to be based upon ability to pay. A shooting is very costly in many ways. Is shooting a hot head that turns out to have a history of punching out people worth the financial burden you would undertake?

You won’t have much time to decide if the threat is real and you are fearful of death or great bodily harm. Is trash talk and site encroachment worth your financial net worth? You are better off walking away from the situation if you can.

How about that late night banging and crashing on your trailer and vehicle? You are awakened from a sound sleep in this remote canyon and you and wife are frightened out of your skin. Again, retreat the best you can. Hit your panic button on your keychain to activate your car horn and lights and keep your doors locked and interior lights off. Have your car or truck positioned so the headlights will illuminate your trailer. Don’t engage the aggressors by talking or answering their taunts. Use your cell phone to call for help LOUDLY. Prepare to defend your family if they gain entrance to your unit. Have defensive weapons at the ready and know how to use them. You will notice in photos of COPS dealing with situations like this, they do not have their finger on the trigger. If you decide to carry a weapon, take lessons from a professional FIRST.

If they begin to gain entrance, shout loudly DROP YOUR WEAPON, I AM ARMED AND HAVE CALLED THE POLICE. You want anybody around to know you are under attack and threatened with a weapon and that you have warned them you are armed. If they keep coming the use of lethal defensive force might be legally justified if you fear for you life and your castle is invaded.

But, do your best never to put yourself in an environment where you could be faced with having to make this kind of decision. Think defensively and anticipate, Follow your intuition and move on. If all this fails, know how to use a weapon if you choose to carry one. Have your lawyer’s card handy should you have to use a weapon. You will need him. You have taken on a great new responsibility and you should train yourself to exercise it responsibly.

CONCLUSION:

Unfortunately, I believe with our society now in a state of flux we will be encountering more people at loose ends, much like the people from my Cut Bank incident. Though I still don’t believe there should be carte blanch on guns in national parks, I believe everyone should have a plan of action. Whatever your plan, rehearse it from time to time, and then don’t hesitant to implement it if the situation calls for it.

Tomorrow I’ll be posting a story from Bill and Larry who have confronted more than their share of violence. Their lifestyle and their advice is well thought out, all derived from experience.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Return of the Cranes

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©Bert Gildart: Our society is now in flux and when people find themselves scraping the bottom, violence often results. That might have happened to Janie and me the other day–and that did happen to me 25 years ago when I encountered an element of society I like to call “Fringe Dwellers”. (Helpful if you read Monday’s post before proceeding.)

Often I rode along the flanks of Mad Wolf as part of my patrol work. Finally, in 2006, I climbed to the summit. Mostly the ascent evoked wonderful memories and provided views spanning almost 100 miles.

In 1981 (and for 13 other summers) I worked in Glacier National Park as a  ranger, often in the backcountry. Sometimes my work required that I investigate cattle trespass, which usually required a friendly visit to one of the local ranches. But on one visit, a loose element showed up–a group living on the edge. The men reminded me of the drunks Janie and I encountered and that I reported on in my last posting. My encounter with the Glacier  group turned sour and the result was that I later had to file a “Case Incident Report.” What follows is from my notes and for the sake of brevity and readability, I’ve condensed the report.

Routine Ranger Patrol Turned Violent

On July 19, 1981 at approximately 1200 hours, I rode into Racine Basin in uniform to check on seismic exploration and cattle trespass… At approximately 1630 hrs, I encountered Mr. Salois who was fishing with his daughter. They said they’d just come from a gathering at the Racine’s place and that if I stopped by they might give me a piece of elk steak as well as some information.  As mentioned above, it was my intention to stop.  DR (name abbreviated) has cattle he runs adjacent to the park and occasionally they do stray over into GNP.

Opening the gate, which was necessary to do in order to get to both DR’s cabin, I walked the horse up the road to the cabin which was about 100 yards from the fence.  A number of people waved and invited me to join them.  I inquired about DR.  FW (I’m using initials so as not to call too much attention to the individuals, hoping time has modified their behavior, which actually was never a problem with FW–just her son.), an older Indian lady who works for the  tribe (contiguous with GNP), said that I should join them for potatoes and meat.  Another fellow who worked for the seismic crew said it was his birthday and that he too wanted me to join them and his party of about 30 people, that he’d tell me about his work while I had a quick bite to eat.

Approximately fifteen minutes later (about 1700 hrs) I heard a commotion and turned to see about five or six men harassing my NPS-issued horse “John”.  DW was riding and John was bucking as they’d tied a rope around his tail–a trick used to make a horse buck.  They were also raking the animal’s flanks with their boots.  Running over I grabbed at DW and shouted  to get off my horse.  When I said that, the men involved gathered around me and DW said, “What are you going to do if I don’t stay off?”  I felt threatened and thought they might start shoving me around so my inclination was not to shy away. I stepped to him and in so many words told him that I was a Federal Officer and that he could go to jail.

One of the men to my right said something and when I turned, DW hit me.  [Sucker punch is another term.] He started to hit me again so I stepped back, tripping over some rough ground.  DW started to kick me but I grabbed for his ankle and regained my own footing.

The fight was stopped immediately by several of the 25 to 30 friendly people.  I said to let him go, that the fight wasn’t over.  FW said, “Don’t do that, he’s my son.  Leave him alone and we’ll be friends for life.  Come back and finish your steak.  Everyone wants you to stay.  I promise you there will be no more trouble from my son.”

Shortly after the altercation DW came over and apologized for his actions.  What happened to make him forget the sincerity of his apology awhile later will have to be left to the imagination.

Fifteen minutes later I finished my dinner and turned to see DW again–on John.  Now everyone, including FW, ran over to the five or six “bad” guys.  FW then told her son he was a dumb, ignorant, disobedient —-.”  He told her she as a “–, –, —-.” [These were not polite words like damn and hell.]

I left immediately, walking the horse to the first of two fences.  After opening it I rode a very excited, agitated and still bucking horse toward the next fence.  One mile later I came to a second fence.  Dismounting, I opened the gate which John ran through, jerking me.  I held onto the halter rope, but John kicked me a grazing blow on my leg.  I leaped back, releasing the halter rope.  John bolted.  I tried to catch up to him, but all to no avail.  I walked the eight to 10 miles to Cut Bank Ranger Station, with an eye that was starting to close…

My report continues explaining how another ranger and I retrieved John and then details a follow-up investigation:

On July 23, FBI agent “Gunner” R.W. McCann stopped by my ranger station to investigate possible assault charges on behalf of the NPS and on a uniformed NPS employee.

Whether there exists an “air tight” case is speculative at this point, though he believes that, under the circumstances, he would have acted in precisely the same manner as did I.

NOTE:  Four months after my altercation, one of the young men walked into the Babb Bar, and blew someone’s head off and then emptied the rest of the gun into the lifeless body.  Because it was a “crime of passion,” the man was freed on his own recognizance.

How does all this relate to our RV travels? Because economic times are now hard, society is in a state of flux and there most certainly will be an increase in “Fringe Dwellers,” just like the ones from Glacier and from my last post. What this means is that you want to have some plan of action for those very few times in a person’s life when you are suddenly swept up by the unexpected. On Friday, I’ll post such thoughts supplied from several other RVers.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*They Were Honeyed Up”–A Visit to Cutbank Ranger Station

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©Bert Gildart: If you travel much, more then likely you have encountered situations in which you wondered about your safety. That happened to Janie and me while traveling near Duluth, Minnesota, several weeks ago. The ugliness of the situation prompted us to think about the circumstances that would force us to take measures to protect ourselves. At our disposal is Bear Spray and sometimes a firearm, but when would we have been justified using one or the other–or perhaps even both?

Because so many people we meet in RVs do carry some means of protecting themselves, it’s something you may want to really think about, playing out various scenarios. I think the subject is important and  contacted several RV owners and asked for their opinion, which will be the focus of an upcoming post. As well, I will be posting a Case Incident Report from my notes in my files used to generate the report while working in Glacier as a seasonal park ranger in the 1980s. The report recalls an episode that turned violent.

All this will be included in a three-part series, and the other two will follow on Wednesday and Friday. This is the first.

It is worth mentioning that in all my years, I’ve been concerned about life and limb very few times. Still, I believe everyone who travels should have a plan for those times when potential disaster rears its head.

Violence in national, state and city parks is highly unusual, but does occur, as Janie and I know. For us, it seems to rear its head in off seasons, and in isolated places

Here’s our situation: Several weeks ago, we were in a campground and about noon several fellows walked in and set up a tent and soon started drinking hard liquor. One of the fellows seemed friendly, so I wandered over and told him that if they were planning a party, we’d move, no problem but we just wanted to know. Certainly, we didn’t want to move as we were ideally located for launching our kayaks for a photo shoot. So when the fellow said they planned a quiet evening so they could start work the next day, I was relieved. However, that’s not the way the afternoon unfolded.

DRUG PUSHERS?

By the time we returned from our outing, two of the fellows were falling-down drunk, literally. In fact, one fellow walked over to the edge of the bushes collapsed, then had to be dragged back to the tent. To compound matters, several other young men had joined the first three and as Janie said, “They look like jail bait.” Looking at the men with their long unkempt hair, tattoos, ear rings, I had to agree. In fact, they looked like drug pushers.

To make matters worse, one of the new fellows stomped over and said, “I understand you don’t like us and might want to move. Well you don’t have to! I’m just back from Afghanistan and I’ll protect you.”

The fellow looked fit and was wearing a jacket emblazoned on the front with the word Marine, so perhaps the situation was as he said. Still, among the group he appeared to be the most aggressive; the rest seemed on the verge of passing out, and several, in fact, had.

Moving, of course, might have been the best thing, but the campground was small and in reality, we would not have been much further away. And who knew what demons possessed the fellow and might then have prompted him to follow us.

PLAN OF ACTION

What I did do was tell one of the fellows we were leaving in the morning and then loaded up, ready to leave if things deteriorated. We retired to the interior of our camper and took measure to protect ourselves. Simultaneously we thought of the various scenarios that would prompt some type of response. And we thought, too, of the types of responses we could make.

Once I might have considered a physical response. Years ago I was Alabama State Runner up in the middle weight boxing division of the Golden Gloves, and have kept myself in good shape. That means I could probably emerge victorious in a fight with someone about my size who is 68, has a bad back, a bad rotator cuff, and can no longer close his hands to make a fist because of arthritis. Give me that kind of enemy combatant and, by George, I’d consider forcing the bastard’s hand.

But now I’m older and hopefully wiser; wise enough at any rate to consider other plans of action. Here’s what we came up with.

First, if someone came over and banged on the door, we concluded we’d remain inside and tell him to go away. If the banging persisted, we’d call 911. If the intruder damaged our trailer (and only we Airstreamers know how protective we can get) I believe I would have confronted the fellow with Bear Spray, a formula that has been used effectively against enraged grizzly bears.

Of course nothing ever turns out the way you plan, and there were, of course, many other scenarios, not all concluding satisfactorily.

Fortunately, all turned out well. The men passed out early, and then next morning, one staggered over and said he wanted to apologize if they’d kept us awake. The Marine smiled and told us he was a Crow Indian and that he’d be heading back to service in several weeks. Though the sun had just barely risen, all had already started drinking, and now it was straight booze. Quietly, we pulled out.

WHEN ARE AGGRESSIVE MEASURES JUSTIFIED?

This is not the first time we’ve had to think about various scenarios. Once in Glacier National Park, late in the fall, someone broke into our old Jayco travel trailer and stole enough so our insurance company reimbursed us to the tune of $1,700. What might we have done if we’d returned and caught them?  What should we have done? (Tune in Friday.) You can’t be paranoid, and we don’t deliberately place ourselves in marginal situations. We enjoy our privacy and think the best plan is one of preparation.

What I’m really getting at, I suppose, is under what circumstances is action justified? Diplomacy is best, but there may be times when it simply won’t work.

I believe everyone needs to spend a little time thinking about a plan of action and then rehearse it so that you will in fact know what you will do. Because my plan of action might not be the best, I contacted several others and will post some of their thoughts this Friday. This Wednesday I’ll post a case incident report from my experiences as a ranger in Glacier. It was an ugly situation and resulted because the men from the fist fight that resulted were living on the fringe–much like the fellows from Monday’s post were doing.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Springtime in Glacier National Park

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©Bert Gildart: In the past few days Janie has been mentioned or assured of depictions by two publications. The new issue of Airstream Life has a crossword puzzle, and a clue to filling in one of the blanks in the down column is the hint “Mrs. Gildart.” To answer the question, subscribers must have read my story about our nation’s capitol parks.

A photograph of Janie will also be featured in a new book on Virginia soon to be published by Holt and Mifflin, and I’ve included a copy of the image here.

The setting is the Dismal Swamp and it shows Janie and a guide. The guide had offered to help us with a photo shoot knowing I would be mentioning his excellent kayak service in a travel story.

Colorful setting and reflections helped sell this image of the Dismal Swamp

At the book company, editors were looking for something colorful. I also think the reflections of the red kayak and the fall setting in the swamp, helped make the sale.

The Dismal Swamp has long intrigued me, and Janie and I spent enough time in the area to gather material for the above-mentioned travel story. To set the stage for a visit you might want to make, here’s an excerpt from that piece—all, of course, copy righted.

MOSS GROWING ON THEIR BACKS

In the early 1720’s explorer William Byrd was traveling in a swampy region of Virginia and North Carolina which he later described as a “horrible desart,” a “vast body of dirt and nastiness” in which “Not so much as a Zealand frog cou’d endure so anguish a situation.” But a century later, perspectives began to change and people actually began to live in this great dismal swamp, and their testimonials began generating notions of such great cheer and felicity that you, dear reader, need not fear a visit to this body of nastiness. Testified one explorer of the time: “Death from disease has never been known in that place, and… persons were found who were so old that they had moss growing on their backs.”

STOCK PHOTO FILES

Interestingly, one of the first people to survey this area was a young George Washington, and his legacy simply adds more to those testimonials of cheer and felicity. The setting worked well for us, for images made from the area almost four years ago are still selling.

That’s one of the benefits of having stock photography as one of the components of our business. Fully captioned images from these files now number well over 100,000 and we are constantly adding. Some of my very best images are with agents while others are sold through the assistance of AGPIX. To see some of those images click in the upper right hand corner on “Best Photos,” or simply click.

For a fee AGPIX provides photographers who subscribe to the service with daily want lists gathered from various publications. That’s what has helped land me photo assignments from some exceedingly good publications-and most recently with the sale of my image of Janie. However, I think I’ll keep it a secret from her, else she may start charging modeling fees.

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THIS TIME SEVERAL YEARS AGO:

*An Old Farmer’s Advice (Know this is a good one as it’s been copied by others–which doesn’t speak well for the individual as a human being!)

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©Bert Gildart: Montana is home and how wonderful it was to see the Rocky Mountains after being on the road for four months. In fact, Highway 2 from the Bear Paw Mountains just south of Havre 100 miles to Glacier National Park brought back a flood of memories, particularly when we approached old haunts.

Approaching Glacier National Park from the east can be particularly dramatic, but in the spring, snow may be falling and winds blowing.

Though the park generates its own memories, for me the view that is particularly compelling is this one just west of Browning where the road dips and then quickly ascends. To dramatize the power of the mountains, I photographed the scene with a telephoto lens, which tends to compress the scene and make the mountains appear slightly larger. As I took the photograph, the wind was blowing, rocking me at times, but then that’s spring in the Rockies. Two weeks ago storms dumped over 60 inches of snow in this very same region. After that, this road was closed for several days.

STILL SNOWING–STILL BLOWING

Yesterday, as we neared Marias Pass, elevation about 5,000 feet, it was snowing, though not sticking, reminding us that we had indeed escaped a hard winter. But conditions changed that evening. Back home, when we turned on the news, the weatherman reported the area was now covered with snow depths ranging from 2-4 inches.

Shown here are Divide Peak and the road just east of East Glacier Park, Montana. These mountains are home to grizzly bears and they cradle an infinite number of lakes, many of which are still frozen. But spring winds and warming temperatures will change all that and in just a few weeks snows will recede, flowers will emerge, bears will start searching the avalanche slopes for the carcasses of goats and sheep that didn’t fare too well–and campgrounds in the park will open.

Perhaps we’ll see you at one of them. And if you do go, we believe you’ll find one of our books (see below) on the park to be helpful.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*Training People to Watch Bears

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(Books Can Also be Purchased Directly from Us.)

©Bert Gildart: Though the most direct return route from New Jersey and back to our home in Bigfork, Montana would have been I-80/90, bitter experience has taught us that if we want to emerge with the synapses of our nerves still connecting, we’re better off trying to avoid anything that passes near or through Chicago. A better route we concluded, with some advice from other Airstream owners, might be to head north out of Toledo and then pick up Highway 2 where it begins (or ends) at Mackinaw City. (Also see our post on Mackinac Island.)

Camping upper Michigan's Milakoka Lake State Forest Campground early in the season has advangates--and disadvantages

Highway 2 is indeed a wonderful route and it eventually ends in Washington State. Traveling west, the highway’s inception has much appeal, in part because of the now-famous Mackinac Bridge. Prior to access by bridge, access to Upper Michigan was by ferry. But the massive $99,800,000 bridge changed that, and between 1957 and 1998 the five-mile-long corridor was the world’s longest suspension bridge.

Today, the bridge is easily crossed; still it seemed to us that it formed some sort of buffer between the more populated portions of our nation and a much more rural segment of America. For us, that’s a glorious benefit, but if you’re not somewhat prepared, it can also have its drawbacks.

On the positive side was the fact that when we pulled into Milakoka Lake State Forest Campground, about 100 miles along Highway 2 from our Mackinac Bridge crossing, we had absolutely no other campers with whom to contend. The lake was beautiful, and there were no voices to break the wilderness sound of loons. Adding to the pristine setting was the moon, which glistened off the lake.

NO WATER, NO COFFEE

The downside, however, is that campgrounds in upper Michigan’s offer no early-season amenities. We’re self contained, limited only by our water usage, but after several days of showering, washing dishes, drinking 10 gallons of coffee… the 30-gallon water tank in our Airstream was nearing depletion.

“Do we need to stop at a commercial campground?” queried Janie as we departed a relatively large settlement.

“Let’s drive on,” I suggested. “Surely we’ll find something.”

Old Mackinaw Point Lighthouse is backdropped by Mackinac Bridge, which forms somewhat of a buffer between the nation's more populated urban areas.

But an hour later all other commercial campgrounds were closed. Nevertheless, we remained optimistic certain that with Lake Superior visible just to the north and with us constantly crossing many bogs (most likely filled with goose poop) we’d find something in one of the many forest service campgrounds, which we continued to see.

But my predictions were wrong, and so we began trying other possibilities. First, we tried a forest service visitor center, but they had no outdoor outlets. Filling station attendants said we’d be well advised not to use their water. In desperation I asked owners of a small café but they flatly refused us (wish I could remember their name, so I could suggest you NOT eat there!).

We traveled on-finally stopping at yet another forest service visitor center. I must have appeared anxious, for a most gracious lady just departing after a long day’s work took pity and invited us to fill up at her home. “Sure, I have an outdoor spigot, and you can fill your gallon jug there.”

Lesson? If you don’t mind placing yourself at the mercy of others, there really are no downsides to traveling “the UP” (as it is fondly referred to) in early, early May. Certainly, it’s better than the alternative of returning to Montana via Chicago. In fact, rather than face that alternative, I do believe I’d try and break my habit that requires massive infusions of coffee before I’m ready to greet the day.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Arrowleaf Balsam Root, one of Montana’s Spring Sentinels

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©Bert Gildart: Janie and I were married 18 years ago and today, we’re reminiscing, recalling as we drive across country once again that some of the things we did shortly after our marriage on May 4^th can not be done today.

At the time of our wedding, we were surrounded by family and friends and were married in New York by Methodist minister Tom Vancus, who had hiked the entire length of the Appalachian Trail the previous year. Upon tying the knot, Janie and I drove to New York City and spent our first night of marriage in the World Trade Center. That evening we dinned in a revolving restaurant that once topped the WTC and that looked out over the city.

A genuine highlight from our past 18 years was living in Alaska in this 20x24 foot cabin, learning how to photograph northern lights

Two days after our marriage, we departed New York driving a Ford Ranger, towing with us a utility trailer that had been converted from an old tent trailer. Today, we’re duplicating that drive across country and doing so at precisely the same time of year. However, rather than driving an old Ford Ranger, we’re driving a Dodge ¾ ton pickup and now towing an Airstream Travel Trailer. Certainly, our lives as Airstreamers has been one of the highlights of our marriage. But there are other high points,  and they share much in common with our travels of May 1991–and those slated to unfold over the course of the next few months.

HEADING TO ALASKA

Our upcoming destinations are virtually the same as they were 18 years ago. We’re heading to Montana where we’ll regroup for almost two months. Then, and just like the year we were first married, we’re heading to Alaska.

Back then I had a contract to teach in a summer school program at a remote Gwich’in Indian village known as Arctic Village. The superintendent, an old friend, was trying to bring in people with different backgrounds. She wanted people from these varying occupations to acquaint students isolated by hundreds of miles of wilderness with those backgrounds. She wanted them to know that their were other career alternatives to the subsistence one of hunting and fishing.

My expertise was in photojournalism, and for three more summers, Janie and I worked in several different Gwich’in Indian villages, to include Fort Yukon, Beaver, Rampart, Venetie and Arctic Village. At the end of our first summer we created a multimedia slide presentation, later made into a video and used by the Alaska Department of Education to acquaint prospective teachers with life in remote villages.

Originally, we’d planned to stay but one summer, but we became so enamored with their subsistence culture of caribou and fish, we continued to return, even doing so one winter. As well, we took up their cause to preserve the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, “birth place of the Porcupine Caribou herd,” writing stories for many major publications.

HEADING TO MONTANA

Now, in the year 2009, we’re returning to fulfill assignments with various travel magazines about Alaska. One of those stories will concern the World Eskimo/Indian Olympics.  First, of course, we have to get back to Montana, and that’s what we’ll be doing these next few days.

Tomorrow, we should be in Toledo, Ohio, and from there we’re heading north to Mackinaw City, where we’ll pick up Highway 2, which will almost take us to our doorstep.  And as we travel, we’ll continue to reflect, sad that the immense tragedy of 9/11 has impacted so many. Yes, we say, the devastation affected us in a retrospective sort of way, but the real tragedy, of course, is that it changed our nation.

On the flip side, we celebrate what we can, believing our marriage has been proper and has been blessed. We hope during that time we’ve been able to help family and friends, and that by using the tools of our trade have in some small way enlightened others.

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A FEW HIGHLIGHTS FROM OUR YEARS AS BLOGGERS:

*Kayaking to the wreck of the Franciso Morazan

*Dry Tortugas

*All Along Its Been Raccoons

*Gator Drama…

*Alaska Boating Adventure

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©Bert Gildart: One of the photo techniques I have used on this trip more than on any other is Nikon’s Slow Sync camera setting. One example from this four-month-long excursion with our Airstream is of the food setting taken at Frogmore, an interpretive center in Louisiana located not far from Natchez, Mississippi. We’ve spent time here trying to gather new images, which we’ll use to one day to update our book on the incomparable Natchez Trace National Parkway.

Nikon’s default setting is for shutter speeds between 1/60^th of a second and 1/250^th of a second. That’s fine in many situations, but not when light levels are low as in this small cabin set up to interpret quarters used by slaves in the antebellum years of the Old South.

Nikon's Slow Sync helps to blend natural light with artificial light

Conditions were rough then and replicas of the food and the cabin’s interior project that. Everything about this setting suggested austerity, and I wanted to preserve that feeling, but believe the photo would have lost much if detail in the shadows had been muted.

Light from the windows illuminated one side of the elements in the photo while my single strobe lifted details in the shadow. I could have used Nikon’s high-sync default strobe setting, but that would have overpowered the natural light and created a more contrast-y picture. That could have been remedied by using more strobes, but how much more simple to combine natural light and a single strobe light.

I like this rendition, shot with a wide angle lens at 1/8^th of a second and an aperture of f-8 using, of course, Nikon’s Slow Sync setting. It probably goes without saying, but, of course, I used a tripod.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Arrowleaf Balsam Root

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©Bert Gildart: Two nights ago, about 2 a.m., Janie poked me from a deep sleep. “Something is out there,” she whispered.

Rising, I grabbed a flash light, opened the door and shined my light toward a large dark fury object that was munching on the tin cans now spilled from a garbage container.

Hungry black bear

The dark furry object was a black bear and it was only ten feet away (later measured.) The bear ignored me and if I’d been more awake, in retrospect, I should have grabbed my camera; instead, I hollered “scat!” The bear responded by doing just that, a reaction I expected from the summers of working in bear control in Glacier National Park.

But this was not Montana, this was New Jersey, and I later shared the experience with family members where we’re now parked. The conversation then turned to bears in general, providing several more local anecdotes and a general philosophy on bear behavior.

EMERGING FROM HIBERNATION

Across the nation, bears are emerging from hibernation, if they have not already done so. In Montana, I once photographed a bear in hibernation as late as March where winters can be exceptionally cold. But here in New Jersey the Connelly’s tell us they’ve seen bears roaming in the woods and sometimes around their rural home in virtually all months except January.

Fighting over food, not dancing

Still, they see them more often as spring progresses, and that jives with bear biology, which suggests that they’re particularly hungry in spring when they shake off the drowsiness of hibernation, whether it is associated with prolonged winter or simply the cold snaps associated with more eastern environs.

Because winters are less severe in New Jersey than in Montana and since this east coast state has the nation’s densest human population–and since bear populations in New Jersey are increasing dramatically, it’s not surprising anecdotes are many.

FUNNY ANECDOTE

Kelsey, Cory and Kyle, Janie’s three grandchildren, shared a funny one that occurred at one of their soft ball games. According to Kelsey, who was participating in a school softball game, the evening crowd of parents watched as a large black bear began descending a knoll.

Not all black bears are black, but often brown or even reddish brown.

The response, they said, was funny. “Some people just watched, but others grabbed their kids and ran to their cars, screaming that a wild bear was there to eat them all.”

Most, however, stayed where they were and simply watched as the bear continued its descent and then wandered into another grove of trees, probably searching a new spot for more food. It was spring, after all, and if the bear had recently emerged from a winter sleep, then it was probably hungry.

More than likely that is part of the reason we had a bear just outside our trailer. The other reason is that bears are smart, and this one knows that every Monday morning the county collects garbage.

And, so, just like clockwork bears make their rounds, searching for food.

As it travels, it knocks over anything that even hints of a food odor, just as the can filled with recyclable cans. (Other raw garbage was in the garage, to be pushed to the rural road early in the morning.)

REDUCING HABITUATION

To reduce garbage spills and the possibility that bears may become habituated to people through the association of food, the New Jersey department of Fish and Game has a number of recommendations.

*use a bear-proof garbage can (the Bear Resource Group has a Crittercan program, and some communities will subsidize your purchase)

*if possible, keep garbage indoors until trash day

*don’t put food scraps in your compost pile

*collect fruit from trees once it is ripe

*thoroughly clean barbeques

*don’t feed your pets outdoors

Most of us enjoy watching wildlife, particularly bears, and if we want to continue seeing wildlife that is genuinely wild, these suggestions make sense.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Alaska Boating Adventure

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©Bert Gildart: Janie and I departed Montana January 10, and we’re now on the last leg of our trip, visiting family and friends on the East Coast. After that we’ll be driving back to Montana, trying with all of our might to miss the Chicago area, which we think rates with Houston, Texas, as being one of the worst cities in America for driving. If all goes well, we should be back home by mid-May.

Longwood, the largest octagonal home in America

In the meantime, I have been meaning to post photographs on one of the areas we’ve recently visited, and that is Natchez Mississippi, with it much heralded Spring Pilgrimage. While in Natchez we had marginal reception, which surprised us as Natchez is a fairly large area. However, it is one of the few areas of the country in which our Verizon card does not work well.

NATCHEZ SPRING PILGRAMAGE

Each year, Natchez opens it beautiful antebellum homes from about the first week in March through the first week of April. During this time, visitors to Natchez, Mississippi’s annual Spring Pilgrimage can step into the mid-nineteenth century. The five week festival of pre-Civil War life offers antebellum home tours, gospel shows, light comedy and carriage rides amidst a town now lavished with azaleas and fragrant smelling wisteria.

Gay Guercio demonstrates function of Punkah

In the 1840’s Natchez claimed more millionaires per capita than any other city in America. The twenty-five late colonial and pre-Civil War townhouses, mansions and plantation homes open for touring during Spring Pilgrimage attest to the fortunes made in nineteenth century Natchez by cotton planters, bankers and other entrepreneurs.

Natchez survived the Civil War far better than did many southern towns and boasts more pre-1860 buildings than any other U.S. city of its size. The town claims thirteen National landmarks and more than 1000 buildings listed on the National Register–all rich, as their press release says, “in history and decorated with finely crafted furnishings and traditions of genuine southern hospitality.” This is not hype, and once again, Janie and I can attest to the fact that Natchez has homes worthy of a special trip.

As a working journalist, Janie and I were treated like royalty. We were provided press passes, but more than that were allowed privileges not available to the casual visitor. That meant access to unusual parts of old homes, and that was great. In several cases, it also meant a demonstration of the way in which early day devices were used. And it meant I could use a tripod and make judicious use of flash.

PHOTO TECHNIQUES

Though I found natural light worked wonderfully well, still it require the cooperation of the subject, as in the case of Gay Guercio pulling the rope to swing the massive Punkah. In other cases, I used Nikon’s slow syn which fires the strobe at what ever f-stop I’ve set the camera. Duration of the exposure can be anything longer than 1/60^th of a second, which would default strobe setting. This means the camera combines natural light with artificial light, which in this case created an interesting blend of colors.

Those were the techniques I used in all the homes we visited over a period of about five days, to include the several park service homes. All of the antebellum mansions were spectacular, but today, I want to tell you just a little more about Longwood, the largest octagonal house in the United States.

Known for its obvious design and Byzantine onion-shaped dome, we were able to see a number of rooms. We particularly enjoyed seeing the Punkah, a huge ornately decorated slab of wood that could weigh up to 1,000 pounds and that hung vertically over the dinning room table. In days of old, a servant would pull a rope to swing the Punkah creating a flow of refreshing air over the diners. The breeze also shooed away the flies, hence the more common name, “shoofly.”

Another room contained the “Fainting sofa,” which was open at one end. The sofa allowed a young lady (seeking the attention of a suitor) to suddenly grow light headed. With a sofa nearby, she could recover by collapsing as also demonstrated for us by Ms. Guercio.

UNFINISHED DREAM

Dr. Haller Nutt built Longwood but work on the home halted in 1861, at the start of the Civil War. Dr Haller died in 1864 of pneumonia leaving the work incomplete. And so it remains today. Still, Longwood was the last burst of southern opulence before war brought the cotton barons’ dominance to an end. Fortunately Longwood survived decades of neglect and near-abandonment to become one of Natchez’s most popular attractions.

Being courted, and feeling faint? The Old South had a sure fix with its "Fainting Sofa," no arms at the other end.

Longwood was, of course, only one of the beautiful mansions we visited, and in my next posting I’ll describe several of them.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Stroke, Take Time to Learn the Symptoms

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©Bert Gildart: Some of you who are hard-core country and western music buffs may remember a song about a plant that grows down South called Poke salad. The plant was made popular by Tony Joe White who created a ballad about the species. White sang the song on the Johnny Cash show, which ran during the early 1970s.

Poke Salad made from this plant, which grows in the hills and swamps of Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana.

Recently, a DVD was released popularizing the show and Janie bought me the album for Christmas this past year. One of the episodes featured Tony Joe White, and though we’ve been playing it often while traveling in our Airstream along the Natchez Trace it seemed particularly appropriate to play it when we settled for several nights at the farm owned by my college roommate, Ed Anderson, featured in a blog posted April 17. Ed and family live just off the Trace.

POKE SALAD

During our stay, we discussed the Johnny Cash show, and then we honed in on some of the songs we could relate to specifically. One of them was Poke Salad Annie.

“It’s true,” said Ed. “Poke weed grows in the woods and in the fields. It grows here on my farm, too.”

From that we decided to make an evening out of Southern foods–and because Ed and his family are always poking fun about the ways some folks view their country ways, we decided to do it up right, gathering as much from the woods and fields as we could.

Poking fun at their thorough enjoyment of Southern foods, in this case, their love of sweet potatoes.

“We’ll make this an evening of real Southern cooking,” laughed Ed, Sarah and his two children, Anna and Roger.

Well, that sure pleased me, as some of my fondest memories are of Ed and me hunting years ago on his father’s old farm–scurrying behind a pack of beagle hounds; then chowing down on some of the foods fresh from the farm. It also pleased Janie, who believes the Andersons are one of the nicest and most genuine families she’s ever met.

GATHERING FOOD

We began by looking for poke weed. Ed said it was early for an extensive crop, but still we found enough. “Got to boil it first,” said Ed, “to remove the toxins. But then, it makes a delicious salad. Poke Salad!”

Next we gathered sweet potatoes from his stash, some paw-paws for bread, and black eyed peas. I chopped up the sweet potatoes, and then like the days when we boarded at Pope’s Tavern, I added brown sugar and then cooked them up. About all that was missing was a glass of butter milk and a little corn bread to stir into the milk.

Ed's love of southern menus and country ways may be equalled by mine.

Ed, Roger and I prepared the meal, trying to give the lady’s a break–but we all had a wonderful time, joking about perceptions, concluding with lots of self adulations regarding our abilities. “Makes the CIA (Culinary Institute of America) look second rate, particularly the preparation of our Poke Salad.”

“Ain’t that a fact!”

SONG FROM TONY JOE WHITE

And, now, if you want to know what you’re missing, here’s the refrain and first part of Tony Joe White’s hit song.

If some of ya’ll never been down South too much…
I’m gonna tell you a little bit about this,
So that you’ll understand what I’m talking about
Down there we have a plant
That grows out in the woods and the fields,
Looks somethin’ like a turnip green.
Everybody calls it Poke salad. Poke salad.
Used to know a girl that lived down there and
she’d go out in the evenings and pick a mess of it…
Carry it home and cook it for supper,
‘Cause that’s about all they had to eat,
But they did all right.

Down in Louisiana
Where the alligators grow so mean
There lived a girl that I swear to the world
Made the alligators look tame…

The song first sung by White and later by Elvis Presley, continues, and you can hear the entire version if you order the Johnny Cash show from Amazon.

Janie (R) joins Anna and Sarah (and me) in touting traditional Southern cuisine.

In the meantime, enjoy our food photos and if you want to try some of these delicious menus, our secret receipts are available. But they ain’t cheap.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Planet Earth and Earth Day

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©Bert Gildart: Kirk Hill of Mississippi is into old things. He’s into vintage Airstreams, antique cars and the exploration of historic places.

Each year Kirk Hill of Mississippi loads his immaculate Model T and drives the Natchez Trace.

Kirk owns a 1970 Airstream, a 1913 Model T Ford, and he uses his antique car, which is immaculate, for traveling and exploring the old and very historic Natchez Trace. That’s where we meet him, in Tennessee, just south of the Meriwether Lewis Campsite. Here, as many of you know who have followed my blog through the years might remember, is where the famous captain met his untimely death. (Fall Along Natchez Trace.)

100 YEAR-OLD CAR—ALMOST

Janie and I took an immediate liking to Kirk. First off, I liked his aged-looking hat. But there was certainly more. Every year Kirk drives the Trace in a vehicle that is almost 100 years old. His accommodations are modest for he carries all he’ll need for camping in his car and then heads north to Nashville. When he returns home, that means he will have traveled about 800 miles. Kirk has also explored other parks, such as Death Valley, and that’s yet another of our favorite parks.

Kirk maps out his day's itinerary

Kirk, now retired from a career teaching school, also mentioned that he was married at an old church along the Trace. Specifically, he was married at Rocky Springs, an historic church that will be featuring a celebration this coming Sunday.

HISTORIC CHURCH

Ironically, I met the custodian of the church about a week ago, and he said enrollment had dropped to four, and that he was one of the attendees. The church, however, makes do by hosting special events, and that’s what happening tomorrow, this Sunday. And that’s what caretaker George Cranfield was doing last week when I photographed him. He was preparing the church for a service that will also include antique cars, and that is where Kirk was heading when Janie and I met him-to the beautiful and historic church at Rocky Spring, almost 400 miles to the south.

Historic old church is lucky to have George Cranfield as a custodian.

Yet another reason Janie and I liked Kirk is that he said he had a copy of our Natchez Trace book. (Now how can you not like a man who has such impeccable tastes?) The book is sold all along the Trace and store managers told us in several places that it was one of their best sellers.

Essentially, the work provides numerous photographs augmented, however, with a substantial text. The book is available not only along the Trace, but from Amazon and, of course, from us.

The book has been on the market now for almost 15 years and is one we hope to keep there another 15 by making modifications in another year or so, one of the reasons we’re now traveling the Parkway. Another reason is that each trip is an adventure, highlighted by the wonderful people we meet, and exemplified by George and Kirk with his old Model-T.

George helps maintain ancient grave yard at Rocky Springs

We exchanged addresses with Kirk and then watched him as he cranked the magneto using the palm of his hand. The engine kicked right off and Kirk stepped onto the running board of what would now be the passenger side, slide over behind the wheel, and, then, with a beep of his horn was on his way.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR

*Sonora Desert Museum

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©Bert Gildart: Pope’s Tavern, located about 25 miles off the Natchez Trace, is one of the oldest structures in Florence, Alabama. Once it served as a stagecoach stop, a tavern, an inn, and was used as a hospital during the War Between the States. As well, rumor has it that Andrew Jackson stopped here in 1814 on his march to battle the British at New Orleans.

Author, right, and Ed Anderson, former roommate, at Pope's Tavern.

Those were reasons enough for Janie and me to make an 18 mile detour off the Trace, but there was yet another reason. Pope’s Tavern is located about a block from what is now the University of North Alabama, and for one year, Ed Anderson and I rented rooms from Dan and Bernice Lambeth, owners at the time.

NO DRINKING BOYS!

Renting the rooms allowed us more freedom than what the college offered, though the elderly Lambeth’s imposed stipulations that were similar to those imposed at the college. “Boys, there will be no drinking,” said the elderly Bernice Lambeth.

“And no wild women either,” added her brother.

Apartment now reverted to 1830s, used historically by travelers for drink.

Several days ago as Ed and I wondered about the old tavern, we tried to recall how well we abided by their wishes. Certainly we had some help from the county as the county was a dry county. But the Tennessee State Line was but 21.084 miles from Pope’s Tavern, and that became a route we knew like the backs of our hands…

Normally, Pope’s Tavern is closed on Mondays, but the museum director, upon hearing that Ed and I had once lived at the tavern–and that I now hailed from Montana and was on a limited time schedule–graciously open the tavern for us. As we wondered around, we agreed that today, the old tavern looks much different from 1962, the year we rented. In fact I had to look twice at some of the features to make sure this was the same place.

HISTORIC TAVERN

In 1965, the state purchased the old home from the Lambeth’s. Then they conducted a major overhaul, and now you are greeted with a sign explaining the significance of the tavern and its importance to Jackson’s old military road. The road was built between 1816 and 1820, and one would have to assume Jackson’s troops stopped to refresh themselves after a long day’s march. With that knowledge, I’m sure that Ed and I occasionally followed the historic precedence created by the legendary Andrew Jackson. In other words, we wanted to absorb history.

Attic of Pope's Tavern now houses Civil War Memorabilia

Pope’s Tavern has also been whitewashed, and the outside no longer has a drab appearance. The interior has been modified, too. In the days we occupied the tavern, there were stains on the ceiling, and we often wondered whether the dark blotches could have been dried blood from the wounded who were tended during the period the tavern was converted into a military hospital, one which cared for both Confederates and for Yankees. Rumor had it the stains were blood, so that’s what we told our occasional visitors.

“MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN”

During our tenure, there was no formal dinning room, but that has all been changed, and today, it has been refurbished so that it might appeal to men riding the old military road, perhaps some that detoured off the Old Natchez Trace. Oyster shells graced the center of the huge table and on one edge there actually sits a small stein, intended to be filled with a stout ale of the times.

Adjacent to the tavern room was a parlor where female guests might sit. The room contains a bust of Carlotta, considered the most beautiful woman or her times. Carlotta and her husband, Maximillian, were appointed rulers of Mexico by Napoleon. The bust, according to the museum write-up, was made in Australia and presented to the couple by Napoleon as a wedding gift.

Bust of Carlotta

After the Mexican overthrow and the execution of Maximillian, one family rescued the bust and fled to America. Later the bust was given to an American family who befriended the refugees. A desendent of the family married a Florence man who in turn sold it to the Susan K. Vaughn Museum, which now oversees Pope’s Tavern. Old Dan and his sister kept a close watch on our comings and goings, and pictures were probably as close as we came to “wild women.”

At the time of our stay, the attic was simply a storage area, but today, stairs lead to a collection of Civil War memorabilia, to include a diorama and a rack of rifles that were probably .50 caliber. Ed noticed some had been bored out and so converted into 20 gauge shotguns, a common practice, he said, after the Civil War.

Though the tavern had been greatly embellished from our one year stay, the old home brought back interesting memories of two young college men, infused with a bit of the devil.

LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE!

Ed recalled that Bernice Lambeth had but one eye. Ed also recalled that one night her brother Dan joined us in what was our kitchen at the time, doing so just before a football game. He recalled that the elderly man imbibed several drinks, the source being the case of beer we had smuggled back from Tennessee and into what was then a dry county.

In fact, Old Dan had so many drinks that when he returned to the room on his side of the building, his sister, realizing that Dan was having difficulty walking, turned to us and said, “Ooooooh, you boys. Look what you’ve done gone and done. Now (and here her voice started to quiver) he can’t even see as well as me. Ooooooh my, you boys!”

I’m not sure how much longer we lasted after that episode as Bernice increased her surveillance of our comings and goings, and I’m sure we “stumbled” a few more times…

But for a while, we lived in the shadow of history and without exaggeration, I can say that eventually memories of our intimate association with history took me back to the Natchez Trace, a park that has become somewhat of an obsession. And without qualification, it was because of our association with old Pope’s Tavern.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Marta Becket’s Historic Opera House

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