The Marble Canyon Bridge

Back on the main road, we soon came to Marble Canyon, on the Colorado River. Navajo Bridge, over this canyon had the distinction, at that time, of being the highest or longest bridge of it’s kind. We crossed the bridge, turned south for a while, then north, to Page, AR, the town closest to Glen Canyon Dam and lake Powell. The dam was under construction when we made our first trip. We had debated driving out to see it, but decided instead to continue on to the South Rim. This time the South Rim was off the agenda, and newly completed Glen Canyon Dam and Lake Powell were definitely on! We went first to see the dam. I don’t recall that there was any kind of tour such as at Hoover, no, make that Boulder, no it’s really Hoover Dam. Nevertheless, it was a very impressive sight.

Lake Mead

Next we went to Wahweap Beach, campground and Marina. The sight of the lake, and all the boats coming and going, prompted us to walk out on the boat rental dock in hopes of renting a boat. The manager said that all the boats were out. We were so disappointed! We really wanted to get out on the lake. We turned to walk away, but only took a few steps before the manager called after us; "wait, I see one of my boats coming in!" We arranged to rent it for an overnight trip. I think our little craft was about 12 or 14 feet long, what Dad would call a skiff. It had an outboard motor, and two tanks of gas. I made certain that we had a good pair of oars and oarlocks, just in case. When we had stowed our tent, camp stove, some food and water, I fired up the motor and started to make my way out of the Marina. I saw a larger boat coming directly at us, so I moved a little to the right to let him pass. As we got closer, I recognized George Chamberlain at the helm of the larger boat. George was the older brother of my classmate of twelve years, Ralph. George’s wife Jean was also in my class. We had no idea that they were anywhere in the area. Sometimes it really is a small world! We chatted for a few minutes, then went our separate ways.Lake Powell is a rather amazing sight. It is over 150 miles long, with many, many side canyons, so that it has more shoreline than the State of California. The shores are almost all vertical walls of pink and red sandstone. We followed the shore to approach the dam as close as was allowed, then started upstream. The first canyon we came to was Antelope. We followed that until it got too narrow to turn around in. Without knowing what lay ahead, around the bend, I decided it would be prudent to turn back. The canyon walls must have been hundreds of feet high, and no wider at the top than at the water line.Returning to the main channel, we turned upstream, then into a large bay on the left. By now it was getting late, and I realized that finding a place to camp for the night might be a bit of a problem. This bay, Warm Creek, seemed to open up into some flat terrain, so we followed the shore on the left into a little cove, where we found a spot wide enough and flat enough for a camp. All the shoreline is nearly devoid of vegetation, so finding something to tie the boat to was not easy. Also, our campsite was just flat rock, and our tent required tent pegs and ropes to hold it up. I managed to get a couple of pegs into small cracks, and carried in some rocks to anchor the other corners. Even in the late afternoon it was very hot, so we all had a nice swim in the cool water. When it was time to retire for the night, Gerry started with his bedroll outside, with the rest of us in the tent. Sometime in the night Gerry had an encounter with a scorpion, or some sort of insects, so all four of us ended up in the hot and crowded tent. It was a long night!After breakfast the next morning, we stowed our gear in the boat and set out to do more exploring. We headed back downstream a bit, and then turned into Navajo Canyon. This turned out to be much wider and longer than the canyon we had explored the day before. When the first tank of gas was empty, I hooked up the other one, and headed back to the Marina. I was not anxious to use the oars. It had been a great adventure, even though we saw only a tiny portion of the lake.Leaving the lake we headed north-west, back into Utah by a different road. We detoured even farther north to drive through Cedar Breaks. The rock formations are sort of like Bryce, but for whatever reason, we enjoyed Cedar Breaks more than we had Bryce on the first trip. For one thing, it was at a higher elevation, and therefore cooler. Also, there was almost nobody there. As we were approaching the Breaks we stopped to play in the snow alongside the road. The weather was quite warm, but the snow had not yet melted. After getting back in the car, we wanted the Air Conditioner on, not the heater! After seeing the sights we went on west to I-15, and south all the way to Las Vegas, the last hour or so in the dark. This time we did find a motel with swimming pool. We got cleaned up, walked a block or two to an inexpensive buffet, came back and sat in the pool until bed-time. The next day was an easy drive home, a far cry from our earlier trip!In December of 1967 my folks took us on a trip to Los Mochis, and San Ignacio Bay. By then Danny and Terry had left home, so it was Barbara, David, Glenn, Gerry, Katy, and I. The three boys went with Tom in his Scout, leaving a week or so ahead of our group. Alan and his two boys were also in that group, in a separate vehicle. Dorothy, Barb, Katy and I traveled in Tom’s pickup with a small camper on the back. We left from Simi, and drove to Tucson, where we spent the night in a motel. The next day we crossed the border at Nogales, safely navigating through Customs and Immigration. We spent that night at Guaymas. We surely must have had a shrimp dinner! The following day we drove to Mochis. I think we went directly to the Jordan home to see if the other group had returned from their trip south to Mazatlan. Tom, Mamie, and Ora Jordan were all there, but the travelers did not show up until the next day. Alan and his boys did not linger, taking off for home almost at once.

Our Camp at San Ignacio

The next morning we all drove to the little fishing village of Cabezon, on San Ignacio Bay. The sons of Tom’s longtime hunting and fishing companion, Lino Jocobi, lived there. Soon after arriving, the boys noticed coolant leaking from the scout. I think one of the boys had hit an obstruction in the road on the way to Cabezon, jarring the radiator into the fan. We managed to get the radiator back in it’s place, but two or three of the tubes were leaking badly. Using a pair of pliers, I managed to crimp the tubes, above and below the damaged area. About this time one of the ladies of the household offered coffee to anyone that wanted it. Barbara and I accepted the offer. Barbara probably didn’t know, and I had forgotten, that Mexicans always roast their coffee beans in sugar. The brew from these beans is exceedingly sweet, and strong! Since neither of us had ever used sugar in our coffee, we just about gagged on the first swallow. I don’t know what Barb did, but I carried my cup out to where we were working on the Scout. I picked my time and then quickly poured the coffee into the radiator. As I sit here writing this, I realize that another possible fix for the radiator would have been to put some coffee grounds into the radiator. As the water and grounds circulated, the grounds would eventually have found their way into the leak, thus plugging it. As Dad used to say, "There is always more than one way to skin a cat!" As I recall, we completed the trip without taking the radiator to a shop for repair.The folks had done this trip the year before, with one of the other families. At that time Tom contracted with his friends to build a small "ramada", or shelter, made of native material; mesquite poles and beams, brush of some sort for the roof and two walls. This ramada was on a small island in the bay, El Metate. This was our ultimate destination, and home, for several days. Leaving Cabezon was quite a chore. The dugout canoes that I had seen in 1936 had been replaced by fiberglass "Pangas", each about twenty feet long. Since the tide was low, we had to wade several hundred feet in soft mud just to reach the panga. Of course, all our gear had to be packed out the same way. Finally we were all in the boats, and most of the mud washed off our feet and legs. That accomplished, we were off for El Metate. The island is pretty much a jumble of volcanic rock, sloping up in a cone shape. On the northern shore is a small flat area of sand above high tide, with a sandbar extending out into the water, perhaps fifty or one hundred feet. On this little beach the Metate Hilton grandly awaited us. With guidance from Tom and Dorothy, we soon had a kitchen and small table set up. All of our bedrolls were spread out on the ground, some under the shelter and some not.During our stay we took one or more excursions to see the bay and some of the other islands. One day we took our lunch and went to the sheltered side of the long sand dune that is San Ignacio Island, which separates the bay from the ocean. In the shallow, clear water we were able to catch a few crabs to augment our lunch. We went somewhere on that island, possibly across to the seaward shore, to gather shells. There was a great variety of shells, and most of them miniature. I think Barb probably still has some of them. Another day our guide and boatman, Milesio I think, took some of us out to join the fleet of shrimp fishers casting their nets. Each panga had a man in the bow, casting his net, and a man in the stern to manage the boat. When a net came up with a good catch, all the other boats would gather in close to cast their nets. Milesio cast his net a few times, enough to gather a goodly number of shrimp for our table. When we got back to camp, a pot of water was put on the fire, and we were soon feasting on the freshest shrimp ever. There is such a difference in seafood that is that fresh.On the beach, Milesio demonstrated the art of gathering the net in a certain way, how to hold it, and the backhand method of throwing it so that it would spread out completely, into a circle of about twenty feet. These nets were hand tied, creating square openings small enough that shrimp could not get through. Around the perimeter were lead weights, to sink the net to the bottom. All of the strings came together in the center of the net, where they were fastened to a rope. About halfway between the weights and the rope there was a tab fastened to some of the strings. To prepare to cast, he coiled the rope in his left hand, put the tab between his teeth, then started gathering the net, just above the lead weights, in his right hand. The gathers were about two feet each, working his way all around the net. When he was ready to cast, he swung the net to his left, then with his arm extended, he made a wide sweeping motion, releasing first the net, then the tab, and as much rope as necessary. When done properly, the net will open to it’s full diameter. This demonstration was for the benefit of the boys. He had each one take a turn at casting the net, with rather poor results. I was watching all this at a little distance. Milesio turned to me and told me to try my hand. I gathered the net as he had done, swung left, then right, laying it out in a perfect circle. He was quite surprised. I’m sure he thought it was a fluke, and challenged me to do it again. Now, Mrs. Robertson did not raise any stupid children. I replied that I had done it perfectly the first time, so there was no need to do it again. No use crowding my luck! It was not until the next day that I told Milesio that I had learned to cast an exact duplicate of his net from my grandfather, Dad Robertson, as a teenager. It was what you might call a "right of passage" to learn to cast the net, bait a hook, clean a fish and learn some basic knots. Until you mastered these things you were not yet ready to become an adult!

We timed our return to Cabezon with a high tide, so getting ashore was much easier. We returned to Mochis, where we spent at least one night. The Jordans had a gathering of all the old time Mochis friends still in the area.We left Mochis on New Years Eve. Instead of going north, we headed east, stopping briefly in El Fuerte. The folks knew the people that had the very nice hotel there. After a short rest, we drove on up the Fuerte River to the large dam that impounded water for the irrigation of hundreds of thousands of acres. Tom inquired about the road going north from there. He was assured that it went all the way to Alamos, which was on our agenda for the trip north, so we struck out on that little dirt road, for what turned out to be an adventure. From the end of the pavement in El Fuerte to the pavement in Alamos is about fifty miles, as the crow flies. However, for that entire distance we felt as though we were in a time warp, having been carried back a hundred years, or more. The terrain was low hills and small valleys, dotted with small farms that grew corn and beans. The houses were of adode or brush, always with an outdoor kitchen under a brush roof, or "ramada". On the farms, the only vehicles were pulled by horse, mule or donkey. The corn-cribs were built on poles, high enough to keep the grazing animals out. We went through several small villages, where there were apt to be one or two pickup trucks.

Typical Farm House

In the largest of these villages we found a baseball game under way in the large village square. Tom did much inquiring about the road ahead, as there were many branches, and none of them well traveled. Little by little we figured out that the vast majority of these people had never left their isolated area to go to Mochis, El Fuerte, Alamos or Navajoa. All of these thriving communities are within a hundred miles of their mountain fastness, but they just felt no urge to leave. Most of the men who had traveled to Alamos had done so on horseback. The horse trail was usually more direct than the meandering road. These men had very little knowledge of the road. Another interesting thing was that they estimated distances not in Kilometers, not in Miles, but in Lequas, or leagues. This is a term used by the Spaniards who first explored this country. I think it is equal to about two and a half miles. By late afternoon we decided to make camp for the night. We cooked and ate our meal, and were preparing to retire when we heard singing in the distance. The voices grew louder, and finally passed by our camp. There must have been a dozen people in the group, men, women and children. Most were walking, some road in the two wheeled cart pulled by a mule. They were headed into the last village we had passed, to celebrate the New Year. The one thing that was totally out of place was a gasoline-powered generator in the cart. It was to be used to provide light for the festivities! Shortly after settling into our beds, it started to rain, and not gently! I conferred with Tom, and we decided we needed to break camp and leave as soon as possible. We were in country that was subject to heavy rains, and traveling on mostly red clay soil. If we got trapped there we might be a long time getting out. We threw everything in the vehicles and took off, Tom in the lead. He seemed to make all the right choices at the forks in the road. It wasn’t too long until the condition of the road indicated we were approaching Alamos. The folks knew the manager of the only hotel in town, so we went there to get some rooms. Alas, there were no rooms at the Inn, but we did not have to spend the night in a barn! The hotel manager suggested that we go to the home of Mr. Otto Skutt. Otto was a close friend of my Uncle Jimmie Utt. In fact, he maintained a small cabin for Jimmie on his property. I believe that the folks knew him slightly, through Jimmie. After much pounding on the gate we managed to wake someone inside. It was the man that worked for Mr. Skutt. He and his family lived in one wing of the house. Tom explained who we were, and the connection with Jimmie Utt. That was enough to prompt the man to wake Mr. Skutt. We were welcomed immediately, even though it was by now nearly midnight. Otto directed his man to get fires started in three bedrooms for us. What a royal welcome!I should explain that the town of Alamos sprang up near what had been, at one time, some of the richest silver mines in all of Mexico. So much silver was produced here that the Federal government had a mint on the edge of town for making the coin of the realm. The mines created great wealth for many people, and for the town itself. A grand Palacio Municipal, or government center, was built; also a beautiful Catholic church, fronting on the central plaza so typical of old Mexican towns. The gazebo in the plaza is a work of art in it’s own right. Some of the main streets are of decent width, while some of the side streets are so narrow that two cars cannot pass each other. The houses of the wealthy were typical of the times. Each house was a totally enclosed compound. The walls were built right to the street, with no sidewalks. The only entry was a gate wide enough to accommodate a buggy. The outside walls had no doors, and few windows, facing the street. The rooms were all side-by-side around a patio in the center. A porch running in front of the rooms served as a hallway. There were nearly no doors from room to room. Besides the main quarters, there were servants’ quarters, and, depending on available money and space, there might be some stables for the horses, with another gate to the outside.

Plaza and Church

I don’t know the time frame of the heyday of Alamos, nor when the silver mines were exhausted. My guess is that the town went into decline about the early 1900’s. Eventually, it became a typical, or perhaps atypical, ghost town. It had a much longer run than our ghost towns here in California. Therefore, the structures that remained were of much grander scale, and more resistant to decay. At some point, probably about 1940, or maybe later, it was "discovered" by people from the U.S. Little by little, those with a little money started to buy the old houses and restore them to their original state and elegance. I believe that Uncle Jimmie Utt bought one of the old houses, but his wife, Charlena, wanted no part of it. So, he eventually sold it. I’m not sure, but I think it was this house that Otto Skutt purchased.After a good sleep, we were fed a wonderful breakfast, and had a good visit with our host. He told us that he had operated some kind of business in Los Angeles. Sometime after he lost his wife, he took a trip to Mexico. When he visited Alamos, he fell in love with it. He went back out to Navajoa, (no phones in Alamos at the time) called his sons and told them to sell his business, and wire the money to a bank in Navajoa. He had never returned to the States in the ten years or more since he first came to Alamos. I think he was eighty years old when we met him. He and his helper had done all of the restoration of the old house, including making all the tile for roof, floor, and ornamentation. Since his home was sort of on the edge of town, the enclosed compound was much larger. The main gate opened up into a very large open area. All the front wall and parts of the two side walls were living and storage quarters. Jimmie’s cabin stood alone in a back corner. In the other corner was a corral and stables for two riding horses. He told us that on a typical day he and his helper would be up at daylight, saddle the horses and ride out into the hills for two or three hours. When they returned, they ate breakfast, and then started the day’s chores, whatever they might be. The workday ended when the work was done. He said, with a great deal of satisfaction I might add, that he was so busy doing nothing that he did not have time to do it all! I think of Otto Skutt whenever someone asks me what we find to do in an out-of-the-way place like Mariposa. My response is something like Otto’s. "Well, not much of anything, but we keep busy doing it!"

Plaza and Gazeebo, Alamos

After a little looking around in the town of Alamos we drove to Navajoa. No visit there is complete without going to El Mercado Central. At that time it was all enclosed in one very large building. There were dozens of stalls where one could buy just about anything imaginable. We bought a few food items for our evening meal, and headed north again. I think we made two overnight camps on the way home. The first was south of Guaymas, and the second was in the desert south of Sonoita. I also remember having to hire a tractor to tow us across the Magdalena River, which was rather deep because of heavy rains.The changes in Sonora and Sinaloa since my trip in 1936 were quite startling. The changes we saw on our most recent trip, in 1999, were equally as startling. See "Trip to Sinaloa, 1936" and "Trip to Los Mochis And Copper Canyon, 1999" Sometime in the late sixties Barbara announced to me that she had taken a part time job at the Sears Catalogue Store in Simi. She had talked about working off and on for years, but I always discouraged her. Looking back, that was rather selfish of me. I think that I just didn’t want people to think that I could not support my family. This time she did not discuss it with me, she just did it! I think that at that point I realized a couple of things that should have been obvious. First, I had no right to tell her she could not do what she wanted to do, and second, this was something she wanted to do for her own self esteem. She started before Christmas, as a temporary part time worker. After Christmas her boss put her on permanent part time. She went to work after dropping Katy off at school, and was home when Katy came home. Her job was to take orders, either on the phone or at the counter. Soon enough, her boss realized that her maturity, ability and dedication set her apart from the mostly teenage girls working there. He gave her the responsibility of gathering all of the individual orders, calling them into the warehouse, then checking in the deliveries. She also got a nice raise. Things went well for a few years, until she got a new, younger boss. He decided that she was being overpaid, and set about making life miserable for her, to the point that she had to quit. She was terribly angry and discouraged. I felt so badly for her. I should not have worried! She soon had another job, at Simi Stationers. After a couple of years, she changed again, this time working for a Florist Shop. She really enjoyed that. She worked with a friend from high school, Ruth Flanagan, and the owners were very nice people to work for. There was one drawback to this job, and that was that before most holidays everyone worked long hours, sometimes ‘til midnight or later. I think she worked about eight years, all in all. An interesting note is that except for her last year at Sears, she was never paid as much as I paid my workers when I farmed.

Leigh, in farmer’s uniform

Barbara saved most of her earnings, which she eventually used to buy new furniture for our newer house on Los Amigos. We also got new carpeting, and did some wallpapering. I think her money paid for most, if not all the improvements to that house. We had a block wall put up between our neighbors, Luis and Josephine Sanchez and us. We split the cost of that, and I also had the wall extended to close in the back of our lot. I had a slab poured on part of the back yard and then built a roof over it. I installed sprinklers in the very small front yard and large side yard, then planted lawns. Soon after I started farming Gerry decided that he wanted to live on his own. He rented a small house and moved out, leaving a vacant bedroom. I put wood paneling on the walls and made the room into my office. I moved my metal desk in, and also a two-drawer filing cabinet. We put a small sofa in that room as well. I also bought my first electric calculator, which was invaluable for doing payroll. Katy got married sometime about 1974, to Dave Garcia. They lived in Lodi, CA. Dave was an aspiring baseball player. He played on a minor league team in Lodi. The marriage only lasted about a year, and then Katy came home to live. She got into the CETA program, and learned the skills she needed to be a secretary. After a year or two in school, she got a good job in Westlake.It was more or less the same time that Gerry took a long trip to Europe. Barbara had found a book about cheap travel in Europe, and that sort of inspired him to go. He took only a backpack, and was armed with a Eurail Pass, and a directory of Youth Hostels. We took him to LAX to start his adventure. I can’t say for sure, but I think he was gone for three months or so. He did a lot of growing up on that trip!

Barbara and Leigh

When Gerry returned from Europe, he went to work for me again, and also started a little farming of his own. He also got married a year or two later.When Katy got married, she was the last of the brood to leave the nest. We didn’t talk about it right away, but both of us were very filled with all sorts of emotions when all the children were gone. For my part, I had guilt feelings for not having spent more time with them, not having done more things with them, not having prepared them better to face the world. Time pretty well healed those wounds. We realized that they were all facing the world pretty well on their own. Also, doing the writing that I have done in these past few years has been therapeutic for me. It has helped Barbara to go back and type all the letters she wrote her mother during the child rearing years. We realized that we were O.K. parents after all. We surely have the love of our children as living proof of that! Any, or all, of our children would be my first choice to share a new adventure with!

This is the final resting place of my parents, Thomas A. and Dorothy M. Robertson.
Villa de San Miguel, Baja California Norte, Mexico

About 1970 or so, my brother Alan and his second wife, Dorothy, moved to the Paso Robles area. My father asked me to take over the affairs of Sinaloa Ranch.Actually, there was no farming going on at all. It was just a matter of selling off a few remaining parcels of land. One fifteen-acre parcel was already in escrow when I took over. When I looked over the terms of the sale, it seemed very Mickey-Mouse. Tom told me that I should go ahead with it, so I did. When the first payment came due, I had to foreclose, and start over again. Meanwhile, we had released a portion of the land, according to the sales agreement. I managed to sell the remainder to a sub-divider.We had one view lot on Sinaloa Lake, which I sold to a doctor down the street from us. The last parcel was thirty plus acres of abandoned walnut orchard, in the canyon south of Sinaloa Golf Course. A young man that purported to be a developer approached me. He wanted cut it into half acre lots and build houses. After a bit of haggling, I got my price, and the deal was closed. Soon after that I learned that he was only representing some of the Montgomery family, who owned the large ranch south of Sinaloa Ranch. It seems that they wanted to create a subdivsion on several hundred acres of that ranch. Because of the size of the project, they were required to have a second entrance. Our thirty acres would give them access to a county road. I had known all the Montgomery family since childhood. I never did understand why they felt it necessary to hire someone else to make this deal. Anyway, I got a good down payment and collected two annual payments. The plan for the Montgomery development collapsed, and once again, I had to foreclose. In truth, in both of these cases, the buyers voluntarily signed Quitclaim Deeds, which meant that I saved the expense and time required for foreclosure.Soon after that the Ventura County Flood Control District purchased the land for the construction of a large flood control dam that impounded water from two canyons, during the highest runoff, then released it slowly.My other responsibilities were to do some record keeping and get a Partnership Income Tax return to the IRS and the State of CA. Alan had been using an accountant in Ventura. After one year with him, I collected all the records he had, and sorted them out the best that I could. I turned over the tax preparation to my accountant in Oxnard, and we got them filed on time, for a change. The income from land sales was mostly turned over to my folks, but some years there was excess to be distributed to the six children. At some long ago point in time the folks became concerned about inheritance tax on the ranch if something were to happen to them. To ease that burden, they started gifting small interests in the ranch to each of us. It eventually worked out that Tom owned 40%, Dorothy 9%, and each of us 8.5%. This ownership was on paper only. We all understood that the folks should have all the income that they wanted, or needed.Another thing I did during those years was to help my parents make new wills. I took them to my attorney in Oxnard. They asked me to be executor in both cases.In the mid seventies Barbara and I started thinking of buying an RV of some kind. We bounced back and forth between a camper, trailer, or motor home. After much looking and discussion, we bought a small motor home; a 22-foot Monaco. A couple of years later we sold the Monaco and bought a 26-foot Apollo. In 1980, we bought a Toyota Pickup to tow behind the Apollo.

Apollo Motor Home, probably the most extravagant thing we ever did!

Some day I’ll get around to writing about some of the great trips we had in our two Motor Homes.We lost Barbara’s father, Pop Wilson, in 1979. We all felt his loss greatly. He was such a kind, gentle man. All of our children have fond memories of both Mom and Pop Wilson. They had both been teachers by profession, and they taught our kids lots of things. Pop had named the trust department at Bank of A. Levy as executor of his will, so that none of his children would have that burden. Nonetheless, it fell to Barbara to go through all the personal things and dispose of them. She was on his checking account, so she kept all his bills paid up to date. We went to the bank where he had a safe deposit box, and managed to get the things out of it, not that there was much of any value. We were not supposed to do that without having a tax appraiser present, but we just didn’t let on that Pop had passed away. The branch manager was Pop’s neighbor, and of course he new the situation. As soon as he saw us coming, he walked to the far end of the bank, so that he wouldn’t be a witness to what we were doing! We became quite upset with the Trust Dept. They seemed to take forever to settle what should have been a very simple estate. Finally, I got them to make a preliminary distribution so that we could sell the house. Barbara and I cleaned it up, put a sign out in front, and sold it rather quickly. It took the Trust Dept two full years to finally make the final distribution. That experience sure soured me on having an outsider handle these matters!By 1980, I had decided that I could no longer farm. I really was feeling miserable. I had disposed of all the Sinaloa Ranch property, my folks lived in Mexico, and Barbara’s folks were gone, so there was very little holding us to Simi Valley. So, we started thinking of where we might want to re-settle. One of our objectives was to get out of the smog, thinking that I might feel better. Tom had given us a lot at San Miguel, on "Magic Mountain." (so named later because it was constantly moving and falling into the sea) We talked some of building a small house there, and getting a small place in Oregon, so that we could drift back and forth according to the seasons. Another place we looked was the Hemet area. One trip down there was enough! The smog was worse than Simi, and there was nothing about the area that appealed to us.

NE corner of the house we had built in Mariposa

Our long-time friends, Fran and Ralph Chamberlain, owned a couple of small parcels of land in the Lake Don Pedro area, near Sonora in the Mother Load country. They invited us to spend some time with them at the campground at the Lake. They had a trailer at the time, and we took our motor home. While we were there, we took some short trips out and about, to visit some of the towns. After that we started north on Highway 49 in our rigs. We stayed a night or two in the Fairgrounds in Angels Camp, and took more side trips from there. One place that we really fell in love with was Murphy’s, a few miles east of Angels, on Highway 4. It was a very small, old town, with a nice restaurant and hotel. We were so intrigued that we went back a second time, and made some inquiries about places for sale. I don’t seem to remember how far north we explored on 49.Next we headed south, ending up with some other friends, Mark and Mary Lou Montoya, in Bootjack, just south of Mariposa. When we started home, we were traveling alone. As we went through the little town of Ahwahnee, north of Oakhurst, I remembered that our long, long time friends, Bob and Elaine Cannell lived there. I stopped at the little Post Office, and after considerable persuasion, got directions to their house. They were not home, but I left a note telling them that I had "borrowed" some of their nice apples. During this entire trip, I seemed to feel much better than I had at home, so we decided that maybe we should look in earnest for a place to live somewhere along Highway 49.Sometime in the winter of 1980-81we decided to spend some time looking for a home to buy. The plan was to start in Mariposa, and work our way north. I’m not sure why we didn’t park in Montoya’s yard, but chose instead to park in some large parking area in town, near the Miner’s Inn. I knew that Bob Cannell had been in the real estate business, so I got in touch with him. By this time they were living near Ponderosa Basin, closer to Mariposa. He told me that he was no longer active, but put me in touch with a lady from their church. She drove us around and showed us several houses that were for sale. As we drove, she said that it was lucky we came in the winter. She said that many people that bought in the summer chose the higher elevation, because of the pine and fir trees. Then when the snow started to pile up in the winter, they regretted their decision. I told her I did not want to shovel snow, so that limited our choices a bit. We really didn’t see anything that was interesting to us. We had not planned on building, but that started to look like more of an option. Mark drove me around one day, just to get me acquainted with the different areas. We looked around at Mormon Bar, then drove out Old Highway. Mark said that Strathearn Bros. had a nice subdivision that we should look at. As we drove through on Bridgeport Drive I spotted what looked like the ideal lot. We then went to George Strathearn’s house, but no one answered the door. Later in the day, I called and George’s sister Joan answered. I guess I should point out that the Strathearns were from Simi. Joan was a year behind me in school; George was two years behind, in Rae’s class, I think. Doug was the youngest.

Front Yard Covered Deck

I drove back and had a long visit with Joan. She told me that George was working for the State of California, in Sacramento. She said I could catch him on the weekend. We got in touch by phone, and I met him at the house for breakfast on Sunday. Later, he drove me around and showed me the unsold lots that he thought might interest me. There were plenty to choose from. He suggested that we park the motor home on one of the vacant lots, so that we could take our time in picking one that we wanted. So, we did just that. Barbara and I drove around in the pickup, stopping to walk around on the lots that looked interesting. We decided against the lot that I had liked on the first day. It was on the edge of a steep hill, and had very little level ground, and that was quite close to the road. The view was great, but we thought we needed more space, considering the motor home. Besides, a house at the top of a hill is very much at risk in case of a brush fire. One morning I went out on foot to walk some of the lots, and discovered a nice large meadow, with Oaks and Bull Pines all around. . I took Barbara over to look at it, and we decided that it was just what we wanted. George had not shown this lot to me, so I didn’t know if it was available. I called him in Sacramento, and found that it was, and the following weekend we made a deal.As I mentioned, we had planned to look farther north also, but it just seemed like there was so much to chose from in Mariposa, that looking farther would just confuse us! In retrospect, it was a good decision. Most of the family was to the south, so going another hour or two up the road would just make it that much harder to get together.About this same time, my father became quite ill. We drove our motor home to San Miguel, and stayed there for several weeks. Tom’s good friend, Dr. Etchegeray came to see him every day. He told us that his heart was failing. Rae was there during this time, and Merilie at the end. Tom died March 6^th 1981. He was buried in the little cemetery on the hill overlooking Villa de San Miguel. He and Dorothy had chosen their last resting places some years before. He had a traditional Charro funeral, with all of his Charro friends on horseback, in their finest gear. There was also the rider-less horse, Tom’s own saddle horse. Once the cavalcade reached the cemetery, tradition demanded that the horse be unsaddled and released, since his work was done. Dominican Fr. Walsh gave a very nice tribute to my father, and then went off to the top of a little hill, to grieve by himself.

Kirsten Katy Mike Cathy Gerry Dan Leigh GloriaTerry Zarli
This was when Dan arranged a tour of the S.S. Constellation

My mother had not been well for several years. She needed around the clock care, which Glenn was able to arrange for her. Six months after Tom died, she fell and broke a hip. There was not much alternative to a hip replacement, but she never recovered from the surgery, passing away October 1^st, 1981. Her services were quite different than Tom’s. She had expressed her wishes to Rae. She wanted the simplest casket available; a pine box would have been fine. We just had a small gathering of family and friends in her garden. She rests next to my father, in the little cemetery on the hill. Not long ago our dear Glenn joined them. Barbara and I, and some other family members, want that spot to be our final resting place, somewhere in the distant future.

Our 50^th anniversary, with Photo of our wedding in the background. Gee, we haven’t aged a day!

I won’t go into too much detail on the building of our new house. It is a long, sad story! Unlike some people, we had not spent years planning our dream house. We had hoped to buy a house already built, but that didn’t happen. We had one of our new neighbors design a house for us. We told him more or less what we wanted, with emphasis on keeping it small. At some point we decided on three bedrooms rather that two. The designer claimed to be able to build us a house that was nearly all solar heated, and that would stay cool in the summer. The man was a scam artist. I can’t believe how gullible I was. I think you will agree that this was totally out of character for me!We did have good sub-contractors, and they built us a good, solid house. Never mind that the money we spent on solar was wasted, and the house could just as well have been on one level. I take the blame for much of this, because I should have known better.At the time we decided to move to Mariposa, the market for homes was rather dismal. Interest rates were sky high, which puts a real damper on home buying. We decided to list the Los Amigos house, even though our new house was barely underway. We listed with a lady across the street from us, because she was so gung-ho about the neighborhood. She held an open house, and came up with a potential buyer, contingent on the sale of their house in Thousand oaks. We negotiated an acceptable deal, only on the condition that our house remain on the market until they could close the deal. That condition worried the buyers and the broker, naturally. The broker and her boss were so confidant that the whole deal would come together that the brokerage went ahead and bought the our house, so that the buyer would not get away. One reason that we were able to sell it so quickly was that we didn’t need the money to start on our new house. We got a 20% down payment and carried the balance at 10% interest, for ten years, with a balloon payment at that time. In the end, all the parts of the puzzle fell into place, and we had 30 days to get out of the house.

Frank Barbara Rae Leigh Merced river on a rampage

Fortunately, we had sort of anticipated this. We had the builder do the garage first, so that we would have a place to store things. Also we had a parking pad next to the garage, and water, electricity, and telephone were in. All summer we made trips back and forth, sometimes with the motor home, sometimes with the pickup and a little cargo trailer that I had built. We brought all the outside stuff, such as tools, power tools, welder, welding table, workbenches, barbeque, and patio furniture. In the motor home, we brought lots of household things. On the next to last trip Barb drove the pickup, and I drove the motor home. We left the pickup, and on the last trip, she brought the car. We got a mover to bring all the furniture, and appliances, and anything else that was left. Our final move was on September 20^th, 1981.We spent the next five months in the motor home, while the house was being finished. I ran a long telephone cord from the shop, so we were pretty complete. I set up the washer outside the garage, so we could wash clothes, but we had to take them to town to get them dry. We also had to unhook everything to take the motor home to town for propane, about every three weeks. We had over forty inches of rain that winter, and it seemed like as time went on the motor home got smaller and smaller. I think it was on March 1^st that we got final inspection on the house, and were able to start moving our things up from the shop. The first thing Barb discovered when she started to open boxes was that we had been invaded by scorpions. She started opening boxes outside, and carefully removing every item, to avoid taking too many scorpions in the house. Soon enough, scorpions stung us both. The pain was intense, but to our surprise, within a few minutes it was completely gone. "Our" scorpions are very small, being only about an inch in length. For the first few years we had lots of them in the house, but as time goes by there are less and less. We have learned to respect, but not fear them.

Colleen and Gerry

The genius that designed the house had not seen fit to provide any way to keep the morning sun off the east facing glass sliders. We put up a bamboo shade, but that was not very effective. So, my first major project was to build a roof over the deck on that wall. As I recall, several family members helped out at various stages of construction.One of the first things I bought after moving to Mariposa was a chain saw. P.G.&E. had trimmed some oak trees in order to bring power to the house. They left the wood cut into four-foot lengths. I cut all that into 16-inch lengths to burn in the heating stove. We had also removed a very large oak in order to build the house, which I cut up for firewood. During this time I realized that although I had sold many new saws, and instructed the buyers on how to keep the chain sharp, I really didn’t have a clue! An old-time friend from Simi, John Cushman, visited for a few days, and gave me some good instructions. Since then I have always had a sharp chain! Various of my neighbors have brought their power splitters to help me do that chore. Very early on we bought one cord of wood, and all the rest has come from fallen trees or limbs, pruning, or from some of the neighbors that don’t burn wood at all, or don’t burn any pine. Another thing we bought was a small weed eater. What a miserable little devise that was. For starters, we did not understand that the weeds need to be dry and crisp to cut well, otherwise they wind themselves around the cutter, choking it down. My health was poor, so Barbara insisted on operating this contraption part of the time. I think we got rid of it after the first year.

Back in the Saddle!This tractor was 40 years old when I bought it.
As a friend of mine used to say, "she don’t look like much, but she’s got a heart of gold!"

I decided I needed a tractor and mower to keep the weeds down on our eight acres. In Oxnard I found a used Ford Tractor that was just what I needed. It happened to have a loader on it, which turned out to be a lucky break for me. The mower I bought is indispensable, but I actually use the loader more than the mower. To round out the package I bought a box-scraper. Later, I bought a 30-gallon weed sprayer to mount on the tractor, and fabricated a boom with four spray nozzles, so that I can spray small areas by a hose and wand, or wide areas with the boom. Now my practice is to use the sprayer to keep clean the mandatory thirty feet around the building, for fire protection. Then, when the grass is thoroughly dry, I mow the entire lot with the tractor, then trim up around the trees by means of High School Boy, or with my newer weed whacker. A great benefit of letting everything go through its life cycle is that we have magnificent wild flower displays every year. As I write this, in mid-May, the mower is mounted on the tractor, the grass is dry enough to mow, but I’m waiting for the last wild-flowers to go to seed. After the second winter, we decided to have a furnace and air conditioner installed. The heating stove had required nearly constant attention in the winter, and the swamp cooler was totally inadequate. Life has been much better since then! I also installed a large whole–house fan, to bring in the cool night air.After a few years, I hired Mike Montoya to put in a retaining wall and pad for the motor home alongside the carport. That made it easy to load and unload for trips. When we stopped using it for travel, it became a spare bedroom, and a sort of transitional storage space for things we were not using, but not yet ready to throw away.In 1992 I built a 6X16 foot addition to the back of the house that became Barbara’s closet. This also meant that I had a closet to myself. We had found that we needed two sets of clothes, one for summer and one for winter. This meant that we needed much more closet space.Little by little, we learned what we could grow in the garden, and what the deer would demolish. The yard that has evolved is pretty well deer proof, but from time to time they fool you. They won’t touch Daffodils, or Iris, but they love Tulips and Roses. I planted some sort of fir shrubs next the shop, and for fifteen years the deer ignored them. About three years ago, while we were away, they ate everything down to bare branches, even breaking some of the branches. Go figure!

Leigh and Barbara, hiking in Yosemite

Our’s was the third house to be built in a thirty-five lot sub-division. As new people moved in, we made many good friendships. In the beginning they were mostly near our age, mostly retired, mostly without children living at home, mostly delighted to be living here, mostly friendly and mostly respected the privacy of everyone else. So, there was a large group of people of the same mind. The world does not stand still. Today there are only four vacant lots. Some of the old timers have left. The new people moving in are younger, some have young children, and some are still working. All of that is fine. The only problem is that some of them seem to want to bring big city ways to our quiet little neighborhood. I’m not complaining. For now, there is no place we would rather be.A tremendous, and unexpected, bonus for us is having Yosemite National Park almost outside our back door. The only time either of us had been to Yosemite was a couple of years before we moved up here. We spent a few days at Lake Tahoe, then came down through the gold country on Highway 49. We turned east on Highway 120, intending to spend the night in Yosemite. This was in the fall, so the waterfalls were mostly dry, the valley full of smoke from controlled burning, and it seemed rather crowded. We were not impressed! I found a phone, and called Montoya’s to arrange to stay with them. We stopped for dinner at a little restaurant in El Portal that was washed away in the Great Flood of 1997.Soon after we made our move to Mariposa we took a drive into the park. We went through Oakhurst, then out to Glacier point. The little snack shack was closed for the season, so we drove to the Valley for a late lunch. This little excursion changed our opinion of the Park. Since then we have visited there many times every year. We are able to see it in all seasons. Even in the most crowded time of year, we can escape the crush of people in the Valley by going to Washburn Point-Glacier Point, or Tenaya Lake-Tuolumne Meadows. Even the Valley is possible in the summer. Many times we decide at breakfast time to make a run to the Park. We can go to the viewpoint near the tunnel, stop to admire each of the waterfalls, find a spot to eat our lunch with our toes almost in the Merced River, and be headed home before most people get there.Best of all, the Park was an added incentive for our children to come and visit!

Sean, Terry ,Kristen, Katy, Leigh at Taft Point, about 2500 feet above Yosemite Valley Floor

In the early years here in Mariposa we only observed the Park from near the road, as I was not able to do any hiking. After my second heart surgery, in May of 1991, I found that I was able to do more and more hiking. There have been many hikes, sometimes just Barbara and me, sometimes with our neighbors, Bob and Muriel Larson, but mostly with various family members; my sisters, our children and grandchildren. At Easter time we hiked up the South fork of the Merced River to see the vast array of wildflowers. In the summer we hiked from the Glacier Point road out to Centinal Dome and Taft point, both overlooking the Valley from the South.Over the years we hiked to some waterfalls in Hetch Hetchy, in the north-west corner of the park, to another in Wawona, in the south west corner, to all the major falls in Yosemite Valley, and to two lakes in the high country. There were also hikes to Merced Grove of Giant Sequoias, and Nelder Grove outside the park.Some of these hikes, the most difficult, were one-timers. Others were sort of traditional, repeated year after year. The South Fork Trail to Hites Cove, and the Mist Trail to the top of Nevada Falls fell into this category. I can’t count how many times we hiked those trails. One of the most difficult and tiring was a hike I took with Gerry, to the top of Yosemite Falls. It took us a full eight hours. Of course that includes a good deal of time just marveling at the view. The other tough one was with Terry and Sean. Barbara dropped us at Glacier Point. From there we started downhill to Illiluette Falls, then a climb back up before dropping again to Nevada Falls and then to Vernal Falls, and finally the Valley Floor. At Happy Isles we got on a shuttle bus to get to the Ahwahnee Hotel, where Barb awaited us. Another tradition was to have a huge Tamale Pie waiting for us at home, ready to be heated.

Poppies in the spring, Merced River Wildflowers on our lot

Spring Flowers, our lot Autumn colors, Lee Vining Canyon

One spring Terry, Sean, and I rafted the Merced River. We happened to go on the first day the river was opened for rafting, after being closed because of high water. It was a memorable ride, but not one I need to repeat! We chose to go in an "oar" boat, rather than a "paddle" boat. For one thing, I didn’t want to spend the trip paddling, and I also knew that an experienced boatman with oars would control the raft much better than a bunch of paddlers. Toward the end of the ride we went through two Class 4 rapids. I’ll have to say that it was frightening to me. All of my boating experience was in the ocean, or lakes, where we always had control of the boat, and even ending up in the water was not a serious matter. A raging river is a different proposition! Ending up in very swift water that is only a few degrees above freezing is not a good option! I just felt like this was a situation where I did not control my fate, and it bothered me.Terry and Sean had planned a hike to Vernal and Nevada Falls the next day. At bed-time I announced that I was too tired to go with them. In the morning, after a good sleep, I decided that I was up for it, so off we went. The high water made for great displays by all the falls. That evening, after consuming large portions of tamale pie, I asked the others a question. "If you had only one day in your life for an adventure, would you raft the Merced River, or hike to the top of Nevada Falls?" We were unanimous in choosing the hike!I should mention that our grandson, Sean, was the instigator and motivator for many of those hikes. He loved the mountains and he loved to hike, so there was never any question about it, if Sean was here, we were going to hike somewhere. We lost our Seanie in year 2004. Without his motivation, it’s easy to find reasons to put off the hikes. We miss you, Sean!

Perfect Snow!Beautiful to look at, but not enough to have to shovel!

Going back a bit, in early 1985 we got the idea of building a small house on the lot that my father had given us many years earlier at San Miguel. Due to the movement of Magic Mountain, our original lot seemed in danger of falling into the sea, so we were given a different lot, which is the present location, directly across the Toll Road from San Miguel Village. After much delay, we had our plans approved and permits in hand. We contracted with Ramon Carranza to furnish the labor, and we furnished the materials. I did all the plumbing, electrical and cabinet work.

South Side East End

While the house was under construction we spent about half the time in our Motor Home, in Glenn’s yard. The rest of the time we were in Mariposa. We went to all the yard sales, to shop for things to furnish the house.

Front Deck, overlooking the ocean.

By Christmas the house was near enough to completion that we were able to give each of our children a key, and ownership. We had the first family gathering in June of 1986, but it took another year after that to get the niceties, such as water, electricity, and a decent road.

Back yard, from across the street

From start to finish, it was truly a labor of love. Since the house was literally for everyone, it seemed proper to call it Su Casa. Su Casa has served a wonderful purpose, that being to bring all the families closer together. We have all gathered there many times, and we have all been able to spend more time with Glenn and his family. My only regret today is that all of our lives have become so complicated that we cannot make proper use of the house.

Much to my delight, for the last two years the Casa has been renovated, and is being well used by our family. In fact, others are taking advantage of the view, the comfort and the isolation of Su Casa by renting it. LR

Of course losing Glenn in 2000 makes it emotionally difficult also. For my part, I feel his absence more when we are in San Miguel. The twenty-five years spent in Mariposa were wonderful, happy years. They were also years of hard work. We made several improvements to the house, only one of which we contracted out. I spent many hours every year weed spraying, weed whacking, and mowing. I must have cut thirty or more cords of firewood. I helped maintain Bridgeport Dr, as it is a private road. I cleaned the rain gutters at least three times each fall. I swept the chimney to remove creosote. Up until a few years ago, Barbara did much of the gardening, and most of the cooking and cleaning, as well as doing some sewing.I actually enjoyed all the work, if for no other reason than to prove to myself that I could still do it!There were also difficult times. I made several trips to St. Agnes Hospital in Fresno because of heart problems. On the last of these, I virtually died on the table during a angioplasty procedure. I think it took an hour to get my heart back to some kind of normal rhythm. At least so I am told. I was unconscious for most of two days!In 1991 I got into trouble again while on a trip south. More heart surgery. This time I got four or five Arterial grafts. That surgery worked fine. It was after that that I began to be able to hike in the mountains. To paraphrase Will Rogers (I never met a man I didn’t like), I never met a waterfall I didn’t like! The following pictures are just a small sample of the glorious hikes we have taken in and near Yosemite.

Vernal Falls, from below                Sean and Terry, at the top of Vernal

Yosemite Falls, top to bottom          Upper Yosemite Falls

Bridalvale Falls

In 1992, again on a trip south, I had back surgery.In 1993 I had an Aortal Aneurism repaired. .In 2002 I had a benign tumor removed, along with part of my stomach.Along the way, Barbara had a hip replacement, several broken bones, and some extreme heart rhythm problems. More recently, her back has been getting steadily worse, for which she has recently had extensive surgery.In 2004 we started to think a little about moving back south to be closer to our children, and other family members. Nothing came of that at the time. It took one more stint in the hospital for me, for yet another heart procedure, to make me know that I no longer looked forward to all the tasks that I had to do to keep the "homestead" in working order. Time to move! As I write these final paragraphs of this very long story, I am sitting at my computer in the office of our rented home in Westlake Village. Barbara is very slowly recovering from her back surgery. We are very comfortable. Even though we are in the middle of a large city, we hardly know it. We’re surrounded by large trees, and there is very little "city noise." Lots of family members nearby. How good does it get?"BLOOM WHERE YOU ARE PLANTED" I can’t tell you the author of that bit of advice, but I firmly believe in it. We are blooming!

The beginning of a new day