On the Farrer Side

Total Eclipse of the Brain

2011-03-21T16:34:00.002-06:00

I received the following email from a Scout leader in the Los Angeles area: “. . . We had a meeting today and someone brought up the total eclipse in 2017 and the fact that it is centered right over Jackson, Wyoming. I was just wondering if you all are thinking of doing any kind of gathering of scouts for that event. We are definitely interested in traveling up there for that.”

Here is my reply: “We thought the world was ending next year so we haven’t planned beyond 2012. Seriously though, 2017?! I’m amazed by your advanced planning.”

I know it was a smart [aleck] response but, really?!, six years in advance?

I have decided to produce our 2017 council shoulder patch (CSP) in all black thread with an eclipsed sun over the Tetons. That’s if the world doesn’t end before that.

Valentines

2011-02-10T17:16:00.002-07:00

Every year at Valentine’s
I think of blessings that are mine.
I think of those I love and knew,
And, of course, I think of you.

February is the ‘Month of Love’
To thank the Good Lord up above
For those whose love and sacrifice
Makes our lives extra nice.

So, while I snack on heart shaped candy
Chocolate, mints, and other dandies,
I’ll say a prayer to the Lord above
And thank Him for you and for your love.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Over the (Henry’s Fork) River and Through the (Island Park) Woods

2011-01-21T15:00:00.000-07:00

We are holding our annual staff planning conference in Island Park this year. Jim Everson donated the use of his cabin. Dave Kirk and I drove up there to check things out and scout out locations for our team building events (x-country skiing, snowshoeing, and snowmobiling).

The day dawned cloudy and cold as we headed north. I was pulling a trailer with two snowmobiles we borrowed from Robin Stewart. It was snowing lightly but the roads were clear—until we arrived in Island Park. There is a LOT of snow up there and the temperature had dropped below zero.

We made our way to the cabin about five miles west of Pond’s Lodge. I had some trouble turning around with the trailer on the narrow roads. The snow is so deep they have to use snow blowers to clear the roads and it’s like driving through four foot deep ditches. We checked out the beautiful cabin and, like Goldilocks, found it just right. We drove out in the truck to find a location for our snowmobiling activity. I turned onto a narrow road but after a short distance we saw it was not cleared very well and, contrary to the map, it was not a through street—in the winter. I stopped and tried to back out but quickly got stuck. After a few futile attempts I stopped trying. There was no way we were backing out with a trailer behind us.

We unloaded the snowmobiles and unhooked the trailer. We spun it around and pushed and dragged it about one-hundred feet until we got it off the road. I tried to back the truck out but it kept sliding off the road into the soft snow. But with each attempt I gained a foot or two so I kept at it. When I was about halfway out the truck got so stuck it wouldn't move at all. It was right up against the snow bank on the driver's side and the top of the snow was even with bottom of the truck’s window. It was time to break out the shovels.

We returned to the cabin and borrowed two shovels and started digging. After we moved quite a bit of snow I was able to drive forward out of the hole. After several more backward runs the truck finally made it out and back onto the good road (thanks to prayer and four-wheel drive.) All this effort, so easy to write now but very strenuous then, used up about an hour and we were quickly running out of time. We had to be back in Idaho Falls for evening meetings.

We hitched the trailer back onto the truck, turned around (on good roads), and parked it in the cabin's driveway. We then used the snowmobiles to look for suitable sites for our activities. It was fun to ride the snowmobiles but way too cold at high speeds. After finding what we were looking for we went back to the cabin, loaded the snowmobiles, and headed out. We stopped at three restaurants in Island Park to find one that would meet our needs for a staff dinner.

It had been snowing all day and the roads were snow packed and slick. But as they say, all's well that ends well. It was a good day and we accomplished what we went there to do—except getting stuck—that wasn't in the plan.

Peter Pan

2011-01-21T14:32:00.001-07:00

On May 7th & 8th the Grand Teton Council held the 100th Anniversary Jamboral.

'Jamboral' is what Scout councils in Mormon Country call council Jamborees. 'Jamboree' is a word coined by Baden Powell, the founder of Scouting. To BP a Jamboree is a large gathering of Scouts for fellowship and fun. The dictionary says a jamboree is “a carousal; any noisy merrymaking.” The dictionary definition is probably more accurate.

We planned and organized the Jamboral for over a year. We had a great team of volunteers and professionals capably led by Ed Gigly as Jamboree chairman and Mark Nelson as staff advisor.

There has been a long history of bad weather on Jamboral weekends but this time the weather cooperated. It was a little chilly but it was clear and calm. That combination only happens three or four times a year in Idaho. I told everyone I was responsible for the weather.

Friday night we had a 'Scouts Got Talent' show for the opening program. We decided to hold a talent show and give out cash prizes rather than pay for professional entertainment. I was impressed with the quantity and quality of the performers and it made for a fun evening. We were joined by David Beck, president of the LDS Church's Young Men program and general officer of the Church.

It got cold as soon as the sun went down but I figured that would keep the Scouts in their tents and out of trouble. The Jamboral was held on the state fairgrounds in the middle of Blackfoot. As Nancy and I were getting ready for bed we kept hearing strange noises. I thought it was cows bellowing and Nancy thought it was Scouts pretending to be cows. The noise kept up until after we went to sleep. In the middle of the night we were rudely awakened by a train passing through town with its whistle blasting. It turns out there is a stockyard right across the tracks from the fairgrounds. And to think I was worried the Scouts might be bothering the good citizens of Blackfoot.

Saturday morning dawned clear and cold. Nancy and I joined the VIP's for breakfast and then we all walked over to the arena. By the time the opening ceremony started the stands were full and there was standing room only. It was inspiring to see thousands of Scouts and leaders together in one place. Cedar Badge (NYLT) Scouts did a good job with the flag ceremony. President Beck was the main speaker. The next day was Mother's Day and he brought Scouts up from the audience to share how using the twelve points of the Scout Law they planned to honor their mothers.

The opening ceremony went very well but there were a few glitches. The program started about fifteen minutes late and that caused the program to run overtime. We had arranged for a fly-over to take place at 9:AM when the opening ceremony was over. President Beck was still speaking and what was supposed to be an inspiring finale ended up being an annoying distraction. To make matters worse as the council president, Jeff Wheeler, was wrapping things up and recognizing the Jamboral leaders the sound of machine gun fire (blanks) from the Varsity Scouting area was distracting and annoying.

As soon as the opening ceremonies were over the crowd started heading out to all the program areas. As the crowd thinned out I saw a Cub Scout crying crocodile tears and looking lost. I went over to him and tried to calm him down. I walked him over the headquarters where we had a lost & found set up. There were already a couple of teary Cub Scouts keeping each other company in the lost kid cage. I spent the morning comforting lost boys and trying to reunite them with their leaders. Almost every time I tried to walk around I’d find another lost boy to bring to the cage.

One lost boy named Tim was unique in that he was 13-years-old and twice as big as the other lost boys. After spending a few minutes with Tim I decided he was not lost but had been abandoned because his leaders needed a break from him. He was pretty obnoxious.

I decided Tim was old enough and tall enough to walk around with me and look for his troop. We walked out of the headquarters building and had taken about five steps when I asked him, "Tim, if you were Tim's leader where would be?" Just then a Scout leader ahead of us in the crowd stopped, turned around, and said, "Tim?!" And Tim was no longer lost.

In the afternoon I hooked up with Nancy and we walked around and saw what there was to see. The Cub Scout and Varsity areas were great but the Boy Scout (mostly military displays by recruiters) and Venturing areas were a little skimpy. Overall the Jamboral was a great success and I had fun playing Peter Pan chasing the lost boys.

2010-12-28T11:24:00.000-07:00

Dear friends and family,
This has been a wonderful year for the Farrer family! We are especially excited to have our whole family here for Christmas this year. Here is a summary of our year:

It was the 100th anniversary of the Boy Scouts of America and the Grand Teton Council celebrated with a Jamboral. It was well attended and a lot of fun! Clarke also went to the National Jamboree in Virginia. While he was gone Nancy had vinyl trim added to the house and had the driveway resurfaced. That’s what happens when he leaves for three weeks! He is the president of the Young Men and Venture advisor in our church and loves it. Nancy finally finished a dual degree in Early Childhood Special Education at BYU Idaho and will be student teaching (again) for the next few months. We both travelled to NJ to pick up Shawn from his mission and took a side trip to Connecticut to visit some of Nancy’s old high school friends. We visited Palmyra New York and walked through church historical sites. In August we flew to Texas to watch Clarke Douglas graduate from Texas A&M with a degree in Recreation, Parks and Tourism. He and Bethany are living with us until he finds a job with the National Parks or Forest Service. We love having them here. You’ll often find their Benjamin standing on top of counters and inspecting Nana’s pretty things. Clarke is working as a teacher’s aide and Bethany works at the hospital ER. Daniel graduated from BYU-I in April and is now attending graduate school at Idaho State University, working on a degree in marriage and family counseling. He and Sarah bought a cute house that’s just a mile from us. Wyatt was joined by a new baby sister Bella, who was born in January. We love having our grandchildren close! Shawn returned home from a mission to Morristown, New Jersey after an honorable two year service. We had the great honor of meeting some of the faithful members of our church who live in that area. Shawn will be attending BYU Idaho in January. Amanda and Derek are continuing their education at BYU Idaho. Amanda will be finished with college a year from now with a degree in Elementary Education. She is super enthusiastic and will make a wonderful teacher. Derek is working on his degree in Mechanical Engineering and is currently searching for a summer internship.

We are grateful for this time of year to remember the birth of Jesus Christ.
We send our love to all of you, our friends and family.

2010-12-25T10:17:00.003-07:00

We have our full family with us for Christmas this year. Now that Shawn is home from his mission we are all together again for the first time in three or four years. We are continuing with our gingerbread house tradition--with typical Farrer sense of twisted humor.

Shawn's house. If you look closely everything is color coordianted and symetrical. He's a little OCD.

Clarke's & Bethany's Mobile-home. Note the toilet in the yard and the outhouse.

Amanda's & Derek's House. Santa fell through the roof and started a chimney fire. Santa did not survive and there was serious damage to the house as you can see.

Dan's & Sarah's Disaster House. They tried to make a normal house but it kept collapsing, so they got creative.

How I spent my Labor Day weekend

2010-09-07T11:06:00.001-06:00

All our kids, three spouses, and three grandkids under one roof—fun times!

I took Friday afternoon off to do some fishing with Clarke and Derek. (Dan stayed home to study and Shawn had to work.) We fished on Henry’s Fork just north of Ashton. It was a beautiful day and we could see the Teton Range in the distance. We all caught trout but none large enough to keep. [They have to be over 16 inches.] Clarke waded in too deep and filled his hip waders. I waded out to rescue him and filled my boots as well. There were several times when we thought we’d both be swimming. The stupid thing is I had two pairs of chest waders in the truck but didn’t think the water was deep enough to warrant them.

On Saturday we all had a nice day in Yellowstone NP. I borrowed the Council’s 15-passenger van so we could all ride together. We left about two hours later than I wanted to and that put us behind schedule. The kids were amazingly good and we saw waterfowl, elk, and buffalo, but no bears. We cabin camped at Island Park Scout Camp. Nancy brought frozen lasagna for dinner. Frozen lasagna? Oh well. The boys built a campfire and we did the Smores thing until bedtime.

There was a big windstorm over the weekend (nothing unusual for eastern Idaho) and the wind split another large branch off the big elm tree in our backyard. This time the branch fell onto the house. Fortunately it landed on the chimney and not the roof. I spent Labor Day afternoon cutting the tree limbs off the house. They were large enough to do serious damage so I strung up a belay system with climbing ropes and pulleys and had Clarke and Dan belay the limbs safely down. When I finally cut the main limb off the tree the weight of the falling limb took them both for a ride.

Labor Day in Idaho means State Fair time and that means Tiger Ears. I ran the Tiger Ear booth on Sunday from 5:PM, and Nancy, Clarke, Dan, Amanda, and Derek worked in the booth from 7:PM to 10:30 when we closed. On Labor Day Nancy and Sarah worked in the Tiger Ear booth from 2:PM to 5:PM and I ran the booth from 5:PM to close. I got home about midnight both nights. Making and selling Tiger Ears is a crazy way to make money for the Council but it is worth all the time and effort. It’s fun too!

Deer Tag

2010-07-02T11:35:00.003-06:00

I had a great day yesterday—well most of the day was great. My assistant Scout executive, Mark Nelson, and I go to each of the camps during their staff week to train the staff in youth protection and health & safety policies. This week is staff week for two of our camps, Treasure Mountain and Island Park, so we decided to hit them both in the same day. Mark needed to stop by Camp Little Lemhi as well so we made a road-trip out of it.

We started out early and took the hour drive to Camp Little Lemhi. It was a beautiful morning and the drive down into Swan Valley and out to the camp was spectacular. Idaho is in its full Spring-green colors, the mountains were various shades of purple and the blue sky was painted with white clouds. It was stunningly beautiful.

While Mark took care of his camp business I grabbed my fly rod and conducted a little business of my own. I consider it my responsibility to survey and evaluate the aquatic life of each of the camps. I fished off the dock on the south side of the lake and enjoyed the beautiful surroundings as much as the fishing. The lake was very quire with very few fish rising. Across the lake the waterfront staff was practicing their lifesaving skills and that was fun to watch while I waited for a strike. I started with a mosquito fly but after several casts and not even a bump I switched to a pre-emergent stone fly pattern and was casting into deep water and letting the fly sink for about twenty seconds before doing a very slow retrieval. My luck on this particular lake has never been very good so after some time with no action at all I decided to call it quits and bring in my line. Right at that moment I got a strong strike and had a fish on. I played it to the shore of the lake and landed a nice rainbow.

After releasing the fish I went back to the camp lodge and found that Mark was ready to go. We drove over the Palisades dam, down through Swan Valley, up over Pine Creek Pass, down to the quiet town of Victor, through beautiful Teton Valley, into Driggs, and up the Teton Valley to Treasure Mountain. It’s one of my favorite drives and the scenery is spectacular. We arrived at Treasure Mountain right as they were serving lunch—and oh what a lunch. The cook had made her special lasagna, homemade bread sticks, and our choice of cheese cake or frosted brownies. She had saved a special brownie with double frosting for me. (She knows who signs the paychecks.) The food was plentiful and delicious.

After lunch Mark and I taught the staff a session on staff health and safety, facilitated the Youth Protection Quiz Show game Mark developed, and then held a discussion on staff policies. After that we filled my trailer with empty milk crates and filled the truck with the Jamboree tents. Then it was off to Island Park and points north. We drove down the canyon to Alta, MT, north on highway 33 though Tetonia with the Teton Range dominating the view on our right. We turned north on highway 32 and followed it to Ashton. The drive from Driggs to Ashton through the green grain fields is amazing. In Ashton we got on highway 20 and followed it north in to Island Park and out to the Scout camp by the same name. With a little serendipity we arrived just as the staff was eating dinner. This meal was a little more Scout campish; beanie-weenies and hash browns.

After dinner we gave the Island Park staff the same presentations we did at Treasure Mountain. After we were through teaching Mark needed some time with the business manager and trading post manager. Erick the camp director and Chris the ranger took me on a tour of the changes they are making to the camp. They are improving the road to the campsites and have remodeled the handicraft building into a camp office and medical station. The old camp office will become the camp director’s cabin after they clean up the mess the packrats made during the winter. (Gross!)

Once their tour was over I grabbed my rod and hit the lake (since Mark was still in his meetings). I tied on an elk-hair caddis fly and waded out into the lake at the inlet of the creek. I got a couple of strikes before a big thunder storm rolled in and it became unwise to be standing in a lake holding a graphite lightning rod. I’m sure one more cast would have caught a nice brookie but I decided to live to cast another day. Just as it started to rain Mark came to find me and we jumped in the truck and drove out of camp in a heavy thunderstorm.

It was a dark and stormy night (honestly), and we had just pulled onto the highway off Chick Creek Road and I was accelerating up to speed. The forest and underbrush are heavy on both sides of the road. Out of the trees on the left side of the road I saw a doe running towards the road. I jumped on the brakes and barely had time to react before she ran right into the side of the truck. She tore off the driver’s side mirror with her head and smashed into the side panel. I pulled over, put on the flashers, and went to check on the deer and retrieve the mirror. As I was walking down the road another truck came and smashed the mirror into pieces. So, as I walked back to find the deer, I was picking up pieces of mirror. As I picked up one of the pieces my hand felt something soft and warm. It was a chunk of deer!

I found most of the deer lying on the side of the road in pretty bad shape. I was hoping it would not be suffering, forcing me to dispatch it with my Scout knife. No need for that. If the collision with my truck didn’t kill it the eighteen-wheeler that passed by certainly put it out of its misery. He didn’t even hit his brakes, just blew his horn as he tenderized the venison. I drug the carcass off the road far enough so the bears wouldn’t get hit while they ate their breakfast. I thought about throwing it into my truck and taking it back to camp to supplement the food budget but I didn’t have a deer tag and the season isn’t open. Don’t misunderstand, I feel awful about killing the deer, but it was definitely suicidal (or trying to play tag with me) and the accident was unavoidable. It was a sad end to an otherwise great day.

Building Character

2010-02-01T18:17:00.001-07:00

Recently the Ucon Stake presidency invited me to speak at their general priesthood meeting—at 7:30 AM on Sunday morning. I’m normally up then for our ward’s PEC meeting so the early hour was no big deal. And I’m not afraid of speaking to large crowds—it’s part of the job—so I was happy and honored to accept.

On Saturday night I called the counselor in the stake presidency who invited me to speak. We confirmed the time, place, and I asked if they wanted a formal talk or if it could be informal with some audience participation. I also asked how much time I had because I have developed a PowerPoint presentation titled “Building Men of Character.” He said that sounded like exactly what they want and I would have at least a half-hour. I told him I would arrive at about 7:AM to set up and asked if there was a digital projector I could use. Every stake center has a projector and a member who knows how to set it up and get things working. I’m okay with technical stuff—unless something goes wrong and then I can get in trouble fast.

I arrived early and turned on my laptop and got everything up and running but there was no projector and no one there who looked like they could help. (For most of the time it was just me and the organist playing prelude music.) I had brought one of the Council’s projectors just in case (Be Prepared) and went out to my car to bring it in. By then (7:15) people were arriving at a steady rate. When I came back into the chapel the members of the stake presidency were taking their places on the rostrum. After the introductions I asked if there was a projector available and someone who could help me get things setup. I was told they would have to dig it out so I said I would just use the projector I brought.

I set up the projector and got it hooked into the computer but, Murphy’s Law being what it is, the projector couldn’t find the signal from the computer. I know there is an f-key you are supposed to hit but I didn’t know which one (I tried a couple I thought might be right) and the normal icon on the f-key was not there. What to do? It was time to start the meeting. They were waiting for me to finish and all eyes were upon me. I told them not to wait for me.

My stress level was rising. When I’m under stress I start sweating. I could feel the sweat on my sideburns and the back of my neck. Someone help me!!! (Silent earnest prayer.)

While they started the meeting I restarted the computer. During the announcements I checked the projector—and it was working!!! (Silent prayer of thanks.) I was the third and final speaker and my projector was sitting on top of the podium. Poor form. So during the opening hymn I moved the projector down off the podium. I had been told there was a musical number between the second speaker and me so my plan was to reposition the projector during the musical number.

The first speaker was a recently returned missionary from Brazil. I’m sure he gave a nice talk but I was distracted. I noticed there was a portable microphone and a stand on the other side of the rostrum. I assumed it was going to be used for the musical number. I planned on setting up the projector on the top of the pulpit and using the other microphone to speak into. But the pulpit slanted the wrong way. I had to find a way to change the slant. The projector had a little foot that popped down in the front to raise the image but I was pretty sure it wasn’t long enough to overcome the slant of the pulpit. I was looking around and racking my brain to figure out what I could use to prop up the front of the projector. Before the meeting I tried the most obvious thing—a hymn book—but the cover was too smooth and it slid down the pulpit dragging the projector with it. I didn’t think that would make a very good presentation. By now the second speaker was warming to his topic. Although I had no idea what his topic was, I’m sure it was good.

There were two stepping stools on either side of the pulpit but they were both flat. The smaller of the two was covered with carpet and I thought that might provide enough traction to hold the hymn book in place. So now I had a plan: computer to the right of the pulpit, projector on the carpeted stool on top of the projector, me to the left of the pulpit with the microphone in my right hand and my remote-control-advance-the-slide gizmo in my left hand. All set, ready to go. Deep breath, calm down, stop sweating, get in the zone.

I looked at the clock in the back of the chapel. The meeting had been going for over half an hour! Where did the time go? And the second speaker was still going strong. He was a good speaker and was sharing a personal story of a life threatening accident and how priesthood holders had blessed him literally figuratively. Good story, nice spirit, but he was eating well into my time and I had to start rewriting my presentation in my head. Skip this, summarize that. Drop my favorite funny Scouting story—too long. No time for audience participation. As he kept going I kept cutting. And there was still the musical number—perhaps it will be a short one—or it might be all seven verses of “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief” and I could forget my presentation and just bear my testimony and sit down.

The speaker ended and sat down. I relaxed and waited for the musical number. Musical numbers always sooth me and bring the spirit. But nothing was happening. Everyone was looking at me. What’s going on??? The missionary nudged me and whispered, “You’re up.” What?! If I had been listening to the announcements instead of messing around with the projector I would have heard there was no musical number after all.

I jumped up and started messing with the electronics. Some kind soul came over to assist me. The plan was lost and forgotten. Computer on the big stool on the floor, projector on the right, me at the pulpit, where’s the portable microphone? It’s not hooked up? No time, start talking, everyone is staring and waiting. Deep breath, silent prayer, start talking. Who are these people? I don’t know them, they don’t know me—what am I doing here? Forget about all that. I’m a good speaker, I know my subject—START TALKING!!!

“Good morning. I’m Clarke Farrer, the Scout executive of the Grand Teton Council, and it’s an honor to be here with you this morning. This year marks the 100th anniversary of the Boy Scouts of America . . .” Calm, cool, and collected. As I spoke I took out my remote control gizmo and clicked the button to advance the screen to begin my presentation. Nothing happened. I clicked it again with more pressure—nothing. I tried the laser pointer—nothing. The battery was dead. Oh, that’s great, now what?

I asked the missionary if he would serve as my remote control. By now there were only about fifteen minutes left in the meeting. Since the screen was behind be and the computer was on the floor, I couldn’t see what I was doing. I ended up standing beside the pulpit to speak into the microphone and twisting my upper body and neck backwards to look at the screen. I’m sure I looked like a contortionist. And I still held onto my remote control and waved it around like it was some kind of magic wand. Perhaps I was unconsciously hoping it would start working and save me.

Looking back, I should have chucked the presentation and covered the same points in a straight talk format. Is that what the Lord was trying to tell me the whole time? If so, I wasn’t listening. I stumbled through the presentation. No, I sped through the presentation, hitting the high points and skipping about half of it. I doubt it registered on any meaningful level with anyone there—including me. I was dripping wet by the time I sat down.

The Boy Scouts claim the Scouting program builds character. Well, I certainly had my character built that morning. I should probably tear the Public Speaking Merit Badge off my merit badge sash.

Decisive Scouting

2010-01-22T14:14:00.003-07:00

My sister Liz sent me a link to a blog by a friend of hers about Scouting. The title is "Ambivilent (sic) Scouting". I’m not ambivalent about Scouting but I did find the comments (especially the replies) insightful—and a little depressing. As they say, the truth hurts.

http://dandelionmama.wordpress.com/2010/01/19/ambivilent-scouting/#comments

The National BSA organization is in the process of changing the entire approach to Cub Scouting. The new Cub Scouting program being introduced this year is going to be a lot more like Boy Scouting. There is more emphasis on advancement at den meetings, and less expectation for parents to do most of the program at home with their sons. (It’s a little sad if you think about it.)

There are three main reasons for the change:
1. Input from parents (like the moms replying to “Ambivilent Scouting”)
2.The changes in our society (double income families, single moms, no time, etc.)
3.Huge success in test markets where the new program has been used.

The traditional model of Cub Scouting has worked very well for about seventy years, but, like Bob Dylan said, “the times they are a-changing.” And the Boy Scouts’ programs need to change in order to stay current and relevant. Even if we lose a little of the charm.

As for Pinewood Derby races, they have gotten way out of control. I think they should give a trophy to every Cub who enters and only small ribbons to the winners. Better yet, no top winners. Just let the little guys race their cars and have fun. Where does it say there has to be a #1 winner? One winner and the rest are losers—what’s wrong with that picture? That’s not what Scouting is about.

The original idea of the Pinewood Derby was to have fathers (or some other adult) work with their sons on a fun project that taught the sons some meaningful skills. The race was just a way to show off the finished products at the monthly pack meeting. Somehow over the years the race became the focus in most packs. Then again, perhaps I’m just bitter. Neither I (when I was a Cub Scout) nor any of my sons ever won a Pinewood Derby race. But we all had a lot of fun making the cars together.

I’m going to use the ideas expressed in “Ambivilent Scouting” a basis for a discussion with my staff on how we can improve the Cub Scouting program in the Grand Teton Council. If you have any input I’d be happy to hear your suggestions and ideas.

Bella Bella!

2010-01-05T14:36:00.007-07:00

Bella Corrine Farrer entered the world at 6:56 AM this morning. She is 7 pounds, 14 oz., and 19 inches long. Mom and baby are doing fine.

All Cleaned Up

Unwrapped

Big Brother

Nana

Proud Father

Wyatt isn't to sure about this . . .

Nana Reads Wyatt a Book

Dad is Tired

It was a long night

Merry Christmas!

2009-12-15T15:56:00.003-07:00

The Farrer’s 2009 [Christmas Letter]

Clarke continues to direct the Grand Teton Council here in Idaho Falls. Scouting is still going strong thanks to a community that supports the Scouting effort!

Nancy is attending BYU-Idaho to certify in Early Childhood Special Education. Hopefully there’s a job waiting for her as soon as she certifies.

We traveled to San Francisco this summer to attend our nephew Mike Reed’s wedding. It was a lot of fun being with several members of Nancy’s family. However, driving though millions of crickets on the highway on the way back was disgusting!! The noise! The smell! UGH! We also went on a 30 mile canoe trip down the Snake River. We swamped the canoe twice but we had fun and plan to do it again. Our summer vacation was building a patio in our back yard. We had to move 12,000 pounds of rock by hand.

Clarke D., Bethany, and Benjamin (15 months), are living in College Station, Texas, while Clarke finishes up his degree in Recreational Management at Texas A&M. August is his projected graduation month. We are proud of him! Bethany flew up to Idaho Falls with Benjamin in July. It was so good to see them. It’s hard to live apart from them. We’re watching Benjamin grow up on webcam.

Daniel, Sarah, Wyatt (18 months) are living in Rexburg while Dan finishes up his degree in Psychology from BYU-I. He expects to graduate in April. (Hooray!) In January, we’re expecting Bella, our third grandbaby. We’re so excited—but not as much as Sarah is.

Shawn will finish up his mission at the end of March. He’s been serving in a rough part of Newark, New Jersey, and LOVES it. He’s had several baptisms and has grown to love the people he works with and the area/ward that he lives in. Clarke and Nancy both graduated from High School in New Jersey and Connecticut so we’re going to take a stroll down memory lane when we go to pick him up.

Amanda and Derek also live in Rexburg where they both attend BYU-I. They’re busy and happy and are enjoying life. Amanda is working on her Elementary Education degree and Derek is studying Mechanical Engineering.

We love Idaho and the Lord has truly blessed us and our family. Everyone is healthy and happy and firm in their testimony of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.

Season’s greetings with love and best wishes from,

The Farrer Family

Halloween at the Farrer House

2009-11-02T17:14:00.006-07:00

Dad's
Amanda's
Dan's

Darn Kids!

Fish Tales

2009-11-01T20:30:00.003-07:00

Fall is always busy at work. I’d rather be busy than bored, but sometimes it gets too crazy. So, when the opportunity presents itself, I try to maintain a small grasp on my sanity by fishing. There is something about the flow of big water and the promise that a trout might strike that calms me. Catching fish is nice too.

A few weeks ago I had to drop off a trailer full of canoes at Camp Little Lemhi, and since the camp is right on the South Fork of the Snake River, I just had to stop and wet a line. I fished in the camp lake for awhile but the trout were not interested. So I went down to the River to give that a try. I had asked around and found that an emergent stone fly pattern was doing well so I bought a few. I tied one on and after only a few casts I had a fish on the line.

After a nice fight I landed this pretty little cutthroat. I took a quick photo and let it go back to grow some more. I fished until it was too dark to see. I got lots of strikes but couldn’t hook any more. When I reeled my line in and went to clip the fly off I found out why. Sometime after I caught the first fish the end of the hook had broken off. That’s taking the barbless hook thing a little too far.
This time of the year we visit each of the council camps for post-camp inspections. I usually don’t have much time to fish on these visits. I got a little fishing in at Island Park but my favorite spot on the lake wasn’t producing. It had been that way all summer. I walked up to the Warm River which flows through the camp and caught one little brookie. It wasn’t even worthy of a photo.

Two weeks later we drove Salmon River High Adventure Base. Early fall is steelhead season on the Snake River and there were lots of fisherman on the river. Just as we arrived I rigged up my rod and line to see if I could catch a trout. I used the same fly that produced on the Snake—but I made sure this one had a tip. I decided I would allow myself only five casts and then get back to business. On my second cast as I was watching the drift of my fly and I saw a flash of silver and, Wham!, the fish hit my fly—and the fight was on. I pulled in a nice cutthroat, took a photo for bragging rights, and just after I snapped the photo the fish flipped off the hook and made its escape.

After we had completed the camp inspection I slipped down to the river to try my luck before we had to head home. On my second cast I felt a strong strike on my line and as soon as I set the hook I could tell I had a big fish on my line. It had been a LONG time since I had hooked a big fish (since leaving Alaska) and this one really gave me a battle. For tippit I was using a length of heavy line that belonged to my Grandfather Frank Farrer. It was much heavier than I normally would have used but I was feeling nostalgic and I probably would have lost the trout if I had been using a lighter tippit. I finally landed the fish and it was another beautiful cutthroat. A quick photo and the fish went back into the river.

Winter is coming on fast and I’m afraid my fishing is over for the year. I’m glad I’ll have the memory of that nice cutthroat to last me until next spring. I have found time to fish twice since then—but that’s not worth discussing.

Farewell to Summer

2009-11-01T19:28:00.003-07:00

The kids wanted to take another trip down a river. That sounded good to me. I gave them a few options and we decided to float the South Fork of the Snake River in a raft. That would allow Wyatt to come along and we wouldn’t have to leave anyone behind to babysit. So we borrowed one of the Council’s rafts, paddles, and PFD’s and drove to Swan Valley. We dropped a car at the takeout and put in the river just below the Palisades Reservoir, near Little Lemhi Scout Camp.

It was a beautiful day—perfect for floating the river. Wyatt did NOT like wearing a life jacket but he loves water so much we were afraid he might just jump overboard. He was pretty fussy because he didn’t like being so restrained. (At least that’s what I think—he really didn’t say.)

Derek and I fished off opposite sides of the raft while the others paddled. Periodically I had to interrupt my fishing to steer—a minor inconvenience.
The best part of the float was shortly after we launched when we reached the haystacks—a series of waves that gave us a good rollercoaster ride for about one-hundred feet. The rest of the float was pretty calm. We passed Falls Creek Falls which is always very scenic. Just past the falls the river gave us a full 360-degree spin before we knew what hit us. That was fun too.

Someone once said, a little boating can greatly enhance a fishing trip, but too much boating can ruin a good fishing trip. That was the case for Derek and me. We passed lots of drift boaters fishing and they would all stop to fish in the good holes. We didn’t really have any way of stopping—short of jumping out of the raft—and our crew wasn’t too interested in our attempts at fishing. Every few casts the only person in the raft who thought she could boss me around would ask, “are you going to fish or steer?” Just because we were drifting towards a rock or a tree wasn’t a very good reason to disturb a good cast or drift. I’m sure that’s why I didn’t catch anything. It couldn’t be my lack of skill.

We decided to make it a short trip and took out just above the Swan Valley Bridge. That’s about a ten-mile float. Derek and I fished from shore while the girls drove back up the river road to get the other vehicle. It was a beautiful day, a nice float, a grumpy baby, and great company. The fish can wait for another day.

Blood Sweat & Tears

2009-08-24T19:24:00.006-06:00

We FINALLY finished our patio project. We have been working on it literally all summer.

Since there was no way to get a bobcat or other equipment into our backyard we had to load and unload everything by hand and move everything by wheelbarrow. We had to haul out several truckloads of dirt and rocks, haul in a dump truck load of gravel, several trailer loads of sand, and then we had to move in the paving rocks. We had to unload over 10,000 pounds of paving stones. 10,000 POUNDS! Oh my aching back!!!!!

We bought four huge rocks to use as steps. They each weighed about 400 pounds. They were so heavy we had to get our neighbors the Hafens (they have three strapping teenage sons) to help us unload the rocks and move then into the backyard. Talk about blood, sweat, and tears!

Now that the project is complete we think all the work was worth it. But you be the judge . . .

Canoeing Swimming and Having Fun

2009-08-21T13:33:00.004-06:00

The Grand Teton Council operates a Scout camp on the South Fork of the Snake River just below Palisades Reservoir in beautiful Swan Valley Idaho. Little Lemhi is a picturesque camp that sits in a small alcove valley on the south side of the river. As part of their program the camp runs a high adventure canoe trip on the South Fork for older Scouts. Since we moved here I have wanted to take the trip so I could understand their program and be able to speak intelligently about it. I also knew it would be a fun day out of the office.

On July 31st Nancy and I drove to Camp Little Lemhi to join the canoe trip. I knew they offered a half-day trip and an overnight trip. The half day trip puts in just below the camp and floats about five-miles to the takeout just upstream from the Highway 26 Bridge. The overnight trip puts in below camp and floats about forty-miles to the takeout at Heise. (Locals pronounce it High-C.) I thought we were going on the five-mile float.

There was a Varsity team (14 to 15-year-old Scouts) that had started the overnight float on Thursday night and we were joining them on Friday morning for the rest of their trip. They had paddled from camp to a little island just above where Fall Creek enters the river. The staff named the island Mosquito Island for apparent reasons.

Unlike our Island Park/Yellowstone canoe trek where we bought new high-quality Old Town river canoes for the program, the Little Lemhi trek uses old heavy aluminum lake canoes—the same kind of canoes that are used in Scout camps all over the country. They work very well and are virtually Scout-proof, but using lake canoes on a big river has its disadvantages. They are heavy and therefore more difficult to maneuver. Lake canoes also have a keel that runs the length of the canoe. The keel keeps the canoe running on a straight course through the water—which is a great advantage on lakes and in high winds—but on a river the keel makes it harder to steer and if it catches on a rock the current can flip you like a pancake.

Nancy and I were given a canoe, paddles, and lifejackets and off we went down the river. The first thing we came to was the Fall Creek Falls which are always very scenic. This year the creek was running at full capacity due to the heavy winter snowfall and wet spring.

Soon after the falls we came to the Highway 26 Bridge over the river. The bridge pylons are one of the only true hazards on this part of the river. The South Fork of the Snake River is big deep and wide and flows at a pretty good rate through Swan Valley. If a canoe hits broadside against a bridge pylon the power of the water quickly swamps the canoe and can wrap the canoe around the pylon pinning it and anything (or anyone) in it underwater. The river guides warned the Scouts to be sure they stayed away from the pylons and to run straight through the openings.

After a couple of miles on the river we came to a set of rapids—big riffles really. It was our first true challenge and Nancy and I came through without any problems. We shipped a little water over the bow as we broke through waves but nothing too serious. One of the Scouts’ canoes swamped in the rapids and I was very impressed at how quickly and efficiently the lead river guide came to their rescue and single handedly emptied their canoe of water using the curl technique and got them back on their way. The river’s banks are steep and the water is swift so there are few places to get to shore to empty a swamped canoe. It has to be done on open water.

There were three staff members serving as guides on the trip. There was a lead guide and two guides who were training under her. They were using a point and sweep formation. The lead guide was at the point, leading the group, and no one was to get ahead of her. The second guide was sweeping, in the rear, and no one was to get behind her. The third guide was the stern paddler in a canoe with the weakest Scout paddler in the bow and they stayed in the middle of the pack. This plan worked very well but at times—especially in rapids—the group tended to bunch up too much and I don’t like to be crowded and need room to maneuver in whitewater.

A couple of miles later we came to another set of rapids—larger than the first. We had some confidence from the previous rapids and paddled our way through most of them with little trouble. Near the tail of the rapids we were cut off by one of the Scout’s canoes and another canoe was pushed by the current onto our right side. I was steering hard to the left to avoid a collision—which in rapids will almost certainly cause a capsizing. We got on an angle to the current and I felt the current grab the keel of our canoe and before we could react our canoe swamped and we were swimming in the river.

The water was shockingly cold and we both had a hard time breathing for a minute. The lead guide was quickly to our rescue, emptied our canoe, and steadied it as we climbed back in. With no damage (except our pride and Nancy’s lost sunglasses) we were on our way again.

In the next rapids the leaders of the Varsity team swamped and were rescued by the lead guide—busy girl! We paddled over and I thanked them for swamping to make us feel better. Soon after that we stopped for a snack and bio-break. After another hour of smooth water we stopped for lunch and a rest. The Scouts found a couple of garter snakes and had fun chasing them for awhile. They caught one and the other one escaped unmolested. In typical boy fashion a few of the Scouts wanted to smash the snake with a rock but we convinced them to release it unharmed.

After lunch we got back in the canoes and headed on our way. We had stopped just upstream from a protected area for bald eagle nesting. The area was posted and no stopping was allowed for several miles. We were able to see two bald eagles, one soaring and one perched in a tree, which is always a thrill. We also saw several egrets, herons, and buzzards during the float.

We went several miles without incident. There were a number of small rapids, some sweepers to avoid, and the river branched, divided, and split around islands in several places, but there were no serious rapids or obstacles to cause any problems. In fact, the river was almost boring for the last several miles of the float—until about a mile from our takeout.

The most common obstacles on the river were drift boats and fly-fishermen, and they were everywhere. We did our best to steer clear of them but in some places they were so numerous there was no way to avoid them. At one point we came around a bend just as a guide lost his drift boat. He had pulled up to shore and his client was wading in the river fly-fishing. The guide had beached the boat and was watching and coaching the client. As we watched the boat started to drift downstream and by the time the guide noticed it he had to run hard after it, dive in the water, and swim fast before the river carried it away. It made for an amusing moment.

Close to the end of our trip the river made a large zig-zag curve and there were some big rapids we had to run—the largest of the day. To make things more interesting there were several big jet boats powering upstream just as we were negotiating the rapids downstream. Although non-powered watercraft have the right-of-way over powered craft the operators either didn’t know or care about that little rule. That made some difficult rapids even more challenging.

Nancy and I got though the worst of rapids just fine and as I was feeling the rush of victory and complimenting my paddling partner for a good run the current hit our keel just as both of us were leaning to the left and over we went.

So, we had to be rescued again. My poor wounded pride. My poor wet cold wife. My poor sunglasses I loaned to her and never saw again. I was in the stern so I have no one to blame but myself—the stern-man is the skipper. I’ll have to cut a corner off my canoeing merit badge.

About a mile after our second swim was the Heise takeout and boat ramp. We got everyone off the river, loaded the canoes on the trailer, and Nancy and I squished our way to my car and drove home. We had a wonderful time but what I thought would be a five-mile easy (dry) float ended up being a thirty-mile double wet trip. This was the first—and I was afraid the last—time Nancy had been river canoeing with me.

Just a week later Nancy and I were at Powder Horn and part of that training included a canoe trip down Henry’s Fork of the Snake River. That’s the same trip I took the kids on last fall. Much to my surprise Nancy agreed to brave another river with me. It was a great trip and we blasted through several rapids like pros. We stayed dry this time and Nancy might even go canoeing with me again some time. (But not on the South Fork.)

Powder Horn

2009-08-18T15:23:00.014-06:00

Nancy and I have been off “playing” again. (Nancy was playing, I was working.) We attended a BSA training course called Powder Horn offered by the Grand Teton Council at our Island Park Scout Camp. I served on staff and Nancy was a participant, but there wasn’t much difference in what we did.

The purpose of Powder Horn is to train Scout leaders how to organize and plan high adventure activities for older Scouts and Venturers, and to expose the participants to a variety of high adventure programs presented by experts in the field. We learned about primitive living skills, mountaineering, low impact camping, backpacking, fly tying and fly fishing, ecology and plant identification, dutch oven cooking, whitewater river running, scuba diving, sailing, caving, mountain biking, GPS navigation, expedition planning, climbing and rappelling, rifle, pistol, and shotgun shooting, archery, and working with youth.

Here are photos of some of the things we did:

Nancy Crossing Warm Creek

Nancy Trying to Make Fire

Mountain Biking the Warm River Trail (the old narrow guage railroad bed to Yellowstone NP)

Dutch Oven Chef

Modern Mermaid

Look Out--She's Armed and Dangerous!

Road Trip!

2009-07-16T17:54:00.005-06:00

Nancy and I just got back from a 1,800 mile road trip to California for Nancy’s nephew’s (Michael Reed) wedding. On Thursday we drove ~12 hours to Sacramento, CA. We checked into our hotel and then went to visit with the Lopez family. (Nancy’s sister Anne and her family.) The next morning we drove about an hour to Novato where the wedding was going to take place at the Inn Marin on Highway 101. Nancy’s nephews Ryan (14) and Joey (10) Lopez rode with us and we had fun visiting with them. Ryan reminds us a lot of our son Shawn—very funny and handsome. They have a similar look—very Davis/Scottish. After we checked into our hotel we took Ryan and Joey to Muir Beach on the ocean north of the bay. As soon as we arrived the boys decided they wanted to climb the mountain south of the beach—and off they went. Nancy said, “I’m sitting here on the beach” and she did. So I followed the boys up the mountain. Since we live at 5,000 feet above sea level I figured I could keep up with the little California punks just fine. And I did keep up with them—every time they stopped and waited for me. I huffed and puffed my way up the mountain (it was really just a large steep hill) while they ran circles around me. We finally reached the top and I thought we should sit and enjoy the view and the wind blowing off the ocean (while I caught my breath). Ryan said, “I’m running all the way down!” and Joey said, “Me too!” and off they went. I finally caught up to them down on the beach and we chased crabs and played on the beach. Ryan started chasing Joey with a crab and Joey tripped and fell in the water and his clothes got soaked. He wasn’t very happy but I got it all on video and it was pretty funny. We drove back up to Novato for the rehearsal dinner and an evening of visiting with family and wedding guests. Mike and Donna actually got married a year ago by a justice of the peace so this was a show wedding. Everyone (except the Davis Clan) was drinking pretty heavily but no one got fall down drunk or too loud and obnoxious. On Saturday morning we went into San Francisco for a few hours. I drove with Nancy, her sister Bunny, and her parents Ron and Margaret Davis in our car. Margaret had never been to San Francisco. We went to the Japanese Tea Garden, Lombard Street, Pier 39, and Fisherman's Warf. We saw several street performers and we watched the sea lions for awhile. We had lunch at Fisherman's Grotto and then we had to drive back up to Novato to get ready for the wedding. The wedding was nice. About two dozen people were there. It was an outdoor wedding under a big magnolia tree in a park area behind the Inn. Donna's family is Scottish as well so the music was performed by a bagpiper in full Scottish garb. The ceremony was very simple and it was conducted by a female minister. Joey was the ring bearer and there was a cute little flower girl from Donna’s family as well. After the wedding ceremony the drinking started up again and went until dinner started. At dinner there was champagne for toasts and wine with the meal—we drank water (in case you were worried). We were there talking and dancing until bedtime. The next day we drove Ryan and Joey back to Sacramento and stayed there for about an hour visiting with Anne, Jesus, Ron, and Margaret. Then we drove to South Lake Tahoe and stopped there for dinner and a walk along the beach. It's a beautiful area. We drove the back roads through Carson City Nevada, Reno, and then on to Winnemucca where we spent the night. Before we left town we stopped for gas at a Maverik station in Winnemucca and got a heck of a deal. As I started to pump the gas I noticed the pump price was $.65 per gallon. I knew that couldn’t be right. I checked the other side of the pump and it showed $.67 per gallon. I walked over to the next pump and it showed $2.65 and that matched the price on the station’s sign. After I filled up the tank (12 gallons for $8.00) I went in and told the store manager about the $.65 price and offered to pay her the correct price. She said, “It’s your lucky day. I set the price on the pump wrong.” I was also buying a liter bottle of soda for the road and when I handed it to her to ring up she said, “That will be $10.” The next morning we drove the back roads again north though Nevada up to Idaho. While driving between Wild Horse Reservoir and Duck Valley (we saw no horses or ducks) we came across hordes of Mormon crickets crossing the road. At first there were just a few, then a lot, . . . then millions of them. They were all over the road and it was stained a reddish brown with their squashed bodies. We could hear them pop as our tires rolled over them. The smell was noxious and the tires and car got covered with cricket slime. It was pretty gross! Nancy was driving and she was freaking out as we drove through the worst of the swarms. We entered Idaho in the southwest corner at Duck Valley and then drove the back roads northeast across the state through Mountain Home, Camas Valley, past Craters of the Moon National Monument, and into Arco. We had dinner at the Pickle Place in Arco, a quaint little small-town cafe. Then east across the Arco desert, past Idaho National Laboratory (INL nuclear test facilities) and back to Idaho Falls. Except for the crickets (and parts of northern Nevada) it was a beautiful drive.

A Fine and Pleasant Misery

2009-06-22T19:15:00.006-06:00

Patrick McManus, one of my favorite authors, titled one of his books A Fine and Pleasant Misery. Here is my story of a fine and pleasant misery I recently enjoyed.
In a land that is dominated by rivers and lakes (not to mention mountains) it shouldn’t be a surprise that canoeing is a popular sport. The Grand Teton Council runs a high adventure canoe trek out of our Island Park Scout Camp. The trek starts at the boat ramp on Lewis Lake near the south entrance of Yellowstone National Park. I was recently invited by the camp director, Dan Deakin, to go with his staff on the trek to “inspect the campsites” they will be using and see how the trek operates. Since I have gone to all our other camps’ pre-camp inspections I felt like I “had” to do this one as well.

I met the group at 6:AM at Dan’s home (it’s actually owned by the Council) in Jackson, Wyoming. That meant I had to leave my home at 4:AM. And I had gone to bed at 2:AM because I stayed up all night packing for the trip. I hadn’t packed earlier because Nancy and I had been in Chicago visiting our kids and flew into Idaho Falls at 11:30 PM the night before the trek. (Do you feel sorry for me yet?)

It was a cloudy rainy morning and we drove through some of the most beautiful country in the world on the highway from Jackson to the south entrance of Yellowstone NP, but the visibility was about one mile due to the low clouds and we couldn’t see the mountains. But we did see buffalo herds, elk, eagles, and lots of waterfowl. We arrived at the Park and checked in at the ranger’s cabin to get our permits and I bought a park fishing license. From there it was just a short drive to the boat ramp at Lewis Lake. We unloaded the canoes and loaded them up with gear for the trek. Each of us had a large dry bag for our personal gear plus a few extra items of crew gear. My canoe partner was Casey and we had the crew’s food bag in our canoe.

From the boat ramp we paddled west and north across the lake to the west shore and then followed the shoreline north for about two miles to a thermal area right on the bank of lake. We rested there for awhile and warmed our feet in the hot water where it flowed into the lake. We would need the warmth for what was soon to come.
We were about 7,800 feet above sea level and it was a cold cloudy day. Much of the land was still covered in snow drifts—particularly in the shade of the large lodge pole pine groves. There were many meadows and swamps along the shore of the lake and we saw elk and lots of birds; bald eagles, loons, geese, pelicans, and other waterfowl.

After paddling another mile we reached the inlet of the Lewis River in the northwest corner of Lewis Lake. We paddled up the river and for the first two miles the river was wide and there was very little current. We stopped at Fishing Rock for lunch. I opted to fish rather than eat but didn’t get as much as a strike. It started to rain as we were loading up to head out again. The last half-mile of the river is too swift to paddle so some of us changed into swim suits to keep our pants dry. After another half-mile of paddling the river’s current started to increase and soon, even though we were paddling at full strength, we were making no upstream progress. So we went to shore and it was time to wade.

I have done a lot of crazy things in my life, and I have done my share of stupid things as well. I shattered my knee in a climbing accident, had two knee surgeries, had a hernia repair, and a handful of other physically painful experiences. Jumping into the Lewis River in early June was just as crazy, stupid, and painful as anything I have ever experienced. I went first and was quickly engulfed in freezing cold water and numbing pain. I waded and pulled the canoe for as long as I could stand it (I’d guess it was only about 100-yards) and then I stumbled out and let Casey take over. My legs were beet red and numb from the knees down. I jumped around and jogged up and down the trail to try and get the blood flowing again. All too soon it was my turn to wade back into the icy river and pull the canoe. After my feet and legs were numb the pain was dulled and I found that I could tolerate it well enough. But I kept hitting stretches of deep water and had to wade out around many fallen trees and was in freezing cold water up to my waist and that was excruciating. We traded back and forth like that for about half a mile until we reached a point where Casey and I decided it would be better to paddle against the current than to spend another second in the frigid water.

We were pretty close to the outlet of Shoshone Lake and the others in our group were still wading up the river. We paddled far enough that we could see the lake. We could also see the rainstorm that was blowing south towards us, the whitecaps on the lake, and the waves breaking on the shore. We paddled back to where the others were getting into their canoes and told the trek leaders that the conditions looked pretty exciting on the lake.

Our group consisted of eight staff members, including me, in four canoes, and seven members of Venture Crew 500 from Soda Springs, Idaho, in three canoes. I was concerned that the Venturers would soon be suffering from hypothermia after wading up the chilly river and then being hit with a rain storm. Once we entered the Lewis River we were in a designated wilderness area and no fires were allowed. A nice warm fire to warm us up and dry out our wet clothes would have been the perfect solution while we waited for the storm to pass. But we were in a National Park and we had to abide by their rules. So, instead of a fire we all stood on the shore of Shoshone Lake and did what I call the Hypothermic Dance. We were all standing in a clump jogging in place and looking pretty stupid. Soon the storm reached us and, for a delightful change of pace, it started to hail. Fortunately it passed over quickly and the lake calmed down enough for us to jump into the canoes and paddle like madmen to the first campsite. The paddling served to get our blood flowing again and stave off hypothermia.

The National Park limits groups to eight or less so we had to split our group in two. We decided that we needed to get Crew 500 into dry tents and warm clothes as soon as possible so they got the closest campsite. The rangers of our country’s first National Park in some of the most awe inspiring scenery on earth selected inspirational names for their campsites. Crew 500’s campsite was named “8S1 Outlet” which is just to the east of the river’s outlet. We helped the crew get their tents set up and made sure they changed into dry clothes. Two of the crew members and their leader were well into stage 1 hypothermia and on their way to stage 2. They brought out their camp stoves and started warming water and cooking their dinner. Once we were satisfied they would be okay we headed back to our canoes and across the outlet to our campsite.

We paddled about a half a mile west to “8Q9 Channel” to make our camp. Most of the campsite was buried in one to two feet of snow so we had to pitch our tents under large pine trees where the snow had not accumulated. We could look back across the outlet and see Crew 500’s canoes on the beach near their campsite. We quickly set up our tents and changed into dry clothes and then cooked our dinners. Each canoe pair also cooked and ate together. We were testing out some dehydrated trail meals that had been purchased from BSA’s Philmont High Adventure Base. Casey and I had chicken and rice, green beans, and dried pineapple chunks. It was very good, but we were so cold and hungry that I think warm buffalo chips would have tasted good.
Another staff member named Corey and I went fishing in separate canoes after dinner. I used every fly in my box that I thought might look tasty to a trout but after an hour I hadn’t even had a single strike so I decided it was time to get in out of the cold. About a half-hour later Cory came back with two nice lake trout. He was using spinning gear and lures so you can’t really count that as fishing. After some good natured ribbing about my fishing skills, and an hour’s lesson on BSA trekking rules, I decided to call it a night and crawled into my tent.

Just about the time I got settled in and ready to sleep it started raining again. For some reason I can’t recall I had opted to bring the smallest of our tents which is a little dome tent. It’s great for backpacking—in good weather. It is 6-feet across and I am 6’1” tall. As the rain fell I was entertained by watching the water leak through my tent along the seams and I remembered that I had made a mental note to apply seam-sealer to the tent the last time I had used it in wet weather. Well, my mental notes are as good as the paper they are written on and I knew I was going to get wet before the night was over. Fortunately I had wrapped my sleeping bag in a garbage sack so I put that under the top of my sleeping pad in an attempt to at least keep my head dry.

Even though I was only operating on one-and-a-half hours of sleep in the previous 48 hours it took me a long time to fall asleep. I never sleep well in a strange bed and even worse when I’m camping. I’d just drift off to sleep and then wake to what I thought was a woman talking. After several times I realized it was someone in the nearest tent snoring. Sometime during the night the rain turned to snow and I could hear the difference in the sound on the top of my tent. Several times I woke up and knocked the snow off my tent. I’m not sure why, I just did.

The birds woke up at about 6:AM and so did I. Someone kept throwing snowballs at my tent and I thought it might be the trek leader’s way of trying to wake me up. It was a beautiful clear morning with two inches of new snow on the ground. I put up a clothes line and hung up all my wet clothes to dry out. My tent had collected an impressive amount of water inside during the night so I hung up my sleeping bag as well. The top was dry but the bottom was wet. My clothes that were dry when I went to bed had conveniently soaked up the pond forming in my tent. I realized—too late—that I could have kept all my dry clothes in my dry bag during the night but I wasn’t thinking too well on sleep deprivation and frozen brain cells.

No one else was awake so I grabbed my fly rod and went out in the canoe to catch some breakfast. It was an incredibly beautiful morning. The lake was glass smooth, the air was clean and fresh, and there was not another soul in sight—it was great to be alive! The only sound was the plop and splash of melting snow falling off the pine branches on the shore and the edges of the lake where the trees leaned out over the water. I drifted around the bay and tried several different flies but the fish were not interested. During the night there had been a hatch of small black gnats and there were thousands floating on the water but not a single fish was rising anywhere. So I used nymphs and wet flies and fished deep but never got a strike. We were supposed to be ready to paddle by 8:AM so after about an hour of fishless solitude I paddled back to the campsite to pack up my gear and get ready to go.

As I walked back to my tent I kept getting hit by clumps of melting snow falling off the trees. That’s when I realized what I thought were snowballs earlier were just wads of snow hitting my tent. When I got to my clothesline I saw that my damp clothes and sleeping bag were now drenched by melting snow falling on them. I took everything down and moved my clothesline onto the beach away from the trees and melting snow. By then the rest of the crew started crawling out of their tents to face the day. It was sunny and clear but in the trees it sounded like it was raining hard from the melting snow and everything was soaked. Pretty soon our wilderness camp looked like a Gypsy camp with clothes and bags hung everywhere.

I took down the bear bag and cooked breakfast (oatmeal, hot chocolate, and granola bars) and filled my Nalgene bottle with hot apple cider. Then I fried up the two fish Cory had caught the night before. I simmered them in wild chives and apple cider. About that time Crew 500 showed up ready for the day’s paddle but our group was nowhere near ready to go. We quickly packed up and loaded our canoes while Crew 500 ate Chef Clarke’s Trout al la Yellowstone.

We paddled along the southern shore of Shoshone lake for about three miles to the “Narrows” and crossed over to the northern shore. The lake has an hourglass shape and the safest place to cross is at the Narrows where the lake is only about half a mile wide. Several people have been killed on this lake when they got too far from shore and were caught by one of the sudden storms that often blow through. Shoshone Lake is the largest wilderness lake in the US and since it is at a high altitude the water never gets much above 40-degrees. If a person ends up in the lake they can quickly die of exposure. To prevent this from happening our treks always hug the shore and “sprint” across the Narrows when the lake is calm—usually in the early morning.

Our next campsite “8R1 Windy Point” was at the west end of the Narrows. Our trek leader, Chris, decided the staff group would set up camp there. We set up our tents to let them dry out and since it was a beautiful sunny day I put up my clothesline and hung up my wet clothes and bag to dry. We then got back into the canoes and paddled another mile and a half to the second campsite “8R4 Flat Top” (the campsite names were improving) where Crew 500 would be spending the night. As they set up their camp we made our lunches and relaxed for awhile.

After everyone had eaten and cleaned up we got back in the canoes and headed for the western tip of the lake to visit Shoshone Geyser Basin. It was another mile and a half paddle with the sun shining and a light breeze blowing from the west. The Geyser Basin is an area of thermal vents and geysers much like you see in the Old Faithful area but this is wilderness and the only way in is by foot or paddle. There are no crowds, no boardwalks, no danger signs, and no fences. There is a trail that winds through the area and we were able to see lots of neat thermal features. Casey was acting like a kid in a candy store and he told me he had just graduated with a degree in geology and plans on being a volcanologist. He took photos of everything you might expect and lots of things you wouldn’t, such as rocks, plants, pinecones, and mud.

After about an hour of hiking around we had smelled enough sulfur and went back to the canoes. We paddled back to Flat Top and left Crew 500 there and we went on to Windy Point. We finished setting up our campsite and started cooking our dinner. Casey and I had dehydrated pasta primavera with corn, banana chips and cheesecake. (Not all together.) It was all very good. After dinner Chris taught a session on trek leadership, which I listened to from my tent. There was a light rain during the night but I had used my dry bag and the garbage sack to keep my sleeping bag away from the tent walls and so they kept (mostly) dry and I slept a lot better.
The next morning we got an early start and hustled through breakfast and breaking down camp so we could be ready to meet Crew 500 on the lake at 8:30. I was ready to go at 8:AM so I fished until the group was ready to go. I had no luck. (I’d given up on skill since I was clearly lacking in that area.) This was to be a full day of paddling as we were going to return the way we came all the way back to the boat ramp in one trip. The lake was dead calm so we crossed the Narrows first thing and then followed the southern shore back to the outlet. Along the way we saw many waterfowl and passed by a family of otters swimming in the lake.

We gathered near the outlet for some instruction by Chris on river running and whitewater paddling. Chris told the group that he would take the lead because he knows the river very well. He told us to just follow him and go where he goes. Chris’ canoe took the lead, followed by the three Crew 500 canoes, then Casey and me, and then the two other staff canoes. Our plan was that if any of the crew canoes got into trouble we would be behind them to help rescue them. The river flows straight for about 100-yards and then takes a sharp bend to the right. Right in the middle of the bend is a fallen tree that juts out about half way across the river. As Casey and I came to the bend we saw Chris’ canoe wedged perpendicular into the tree and the second canoe, as instructed, following straight into them. We yelled to the second canoe and told them to go to shore but the current pushed them parallel into the tree right behind Chris’ canoe. The other two crew canoes were able to get around the tree and to the opposite shore. We stopped about fifty-feet upstream from the second canoe on the same side of the river. Chris and Nathan were struggling to free themselves and their canoe from the tree.

River runners call these fallen trees sweepers because they are like giant brooms that will sweep you overboard. Often boats will be capsized by the current against the sweeper and pinned underwater by the power of the current. If the boaters do not escape they can be pinned in the boat or branches and either drown or die of exposure. Chris and Nathan were able to move their canoe carefully under the tree while they climbed over it. Fortunately this was a very old sweeper and most of the branches had been broken off over the years. But the second canoe was still wedged up against it. I told them to be careful because the current would flip their canoe if they leaned too far into it. They slowly pulled themselves along the tree across the current and several times they came very close to capsizing but we would yell to them and they would level out their canoe. After a few tense minutes Cory jumped out of his canoe, waded across the river, pulled them off the sweeper, and rescued them—what a hero! Why didn’t I think of that?

Once we got around that first bend and past the killer sweeper the rest of the run was pretty easy. There was only one short stretch that had any real whitewater. There were several other sweepers, submerged trees, and rocks but the river was fairly straight and it was easy to steer around the obstacles. Since this is a wilderness area the Park Service doesn’t maintain the river or cut the sweepers. I think a little chainsaw action or one stick of dynamite would make that first bend in the river a lot safer. All’s well that ends well but it was touch and go for a few minutes. I’m glad Cory was daring and jumped in and pulled the canoe off the sweeper.

When we caught up to Chris I told him that the old French Canadian trappers used to call sweepers by their French name embaras, which is French for embarrassing. Chris agreed they were well named. He said that he had never seen the river’s current that strong and it pulled them right into the sweeper before they had a chance to steer around it. I’m grateful no one got hurt and nothing got damaged—except Chris’ pride.

The rest of the run was uneventful. I asked Casey to paddle us while I fished the river. We proceeded that way until we floated to Fishing Rock. I didn’t even have a strike but it was a pleasant day and a beautiful river to be fishing in. I kept my line out and trolled as we paddled down the rest of the river and out into Lewis Lake. It started raining lightly as we got onto the lake and we stopped again at the thermal area on the northwest part of the lake. We all got out and put on our rain gear and then started on our last leg of the trip.

We passed another armada of boats on our way. They were heading north as we were going south. It rained lightly off and on for the rest of our trip down the western shore and our final sprint across the southern tip of the lake to the boat ramp. As we got closer to the ramp we could see and hear the vehicles on the highway and we knew we had left the wilderness behind. It’s always a bittersweet moment for me when I have been on a backcountry outing and start to approach civilization again. I think I know how John Colter felt after crossing the continent with the Corps of Discovery. As they were heading back east and approaching the settlements along the Missouri River they met two trappers heading west into the high country. Colter asked and received permission from Lewis and Clark to go with the trappers and he was discharged from the Corps. He had seen enough of civilization and wanted to live free in the mountains. But they didn’t have flushing toilets and king size beds back then, and Colter didn’t have a wife at home.

It was back to civilization for us. We reached the boat ramp without incident. We unloaded the canoes, put the gear, paddles, and life jackets in the vehicles, cleaned off the canoes (as required by invasive species laws in this part of the country), and started driving back towards Jackson. I was following Dan who was driving the truck pulling the canoe trailer. We hadn’t gone a mile when the trailer full of expensive canoes suddenly started swerving all over the road and swaying so badly that I thought it was going to tip over. Dan slowed down and pulled over. It turns out that the nut holding the ball on the truck’s trailer hitch had stripped lose and fallen off. The only things that were holding the trailer to the truck were the safety chains.

We pulled off the road to let all the impatient tourists in their motor homes pass us in their rush to get through all that gorgeous country. We hooked the trailer onto my Envoy and I pulled it back to Jackson. On the way we saw deer, elk, lots of buffalo, and a bald eagle. After we left Yellowstone NP and entered Grand Teton NP we came around a bend and saw several vehicles pulled off the road and some stopped in the middle of the road. That usually means there is a large animal in the area so we slowed down to look. (Not that we had any choice since the road was blocked.) Sure enough, there was a moose feeding in a pond on the west side of the road. As I was waiting for the road to clear I noticed movement to my left on the east side of the road. There was a large bear ambling along the side of a steep hill heading the same direction we were. It was about one-hundred yards away from us passing in and out of trees and brush so I couldn’t tell if it was a black bear or a grizzly. It was dark brown and looked quite large and I’d guess it was a big male black bear.
I wish I had a video camera—not for the bear, but for all the tourists with their binoculars, spotting scopes, cameras, and huge telescopic lenses taking pictures of a moose as a bear walked right past them on the other side of the road. As we passed the crowd Chris leaned out the window and asked in a loud voice, “What are you looking at?” Several people excitedly pointed and answered, “There’s a moose right there in the pond!” Chris replied, “Well, you’re missing the bear on the other side.” That started a near panic and rush to see the bear. It’s too bad it passed behind a low hill about then.

It was an hour’s drive through some of the most incredible scenery on earth. This time we could see the Teton Range as we drove through the valley. There were still lots of clouds but they were dancing in and out of the tops of the peaks and giving the view a dramatic backdrop. We passed the National Elk Refuge on the way but all the elk have moved up into the high country. We arrived in Jackson and drove to Dan’s house. I dropped the trailer, unloaded the crew gear from my vehicle, and headed home. To cap off my wilderness adventure I stopped by Wendy’s and bought myself some fast-food to ease my transition back into civilization. As I drove and munched on hot french-fries I pondered on the fine and pleasant misery I had just survived and enjoyed, and the pleasures and dangers of modern society.

What's Up?

2009-05-28T09:39:00.003-06:00

Most of my days/weeks/months are so crazy with work that I don’t have time to do what I have to do, let alone the things I want to do. You’d think by now I’d have learned to manage my time better but there is always more to do than I have time for. At times I feel like I’m almost getting caught up and then I have to go out of town for a meeting or conference and when I return I am buried again in mail, email, and phone calls to return. The good news is it’s all normal business and not any big crisis or emergency situations like I had for my first year here in Idaho—just a bunch of little fires and no big explosions (knock on wood).

Our family is doing great. Nancy is teaching pre-school Special Ed full time. She is filling in for a teacher who is on maternity leave through the end of the school year. She loves working with the special-needs children and has decided to go back to school to certify as a Special Ed teacher. She has a real gift of love for those special souls.

Dan and Derek are "Bug Boys" selling pest control systems in the Chicago area for the summer and seem to be doing well. Sarah, Wyatt, and Amanda are there with them. Amanda has been job hunting but has not been able to find employment there yet. Nancy and I are flying out in a week to visit. We miss our kids a little, but we miss Wyatt a lot. He turns one on June 2nd.

Clarke just finished his Junior year at Texas A&M and is holding his own with grades and part-time work at FedEx. He just landed a summer internship at Caddo Lake State Park on the Texas Louisiana border, not far from Shreveport, LA. They are keeping their apartment in Bryant but he had to quit his FedEx job to take the internship. He will be chasing gators and poachers all summer. We talk to them each week on Skype so we can see Benjamin growing up, but it’s not the same as being with him in person—but it’s better than not seeing him at all.

Shawn is doing great on his mission. I assume those who are interested are keeping up-to-date through his weekly emails and the blog I made for his mission information: http://farrerawaynj.blogspot.com We had a great visit with him on Mothers’ Day. It’s hard to believe he has been out over a year. He was recently transferred to East Orange which is 95% black. He’s having a great experience there.

My "Honey Do" list has included removing eight trees from our yard that Nancy didn't like. When the roots came up so did our sprinkler pipes so my next project was to repair the sprinkler system. I tried to save some money by using some old pvc pipe that was in the garage when we bought the house. That ended up making the job twice as hard because the pipe was brittle and had several hairline cracks that I didn’t know were there until I turned the water on. Fortunately I was smart enough to check the system before I reburied it.

The next project was to plant eight new trees to replace the ones we tore out. Two locust trees for shade, two pear trees (no partridges), a peach tree, an apricot tree, a Camperdown elm, and a mystery tree (hackberry?) that was growing in the backyard and is now in the front yard.

My current project is to replace our patio deck. Nancy and her Father tore out most of the old framing (much of it was rotting) and I replaced it with pressure treated wood. On Memorial Day I finished the framing and put down a new deck using Trex (plastic wood). All I have left to do now are the nooks and crannies, railings, and finishing touches.

Our next project is to build a patio area off the deck. Then I can rest. Hah!

So, that's what's happening in my life right now.

Shoshone Falls

2009-04-30T19:25:00.004-06:00

Last fall I drove to Twin Falls, Idaho, with a couple of key council volunteers for a meeting of the top leaders from the three Scout councils in Idaho. (The others are in Boise and Twin Falls.)

On our way back to Idaho Falls we stopped by Shoshone Falls “The Niagra of the West” to check them out since none of us had been there before.

Here is what we saw:

Yesterday I brought nine of my professional staff members to Twin Falls for a training conference on expanding Scouting into multi-cultural markets.

On our way back to Idaho Falls we stopped by Shoshone Falls to check them out since the water is flowing at peak volume due to the spring run-off.

Check out the difference in the falls:

Now THAT looks more like Niagra!

Casa Grande

2009-04-30T15:35:00.004-06:00

Boy Scouts sell popcorn as a fundraiser like Girl Scouts sell cookies. (But the girls sell a LOT more cookies.) Every year the major vendor of Boy Scout popcorn, Trails' End, a subsidiary of Weaver popcorn, hosts a training seminar on the latest and greatest information on popcorn. This year I attended the seminar in Tucson, Arizona. I found it was much cheaper to fly into Phoenix and drive to Tucson than to fly direct to Tucson. So David, my popcorn sales manager, and I flew to Phoenix, rented a car, and drove to Tucson.

After the seminar was over we drove back to Phoenix but we had a few hours to kill before our flight. On the road map I saw that Casa Grande Ruins National Monument wasn’t too far out of our way and we decided to make a detour and visit the Ruins.

I like ruins. They’re cool. I like to try to imagine what things were like when the ancient people lived there and built them. I have spent many days hiking and exploring Anasazi dwellings and ruins in southern Utah and New Mexico. I probably should have been an archeologist.

Here's what an artist thinks Casa Grande looked like.

So, there we were at the Casa Grande Ruins in the middle-of-nowhere Arizona. I wasn’t really sure what to expect. Years ago I visited the Casas Grandes Ruins in northern Mexico, a.k.a. Paquime, and was very impressed with what I saw there—thousands of adobe rooms.

Casa Grande had an impressive multi-story structure but the rest of the ruins were in bad shape or had not been excavated yet. Here are some photos I took of the main Casa Grande ruin.

The entrance fee included a walking tour of the ruins and the interpretive guide was very good, but a little long winded. As he went on and on and on I started to get a little worried about catching our return flight and finally we had to walk out on the tour and hightail it back to the Phoenix Airport, return the rental car, and check-in at the ticket counter with 45-minutes to spare.

But when we got to the counter the ticket agent said, “Check-in has closed for this flight.” I asked her when it closed, “Two minutes ago.” (We had been standing in line for at least ten minutes.) I asked her if there wasn’t some way she could still squeeze us in. “The computer automatically closes the flight forty-five minutes before takeoff and you are too late. You have to wait and take the next flight.”

So, we got to sit in the Phoenix Airport for four hours to repent for our two-minute tardiness and reflect on the wonders of Casa Grande and ponder if the ancient bureaucrats were any more customer friendly than their modern US Air counterparts. I wonder if that is a clue the answer to the great mystery of why the ancient ones suddenly disappeared?

My Grandsons are Cuter than Your Grandkids

2009-02-20T12:09:00.008-07:00

Wyatt with a faux-hawk

Benjamin is seven months old

(The following photos are by Shelby Whiting)

Benjamin Basket Baby

Happy Benjamin

Wyatt Bucket Baby

Rubber Duckey

We're All Together Again

2009-01-08T19:07:00.017-07:00

Banjamin brought his Mom and Dad to Idaho for a visit.

All our kids are here (except for Shawn --Elder Farrer--who is where he is supposed to be)
http://farrerawaynj.blogspot.com/

We had a second Christmas for Clarke and Bethany on Monday and then last night we all went to Frontier Pies in Rexburg for dinner.

Afterwards we went sledding on the BYU-Idaho practice fields.

Christmas Morning at the Farrer's

2008-12-25T13:22:00.008-07:00

Christmas Eve at the Farrer's

2008-12-24T20:39:00.004-07:00

Look what's happening at our house . . .

The finished products:

Merry Christmas!

2008-12-24T19:45:00.003-07:00

Well, the year-end rush at work got the best of me this year and I feel like a Scrooge. No cards, no gifts, and no time left--Christmas is here. But the spirit of Christmas is in our hearts!

Shawn is in northeastern New Jersey spreading the gospel. [http://farrerawaynj.blogspot.com]

Dan, Sarah, Wyatt, Amanda, and Derek are all “home for the holidays” with us. Clarke, Bethany, and Benjamin are coming over the river and through the woods in two weeks to join us for a late holiday celebration and we are excited about that. We will have the whole family together for one wonderful week.

We haven't sent any cards out yet, but when we are all together in January we are going to have a family photo taken and we will send that out with a Happy New Year greeting to family and friends. In the meantime, enjoy the Holidays with your family!

In My Opinion . . .

2008-12-04T15:35:00.007-07:00

11/17/09

There is a Portland attorney who is making a good living by suing the Boy Scouts and the LDS Church for sexual abuse that took place decades ago. I’m told that he made millions suing the Catholic Church for abuses committed by their pedophile priests and now that that income stream has dried up he has moved on to greener pastures.

There is an AP article in our local paper about three brothers from Sunnyvale, CA, who the attorney is representing in a new lawsuit against the LDS Church and the Boy Scouts. The article says, “The plaintiffs, identified only as John Does, claim they were molested hundreds of times by 65-year old William Eugene Knox, who married their mother while the abuse was taking place in Sunnyvale, Calif.” It goes on to say, “One of the plaintiffs was still a devout member of the church, and two have served as Scoutmasters. . . . [and] one was a former FBI agent.”

I have never understood how a “devout” or even a believing member of the LDS Church (or any church for that matter) could sue the Church for money. How can you sue a church if you believe it is the means of salvation? I suppose the Catholic Church could raise the same question but in the cases of pedophile priests that were protected and enabled by their superiors I can understand the outrage and desire for compensation. But in this case the abuser was the stepfather of the victims. How can they possibly impugn fault on the Church or the Boy Scouts for the actions of their stepfather?

The article said the “three brothers claim the church ignored their complaints about being molested by their Silicon Valley Boy Scout and Mormon youth leader in the 1970s and 1980s. These are men who believe in the best of these institutions and believe this kind of lawsuit can help improve these institutions and prevent child abuse.” I think that’s absurd. They can’t get any money from their abusive stepfather so, on the advice of their attorney (who by the way has eleven other lawsuits against the BSA pending), they are going after the deep pockets of the LDS Church and the Boy Scouts. I wonder, is there is a special place in hell for that kind of attorney—right next to the child molesters?

Super Nerd

I’ve worn glasses (or contacts) as long as I can remember. I don’t recall how old I was when I started wearing glasses but I still remember the trauma of suddenly becoming a “four-eyes” nerd. I was definitely in elementary school and I think it was when we lived in Sunnyvale, CA—so I would have been eight or nine.

I can remember getting bifocals when we lived in Freehold, NJ. (I would have been about twelve then.) I remember the crazy visual effect of the bifocals and I kept trying to step up because the bifocals made it look like there was always a step or hill in front of me. I’m sure I REALLY looked like a nerd in grandpa glasses and walking weird. The eye doctor had the crazy idea that bifocals might actually improve my vision. They didn't.

It took me a long time to realize that my eyes were my best feature—big brown pools that girls found irresistible. [A quick jump to my mission: (I was wearing contacts then.) My companion and I were tracting a street in a very wealthy neighborhood when a woman answered the door. I gave her my best door approach and with a hopeful look in my eyes I tried to will her into letting us in. (Picture the scene in Shrek 2 where Puss-In-Boots is holding his hat.) She smiled at me and said, “Not even those big beautiful brown eyes are going to get you into my home.” That’s when I realized the power of my eyes.] Now, back to childhood. I was so nearsighted that I had to wear very thick lenses. The optics of the lenses reduced the apparent size of my eyes and thus I lost my super-powers over females. I’m sure it’s for similar reasons that Clark Kent has to take off his glasses to become Superman.

In addition to the negative social impacts, glasses also seriously hampered my athletic abilities. I’m sure I could have been a super-star athlete if I had perfect vision or wore contacts back then. I might have even been as good as Doug or Josh. But alas, it was not to be. Still, I was pretty active and my glasses were constantly falling off and breaking. I sweat a lot and when I would do anything physical I’d start to sweat, my face would get slippery, and my glasses would fly off at the most inopportune times—usually right before my big chance to make a perfect tackle or game winning jump-shot—and I would fail to achieve glory. That may be the reason I never became a pro athlete. The truth is I was an average athlete but having poor eyesight and greasy sweaty glasses didn’t help any.

I’m sure it got expensive replacing all the broken glasses. I doubt we had vision care insurance or replacement insurance. I remember being paranoid about my glasses and panicked when they got knocked off or broken. I think the classic nerd glasses with the tape on the bridge was patterned after me because it seem like I spent a lot of time with white athletic tape holding my glasses together until we could get new frames. I actually got pretty good at using scotch tape to fix my glasses because I thought that was less noticeable and I could still look cool (as much as a four-eyes can) in broken glasses. Then I discovered the little black strap that hooked onto glasses to keep them from falling off. I started using those and always kept one in my pocket so I could put it on when I did anything active or sweat inducing. But my friends quickly named it a “sissy strap” and I was back to being a nerd.

When I was in junior high I got a pair of unbreakable “athletic glasses.” The temples hooked around my ears to keep them from falling off and they had double hinges to keep the temples from breaking. They were a brilliant idea from a practical point of view—but they were the ugliest glasses ever invented. Wearing them was like wearing a huge sign that screamed “NERD!!!” in blinking neon letters. I kept them in my varsity locker and would put them on at the last minute and take them off as soon as possible after a game or match. As advertised, they never did break—I still have them today and wear them as part of a nerd costume when the occasion arises. [No Liz, not every day.] They worked pretty well for about a year when my eyesight got worse and distant vision was blurry when I wore them.

Then there was the time in the locker room after a high school football game. I was so blind without glasses and was so used to always wearing my glasses that I wore them into the showers once. One of my teammates yelled, “Hey Farrer, why are you wearing your glasses? You want to see me naked?” [and some other vulgar homophobic questions] to which I replied, “No, I’d need a magnifying glass for that.” The truth is that’s just what I wished I’d said, but he was bigger and meaner than me so I just laughed it off. But I didn’t wear my glasses in the showers again.

When we moved to Las Vegas I finally got to wear contacts. I got my super powers over women back! I was good looking and cool again. I was a man about town. Women couldn’t resist me! I wore contacts all through my mission years and I’m sure they were a key to my success. After a few years wearing contacts they were really irritating my eyes. My eyes were always sore, red , and dry and I would actually pull my nose hairs to make my eyes water so I could get a few minutes of relief. (They didn’t have eye drops you could use with contacts back then.) I went to my eye doctor and he told me I had two choices; I could go back to glasses or keep wearing contacts and slowly go blind.

So I wore glasses again for about ten years until we moved to Alaska. My eye doctor up there prescribed a new type of contact lens that allowed more oxygen to get to the eyes. They worked great and I was back to contacts for several years until we moved to Idaho. Then they started to bother my eyes again and as my eyes have aged I can’t focus on close objects without reading glasses. Wearing glasses and contacts at the same time seems bizarre to me (and ironic because I am very nearsighted). When it got to the point where I couldn’t read my computer screen and would have to pull one contact aside to read small print or look at photos, I decided enough is enough, and I’m back to wearing glasses.

I’m fine with glasses now. Nancy is stuck with me so my super powers don’t work on her anymore (and they could be dangerous to my health and happiness). I’m not nearly as active as I used to be and my glasses hardly ever fall off any more. My eye doctor has me in a pair of fancy trifocals without lines and rimless frames. I think they look pretty good (if I do say so myself) and I can see just fine at any distance. When I need to use my super-close-up-vision-powers I just take my glasses off and I can see fine details. But I’m very careful not to look any women in the eyes when I have my glasses off.

February 22, 2009

Flag Waving Racists?

Since when did not putting a flag out on a holiday become a racist political statement?

This past Monday I was at my desk hard at work when our receptionist came in my office and told me there was an angry woman on the phone who thinks the Boy Scouts are racists. Part of my job description is ‘complaint department’ and I get a fair amount of calls and visits from people who are mad about this that or the other.

I answered the call and listened to the lady’s complaint. The only time I could get a word in was when she had to pause to take a breath. “I’m outraged at the obvious bias and religious individualism of the Mormon troops in this town and I want to know why is it that the troop that had a fundraiser to put out flags on holidays did not put a single flag out in my neighborhood for Martin Luther King Day, they ought to be celebrating Civil Rights—especially the day before such an important and historic inauguration, the Scout troop put out flags for the Mormon Pioneer Day but not for MLK Day and I refused to pay for a flag and told them they need to stick with national holidays and not with a Mormon Church holiday, I am not from here I am from a big city and you would never see such blatant racism in big cities where everyone is open and accepting and celebrates diversity and acceptance of all people cultures and religions . . .”

At that point she had to breathe so I told her I agreed with her that the flags should be put up on all holidays. I was carefully trying to explain how the flag fundraisers worked. I told her that each Scouting unit selects their own fundraising projects and many LDS sponsored troops put up flags because they aren’t supposed to sell products door-to-door.

“They were selling flags door to door because they came to my door and tried to sell me a flag and when I saw that they were going to put out flags for the Mormon Pioneer Day I refused to pay for a flag and told them they need to stick with national holidays and not with a Mormon Church holiday . . .”

At another pause I was trying to explain that I think there is a very good explanation for why the Scouts had not put up flags yesterday but she insisted it was a political statement motivated by bigotry and racism. When I disagreed and failed to share her outrage she got mad and told me she was going to call the newspaper. She demanded that I give her the phone number for the National Boy Scout office. I gave her the number and she said, “I’m not being listened to!” and hung up on me.

A couple hours later I got a call from the reporter at our local paper who writes the weekly “You Asked For It” column and we had a good discussion. He told me he thought it was an odd question and he is going to have some fun with it. He said that when he drove to work that day he noticed that everyone in his neighborhood had put their trash out for the normal Monday pick-up, not realizing it was a holiday. He didn’t think everyone was making a political statement, they just forgot it was Martin Luther King Day.

Here is what he wrote:

Julie Zuck of Ammon had a great question for a curious journalist.
She wanted to know why local Boy Scout troops erect flags on every single holiday – including Pioneer Day – but not on Martin Luther King Day, which is a federal holiday celebrated Monday.
"Why do we have to be exclusive?” she asked. “Civil Rights Day is a very important day."
Those questions have all the elements of a great story: A powerful group, religion, exclusion and maybe – oh, maybe – a hint of racism.
Muckrakers worldwide salivate at just such a chance to shine the bright light of truth under the rock of old ideas and long-held prejudices.
Woodward and Bernstein watch out, this You Asked For It columnist was poised to take his place among the pantheon of great journalists.
That is, until Clarke Farrer, head of eastern Idaho’s Boy Scouts, drove a cold stake through our preconceptions.
“The ground is frozen and the kids can’t shove the rebar into the ground here in Idaho in the winter,” said Farrer, the head of the Grand Teton Boy Scout Council, which represents more than 21,000 scouts. “It is that simple.”
You see, the flags are affixed to pvc pipe, which is held to the ground with a stake of rebar. The ground is frozen and the rebar is too hard for an 11-year-old to push into the ground.
“In the winter, it ends up that the adults have to pound the rebar into the ground,” Farrer said. “Then they can’t get it out and it becomes a hazard. Not doing it in the winter is a matter of convenience.”
Farrer said planting flags on federal holidays is a Boy Scout fundraiser that is perfect for troops and packs sponsored by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
The church doesn’t allow members to sell products door-to-door, but flags are seen as a community service that ties into the Boy Scout’s goal of promoting citizenship, he said.
“I don’t know of any other scout units that do this other than the LDS scout units,” said Farrer, who has been in scouting for 40 years at outposts from Idaho to Alaska.
He said Boy Scouts should honor Martin Luther King Day and pointed out that a flag flew Monday at his house.
Farrer also said he couldn’t believe any Scouts would be making a political statement.
“I am assuming that they didn’t sit around a smoke-filled room making the decision to ignore the holiday,” he said. “It may be insulting to her and others, but that is not the intent of the people who made the decision.”

So, there you have it. I’m sure Ms. Zuck isn’t too happy with the article or my explanation—but it’s the truth (Scout’s honor).

The article did generate one interesting online comment:

The funny thing is the Boy Scout flags were amazingly placed in that same frozen ground the following day for the inauguration. I think you were on to something with the racism, better keep investigating! -- birds

I asked around and no one I know saw any Scout flags up on Tuesday. (We put our flag up.)
Now I’m afraid that the troops will put the flags up for Presidents’ Day and make me a liar. The fact is we have over 100 units in town that could be putting up flags and they all use their own schedule and approach.

So if troops do put up flags for Presidents’ Day does that mean it’s a vast right-wing racist conspiracy?

Life's a Beach

2008-12-01T18:17:00.006-07:00

We spent a wonderful week at Laguna Beach. My folks had two weeks reserved at their Laguna Beach house but had to leave early because my father’s life-long friend Jex Capener passed away. They went to the funeral and we went to Laguna.

We drove to Salt Lake and stayed with Nancy’s parents then flew to Las Vegas on Monday morning. My parents met us at the airport on their way to St. Louis and loaned us their Cadillac. We drove to California with a stop in Baker for a great lunch (and obscene photos of the naked statues) at the Mad Greek restaurant. We arrived at the beach house mid-afternoon and went straight to the beach.

Except for Wednesday, we spent the entire week beach combing, playing in the tide pools, and window shopping in Laguna. On Wednesday we drove to the LA Airport and picked up Nancy’s sister Laura and her husband Doug who were escaping the Minnesota winter and their five kids.
We drove to LA and went to the temple—no signs of protesters or vandalism, leaving me to believe the news reports were a little exaggerated.

We drove through LA, Hollywood, Beverly Hills, and went to Farmer’s Market for dinner and more window shopping. We saw Kevin Costner and his wife and child there. We decided not to be obnoxious tourists and left them alone. While we were there Laura did a funky dance audition for the Abercrombie & Fitch models but they weren’t impressed.

Early on Sunday we had to tear ourselves away. We drove the Oldhams back to the airport and then we drove back to Las Vegas for a too brief visit with my parents and then we flew to Salt Lake and drove up to Idaho and winter again. Long day—19 hours and ~900 miles by car and plane.

Four days later we drove back to Salt Lake and had a very pleasant Thanksgiving dinner and visit with my brother Doug and his family, Stacey’s (Adams) family, and my parents. That evening we drove back to Idaho so I could get an early start on remodeling our guest bathroom. More on that later.

Benjamin Franklin Farrer

2008-10-31T10:46:00.012-06:00

Nancy and I recently went to Texas for Benjamin’s blessing.

We flew into Houston and arrived late on Saturday night. I had reserved a compact rental car and when we picked it up we got a silver Mustang. Nice wheels! We had been driving in the dark through the Texas countryside for about an hour when some guy in a SUV started tailgating me. We were the only cars on the road for miles and I thought I could hear the Dueling Banjos theme from Deliverance in the background. I realized it might “the law” and started to slow down. (I was driving about five mph over the posted speed limit.) Just as I started to slow down the lights started flashing. Well, I’d rather it be a county sheriff than some inbred hillbillies looking for trouble. It turns out it was a very polite TX State Trooper who wanted to let me know my taillights were not working. Since we were driving a rental car he let me off with a warning. I found out later that there was nothing wrong with the taillights—they worked just fine if I turned them on. (Our vehicles’ lights come on automatically and I never even thought about it.)

After another half hour of taillightless driving we arrived in Bryan and found Clarke and Bethany’s apartment. It was great to see them again. Benjamin was sleeping and as much as we wanted to hold him we know you should never wake a sleeping baby.

Their church meetings started at 9:AM the next morning so we got an early start and got over to the church just before the meeting began. Vic and Shauna Mitchell (Bethany’s parents) met us there and Vic and I stood in the circle as Clarke blessed and named Benjamin. Clarke did a good job and Benjamin was awake and alert but remained quiet.

Clarke wanted to drive the Mustang so after the meetings Clarke gave me a nice tour of College Station and the Texas A&M campus while the ladies prepared lunch. A&M is a beautiful school with a huge campus. I guess I should have known, because everything is bigger in Texas. I was very impressed with the tour and the A&M spirit—everywhere we went students were wearing maroon and white A&M clothing.

Nancy stayed the week and spoiled Benjamin while I flew to Phoenix for a National Camp School director’s meeting and a Top-20 Scout executive conference. Nancy and I both flew into the Salt Lake Airport on Friday afternoon and then on up to Idaho Falls and home again home again.

How 'bout them Apples?

2008-10-14T16:50:00.007-06:00

Almost everywhere we have lived we have had apple trees in our yard. I'm not sure why. I guess we like apples, or at least houses with apple trees. We had three apple trees in Pleasant Grove, ten apple trees in El Paso, (none in Alaska), and we have two trees in our Idaho Falls yard--a Golden Delicious and a Gala (I think).

The weatherman was predicting below freezing weather over the weekend so we decided it was time to harvest our apples. We invited our neighbors over to take as many apples as they wanted and they picked about two bushels. Saturday morning Nancy went to work on the Golden Delicious tree, which looked more like green delicious and was heavily loaded with fruit. By the time I got home to help she was about done. I climbed up the tree and picked the fruit on the highest branches. The cold and snow added a nice fall feeling to the day.

After we finished the first tree I went to work on the Gala tree. It has some kind of fungus problem and didn't produce near as many apples as the other tree. The trees were badly overgrown when we bought the house and I did a two-year pruning project to bring them back under control. We only got about one bushel from the Gala tree but the other tree more than made up for the shortage.

So, for the past week Nancy has been busy canning apples. She has forty quarts of apple pie filling, a dozen jars of apple jam, and is now working on applesauce. We are only half way though our crop of apples. She ran out of canning jars and can't find any more for sale anywhere in town. She just worked trade with a neighbor for two-dozen quart jars in trade for a bag of apples.

We still have plenty of apples, so if you want to come over and get some you are more than welcome. Just bring your own jars.

Punkin'head

2008-10-13T20:30:00.015-06:00

For as long as I can remember the Farrers have been carving pumpkins at Halloween time. I can remember as kids we would go to pumpkin patches and we were allowed to pick our own pumpkin. The rule used to be "if you can carry it you can have it." That worked until I was a teenage athlete and could carry a pumpkin that weighed more than I did. Even in the days of dirt-cheap pumpkins that one broke the bank. Dad was a good sport and let me buy it anyway. When I got it home and started to carve it I had to about climb inside to clean it out. It took the full reach of my arm to reach the bottom.

On Saturday Dan, Sarah, Amanda, and Derek came over and spent the better part of the day with us. I was busy installing baseboards in Shawn's room and by the time I finished the kids had gone out and bought five big pumpkins and were ready to start carving them.

Over the years we have progressed in our carving skills from the basic circle and triangle shapes to more advanced shapes and techniques.

Sarah got her inspiration from a "How are you feeling today?" chart we have had for years. It has thirty cartoon faces depicting different emotions. She picked "Hysterical."

Amanda went with type casting and carved a singing pumpkin.

A pumpkin singing very loud.

I carved a pumpkin with two faces—a boy and a girl—in love with each other. It's the best I could do on short notice.

Dan went with his favorite superhero and carved the Batman logo on his pumpkin.

Derek cheated and went to the Internet and found a website (carvingpumpkins.com) that had dozens of patterns to choose from. He chose Gollum and started carving. It took him all night and part of the next day but the finished product was amazing. It takes pumpkin carving to a whole new level. It also raises the bar for the rest of us mere mortals.

And what about Nancy? Well, she is carving impaired—or so she thinks. As the family advanced in our carving skills she tried to keep up but kept messing up her creations. Several years ago she got tired of us laughing at her masterpieces and quit carving altogether.

I think the world is a lesser place because of it.

50s Blues

2008-10-08T20:25:00.008-06:00

Nancy’s surprise birthday present worked out wonderfully. We drove to SLC for a Boy Scout art show/reception that was held in the Joseph Smith Memorial Building downtown. Derek and Amanda went with us. (We later dropped them off at the airport. They flew from SLC to Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, and then got on cruise ship to the Bahamas. Derek earned the trip as a bonus for his summer job.)

The art show featured original paintings by Norman Rockwell and Joseph Csatari. We arrived at 5:30 and found out that the First Presidency came at 4:15 and visited with the early birds. I felt like one of the foolish virgins who arrived late for the wedding feast. After the reception we went upstairs to the Legacy Theater and watched the "Joseph Smith, the Prophet" movie. It was excellent and we all felt the Spirit testifying that Joseph Smith is a prophet.

The next day (Friday) Nancy wanted to return to Idaho but I convinced her to spend another day in Utah. She had the great idea of going up to Park City. We had not been there in years and we spent a wonderful day together. It was a beautiful fall day and we had great fun riding the Alpine Slide and the Alpine Coaster—we laughed our heads off. We drove back to Salt Lake and had a birthday dinner at Benihana’s with Nancy’s parents. I tried to get Nancy to stay up and watch the BYU vs. Utah State football game with me but she is old now and the busy day had worn her out and she went to bed early.

I stayed up reading until her birthday presents arrived. My brother Doug had been out of town on a business trip and flew in at about 11:PM. Stacey was there to pick him up and they waited for Clarke and Bethany to arrive at about 11:30. They all came to the Davises together. I took Benjamin and slipped him into bed with Nancy and started quietly singing “Happy Birthday.” She woke up from a dead sleep and at first she was startled and confused but then she saw Clarke and realized what was going on. Then she started to cry—good tears. It was a sweet reunion and Benjamin is perfect.

After things settled down (~1:AM) Doug and Stacey took Clarke and Bethany to a hotel downtown and then went home. (A thousand Thank Yous! You guys are always there for us.) The next morning we watched Conference with the Davises and then Mom Davis served us a nice lunch. We then drove up to Idaho Falls—listening to Conference on the way. We arrived home and Dan and Sarah were there to meet us. The two Farrer cousins got to meet each other and we all compared babies. Wyatt is bigger, Benjamin is quieter, and they are both unbelievably cute!

We spent Sunday watching Conference and holding babies. Bethany’s brother and his family came over for dinner and we had a houseful. It was a great weekend. On Monday morning I drove Clarke and Bethany back down to Salt Lake to catch their flight back to Houston. That night I picked up Derek and Amanda at the airport and drove them home. It made for a nineteen-hour day—most of it driving. They had a great time on their cruise and came back with lots of great photos and sunburns. You’ll have to check out their blog for more details.

Having our kids together and meeting Benjamin helped Nancy get over the 50s Blues.

Grandsons

2008-10-02T11:25:00.002-06:00

Grandma & Grandpa Farrer
with Benjamin

Four generations with
Grandpa Davis and
Benjamin

Four Generations with
Grandpa Farrer and
Wyatt

2008-10-01T18:07:00.005-06:00

The Farrers are in mourning. Well, Nancy is in mourning, I’ve gotten over it. Today is Nancy’s last day of being forty-something. Tomorrow she’s officially old.

I have been officially old for half a year now and am starting to get used to it. Nancy has been having great fun (at my expense) ever since I started receiving mail from AARP. Last week her first AARP letter arrived and all of a sudden it wasn’t so funny anymore.

On Sunday we had a Birthday Wake for her. The kids came down from Rexburg and we had a nice dinner in the backyard.

Amanda decorated the house with black balloons, black tissue paper, and sarcastic “You are really old” jokes and quotes. Nancy wasn’t amused—but she was a good sport about it. I gave her a cane for her present.

She has another present coming but I didn’t think of it soon enough so it won’t arrive until after her birthday. More about that later—I don’t want to spoil the surprise.

So, send Nancy a sympathy card (or email or text) and let her know you love her and her life is only half over.

Here's a new photo of Benjamin in his Sunday best.

The Farrer Side Family

2008-09-25T17:06:00.014-06:00

Nancy and Clarke
Mom & Dad
Nana & Poppa

Clarke & Bethany
Farrer

Benjamin Franklin
Farrer

Sarah & Dan
Farrer

Wyatt Daniel
Farrer

Elder Shawn Farrer
Morristown NJ Mission
http://farrerawaynj.blogspot.com/

Derek & Amanda
Whipple

Can You Canoe?

2008-09-25T14:44:00.016-06:00

We had a fun day on Saturday. Amanda and Derek asked me to take them fishing and teach Derek how to fly fish. Then one of my camp directors, Dan Deakin, asked if I wanted to go canoeing with him on the Henry's Fork of the Snake River. We floated the Box Canyon section of the river in rafts about a month ago and both agreed it was pretty tame for rafts but would be a fun trip in canoes. Henry’s Fork drains the Island Park valley (it’s actually a huge volcanic caldera west of Yellowstone) and is only a few miles from Island Park Scout Camp.

I asked Amanda and Derek if they wanted to go canoeing in the morning and then fish in the afternoon and they said that sounded great. In the end eight of us went canoeing. The group included four canoes with two people in each canoe; Dan and Sarah (Nancy babysat Wyatt), Amanda and Derek, Tiffany and Ann Marie (two of Sarah's friends), with Dan Deakin and me in the fourth canoe. The day started off cold and rainy but by the time we were loaded and ready to get on the river the weather had cleared up and it looked like a beautiful day.

We put in just below the dam that forms the Island Park Reservoir and did a little canoeing practice. The worst rapids are right after the put-in and I wanted to be sure everyone could steer well enough to get through the rapids safely. The only canoe that had a problem was ours. Dan had offered to take the stern and steer so I could fish. I have done a fair amount of canoeing over the years but I cannot recall the last time I took the bow—I’m always the stern-man. A guided drift boat had stopped right in the middle of the rapids and we ran smack into them. It was pretty embarrassing. There was plenty of room on either side but we managed to hit them anyway. (A sincere apology to the drift boaters whoever and wherever you are.)

The first part of the river was fairly swift and I helped paddle instead of fishing. Just as it started to slow down and I was thinking about getting my fly rod ready a storm blew up and it started raining on us. We all got wet and cold but fortunately we were close to a take out spot at Last Chance. The storm passed quickly and we had a picnic lunch while we all dried off. Everyone decided to canoe the next part of the river because the weather was beautiful again. We all got back in the canoes and set off for the second half of our adventure. This time I fished almost the whole time but never got a strike. Henry’s Fork is a World Class fly-fishing river but I’m not a World Class fly fisherman. The stretch of the river from Last Chance to the Osborne Bridge was wide and slow—almost boring in a canoe—but breathtakingly beautiful.

The people in the other three canoes decided to entertain themselves by gathering clumps of seaweed. Then they decided our canoe was too clean so they surrounded us and bombarded us with stinky slimy seaweed. I'm not sure what we did to deserve that but they had fun doing it. Dan and I paddled hard and outran their attack.

The only challenging parts of that portion of the river were two sets of rapids by bridges that cross the river. There was an old canoe wrapped around one of the piers of the first bridge. Someone missed the gap and hit the bridge footing broadside and the water pressure wrapped the canoe around the footing like a bumper on a car.

After about two hours of easy paddling another storm was growing on the horizon so we started paddling hard to beat the storm. This was a big dark thunderstorm with lots of thunder and lightning. We were almost to the takeout when the storm hit. Dan and I were only in the storm for a few minutes before we got to the takeout where Nancy and Wyatt were waiting for us. Nancy drove us back to the start to get the other vehicles and canoe trailer. We drove back as fast as we could and by the time we arrived everyone else was off the river and looking like wet cats in the rain. Dan and Sarah had gotten broadside to the wind and were blown over and their canoe swamped. Sarah was wet, cold, and mad. Derek and Dan had to portage the last two canoes off the river because the storm was blowing so hard it was impossible to paddle against the wind.

Nancy, Sarah, and Sarah's friends drove back to Rexburg while the rest of us took the canoes back to the camp. By the time we had them unloaded and stored the storm had passed so we spent an hour fly-fishing on the camp lake. But the normally plentiful fish were all hiding (I think the storm scared them) and there were no fish to be seen or caught. So we headed back to Rexburg and stopped at Big Judd's in Ashton for dinner on the way. (Big Judd’s is famous for their “Big Pig” meal of a 5-pound hamburger and a pound of fries. If you can finish it off you get your picture hung on the wall.)

It was a crazy day but we all had fun—except Sarah at the very end. She was a good sport about it though.