Bama's Back

Bama finally came back today.

Monday’s tornado really spooked some of the folks around here. It was ironic that we had all been sitting around in the dining hall last week talking about how the weather can change here so quickly. I told them about last year’s hail storm that damaged my truck and the couple of funnel clouds that I had spotted in the distance but never saw touch down.

Tornados are rare in North Dakota and usually only occur during the few weeks between freezing in late March and sizzling in early June. The storms are impressive though since you can see forever from atop any hill.

There are about 30 of us in the camp outside Trenton and when the building season got underway, about 50 Mexicans showed up for the summer too. The buildings are made of steel with metal roofs and they tend to amplify the sound of a storm, it sounds a lot like sitting in the loft of a barn with a tin roof during a heavy rain. The train track is directly across the highway and there must be 25 or 30 trains a day that come by, sometimes it sounds like they come right down the hall.

Bama is a short stocky guy from the Mobile area that doesn't own an article of clothing without the Bama football logo on it; he’s seen a few hurricanes but had never been close to a tornado. Apparently they don’t get many tornados down in Mexico either because the group sitting next to us got really interested in what we were discussing, they had all seen the reports of damage in Joplin and Tuscaloosa the past couple of years. They all knew the traditional southern description of “it sounded like a freight train” and hearing Bama talk brought a few laughs from them.

 On Monday morning, just across the state line near Sidney, Montana the storm cell reached an altitude of about 60,000 feet. That’s big and as it came over us the hail started to fall in little icy balls about the size of a marble, they steadily increased to golf ball size as the sky darkened.

It got loud, really loud and just as the black monster cloud slipped over the ridge to our west, along came a train.

It was all the warning he needed!

Bama is about as wide as the hall and I’m just thankful that I peeked out the door at all the commotion before stepping into his path. The look on his face as he headed for the back door was a mix of sheer terror and determination to get out of this super sized trailer. He never touched a step when he blew through the door. The last glimpse I caught of him was about half way up the big hill, he was already gaining on two of the Mexicans ahead of him.

We’re still down to 48 Mexicans.

Warpath In The Oil Patch

Got to relate a story I was told this week by another oil hauler. 

He was at a well location out in the middle of nowhere a couple of weeks ago, Around 3 am he had gone up on the tanks to gauge or measure how much oil was in the tank. As he was reading the steel tape, he caught some movement out of the corner of his eye. He knew that he was the only person in the area and the movement startled him. 

Standing at the other end of the cat walk was a tall Indian brave in full war paint holding an ax in one hand and a spear in the other. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight up and as he turned to face the brave, he was frozen with fear. The warrior started walking toward him and all he could do was stare into his eyes. What he was seeing didn't look transparent or ghostly, it looked to be a solid, well built man ready to battle.

Unable to utter a sound, all he could do was watch as the brave approached and proceeded to walk straight through him and down the steps behind him before walking off into the night.

Turns out, the well was permitted and built on an ancient sacred Indian burial ground and this wasn't the first time someone had provoked a spirit and had an encounter. He told me where the well was located and you can bet the farm that I'll only work it during the daytime if I ever have to. I have no desire to have a warrior walk through me or step in what he would find behind me.

Hopping Chocolate

Got in this morning a few minutes after four.

I just barely beat the sunrise and thought I would have time to grab a quick shower, put some clothes on to wash and cap off a twenty one hour day with a Klondike bar. It was one of those mint flavored ones that Julie has managed to get me hooked on.

There is no way to describe how good the hot shower felt, it's about the only thing that soothes aching joints after a long day spent climbing in and out of a truck. I stood for what seemed like an eternity under the twin shower heads, but eventually the visions of the waiting Klondike bar and some wrinkled up palms finally convinced me that I'd been in there long enough.

Now I've gone through about a dozen or more packages of the bars and managed to perfect the way to fold the wrapper so none of the chocolate would end up on whatever I happened to be wearing at the moment. The fact that I'd never eaten one with a towel wrapped around me simply didn't occur to me, probably wouldn't have made any difference anyway since the craving was in total control by the time I reached the fridge.

I carefully folded back the foil and took the first bite off the left corner, just like I was suppose to.

Everything was going great until I started down the stairs and somehow a piece of the chocolate about the size of a quarter managed to fly off and land on a part of my left foot that I haven't been able to touch since 1979.

I tried picking up my foot and reaching down with my left hand but that only made the towel hit the floor. If you're over fifty, pick up your foot and then try to bend over and get something off the floor without your foot flying up behind you. It's a long way down there, the towel was going to have to wait.

I tried reaching across with my right hand but came up two inches short. It's amazing how straining with your knee just under your chin will make your eyes close, I couldn't see a thing on those two attempts but when they finally opened it was still there.

By now the stuff was beginning to melt and I really didn't want to go through the ordeal of getting chocolate out of the carpet so this idea of hopping to the bathroom somehow popped into my head. It seemed like the perfect solution until I got within range of the mirror. It's impossible to grow old gracefully when there are mirrors around, things don't always hop at the same time.

Next time I'll just rent a carpet cleaner.

Who Was That Man???

Dreams are the amazing ability the mind has to take you on an adventure, sometimes good, sometimes scary. Some are about the past while others give you a glimpse of what the future may hold. Some even involve people you know or have met along life’s journey. There are some you can’t wait to tell everyone about, some you can’t remember and some you wouldn’t dare talk about.

Now I’m sure most everyone has had an encounter where you couldn’t remember a name but carried on a conversation and then wondered who the heck was that. Julie and I were in Wal Mart the other evening and bumped into someone that we both should have known, neither could think of his name though. I tend to forget about encounters like that pretty quickly and move on, Julie will keep looking until the cell with the stored information is found, sometimes hours or days later.

We finished up the shopping list, checked out and headed home.

After several hours of surfing and posting on the internet, my eyes and fingers were worn out so we took a late night walk. Nothing came up about the Wal Mart trip during the hour we were gone or after we returned. I grabbed a quick shower and off to bed we went.

It was a quiet night, not a sound other than the air conditioner humming in the window. I had been lying there for at least half an hour thinking about what was on the calendar for the next day when all of a sudden Julie shouted out this man’s name.

In that instant, a couple of old dreams flashed through my mind and my only response was……”I hope you are awake.”

Lightning Is Fast…. But A Scared Fat Woman Is Faster

Late afternoon thunderstorms rolling into the area are like a breath of fresh air as they cool the blistering summer heat. They also spawn traffic accidents and the chatter on the scanner sitting to my left really picks up anytime the skies darken and the thunder rolls.  

Tuesday evening the sky turned a peachy color, the wind picked up and a warning was broadcast about the danger of frequent cloud to ground lightning from the approaching storm. Moments later the dispatcher notified a deputy that someone had reported an overturned car.

I grabbed the camera bag and a note pad on the way out the door. After backing halfway down the drive, I thought that my raincoat and hat would be a good idea too. This certainly wasn't the first wreck I've ever rushed to through the years and it seems that somewhere along the way, I’d figure out that flip flops are not ideally suited for running around in the rain… this was not to be the moment that I would come to that realization though.

The accident was only seven or eight minutes away and most sensible drivers had decided to stay off the road during the storm so traffic was much lighter than normal and I was able to park about forty yards from the scene. The intersection was near the crest of a long steep hill that climbed up from the creek.

I made the quick switch to a lens better suited for low light conditions and started shooting as soon as I got out of the truck.

The car was lying on it’s side in the ditch and the tire tracks were still visible showing how it had traveled across the road before taking out the road sign honoring a local politician, then overturning. The darkness wrapped around us much quicker under the threatening sky and my flash was only good for about ten feet. I was getting the best shots possible under the conditions and had taken eight or ten close-ups of the underneath side of the SUV when I decided that I needed one that showed more than mufflers, shocks and wheels.

The embankment on the other side of the ditch would provide the perfect vantage point, all I had to do was get there. Trying to negotiate a ditch with running water still flowing through it and climb up on a slippery Georgia red clay bank is tough enough, throw in a pair of flip flops and it can get down right entertaining.
Both feet were wet by the time I found a better route back to the pavement and it was impossible to get all the sticky red mud off the flops. I had all the shots that I wanted with the camera so one more with the cell phone would wrap things up.

Just as I raised the phone up to eye level, a huge bolt of lightning struck to my right.

I jumped pretty high and before I hit the ground, I heard her coming.

Now I understand the need to be politically correct in today’s world but there are times when it’s impossible to describe what happened and do it justice. This lady was huge and she was moving faster than the sound of thunder. I didn't wait to see what had caused this stampede, I headed downhill and prayed I could stay in front of her.

Within ten steps, I was looking at her backside…..she came by me like I was running in the other direction.
About this time, I heard the thunder and saw her find a gear that I’m sure only she knew she possessed. Adrenalin is a powerful substance and at this moment I was still thinking that maybe I’d  have a shot at catching up when we crossed the creek and started up the opposite hill. My rain coat was flapping in the tailwind and the camera around my neck stretched out behind me.

Halfway to the creek, I was out of air. I’ll probably never know where she turned around, or if she did.
It took several minutes for me to walk back up the hill to where I had parked the truck and as I opened the door, Julie looked up and without cracking a smile asked, “Where did you go?”

I just wasn’t man enough to tell her that the fat lady had scared the living hell out of me and that I couldn’t outrun her in flip flops.

The moment of realization had arrived.

Late For G-Day Game

Traveling to Athens for the annual spring game usually gives me a chance to soak in the fact that winter is over, the dogwoods and azaleas are blooming and I know that I’m about to get my first sunburn of the season watching the game.

This trip started out just like most others, then I caught a glimpse of something blue in a field.

I hit the brakes and backed up just as a big tom went into a full strut, then his opponent up on the hill displayed his fan. These two put on a show for over half an hour as they strutted and drummed before a handful of hens having breakfast between them. They were pretty evenly matched but the tom up on the hill had the advantage and surely appeared larger than he really was to the one down below. Having the high ground is important in any kind of battle.

I didn’t have a call with me but managed to yelp a few times and each of them answered. It was obvious that one was also trying to out gobble the other.

The hens showed no interest in what the boys were up to and seemed to be more concerned about a couple of Canadian geese flying over than the dance they have probably seen many times.

Here’s a few more shots of about the only thing that can make me late to a football game. Click on the picture to see the full size shot.

 

Saturday In The South

There is nothing better in the South than a beautiful fall sunrise, especially when it’s the first Saturday of football season. I tend to see far more sunsets since they don’t occur so early.

August had been exceptionally hot, a number of days with the temp near 100 and the heat index between 110 and 120. The first weekend of September finally offered a reprieve with lows in the upper 60’s.

That annual cooling off is what produces a steady flow of football hormones.

Pent up for the past eight months the sudden release causes insomnia, memory loss and the inability to perform normal daily functions like working, eating or thinking about anything not located “Between The Hedges.”

It’s an amazing feeling to put on your game day uniform for the first time since the bowl game or signing day if  you are really hardcore.

Everything is either red, black or has the “G” logo on it and there are no exceptions to the strict dress code rule or else you will feel the visual wrath of 92, 746 of your closest friends.

The drive to Athens with the mandatory magnetic Uga on the truck door and flags flying in the cool fall air, just prepares you for the stroll across campus with the smell of fried chicken and bar-b-que floating on the breeze.

As you get near the stadium, the sound of the Redcoat Band warming up fills the air and again this sudden rush alerts you to the fact that “It’s Saturday In Athens.”

Timing is everything and making certain that adequate time has been allowed to reach the student center restrooms is critical to enjoying the game day experience.

Porta-johns can obscure the aroma of a charcoal grill quickly. They all should be painted blue and orange, the odor would not catch you off guard then.

Boiled peanuts are next on the menu, they give you a perfect excuse to sit under a big oak tree for a while and watch the crowd come and go from the book store. Someone in the Athens area has made a fortune selling little black dresses to sorority sisters. They really go well with cowboy boots too.

Finally it’s time to enter the stadium and it doesn’t matter how many times you have stepped out of the shadows and into the brilliant sunshine, it is almost a religious experience.

The beautiful field, the band, the cheerleaders, the teams warming up, you dry your eyes and just sit there and soak it in for a few minutes.

For the next four hours, life is good.