Pearl Jam Song

"Off He Goes"

Okefenokee Swamp

Just back from a kayak trip for a couple incredible days in the swamp. The Okeefenokee is an almost 500,000 acre National Wildlife Refuge located on the southern Georgia border with Florida and is unlike anything I have ever seen across the country. Okefenokee is a vast bog inside a huge sauce- shaped depression that was once part of the ocean floor. The word, Okeefenokee, is Native American for "land of the trembling earth". Peat deposits up to 15 feet deep will quake when walked upon.



It wasn't an "easy" trip. David, Beaver and the crazy Yankee paddled around 15 miles a day, at times in shallow streams, dragging our loaded kayaks through the thick swamp vegetation; marsh grass and water lily, struggling over downed trees of cypress and pine. The water level was very low, as low as David had ever seen it, but the upside was that we had the swamp entirely to ourselves.



The slow moving waters are tea colored due to the tanic acid released from decaying plants and is acidic, about the level of a carbonated cola drink, not good to drink. Perhaps, as a result of this and also the cool, windy nights, there were no bugs to speak of. But there were plenty of other critters; egrets, heron, turtles, piliated woodpeckers, ibis, sandhill cranes, hawks, bow fish, owls... and gators! Hundreds of them, from one foot babies to huge 12 footers, sunning themselves lazily on the banks or skulking in the water. Impressive, instinctually threatening, the hair on the back of your neck standing up on end when one swims toward you and submerges under your boat. In the backwater creek I bumped one (not on purpose) and it came up behind the boat hissing. Motivating!



The reflectivity of the water made for some great photos.

We limped into the "chickie" around dinner time... just in time. The raised sleeping platform was named "Round Top". God knows why, because it is located in the "praries"; flat, swamp for 20 miles in any direction. Truly desolate. Truly beautiful.
The sky was huge, the clouds were jaw dropping, and the stars that night were spectacular.

We set up tents and enjoyed some great steaks from Beaver's restaurant and a fine container of box wine from Winn Dixie, before some serious relaxing. A gator lived under the chickie and we named him "One-Eyed Jack". I tied a chunk of steak on a 3 foot piece of rope and got to meet him up close and personal. They are not too bright, but make up for it with ferocity. Here's a shot of Jack through my binoculars.


We hit the sack, enjoying the cries of the Sandhill Cranes, just down for the winter from Minnesota or Canada. An erie sound. Around midnight we were all awakened to another sound, the sound of wind... lots of it. The intensity of the coming storm built for about an hour and we scrambled to lash things down as the temperature dropped from 80 degrees into the 40's. The force of the wind was so great that our tents collapsed on us and we huddled waiting for what was to come. The rain exploded on the metal roof top and blew sideways into our tents soaking clothes and sleeping bags. And we three fools lay in the dark, howling with laughter, hysterically happy.

By 2:00 AM things had dialed back a bit and we lay in our tents, cold and wet, waiting for the light of dawn. Beaver was introspective as he spoke into the darkness. "You know, this is great. Now when stories are told, I can say "You think THAT was bad, well let me tell you about..." And we laughed for another 15 minutes. Awesome...

We rose before the dawn and got busy getting warm. Coffee, beef stew and a hibachi full of charcoal lifted our soggy moods even as we put on all of our clothes against the hand numbing coldness. Lacking orange juice, we took mega doses of Tylenol with the rest of the red wine further lifting our moods.





We attacked the 3 miles of shallow water paddling against a heavy head wind with stoic abandon... and more red wine. And by the time we reentered the main canal, the sun was bright, the temperature was up 20 degrees and the wind shifted to our backs. The Universe is good...

The vegetation was spectacular. Carnivorous Pitcher Plants in the bog, towering Cypress dressed in Spanish Moss, Cypress "knees" (root extensions) clumped like monks in prayer, yellow Swamp Dasie's, green floating rafts of Duck Weed, even the pond scum was beautiful.






Our shoulders were sore and our hands blistered as we loaded the kayaks for the drive back to civilization. But the smiles didn't leave our faces for days. Great trip David. You're my man. And Beaver... "You think THAT was bad...?" LOL!!!

Letter to Stephen King

Dear Steve,

I just finished “On Writing”. Thanks. My favorite Stephen King book to date.From your book, I have gleaned the following information. I find it quite remarkable.

My grandmother's name was Nellie Pillsbury, from Shapleigh (Stephen's mother's name was Nellie Pillsbury). I grew up in southern Maine, SPHS class of 1969 (Stephen King grew up in Topsham, Brunswick High School, 20 miles from South Portland) . I attended UMO from 69 to 73 and remember you well (SK graduated from UMO in 1970 and doesn't remember me at all.) . You're "Study Dammit" picture was on my wall for 4 years and we both attended a Kent State “gathering” on the Fogler Library steps in the spring of 1970...). I taught high school, science, for two years in Waterville (SK taught high school, english, in Hampden). I drove a 1960 Ford Galaxy with a blown rear main seal (so did SK). I worked in an old paper mill in Madison Maine with rats as big as cats (SK worked at an old paper mill in Pejepscott with huge rats, the subject for one of his books). I married a girl from Penobscot County;Brewer... she lived on Grove Street (SK married Tabitha from Penobscot County; Old Town... and they lived on Grove Street). I met her at UMO (same with SK). She is my best friend (ditto SK). My mother died of cancer (ditto SK). We have 3 children (ditto SK). Our son, Ryan, a Mech Eng. from UMO, broke his tibia in 30 pieces in 2008 and has battled back from infection, depression and pain med addiction (ditto SK). My daughter, Katie, has a BA in English from UMO (ditto SK). I play guitar (ditto...). I like to write (duhhhh....).

Three and a half years ago, we sold our house in Waterville, quit our jobs and hit the road, coast to coast four times and about to strike out again. It's been a mind expanding adventure. So now, I'm dabbling in your craft of writing. No idea what I am doing, have tried to stop more than once, but seem to be addicted to this solitary obsession.

You may never read this letter (though I mailed it to you...). If you do, thanks for who you are and what you do, not just the writing, the philanthropic stuff, too. We're not that different, you and me; just a couple of Maine boys doing our best. Your best inspires me.

Best regards,

Glen

A day in the marsh

David bought a 12 foot inflatable zodiac with a 90HP, 4 stroke Johnson outboard at a yard sale. He is the king of yard sales, knows the value of stuff, buys and sells, but he kept second guessing himself on this boat. We worked on it for a few hours and then he worked on it for another week. And the day finally came to take it out for a trial run.

We fueled it up, packed the survival kit and the beer and put into the marsh at mid-island. The engine started right at the turn of the key and soon we were flying through the creeks and rivers. Before we knew it we were 25 miles up the coast to Darien.

The boat handled pretty well at first and we experimented with air pressure in the pontoons. Throughout the day, steerage got stiffer and stiffer and it took longer and longer to plane out. By the time we got back, it was clear that something was going on. David discovered a hole in the hard under hull and drained off a barrel of water, 400 or 500 extra pounds.. Hmmm.

But, still and all, it was a great day to be out in the marsh. even in a leaky boat...

Veteran's Day

Check this out!



Liberty Belle (WWII B17 bomber) at Malcolm McKinnon Airport, St. Simons.

The B-17, dubbed the “Flying Fortress” as a result of her amount of defensive firepower, underwent a number of improvements over its ten-year production run. B-17 Models ranged from the YB-17 to the B-17G model. Throughout the war the B-17 was refined and improved as the combat experience showed the Boeing designers where improvements could be made. The Final B-17 production model, the B-17G was produced in the largest quantities (8,680) than any other previous model and is considered the definitive “Flying Fortress”. With its 13 .50-caliber machine guns, Chin, top, ball and tail turrets; waist and cheek guns the B-17 was indeed an airplane that earned the respect of its combatants. In addition, the flight crews loved the B-17 for her ability to take and withstand heavy combat damage and return safely home.

During WWII, the B-17 saw service in every theater of operation, but was operated primarily by the 8th Air force in Europe and participated in countless missions from bases in England. A typical B-17 Mission often lasted for more than eight hours and struck targets deep within enemy territory. During the war, B-17’s dropped 640,036 tons of bombs on European targets in daylight raids. This compares to the 452,508 tons dropped by the B-24 and 464,544 tons dropped by all other U.S. aircraft. The B-17 also downed 23 enemy aircraft per 1,000 raid as compared with 11 by B-24’s and 11 by fighters and three by all U.S. medium and light bombers.

There were a total of 12,732 B-17’s that were produced between 1935 and May 1945. Of these 4,735 were lost in combat. Following WWII, the B-17 saw service in three more wars. B-17’s were used in Korea, Israel used them in the war of 1948 and they were even used during Vietnam.

Today, fewer than 100 B-17 airframes exist and fewer still are in airworthy condition. At one time, more than 1000 B-17’s could be assembled for mass combat missions, now less than 15 of Boeings famous bombers can still take to the sky.

RTE 17

Dropped Connie off at Jacksonville Airport and drove back to Georgia on the back roads. North to Yulee, on to the Saint Marys River and into Kingsland where I started collecting political signs in Camden County. Put em up, take em down

Through Woodbine, across the Satilla River and to White Oak. Great names... Tarboro, the Folkson State Prison, Hickox, Winokur, Nahunta. I suppose visitors to Maine find our town names curious, too. Norridgewock, Passadumkeag, Ogunquit...

This is paper country. Lots of pulp trucks on the roads, stands of pine, clearcuts, at times the foul smell of digesters.


I met a man at a campaign meeting named Bob Torres. The causeway from the mainland is named after his father. Small world... his brother Joe, whom I know from my time in the paper industry in Maine, owned and operated Linclon Pulp and Paper Company. He provided a lot of good jobs to the area. Did a lot of good things in the state. Bob said Joe was very ill. Best wishes, Joe.


And then a picture worth a thousand words...

Birds, tides and tugboats

The choices were to watch the annual Florida-Georgia football game at Hazels Cafe, complete with copious quantities of alcohol, red shirts and "GO DAWGS" banners... or to boat out to a deserted barrier island to visit a shipwreck. No brainer...

Georgia's 100 mile coast accounts for around three quarters of all the undeveloped salt marsh on the East coast. The water is brackish, unappealing to this blue water Northern boy, but the abundance of fish and wildlife that inhabit the ecosystem is jaw dropping.

We left at high tide from a little private dock on a creek that is accessed by a 500 foot long walkway through the march. It's right next to an historic pre-revolutionary war battle site called "Bloody Marsh" where the British repelled the invading Spanish. Some history here... At low tide the creek is navigable only to the experts who know the channels and the location of the shell rakes. David is one of those guys...

We loaded the 14 foot McKee (like a side console Boston Whaler... ) with picnic stuff, dogs and womenfolk and headed through Village Creek, across Gould's Inlet and under the bridge to Sea Island. Things got rough at the confluence of the Atlantic and the Hamilton River. We found ourselves surrounded by several dozen Bottlenose Dolphins, some surfacing within 20 feet of the boat. After fighting the waves for awhile, we opted to pull into a little side water and anchor on the bank, hopeful that the boat would stay afloat and not go aground while we walked the 5 miles of deserted beach.

There was a small amount of flotsam and jetsam probably washed down the coast from the New York garbage skows, evidence of the non-biodegradability of plastic products, but, for the most part, it was a magnificent, untracked beach. No houses, no people, no boats, no footprints. Sand, shells, crabs, welks, huge sand dollars and dunes. In one of the backwater swamps, a small alligator. And birds. Literally millions of what David called Waxwings in an incredible aerial display, flying in a huge tornado-like funnel, suddenly breaking into flashing squadrons that wheeled and turned into each other, a mind bending display of birds in an aerial dogfight.( Huh?)

We came around the point to the sight of a shipwreck rising out of the sand. It reminded me of the movie Planet of the Apes. Remember the scene with Charlton Heston and the Statue of Liberty? "You Bastards!"... I tried to do some research and find the history on this particular wreck only to discover that there are LOTs of wrecks off the coast and that the divers and the fishermen love them. This one being high and dry evidently wasn't deemed worthy of a public record. David said in the late 90s while being towed up the coast, heavy seas rolled it and it was abandoned. He said that within 4 days it was stripped of everything of value (He has a couple brass portholes).
We carefully climbed through the rusting superstructure before heading back to our picnic. Pretty neat.


We got back to find the boat high and dry... thought we would be spending the night... but with some superhuman motivation (the girls would have KILLED us) we muscled it back in the water. The sun was getting low and the sand gnats were beginning to swarm so we moved out into the river to eat our picnic of fried chicken, bree, crab dip, toast points and 2 buck chuck. Awesome.

David couldn't resist heading out to Pelican Spit in the open water to visit the 10 thousand pelicans sitting on the sand like bald headed druids in prayer and, as we approached, they lifted into the sky blotting out the sunset. Hard to convey the emotion...

The sun was dipping below the horizon as we sped through the marsh trying to beat the darkness and the tide... when the motor died. The adrenalin was pumping when, 30 minutes later, after wearing the battery dangerously low, after changing fuel tanks, after flooding the engine with no tools to clean fouled plugs, the engine started on one cylinder. We limped out of the marsh holding our breath until the motor suddenly burst into full speed. When we tried to throttle it down, it would begin to die... so David did what David does best... He drove through the twisting, turning creeks and shell rakes, at full speed, in the dark all the while, with Connie clutching the dogs, screaming in the back of the boat, me perched on the bow as ballast, Mary Helen laughing hysterically. What a great adventure! But it will be awhile before I get Connie and the dogs back in a boat! LOL!

Thanks David and Mary Helen! Good times!

Here's a neat little YouTube video of where we were that ya'll might enjoy...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a2cu_8bPKjY&feature=player_embedded

Southern Politics

We arrived in Georgia late last week after 10 days moving and settling the kids in Arlington. They are is a wonderful location and doing great. Our work was done and we headed 10 hours down I95 to the island.

Our friend, Mary Helen, is running for Superior Court Judge and we are excited to be here for the final push. Unlike Maine, judges are elected. It is a nonpartisan contest, but it is a full fledged election campaign none the less. We have spent the last 5 days stuffing envelopes, attending campaign meetings, distributing stickers and signs and handouts across 5 counties; Glynn, Camden, Jeff Davis, Appling and Wayne.

Today I drove through Glynn County into Wayne County and posted road signs in Jesup and Odum. It's rural, farm country and forestry country. Stands of Lob Lolly and Long Leaf Pine. Fields of cotton and feed grain. The back roads are in good shape; no frost heaves. Half are dirt and it is dry. Lots of churches. Some beautiful antebellum homes, flat and fertile. And then there are the areas of trailers and shacks. A lot like Maine, but I didn't see one snowmobile and no ice fishing shacks.

We signed back up at the health club and Connie has been going to the yoga classes she loves. On my birthday my buddy, David, took me fishing out in the marsh. 12 foot McKee, like a Boston Whaler, with a 70 hp Merc on the back. He knows the creeks, the twists and turns, where the channels are and we flew through the marsh at full throttle. What a blast. And we found the fish, caught our limits of Reds and Trout, all 15 inches plus. Fish fry tonight!

I have found some consulting work with a local environmental firm. Interesting and exciting. Time to put some "juice in the jugg".

All for now...

Dedication tomorrow

Ben Won!!

Thanks for your votes!

http://www.sunjournal.com/city/story/916495

Local dad named 2010 Best Dad on Wheels

By Andie Hannon, Staff Writer

AUBURN — The Christopher and Dana Reeve Foundation announced Monday that a local 32-year-old father was named 2010 Best Dad on Wheels.

Ben Hayes said he was humbled Monday morning when he received the call from the foundation telling him that his story received more votes than any other. Paralyzed in an accident in late 2007, the Auburn man credits his large support team, which includes his wife, family, friends and co-workers, with helping reach goals many in his position would have given up on.

"I worked hard to get to this point," Hayes said Monday night. "I'm humbled that people recognize me for not being willing to give up and wanting to find ways to connect with my family and connect with (daughter) Isabel."

The nonprofit organization named after the late Superman actor sponsors the contest each year to honor those living with paralysis who demonstrate dedication, love, encouragement and goodwill.

Dedicated to curing spinal cord injury by funding innovative research and improving the quality of life for people living with paralysis through grants, information and advocacy, the Reeve Foundation invited the public to vote on its top 10 entries. Nominated by his college-sweetheart-turned-wife, Erin, Hayes received more than 8,000 votes to nab the grand prize, which includes bragging rights for the next year and a $500 gift package from Vineyard Vines Clothing.

"The ability to keep everything in perspective is the key," Hayes said in statement issued by the foundation. "Keep pushing and never let it stop you."

According to the foundation, Hayes embodies the spirit and courage of the contest because he doesn't allow the spinal cord injury to stop him from being an active father in the life of his daughter, Isabel, who was only 4 months old at the time of his accident.

"Ben and our other terrific nominees show that while paralysis limits the body, it doesn't limit the heart and mind's capacity to parent," the foundation said in a statement.

Hayes doesn't allow his wheelchair to stop him from doing all the things with his family that other husbands and dads do. He eats with his daughter, transports her around and tucks her in each night with bedtime stories. One thing that stands out is that he teaches his daughter that being in a wheelchair doesn't stop him from loving and guiding her as she grows.

"I try to tell people to be optimistic and try to keep things in perspective in terms of what they're trying to accomplish," Hayes said.

VOTE FOR BEN HAYES!!!

Benjamin with his daughter

Benjamin Hayes

My husband, Ben, suffered a C4/C5 spinal cord injury on December 21st, 2007. Our daughter, Isabel, was 4 1/2 months old at the time. Ben has developed a loving relationship with Isabel.

He does everything in his power to connect with her and make her realize that even though daddy cannot move, he still loves her and can play with her every day. He uses what he has gained to "hug" her. He had her in front of him while he worked out and let her crawl on him like he was her jungle gym. They "swing" in his lift and once Ben could move his arm, she would hold his hand even though he couldn't hold hers. They eat together (see photo) and at night he tells her stories.

He does everything he can with her and teaches her every single day that daddy is no different than anyone else. He just needs a chair. The older she gets, the more questions she asks. Ben calmly answers them all in a way that she can understand. She knows about daddy's injury and she knows, just as she said, that one day daddy will get up and walk.

http://www.christopherreeve.org/site/c.ddJFKRNoFiG/b.6234103/k.2BE/Vote_for_the_Best_Dad_on_Wheels.htm?msource=email&auid=6976201

Vote for the Best Dad on Wheels - Christopher and Dana Reeve Foundation

www.christopherreeve.org

YOU decide who the 2010 Best Dad on Wheels will be! Read each entry then vote for the your favorite one! The Christopher and Dana Reeve Foundation is dedicated to curing spinal cord injury by funding innovative research, and improving the quality of life for people living with paralysis.

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