Webster Art

Favorite posts going back to 1999

March 31st, 2024

In any un-curated blog there will be gems and boring stuff. It’s the nature of writing. You have to get past the choss to get to the good stuff. If you don’t write the choss, the good stuff never sees the light of day. Without further ado, here are some of my favorites, organized by most recent. I will add to this list as time goes on:

• Solo at the Creek spring 2023
• I had a vision at Indian Creek fall 2022
• Seven year itch or the nature of marriage
• Playing guitar
• Humble Creek fall 21
• Crampons and wildfires
• My daughter’s wedding
• Marty, off belay
• My son’s wedding
• River runs through it, snow at Josh
• Fletch and I put on a concert
• Hippie days and the girl from Venice Beach 1973
• A link into my main, not WordPress, website for portrait paintings
• Directory of my favorite campfire songs in pdf form
• Alphabetical listing of posts from my old website, not mobile friendly

Portrait of Craig

February 16th, 2026

In 1998 my son Clint was in the seventh grade when he started bringing his BMX friends over to the house. That was 1998. There was a gang of them including Tony and his brother, our neighbor’s son Jeremy and a few others. They’d build increasingly larger dirt jumps in the neighborhood, sometimes just beyond our property in the green belt. I didn’t think about it at the time, but there were never any girls in the group.

Lisa was always around of course, and I’m sure some of her girlfriends like Andrea would be nearby. But they weren’t into BMX. As they got better Sue would act as a soccer mom, BMX style, driving them around town to the various skate parks and forested jumps in our 1996 Ford mini van. I went on some of those trips if I wasn’t working.

Clint has been around climbing his whole life, but sometime in their late teens, early twenties, he invited Craig to try climbing for a weekend. Craig was a natural and within a few years he, Clint and some of their nursing buddies were climbing at Exit 38 on their own. We all made some trips to Yosemite Valley as well.

On one memorable 14 day trip we met Bretts friend Crystal in the valley. Clint and Sue drove home in his Tacoma while Craig, Crystal and I stayed another week. Gradually, as Clint got busy with his nursing job he cut back on his climbing. I can’t remember the exact timing, but we had a great run of about 12 years. Craig, on the other hand, had a shipyard job with a lot of vacation time.

Craig fell in love with climbing. He and Clint still ride the jumps on their mountain bikes to this day. But while Craig does both sports, Clint doesn’t climb rock anymore. He still climbs Rainier every summer, but his sports are the mountain bike, bow hunting and skiing, mostly on Rainier, but also lift skiing.

I wasn’t planning to revisit all this history… I started this post to show my latest painting, which is Craig. I guess I felt I needed background since up till now my portraits have all been family. My first portrait was of two of Clint’s chickens. Then a cat, then his daughter Rose and then Clint. Next I did Lisa’s daughter, grandkid number 2. Then I painted Lisa. I thought Lisa’s portrait was my best painting ever.

During my annual jtree trip…I still haven’t written that trip report…I got some great photos of Craig. My darn iPhone 17 pro almost matches my full frame camera for portraits in good light. Craigs wife Shannon liked Lisa’s portrait and mentioned in passing that she was thinking about commissioning me to paint Craig for his birthday. She has a print of an old portrait I did of Craig by campfire light in Jtree. I didn’t respond immediately to her statement. These days I paint for enjoyment and satisfaction. And I still don’t know how I feel about that. I dislike money between friends.

Long story short I started Craigs portrait by drawing it in pencil on masonite covered with an oil ground. That went fairly well after the usual stumbles. It turned out so good I wished I’d just done the pencil work on good drawing paper. I could have called it done. But as the old saying goes: “In for a penny, in for a pound”.

When I started in on the color I immediately started hating life. I’ve never painted teeth before. The reason ancient painters never did teeth is because photography hadn’t been invented and no one can pose smiling. Being a traditionalist I also never did teeth, preferring to work from life. But no one has time to pose anymore, and it was a great smiling photo my camera had captured.

For several days I tried to ease in on the color with non committal washes, letting the strong pencil work show through. I’d fixed the pencil so it was bulletproof. But I was getting nowhere and knew I had to launch into thick paint. For a day I was using the color picker in Photoshop on my iPad to tell me what colors to put where, but that didn’t work. Painting from a photo is not just copying colors. You might as well just keep the photo. No, the whole point of a painting is to bring a portrait to life so it breaths in a way that a photo never can. There is a reason painted portraits are treasured.

Finally I started interpreting the photo colors into something that spoke to me. Soon the painting came to life. There was a moment when I was painting my crazy ass colors and a good song came on my playlist. I think it was “Gimme’ one reason” by Tracy Chapman. I was so happy with the painting I started dancing in my studio.

Sue knocked on the door and came in.

“Oh, those colors are awful! His beard isn’t green, what were you thinking? I’ll bet it was all those acid trip that messed up your ability to see color!”

But before she had come in I’d been wondering about my choices. My daughter Lisa is an excellent judge of my artwork and I’ve always known I can get the straight skinny from her. Here is a text message string to Lisa:

Because I was focused on painting and then building 4 new hand painted and gold leafed picture frames, I’d stopped playing guitar. Or I think that was why. Perhaps my mind only has so much creativity available. I finished the frames today and was pottering around the house and saw my guitar gathering dust.

I put on my harp brace and started playing The Rose as a one man orchestra: guitar, harp and out of tune voice. The song dug out some deep emotions of joy and sadness combined that could only happen through performing live music. I feel fortunate to have these talents.

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My iPhone has a function where I can press a button and it goes grayscale. It’s supposed to reduce screen time by making it less interesting and therefore addictive. I hit it accidentally while looking at his portrait and was stunned at how accurate my values were. Any hue will work if the values are correct.

Weeks at home is ok

January 24th, 2026

Had a fun day at the gym Friday. Brian and I have an on and off Friday afternoon rendezvous that depends on us both being in town. Earlier in the week Craig, James and Chris all asked me to climb, but I only had Friday available. I invited them all to join Brian and I. A great time was had by all. We know each other from previous trips, though James hadn’t met Brian.

I feel lucky to have a core group of climbers who love the sport. For a little background, I met Craig first when he was 12. He and my son with BMX buddies who started climbing. He in turn met Chris and shortly thereafter Lisa, who later became Brians girlfriend. I met James on a legendary trip to Jtree in 2007. That was my first return to Jtree in 7 years. We had a carful of characters also including Austin and Brett, joined the next year by (blind) Paul. Since then I’ve only missed 2 years in the high desert. Chris and Lisa G and I have made many, trips together to Yosemite, Smith and Squamish. Here we are in Yosemite 16 years ago:

Earlier in the week I climbed with Terry and Roger J, of Roger’s Corner at Index. I think I met Terry through Roger, and of course I met Roger through Jim P. Terry is an old alpine climber who has been everywhere and climbed everything. I met Jim P at Spire Rock in 1977 and must have seen Roger there too, since he and Jim Yoder spent years building the darn thing one stone at a time.

I also played doubles ping pong 4 times this week. Tuesday Thursday and Friday mornings with Sue and a cast of merry makers: Pam, Dennis, Casey, Lissette, Carol, Mary, Cary, Jackson and his mom, John the policeman, Eric, and a couple others whose names escape me. Wednesday evening Sue and I played with the pros: old Bob (90) Randy, Kathleen and Yo. John also showed up there after work in full armor.

I pedaled my uni twice this week. Today there was a motorcycle meetup at the ferry dock boat launch parking spot. As usual I was the only one wheeled weirdo. A little kid got so exited by my uni he raced alongside me for half a block, hooting like he’d seen a unicorn. I had enough in the tank to pedal up the hill to the skywalk. Pedaling uphill on a uni is a flat out sprint. I’m pushing as hard as I can while desperately fighting for balance. It’s important to maintain some speed because inertia helps with stability. It’s such good exercise!

I was pleased to do all that without Ibuprofen. I’ve been taking a teaspoon of a Tumeric anti-inflammatory supplement every day. It’s not as good as Ibu, but less toxic.

After riding today I stopped at Clint’s to pick up Sue who was babysitting 3 month old Gracie. Clint and I worked on truing up his new fence door. As a homeowner of an older house he is becoming quite handy. He’s put in real slate flooring in his kitchen, tiled the walls in his bathroom with grout and installed two wood stoves and a dishwasher. Being retired I help where and when I can.

I guess I could work around our house. I have to change oil in our two Toyotas. Sue is after me to replace the front and back doors. I did one on a shed last summer which turned out good for a non carpenter. I also need to clean the traps on both sinks. We’ve been overbooking ourselves in retirement. Here is a week:

• Two hours of doubles ping pong up to 4 days a week
• Climbing gym up to 3 days a week, often on same days I play pong
• Unicycle every other day, Sue walks with Pam
• Helping out, visiting and or babysitting 5 grandkids
• Playing guitar
• working on cars
• dental or medical appointments
• feeling guilty because I’m too busy to be an artist

I’ve started a new portrait from a photo. It’s really tough orange lighting with a smile. I rarely do teeth. I did a nice pencil drawing on oil gesso. That was so nice I wished I’d just done it on good hot press drawing paper. Now I am trying to put oil color on top of fixed pencil and it’s an awful transition. What was once a well value balanced drawing is a train wreck of a painting. I need to have faith that I can get it past the awkward teen years to adulthood. The suffering involved reminds me why artists are rare. It hasn’t rained in 11 days.

I bought a new pen by Pilot. It is the Vanishing Point (VP). It’s a 60 year old design and keeps the ink wet just as good as my other Pilot Namiki Falcon. They both have an 18 Karat gold nib. They both have a small flex range and handle the same. The VP has a clicky ballpoint pen function that is very cool. However, the steel involved in the mechanics makes it noticeably heavier than my Falcon. It’s not so heavy it’s dumb, and my arthritic fingers are the real problem not the VP.

I prefer drawing with my Falcon, but it is all plastic and the cap may crack someday. But there you have it, two overpriced Japanese fountain pens. You get what you pay for with pens.

I treat these semi blind contour pen drawings as practice. Like a pianist running her scales, I draw to maintain my hand eye coordination.

We have mixed feelings about this. I guess pioneers taught kids how to shoot squirrels back in the day. She does it under strict supervision, with the bow out of reach when he isn’t home.

Motion activated rechargeable closet light DIY

January 11th, 2026

If you live in an old house your clothes closet doesn’t have lights. What did people do back then? I wasn’t about to pay an electrician to wire a new circuit from the main panel to each closet in each bedroom.

Amazon sells motion activated rechargeable closet lights for $17 advertised to last 60 days, but I don’t believe they are as good, bright or as controllable as my DIY system. I did buy a couple units from Lowes but they ran on 4 disposable C cells which are expensive and short lived.

The system I built uses 4 separate components.

• Motion – infrared sensor
• battery
• charger
• LED light strip

The battery can be something as simple as a motorcycle battery, recharged with a car trickle charger. So it depends on what you have on hand. I already had two 12 volt rechargeable LiFePO4 batteries that I use when I hike with my ham radios.

I charge them with a $37 LifePo charger that plugs directly into the battery:

I also had a 20 foot 110V dimmable plug in light strip already up in my closet. These Chinese made light strips are cheap and super bright. You can also find them at Lowes. But it was annoying because the power chord over to the wall outlet ran under the closet door and looked like a fire risk. And it wasn’t motion activated. I’d plug it in to use the closet, then forget and leave the light on. I looked into door activated switches, meaning the light turns on when the door is open, but that requires hard wiring 110 volts which seemed too much.

Over the span of a couple years I went though the C cell Lowes closet light, the 110V LED strip and a simple headlamp hung on the door. None were ideal. Then I was on a climbing trip and went into one of those classic cement outhouses at night in Joshua Tree. A light came on in the ceiling. There is no electricity in Jtree. I looked up and they had the solution.

Rechargeable battery powered closet light sensor

Inside a metal cage on the cement ceiling they had a small rechargeable battery wired into a motion-infrared sensor with wires that led to a small LED light and a small solar panel on the roof.

While staring at it I realized I could replace the solar panel with my Bienno battery and charger and my system would be complete.

I wired in a standard automotive fuse for safety. I used Anderson PowerPole connectors because that is the standard in the Ham radio community and the YouTube learning curve is short. Plus that is what the battery ships with.

The beauty of this DIY closet light is that it is very bright, lasts for weeks, is rechargeable, is fused, and never has more than 12 volts in it. So fire risk is low. The only real risk is when charging the battery with the 110V chord going under the door. We are always careful to unplug any chargers before leaving the house. This includes laptops, iPads, phones, vacuums, etc.

I offered to put one in my wife’s closet but she prefers replacing C cell batteries. You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make them drink.

Mountain closed, what to do?

Yesterday we were supposed to ski Rainier but two of the plow drivers recently retired. As with many boomer staffed blue collar trades these two old dudes took a ton of experience out the door with them. Our inside connection tells us that the online park service application process is incredibly cumbersome. The local loggers and diesel equipment operators who would be ideal for the job don’t have a chance of wading through the byzantine park service application process. Besides, who wants to drive a snowplow?

Fortunately there is a skinny ski and snowshoe trail on the way to Rainier. It is run by volunteers. It’s basically a couple old logging roads with reservable huts at the top. They have their own ski resort style grooming plows. If it snows a lot you park at the highest parking spot they can keep clear. You need a $50 yearly Snowpark pass, but other than that it’s free.

Yesterday Lisa and I skied – skinned 3 miles up the snow covered road to the 4700 foot high hut. I’d forgot to carb up the night before and ran out of gas in the last mile. I should have brought a rope so she could tow my sorry old ass. Both kids are incredibly strong: lungs with legs. But by stopping every 60 feet I managed to dig deep and arrive on top.

Lisa took off down the road like a shot, effortlessly linking turns on the narrow cat track. Both kids bought season passes as soon as they got hired in the ER. They can ski anything anywhere, including off the summit of Rainier. I ski the lifts maybe once a year. Who can afford $230 a day?

So when we go as family we skin up which is totally free and better exercise.

There was a crew of women dragging light plastic sleds. We couldn’t figure out why they needed McKinley style sleds to haul up light backpacks. But when they hopped in at the top and went zooming down the road, steering with their feet, we quickly saw the logic. No skill required and a fast trip down.

I started out snow plowing like a raw beginner. But with 3 miles to go I cramped up. The slope lessened and I was able to practice my cat track turns. Couldn’t keep pace with Lisa but she’d stop now and then and look back. Twas a fun ski day. Thanks to Sue for babysitting so Lisa could get out. My wife is a saint.

Fall 2025 Indian Creek

December 23rd, 2025

James and I drove down in early November arriving in two long days. Unlike previous years there was no snow. After shopping we drove in past the dead cows (free range land) and stopped at a new crag or crack called Y Crack simulator, which we led with many hangs. Later in the trip we came back and I got it with just one hang at the top. It’s a lovely blue splitter crack with a few fours at the top

Half a mile further is Blue Gamma, where we also climbed that day. The Creek is brutal in week one. If I were ever to get serious I’d focus on pull-ups or a crack machine before leaving home. James taught me a cool trick that I’d never paid much attention to. For each crag, the book gives you exact mileage from Newspaper Rock.

We camped with Wenatchee Dave and his friends Will and Abby. Later Anita and Collin joined the group on a trip to Pistol Whipped. Colin led this very friendly 9, or maybe an easy 10 right at the top of the trail. He leads 12 off widths, so it was super nice of him to hang this up for us. On TR I realized I could have led it with some aid at the top. There is a 10 called Jolly Rancher at the far right at Pistol. I need to get on that. Need two ropes and up to 8 each of yellows and blues.

Collin also put up a double fist 5.11 route, making it look easy. Both James and I suffered our way up that. Offwidth is a struggle bus but I am making progress on the learning curve. Anita, Collin and Abby got a cam stuck on a 5.12 offwidth and were up there with headlamps long after Will, James and I were safely down at the car. Those girls don’t stop climbing just because it’s getting dark. It became a pattern.

I played a few songs most nights. As usual I hesitate to “inflict” my out of tune singing on my new friends. But they seemed to enjoy it.

November 15, 2025. 

Dave had been there a week and got sick a few days after our arrival. We’d all been staying on BLM land at Hamburger rock. It’s a mile to a restroom and there are no picnic tables. When Dave left I decided I was done with roughing it and got a spot at our regular campground at the pasture.

We started hitting all the eights and nines, leading what we could and aiding the rest. I’d play every other night or so. One night I was playing Piano Man at our picnic table: guitar, voice and harmonica. James was already asleep in his Coleman popup tent. I had just finished the last verse when a young lady ( Maja 33 ) walked up out of the darkness to my table. This is her:

https://www.instagram.com/reels/DKNH4L8Oqmz

“Hello the campfire?”

“Hi.”

“Do I know you?”

“Probably not, I don’t know anyone here.”

“Was that you playing Piano Man?”

“Uh, maybe?”

“Well it sounded really good!”

“Ok, that was me. Oh, you brought a flute!”

“Yes, I’m not very good though, but I love to play.”

“Well shoot, let’s play something!”

“I would love that. I’m taking a break from working. I was walking to the rest room and heard you and had to come over, you sounded great!”

“Oh, thank you so much for saying that!”

She saw I had the music for In Spite of Ourselves, by John Prine and asked if we could play it.

The conversation continued along with several other songs she picked from my iPad collection. I told her how I thought  my voice was bad and she said I was wrong and had a lovely voice. Boy, I really needed to hear that. Sue, Craig and a few others have said my voice was bad. In my heart I thought my voice was at least OK. Or maybe it’s just that it feels so good to sing that I assumed my voice couldn’t be all bad. Dad was a choir director so you would think I’d inherit a little of his skill?

She had some wonderful advice about how I needed to believe in myself and not listen to what others had to say about my talent.

“I just got out of a long term relationship because he didn’t believe in my dreams. He would constantly criticize me and tell me my plans wouldn’t work. So screw those people, listen to your heart!”

 These were very philosophical thoughts for a dark and windy night around the campfire. I played a few more of my standards, letting my voice and harp ring out as best I could. Later when I got back to town I told Brian ( musician climber ).

“Mark, none of us has a professionally trained voice. I wouldn’t say you have a great voice, but you do have an ok voice that has a lot of character. Johnny Cash had an ok voice, but it had character”

Back to Utah: Turns out she knows meatloaf the cat and climbs at Squamish and Index with Maria, the cat’s owner. Small world!

At 12 days in I sent Y crack simulator and Mexican Unicorn with just one hang at top. That is not bad. James is still learning blues. He onsighted Batteries not included today. I flailed on TR. Ate sardines and sent (unsent) Unky Mark. It seems that unsending will be a thing as I age.

Anita, Colin, Will and Abby were very kind to hang lines for us that first week. She led this 9 at Trick or Treat crag and put in a directional so I could TR this 11 off width. I got to within 8 feet of the top, passing some very awkward double fist flares. Other than the 9 on the right, there is only one or two other routes there I can lead. One of them is off around the corner to the left and starts dead vertical up over a wedged block. I’ve top roped it a few times and could maybe get up cleanly. But really, Trick or Treat is not worth the hike for me. Small and or strong handed people like it.

We spent a couple days at Donnelly. I hung dog Chocolate again. I’d borrowed some fives from friends back home and felt duty bound to take them for a spin. This was supposed to be a demonstration of my hand stacking prowess. Instead, I pulled on cams most of the way.

Unlike some previous attempts I got up Generic Crack but ran out of gas more times than I can count. My rack for Generic was 10 yellow number twos, two blue number threes, and one 4. A 70 just barely gets you off. In a way, climbs like this are simply endurance training. I show up to the creek out of shape and get on routes over my head to train. Like if you want to get better at climbing hills, you go climb hills. Gradually you will get stronger. What doesn’t hurt you makes you stronger…blah, blah, blah.

Will and Abby had left so Anita came by looking for friends. It was predicted to rain but the clouds were slow to arrive. We hiked up to Cat Wall. She put up Tom Cat for us. I considered leading it but it looked like reds. Turns out I would have been fine, it was awesome hands, and where it was reds there were chimney moves. Gotta’ get on it next trip.

The rains rolled in for about 5 days so we bailed to City of Rocks where it was cloudy and cold! We got a few days of climbing in before I got tired of cold fingers. Turns out, the sun came back and it was 58 degrees at Indian Creek for a week as soon as I got home. We should have gone hiking and painting down there and waited it out.

Since I’ve been home I’ve stepped back into our routine of ping pong 3 days a week, plus climbing gym plus unicycle every other day for aerobics. I’m getting so I can launch off the fence and ride reliably. I can’t go farther than about a block before my thighs cramp up. But if there is something to lean on to start I can go half a mile.

After 34 years I finally painted my daughter. Why it took so long I have no idea. I think it may be my best portrait ever, and maybe my best painting too. It’s nice to have a hobby where you can keep getting better as you get older. Seems like all my other hobbies are on the downward slide with age.

We have a routine in our family where I walk into the kitchen (best lighting) with a new painting face down. They all know I paint, but I never tell them who I’m painting next. She knew she was the last immediate family member not painted, so it wasn’t a huge surprise, still, there was something tender in her voice:

“Oh, you painted me!” This was followed by a long pause while she studied it. Like her mother, she calls bullshit when she sees it. But what she said next was telling:

“It’s good, I think it’s good.”

After she left I took a photo and brought it in on a layer in Affinity Photo (Photoshop). When layered over the photo I saw that her chin was too tall and her forehead needed trimming. I’d used a 54 year old tube of Vandyke Brown mixed with white for the background. It was easy to make a few small adjustments and now I’m calling it done. I could tinker forever on things like the over done dramatic lighting and blonde hair, but it is so so touchy. Mixing skin tones is such a headache. To change even one shadow you have to feather in the change across half the face, which may alter the entire color scheme.

I started with vine charcoal because it erases easy. Once I had a reasonably close likeness I fixed it then painted her in blue. Picasso had a famous “blue period” where he did some lovely portraits in shades of blue. Look it up. He wasn’t always a crazy man.

I tried to segue into green shadows but it bombed. I wiped it down to charcoal and tried palette knife, which bombed. I was sorely temped to break the damn board in half. Instead I scraped off the knife work down to charcoal and started again. This was over several days and I was getting really frustrated. Finally something started to work. I was working mostly in monotone browns. No red, yellows or blues. Gradually I eased in some Cobalt blue into my Transparent Oxide brown and Transparent Oxide red, which is a brown but warmer. I used some Naples Yellow for the lights.

My mechanic sent me an email reminder that my Tundra was due for its 90,000 mile service. I looked it up and those can run up to $2700 if it also needs a brake job.

I drained and filled all three transmission components with the appropriate gear oil. I changed 8 spark plugs, they were original. I replaced the original pads and rotors on the rear, and the air filter. The brakes were done during one of those heavy rain storms we’ve been having lately. That was not fun.

Record with XLR microphone on iPhone 17 Pro

November 2nd, 2025

I’ve been playing a lot and decided to record some amateur music videos. I have real microphones but they can’t plug into an iPhone without an audio interface box. I use the Presonus AudioBox iTwo. Here are the two videos.

And here is the music video. I just got the Elvis mic and promptly poured Red Bull on it while babysitting my son’s two kids for two nights. There is a reason only young people have children. It’s a lot of work. Sue was there but we both got worked. On the plus side, they used the time to have a new baby.

Grandmas advice

October 25th, 2025

There is a feel good article in the WaPo this morning about Jewish grandma’s setting up shop on the sidewalks of New York and offering free advice to random passerby’s. It reminded me of how much I miss my dad. At 32 we had a one year old and I was stuck in a dead end blue collar printing job.

I’d worked there 11 years running simple machines and needed a change. Imagine an oil change guy who wants to move up to repairing engines for more pay. The shop was so small there was no where to go up. It was a family run business and they had the administrative jobs. Not that I wanted them, I enjoyed working with my hands. But I knew I was capable of a lot more.

Through one of the visiting ink salesman I heard of a job 30 miles aways where I’d grown up and my parents still lived in the old family home. I knew the company was on shaky ground but it was a bigger machine and I desperately needed a change. I took the job and six months later they fired me and promptly went bankrupt.

I got let go at noon and went for a walk around my old teenage stomping grounds. I ended up at the State Supreme Court where dad worked as the bailiff, a job he’d had since ’65. When court wasn’t in session his job was pretty chill and he could take breaks whenever.

Ever since I was a stoned out hippy I knew he was always there and happy to see me. I could have easily dropped by to see mom up the hill, but I gravitated toward dad. He knew I was supposed to be at work and was surprised to see me walk into his office.

I got fired dad.

Ah, I’m sorry to hear that, I knew you had high hopes for your new job.

Yeah, they said I was too slow and I was hurting their profits.

Well I’m sure it was more than that. They have been in trouble for years.

Hey, did you know I got fired more than a dozen times?

What!! No way. I’ve never heard that. You only had two jobs in the last 30 years.

Yup, it’s true. Before I got that city desk job at the newspaper where you kids were born I bounced around reporting jobs for years. I’d work for a while, make the editor mad or the paper would close and I’d get fired. It happened over and over. The newspaper business is much more volatile than the printing trade. I had jobs at papers up and down the west coast from Sitka to San Francisco.

Geez dad, I had no idea. You were a rock as long as I can remember.

It took me years to learn how to keep a job. I reported on some hot button issues and would get all worked up.

Well, I feel better now. This is the first time I’ve been fired. I had that cushy job for 11 years. I was the foreman there and they loved me.

It won’t be your last if you are anything like me. There is always another job out there. You are a smart, honest young man with a lot of skills, you’ll be fine.

I walked out of there feeling much better and began pounding the pavement. I developed a routine where I’d hit as many print shops in day as possible. I even developed some subterfuges to get past the front desk. I quickly realized that I had to get past the desk to the foreman who could hire and fire. If I walked in and asked for the foreman the secretary would say he was busy.

I learned to call first and ask for the foreman’s name, saying I wanted to mail him a resume. Then I’d walk in the front door with a big smile and ask for Bob. Many times the desk lady thought I was a personal friend, otherwise why would I be smiling and know his name?

Other times I’d walk straight in the back entrance. Shops back then always kept the alley door open for ventilation and deliveries. Printing uses a lot of solvents and creates clouds of paper dust, air circulation is critical. I’d circulate in and talk shop with the pressmen, resume in hand. That particular time I got a job in ten days.

I found a shop up in Silverdale whose pressman had quit. The guy was desperate. I heard about the job from another boss nearby who didn’t need help but knew someone who did.

I meant this to be a blog post about grandmas. I’m married to one now. The kids and their kids come over regularly, or we drop by their houses. We just hang out. Sue does a lot of babysitting when they get in a pinch. Neither has a sitter. They both take turns with their spouses watching the kids, and rely on grandparents for un-avoidable complications. Both of my kids spouses have parents within an hours drive. Unlike a lot of people, our kids never left the state, or even the county, for college. So there is no need to ask advice of a bubbe on the sidewalk. They just come home. We are very fortunate.

I made my first YouTube short!

Bear mauled our backpack

October 20th, 2025

There have been bear warning signs up all summer at Squamish. They described an aggressive bear that was dragging packs away from climbers. We were joking about it on previous trips but this time it was no joke.

C. was top roping an 11 and had just arrived at the anchors when the bear ambled into view on the trail 30 feet away. We’d heard it was nearby from other climbers who had mentioned it was near but minding its own business.

Because I was belaying I had nowhere to go. I could have climbed up the rope with the grigri, but the bear would have easily caught me. Instead, like any self respecting tourist, I got out my phone and took pictures. It seemed to not see me or the other climber behind me. It couldn’t have missed us, it simply had no interest in us.

But C.’s pack clearly smelled tasty because it dragged it a few feet towards some bushes. C. saw her pack getting mauled from the anchors 60 feet up and threw a quickdraw. The bear was used to thrown things and did not react. I was told later that running toward it with bear spray would have been bad.

About 7 people were in the area (Free and Easy, Smoke Bluffs) and all were shouting “Hey Bear!” I kept shooting pictures. It was nerve-racking being trapped in a corner with the bear out front. An apex predator of that size is not part of my normal day. C. later said she wasn’t concerned about me at all. Rather she was worried about her new backpack.

Good duck hunting dogs are trained to swim out and retrieve ducks using a ‘soft mouth’ so they don’t damage the meat. The bear must have learned early on that human food is better when it isn’t mangled. Her pack was covered in bear slobber but no holes.

At camp that night I played Piano Man all the way through. I’ve mastered the harmonica parts and my guitar harp brace works great. I was dimly aware of some headlamps in the next campsite. C. was singing with me in her clear perfectly pitched soprano voice. At the finish we heard clapping and a loud: “That was awesome guys, holy shit!!”

C. later said that she’d never seen me so happy. I guess the neighbors applause was just what I needed. She asked me if I had ever wanted to be a performing artist and I admitted that I had.

My unicycle journey has been mixed. I have some residual cramping and popping going on in my right knee. I don’t know what it is, but it could be Long Covid PMR. It hurts a bit sometimes though it’s also prone to vanish. We’ve been driving to a local grade school where there is a long sidewalk along a cyclone fence. But that is only 50 meters.

I’ve been focusing on a perfect start off the fence. That means well balanced and in control as I start moving. But today I drove to where there is a sidewalk with a quarter mile of fence. It’s on an inlet into the harbor. Best of all it’s sort of a lost bike path, meaning most people don’t even know it’s there because the entrances aren’t obvious.

I got on that today and saw the fence and asphalt stretching out before me with no people anywhere, just some seagulls. I spent at least half an hour falling repeatedly, barely pedaling 40 feet. I couldn’t find my groove and considered giving up. But I remembered that speed is your friend.

But to get up to speed you can’t fall off during liftoff. So I thought, maybe a flawless start isn’t important. Maybe I need to start wildly and just fight for it, flailing arms and all. And that worked. I launched off the fence left side, which I hate, and just flailed chanting “fight for it, fight!!” Soon I was reaching cruising speed (a fast walk) and could relax a little.

There is a whole other set of skills involving cruising: things like balancing weight between pedals and seat, leaning forward, holding hands down to sides…and waiting for the groove. Sounds weird to say that but if you’ve ever pursued excellence in a tricky sport like windsurfing, speed skating, climbing, you’ll know what the groove is. It’s also called getting in the zone.

A few days ago I went out after the rains and rode the entire length of the boat house bike path several times, once without stopping. As I left I looked uphill toward the skybridge. I’ve never ridden uphill but gave it a shot. Surprisingly, uphill is more stable because you have to push hard on every pedal stroke. Who knew? On the level you have to balance forward and back pedaling, but uphill it’s all forward pushing. This means you can focus on leaning forward, pushing hard, while also going slower. It’s a win win. My 45 year old badly healed broken ankle complains after each long ride. It doesn’t like all the jumping off at speed. That pain is the same reason why I don’t like pickleball.

When I skate no one ever says anything to me. Skaters are common down there and there are some extremely graceful skaters. One young woman is a goddess on skates. I’m just a clumsy old man exercising. But on my unicycle I’m a one off. People stop me every time I go out. They exclaim that it looks really hard, I’m super brave, did I know I’m missing a wheel?

Yesterday, I rode past a woman in her 50’s. I got about 60 feet past her before doing a moving dismount. This means I stepped off at walking speed, running a few steps while the uni tumbled to a stop behind me.

“That was a great push there, nice effort!”

“Oh, thanks, it’s a scary sport!”

“What made you want to try such an unusual sport? I’ve never seen a unicycle.”

“Oh, I guess it was because my brother was able to ride one when I was 10. But I couldn’t figure it out. I promised myself I’d try it eventually; like a bucket list thing. I’m retired now and have the time to try weird sports.”

“Well, congratulations! I’m sure by next summer you’ll have it in the bag and be cruising all over.”

Squamish in a heat wave

September 30th, 2025

James and I went to Squish for 10 days. We did a ton of routes with the highlight being 6 pitches on St. Vitus Dance. I led the crux pitch while James led the long hands to off width below. We had to climb in the shade a lot.

Cool shady crags are Shannon Springs wall to left of Shannon Falls, nice slabby 5.9 there. Octopus garden after 3PM. Crag X and Laughing Crack before 11.

Two weeks later I went to the City of Rocks with V. We started on Windance. I led the right friction start route in my brand new brown Scarpa shoes. Felt very rusty at 5pm after leaving T-town the previous night at 7:30 PM.

Carols Crack gave me trouble. I was having an off day and it felt harder than normal. At the crux I placed a half inch wired nut. Placing the nut made me even more tired. But while climbing above it my tank ran dry and I found myself airborne. V easily caught my fall. I climbed back up and sent. My best lead was the 9 right of Carols. It’s a lovely crack with sweet steep hands and bulging face moves on huge wacos.

I also led the 9 at Lost World. That is such a fantastic move. You step left to grab a side pull jug. Then step up on tippy toe holds. I matched feet then stretched right to the flake. Done! Such beautiful movement with super close bolts through the meat and potatoes.

When I climbed at the gym last week with Terry I was weak. I could barely get up the white 10B that used to be easy. Went downhill from there. Maybe tired from the trip to City? I was only 4 days home. Week later I went today with C L and was strong again. I led the 10B easily and even onsighted a blue 10C. I also easily led another 10+ that has stymied me in the past.

The day prior I rode my unicycle for the first time in 4 months. I got as far as 60 feet and was finding that sweet spot where my weight is balanced between my feet and my saddle. The uni flows at the point. Things fall away and it gets quiet, really magical how that works.

I’d forgotten how to ride, but not how to dismount. I was stepping off in perfect control, maybe a few quick running steps at the worst. It’s such a remarkable sport. So much better than bicycling or skating. As Sue commented, I used to be really good and could ride up to 4 miles. I so, so need to learn the free start. Leaning on fences is causing me endless frustration.

Rose promised Sue to hold my hand on our walk a few days ago. I didn’t trust her after our last walk where she ran off down the block. With these old knees I can’t chase her down. So I walked the bicycle. Rose in one hand, the bike in the other. She was really good and listened like a well trained dog. On the return walk she asked me why I brought the bike if I was just going to walk it.

”I didn’t trust you Rose.”

”But I promised Grandma not to run!”

It seems like such a simple thing, but to see her mind growing those essential logic chains like cause and effect, and the meaning of promises. Watching these grandkids grow up is…I don’t have words. If you know, you know.

I saw a silly article in the WaPo about relationships and the challenges of dating. This was my response:

This article complicates something very simple. Turn off your phones and computers. Pursue excellence in something outside that makes you sweat. You will find your future mate there doing the same thing. Active outside people are fit, beautiful, fun and friendly. For me, my wife, our kids and all of my friends our passion is rock climbing. Once you develop some skill and power you won’t be single for long. I’ve seen it happen over and over. It really is that simple. Now I gotta go pack for my next trip. By the way, my wife and I are 71.

June and July

July 31st, 2025

I haven’t written in two months. This usually means I’ve been having lots of fun living life instead of writing about it. But life seems so short, and when I don’t write about it, did it really happen?

At the end of May my old buddy Cole and Taryn rolled in to Leavy and I drove over to meet them. I met Cole about 8 years ago up in Squamish. All of my partners had left (Marty, Chris, etc) so I had posted for partners on the Squamish climbers website. I was halfway to the border when Cole called me out of the blue. We climbed for 3 days and had a great time.

We’ve met every few years ever since in places like Vegas, Jtree, The Creek, Smith, etc. He and I climbed Midway Direct, Dog Leg and Classic. One evening I played guitar for the two of them on the deck of their Hotel room. There were very kind and cute, holding hands and clapping after every song. Cole also plays but didn’t that night. Taryn was very bubbly and a strong trad climber. Cole is a lucky guy.

I told them Paul’s Ice Cream truck joke one evening. They liked it.

Taryn: So let me ask you something 

Me: uh oh here it comes

What do you mean?

Oh, I thought I was in trouble after telling that ice cream truck joke.

No, no, the opposite. Have you always been this funny? I mean, you’re a riot to hang out with. Have you always been that way?

Me: Wow, tough question. I guess I learned it from my family. There were 20 of us cousins and aunts uncles. Everyone was always joking around and laughing. 

The kids used to decorate my unkle Ed’s bald head with lettuce. 

Maybe we didn’t take ourselves seriously, I don’t know

For sure we all loved to laugh. I guess I learned at the feet of masters.

Did you grow up with a large family? 

Taryn: No, not at all. 

Me: Huh. We were always laughing. For Presbyterians we knew how to let our hair down.

We would have ping pong tournaments at Thanksgiving starting in junior high all they way up into my forties. My Unkle Ed was a master, but gradually as he got older and I grew into adult hood I started to be his equal at the table. The entire family of up to 25 aunts, parents, siblings, cousins and grandparents would gather around to watch and cheer. There was plenty of trash talking too, though as Presbyterians we called it something else.

City of Rocks over 50 meet up

I drove to meet old friends in Idaho around June 5th and met Joan in the morning. We did Bath Time for our first climb. The rap anchors were gone so we walked off down the back side where there are iron rungs. I’ve always belayed it in the past but Joan promised to throw me a line if I got nervous.

Mark and family were there and he led me up the nine to the right of Carols. It’s lovely and eats gear. The crux is far shorter than Carols.

I led Fred Rasmussen early on and discovered my Creek head game was lost. The weather was extremely hot. We would have welcomed a little rain as in previous years. Toward the end it did rain once.

I kept jonesing to get down to Lost World but that never happened. We did spend a day at King of Throne where I led a 9. We did the usual ascents on Elephant Rock. Tim had a stark moment at the rap station. He is so solid on his bare feet that he scampers all over without a rope. Suzy and I had done our usual belayed traverse along the top to the anchors. But when it was Tims turn he just waltzed over unroped. I was so used to his antics that I didn’t think anything of it as he stood there with his back to the abyss fiddling around his harness for his rappel device.

Suzy and I were both anchored. I was probably anchored twice with my daisy and a sling. But not Tim. And he wasn’t going to lose his balance, the Wacos are huge up there. But that drop was right behind him. It’s not exactly flat. Not a hanging belay, but it’s on a doming over cliff edge.

But Suzy hasn’t been around Tim as much as I have. She reached out, bless her heart, and gently grabbed Tim by his sleeve. As soon as I saw that, I also reached out and grabbed a gear loop. No way was he dying on our watch. The next party inline for the rap saw what we’d done and nodded approval. Tim immediately claimed that he was perfectly safe, but he daisy’d in after that. Call us paranoid, and you’d be right. But no one died that day.

Memorable routes were Windance with Tim and Suzy. Also the epic on Theater of Shadows after Synocranium. Everyone else thought it was too hot, but it turned out to be warm with a nice breeze. My partner there was Mari from Squamish. Our two teams of Tim and his son Zack, plus me and Mari cruised through the 6 pitches with ease.

Back at the base it was heating up and Mari wisely decided to descend while Tim, Zack and I walked over to Theater of Shadows. When we arrived the heat was kicking in and we three took a short nap in the shade at the bottom of the route. We liked the idea of doing both routes in one day, but climbing in the heat is daunting. Finally Tim mustered up some energy and started up. At bolt number 6 he slipped and took what should have been a very safe 5 foot fall.

We were surprised to see him immediately grab his hand in pain.

“Fuck, Fuck!!!”

“You OK up there?”

“No, I’m not. Fuck, God Dammit!”

“What’s going on, did you get a road burn?”

“Fuck, you’d better lower me, I’m done.”

“Here, I’ve got to keep pressure on it, but I’ll show you guys just once.”

“Oh shit, that is bad!”

“Yeah, I’ve got to get to the car fast.”

Zack put me on belay and I quickly climbed up to leave a couple bail biners. Back on the ground I told them to hike down while I took care of the rope.

He’d hooked it on a sharp edge and ripped open a huge flapper…the kind that needs a hospital visit with what turned out to be 21 stitches.

I played guitar for the music lovers a couple of times. It was fun to see my friends both old and new gather around to hear my campfire music. And Zack is a master banjo player. Who knew that Blackbird could be played with guitar and banjo? The sound was indescribable.

Down at the BLM campground I got attacked by a large dog. I was walking to the restroom when it ran out and started making bluff charges. Nothing I did would calm it down. The owners were sitting calmly at their picnic table looking startled. They were nice looking climbers who should have known better.

When I picked up a rock the woman stood up. The dog kept attacking, snapping at my legs. I threw an intentional near miss, hoping to scare it off.

Immediately the owner was offended, like I’d threatened her small child:

“Don’t throw a rock at my dog!!”

“Call him off!” She did nothing.

Finally I picked up a larger rock, and this time I was truly angry.

“You want to fight? Come and get it” I was ready at that point to stop the problem. Finally the guy stood up and walked over, still making no move to grab his dog.

“Control your animal!!” I backed off, holding the large stone at the ready. I had no desire to hurt their disgusting pet, but if it came to a fight, I was ready.

When I got back to camp I was in a state. I told my mates how the woman made me feel like I was in the wrong, when it was clearly the dogs problem. They all agreed I was in the right. I normally get along great with dogs, it was frustrating to meet a bad one.

Zack led the 5.11 Interceptor route. Neither Meg nor I could get it clean on follow. Zack did great with just one hang. We also did a fun 5.8 in Hostess Gully at Castle, and some new moderates at Raticella rock.

My favorite climb was a route coming out of a cave at Boxtop. Joan struggled with it as I think she was having an off day. I got on it and found a bunch of stem moves on the back of cave. It’s a bit like a crevasse in a glacier, but it’s granite with a finger crack on one wall. She was mostly finger jamming it in a more pure fashion. But when I led it I said screw that and proceeded to stem the back wall for half the climb.

Later I drove home early to hang out with Sue then drove back with Craig and Andrew Berger to fletches reunion. Led pitch one of bale Kramer. We had a fair representation of the old gym crowd. Whiskey was involved.

Sue and I have been riding point for exercise. Often I will Bring my rollerblades and cruise Ruston afterward. I had to rebuild my handle bars on 1971 Sekai after brake cable housing broke. Those brake levers were original and sloppy with age. I picked up some used brake all metal levers that were much more modern with the shrouded cable exit. While I was in there I also got a newer (used) bar end shifter, plus related cables. 

Moving onto Sue’s old mountain bike, her V brakes have been bad for years. We went and looked at new “comfort” mountain bikes and they range from $700 to $1200. We were tempted but Craig pointed out that her current bike fits her well, it would be much simpler and cheaper to fix the brakes. On taking them apart I found her brakes were made with some cheap plastic tension adjuster bearings. I bought new cabling for front and rear, plus new all metal V brakes at $20 each. After I installed all of that the bike stops on a dime with two fingers. There is no need for the new hydraulic disc braking system of the thousand dollar bikes.

Sue went climbing!

Sue and I decided to explore a new crag at exit 34 called Solar Storm. As with most new crags, we wasted 2 hours hiking the up the wrong trail. I mean, it was good exercise, but the delay meant we ended up baking in the heat later.

https://www.mountainproject.com/route/126379572/solar-storm-direct

She cruised up the slab like the old uninjured Sue from days past. It was so great to see her come cruising up to the belay on pitch 2 and 3. She had zero problems climbing the thin slab. After all her talk about how she was done with climbing, then to see her climbing like the Sue I married was awesome. I’d thought I’d lost her as a climbing partner.

I skated today 3 laps at Ruston then climbed with Cris John at gym. Jamie’s asthma was acting up so she called Sue to watch Rose and Abby while she went to Urgent care.

Rose gave me a couple hugs and even sat on my lap while Clint worked on his bee hives. She seems to go in and out of liking me. She is an amazing little human being but I am completely lost on this whole grandpa business. That shit doesn’t come with an instruction manual. 

I climbed and skated strong. Still can’t lead a 10 on the prow, but the 2 ten minuses are nice.

Sat July 12, 2025

** and I went up to Solar Storm and did all seven pitches. The 5.8 pitch

https://www.mountainproject.com/route/126361978/velvet-elvis

was really lovely. You clip a bolt and then have to hold onto a horizontal dyke while placing a high cam. The rock is just sticky enough to allow the move. I had to do a mantle while reaching into the finger crack for a layback to finish the mantle. After that there are a couple blind placements followed by another layback to another mantle. It’s a bit like Lovers Leap movement. 

I felt nervous but safe and confident that I was making the right moves. I don’t want to say I’m warmed up because that might hex me. But jeez, I was climbing very strong all day.

** and I are a well oiled team. We watched a couple of relative beginners move very slowly up and down the wall while we were cruising everything. It’s fun to be experienced. 

Just returned from 4 days at Squamish with zz and **. We flew up Skywalker and Klahanie. The crux open book was a tiny bit scary but then I remembered the move and was rock solid. I also led Octopus Garden cleanly. Those green and red jams felt much more secure than normal. I wonder if it’s because of my new dumbbell workouts? I also led both of the offwidths but had to hang on the top crux of the right one. On both of them, the secret is to put a foot really, really high and lever up onto the foot.

Also of note is the Cold Comfort crag. It’s still cool and shady at 1 PM. I needed a wind shirt while people in the parking lot below were baking. The far left nine needs up to 6 blues and a small wired to be safe.

** and I got into one of our rare but classic arguments the last night. What would pass for just a thoughtless observation turns into a “You are the cause of 80 years of oppression against my people!” lecture complete with “I will never climb with you again!” She arranged a ride home for me with zz, due to hating my guts so much, but later changed her mind and was all sunshine and unicorns.

To be fair, people from other races and cultures, especially brown people, experience a tremendous amount of hardship in Amerika. And that leads to generational trauma, which makes for angry and bitter people. But I wasn’t the one who enslaved or discriminated against her family, and she knows that. But I got blamed. James is looking real good about now.

Sue has been whining that I never go hiking with her anymore so yesterday we drove up after dark to the horse camp to get a dawn gate entry at the mountain. I was at my painting spot by ten thirty. This led to painting the mountain with noon light. It’s still pretty but looks totally different. Then the clouds moved in and I was left with large patches of shade. I’m surprised I got anything remotely good.

But, all the hikers liked it. I take breaks from the work and try to sit far away from the easel so I can’t see the train wreck. As I was resting a mountaineer came walking up the trail. Several people had gathered around the painting taking photos and wondering who was the artist.

“Ok, who is responsible for this magnificent painting?”

I shook my head along with the dozen or so other people at the lookout.

“Really? No one here is the artist?”

Some of them knew each other so they knew who it wasn’t. I stood out a bit due to my white hair and neck handkerchief. A couple looked at me and pointed.

“So it’s you?”

“Maybe?”

“Well, it’s very beautiful! The colors are just perfect.” I heard that a lot. Now I have to decide whether to finish it with noon light or afternoon light. The shadows are in completely different places. I have so many afternoon paintings it might be worth experimenting with noon light.

Seventy one

July 17th, 2025

For my seventy first birthday Sue and I drove to Seattle where I was astonished to find a pair of modern three wheel 110mm rollerblades that fit my Frankenstein feet right out of the box.

I skated while she bicycled the ship canal bike path for a few miles. I was very tentative. Crosswalks and bumpy pavement was terrifying but there were no falls. When I watch modern YouTube skaters I feel like I’m hopelessly, absurdly trying the wrong sport.

We skated and pedaled around Pt. Defiance. There are long hills and I was hopelessly inept at braking. Finally I realized we had good brakes with us already.

With no roller rink in our town anymore there is no place I’ve found yet where I can safely practice sliding brake tricks. When I ride chair lifts and approach the chair I cruise down at speed and quickly carved to a stop, both ski’s carving in parallel. Snow flies up as I brake to a hard stop. Skaters do that on rollerblades.

I’ve barely scratched the surface of that entire process. But being a total klutz I decided the solution was to add bicycle brakes to my rollerblades. There is one company that makes commercial brakes for $200 but they don’t get great reviews.

Putting bicycle brakes on rollerblades. DIY rollerblade brakes.

I am not going to spend that kind of money when I can make my own for thirty dollars. I bought some used bicycle brakes at second cycle. A day of fabrication out in the shop made these. I do need to refine them. They are currently rubber on rubber, which is bad and a bit grabby. It needs to be metal on rubber.

I enjoyed the invention creation project…working with my hands is relaxing. However, the results are ugly and stupid looking. No holes were drilled in the skates.

The final project, before making metal brake shoes means that I have to strap the brake handle to my hip. It’s supremely stupid looking. I’m so far beyond cool it’s sad. But, I am old, fragile and have no desire to break a hip.

Even better, I finally realized there is smooth painted asphalt on my normal bike path down town. I need to head down there on a shady evening and practice some t stops. They say the secret to all stopping techniques is to learn to skate on one foot. Everything follows that.

Update in June: I took the skate brakes off. As someone pointed out on reddit “Do you really believe those designers at Bauer, K2 and Rollerblade can’t put a better brake on a skate?”

The facts are: The built in heel brake is all you need until you master the various rollerblade hockey stops. Until then, skate responsibly. Like driving a car, never exceed your stopping distance.