For those heading to the Northwest this summer, give some thought to the North Olympic Peninsula—most especially the Dungeness Spit and the home of the Dungeness crab.
Archives for July 2004
Hi Jessie, welcome aboard!” My buddy Phil’s perky Australian Shepherd bounded off the dock and onto the deck of my old Carver. “He’s ready to go,” Phil assured me. “I brought him cause he’s such good luck!” No argument there, the last time we took Jessie crabbing we netted easy limits. But Phil wasn’t fooling me; he loved ol’ Jessie and didn’t want to leave him home!
(In last month’s column, Sharlene Minshall described the 1999 Georgetown motorhome that has replaced her Sprinter. This month, she continues to recount her experiences in adapting the Georgetown to her needs.)
Standing on the edge of the Arizona’s Mogollon Rim, it is easy to think you are standing on the edge of time. To the south and north lie millions of acres of forest. In fact, from Baker Butte at 8,034 feet on a clear day you can see as far south as the Santa Catalina Mountains near Tucson and north to the Hopi mesas. Though now broken by a few ribbons of highway and dots of civilization, most of it looks as unsettled as it was in the 1800s when this was an Apache stronghold and General Crook and his men rode the land, making it safe for miners and ranchers.
Forty years ago, Don Laughlin, a native Midwesterner and former owner of the 101 Club casino in Las Vegas, flew his private plane over a desolate area where Arizona, California and Nevada meet and spotted a boarded up motel along the Colorado River.