Thursday Albany Coots Lunch


I invited Dan from AlmostCanada to join the Coots for lunch Thursday. If all goes well on his trek from AlmostCanada (I don't know why he calls it that, I think it's more AlmostIdaho <g>) he'll be staying in Philomath Wednesday night. I figured some of the Albanian and Lebanese Coots would be showing up even though there's a messabout Saturday.

1:00 (but folks turn up early) in the bar in the back of the Denny's just east of the Highway 20 exit off I-5:

It looks like the weather is gonna be nice for the messabout at Fern Ridge this coming weekend:

John (
Don't tell fish stories where the people know you; but particularly, don't tell them where they know the fish. (Mark Twain)


AlmostCanada has become a sort of “Lost Horizons” place.  When we first moved here, to live on the hard, from a liveaboard 43’ power boat in South San Diego Bay; Dave Lucas was rather disparaging.  He went on about “Dan, that idiot!” who moved FROM San Diego TO a frozen hellhole in almost Canada—where they do have boats.  But, by the time the ice melts, and he has the motor running, it’s frozen over again…”  And, this year, there’s a grain of truth in Dave’s admonition.  It’s become customary for me to take pictures of my Tiki Hut ball cap—that I traded some rather powerful local-produced craft ale for—juxtaposed over water scenes with, preferably, a bit of ice and snow in the picture.  I send ‘em off to Dave with the proper levels of obsequiousness and mock obeisance.


At any event, when I came to build what Kim Apel and Chuck Leinweber termed franken boats, I incorporated the Frankenwerke meme into the end-of-civilization meme.  I believe that was about the time I acquired a hull from a still-alive German Luftwaffe pilot, who was living in Newport, WA.  He had survived the war, and a Russian POW camp, raised a family in California, and had come here to be with his daughter and son-in-law.  Or they had come from CA because he was here.  Or some such.  Turns out, the other half of that in-law contingent had been wounded, as an American Dogface, at the Battle of the Bulge. 


The whole caboodle has a lot of background themes for the stories I seem disposed to write.


Gotta go get the Conestoga outa’ the barn and grease up them hubs ‘fer the trek down outa’ these mountains, so we can find that Oregon Trail.  Denny’s or bust!