Additionally, there’s an app for tracking my mountain bike rides and another one with the US Constitution on it, and a Skype app. And, of course, it plays music, and therefore audiobooks, effortlessly.

So, what’s all this mean? It means I’m going to have break down and get an iPhone.

Everyone always said that the color of the water in the Caribbean is amazing, and they were right. Wow. And there is nothing quite like watching a sunset from the bow of a ship without anything in site but the sea and the sky. Watching the Cuban coastline slowly pass by was a bit saddening, but neat at the same time. Maybe someday soon things will change and we will be able to visit there.

Our time on the ship was great. The service staff was wonderful, the food was plentiful and tasty, and there was lots of beer. Great shows, and of course, comedy acts. Of course I ended up being the stooge in the ventriloquist act, but that’s okay, I have thick skin and the guy was hilarious. And no, I haven’t been to prison and no I’m not the Island from Rock Springs who bought the sheep. That was a different Island from Rock Springs.

Jamaica? What can I say about Jamaica? It’s a beautiful place. Wouldn’t want to live there. Our tour guide in Ocho Rios, Phil Lafayette, was great. He was fun and interesting, and was a treasure box of information. He gave us a taste of real Jamaican food at a local eatery rather than a tourist hot spot, and showed and taught us a little bit about the local culture, fauna, and history. The place is full of grifters and scammers though, and constantly being on your guard makes it kind of hard to enjoy yourself. When we booked Phil, he warned us not to talk to anyone but him when we got into port, and now we know why. If you go to Ocho Rios either stay at a resort or call Phil. Trust me. Oh yeah, I also broke my finger climbing up Dunn’s River Falls. Fun. And painful. I also ripped the backside out of my Shorts. Good thing I had board shorts with me or it could have been an embarrassing trip back to the ship.

Crand Cayman was much more inviting. It’s also a beautiful place. It had amazing white sand beaches, and beautiful Italian women in thong bikinis. We did a little snorkeling and the kids rented kayaks and paddled around the bay, and we did a little shopping. We really needed more time to spend there, and I hope we can go back for a resort stay some time in the future. It’s a neat place to visit, but again, I wouldn’t want to live there. It’s the complete opposite of Jamaica in the sense that there is no crime and no creepiness, but they are also a very controlled society. A little too controlled if you get my meaning. I’ll keep my second amendment, thank you. Did I mention the beautiful Italian women in thong bikinis?

Overall, we had a great time and got to see some beautiful places. We got to take a quick peek at two cultures that were very different from ours and be around a lot of neat people. Since next winter will be Teresa and my 20th anniversary, maybe we’ll pick an island and head back. You never know.

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Dad went out and asked the driver to come in and give him his information, which he did, sort of. He gave Dad his name, and the name of his leasing company, but when Dad asked who his insurance company was, he said, “Well, um, er, that be, uh, that er uh, that there Pro-gress-ive.” First bad clue. When Dad asked him if he had a lease contract with the company he said he leased to, he said, “No. We just all kind of work together.” Second bad clue. After a few more words, the Deputy poked his head in the door and asked the driver to come outside with him.

I watched the deputies speak to the driver for a while, and then one of them walked around the semi looking at it with the help of his flashlight. About then, a highway patrolman pulled up and the deputies escorted the driver over to the patrolman’s car and put him in the passenger seat. I went outside to look around and one of the deputies came over smiling and shook my hand, “How are you tonight?”

“Not bad,” I answered, “What a pain this is. Tell me this guy has insurance.”

“Nope,” he laughed, “Suspended driver’s license, too. He’s going to jail tonight.”

Another deputy came over then, and said to the first, “The plate on the trailer is coming back as a house trailer, and the other is expired.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nice,” I said laughing, “I’m going inside and getting out of the cold.”

We later learned that the driver had a suspended CDL from another state.

The power company came and we agreed to let them start their repairs the next day. We figured there wasn’t any sense in making them come out at night in the freezing cold, so we locked the place up and headed out. Before we left though, I went out to talk to the deputies, who were handcuffing the driver and putting him in one of their vehicles. I got the case card from the remaining deputy, who shut down the semi and took the keys with him, and then headed home.

This morning, the semi was gone, and there was a car parked in front of the store taking up two parking spots. It also had expired plates. After checking with the Sheriff’s Office, Dad had it towed off. It apparently belonged to the driver’s wife, who must have came after we all left and took the semi. Warco Pump brought a big generator and Evergreen electric got it hooked in and got us powered back up.

A little bit later, the locating service showed up marked the utilities, and the power company got to work drilling a hole to put the new pole in. They promptly cut a 600 pair phone cable (the locate was wrong by about two feet), and had to stop work until the phone lines get fixed. As of 6:00pm tonight, Qwest was still there working on the phone lines, and all the power company guys were gone. Maybe they’ll get it done tomorrow.

The lesson is, if you’re an idiot, don’t drive. If you’re going to do something, do it right. Have the right licenses. Have the right insurance. Have the right equipment. Know how to operate it. One bad decision leads to more, and eventually it will always catch up to you, and when it does, it’s probably not just yourself that will get hurt.

Little Island just turned 18 on October 3, and it was quite a step for our family. Those of you with grown children are probably quite aware of what it is like to see your first child come of age, and what an emotional time it is. One of the things that Teresa wanted to do for Island was to get his close family members to write a letter containing words of wisdom to him, and give them to him at his birthday party. As you know “Words O’ Wisdom” is my specialty, and I poured my heart into my advice to him. While this particular “Word O’ Wisdom” was written specifically for him, as I read it back to myself, I realize that it is something that I should be sharing with everyone. So read, enjoy, and take it to heart.

Island,

It seems like only yesterday that I held a bald little baby in my arms thinking, “What do I do now?” I never thought that I would start my adult life as a father, but I did, and I couldn’t be happier. You have brought a joy to my life that I could never fully explain, and I can only hope that over these last eighteen years that I have instilled in you the tools necessary to survive and thrive in the journey ahead of you.

It is important that you look at the life ahead of you and view it as such: a journey. Not a path, not a trail, not a road. A journey. Why? Because paths, trails, and roads are predetermined routes, and a journey is not. Along a journey, you can choose to take an individual path, or stray from it. You can choose the known road, or break away and take an unknown trail. You can even leave the known routes altogether and go busting off and explore all new terrain, places that neither you nor anyone else has ever been.

The key to a successful journey is to make sure you are always in control of your journey. You decide which road you’re going to take and when, and don’t let yourself be carried away by a raging river. That is, unless you choose to. You see, you can choose to jump head first into that river and see where it takes you, and that is OK too, as long as it is your choice. Sometimes you’re just as likely to get run over on a well travelled and well known road as find paradise at the end of that raging river. Know the risks and know your expectations for whatever choice you make.

Often, along your journey, you will find yourself in a position to share your journey with other people. The relationships with the people you share your journey with will take many forms: business relationships, friendships, even love affairs. When you find people with whom you think you want to share your journey with, open your eyes and your heart, and make good decisions about whether sharing your journey with them will make your life, and theirs, better. Remember, your life will be full, and you will have the opportunity to share your journey with many people, but don’t waste your time on relationships that don’t benefit both of you. Respect those that you share your journey with, and expect respect from them. Enjoy the people you spend time with and actively seek out the people in the world that share your likes, dislikes, passions, and interests. Distance yourself from those that you can’t, and remember what Thomas Jefferson once said, “An injured friend is the bitterest of foes.” You can never have too many friends, but even one enemy is too many.

Sometimes during your journey, you will find that you need to follow a leader. There is nothing wrong with ceding authority for the direction of your life to another for a time when it is necessary. Sometimes, we can trust the decisions of others more than we can our own, because sometimes other people may have more experience or more knowledge about the road you are currently on. But, if you do give the steering wheel to someone else, do it because you choose to. Follow a leader because you choose that person as your leader. Make an informed choice, and make sure that person knows that he or she can lead you only because you allow it. Lay down the terms of your adherence, and what you expect from your leader. Follow a person only if they lead with a humble heart, with humility, passion, and compassion. And follow a person only if they have the best interest of their followers at heart. But if you do choose to follow someone, respect that person’s authority. Respect their decisions and follow them with resolve. But, the moment that you feel that the person you are following is no longer taking you to a place you want to go, or if you decide that they no longer have the interests of their followers at heart, stop following and retake command of your own journey. Most important, if you follow, follow because you choose to.

Occasionally, during your journey, you will find yourself in a position to lead others. If you do, don’t take that responsibility lightly. When someone looks to you for leadership, first choose whether to accept that role. Decide for yourself whether you accept the responsibility of leadership, and choose who you accept to lead. Lay down the terms of your leadership and what you expect from your followers. If you choose to lead, do so diligently and command respect for your authority. When you lead, seek the knowledge and guidance of others, and make informed thoughtful decisions. Lead with a humble heart, and lead with humility, passion, and compassion. Always keep the interests of your followers at heart. Expect respect for your decisions and demand that they are followed with resolve. Lead because you know your leadership will make your life, and the life of your followers better, and lead because you choose to.

Understand though, that once you take the mantle of leadership, you can no longer walk away from it at your will. By taking the responsibility for the leadership of others, you are dedicating yourself to that position until they give that authority to another leader. Never, under any circumstance, walk away from your followers without guaranteeing that they have found another suitable leader, whether it be themselves, or another.

Hopefully, one time during your journey, you will find a partner with whom you will choose to spend the rest of your life with. When you find her, you will know, and it will change the course of your journey forever. A partnership is a combination of all the roles that I’ve explained before, and deserves and requires every ounce of respect, diligence, humility, passion, compassion and love that you carry in your humble heart. Choose a partner that will make your life better and whose life you can make better. Choose a partner that completes you and makes you a better man. Once you have chosen your partner, every turn in your journey will be chosen together. Together you will decide which road, path, or trail you want to explore. Together you will decide to head off into uncharted territory, and together you will decide whether to jump headfirst into a raging river. Love her, respect her, and seek her knowledge and guidance. Lead her to safety when necessary and follow her to happiness always, and side by side, face the journey of the rest of your lives together. She will be the ultimate prize in your journey, and when you find her, never take her for granted. Take her on dates, no matter how long you have been together, and make every choice you make from then on a choice that benefits her.

Maybe, together you will choose to have children of your own, and one day, years from now, long after you’ve held a beautiful bald little baby in your hands and asked yourself, “What do I do now,” you will watch your own child come of age and become an adult that you can be proud of. When you do, you’ll know that you made the right choices.

I love you, and hope you enjoy the amazing, wonderful journey ahead of you.

Dad.

“They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Naturally, they became heroes.” –Leia Organna-Solo, The Journey of the Whills, as written by George Lucas.

“A slender acquaintance with the world must convince every man that actions, not words, are the true criterion of the attachment of friends.” –George Washington

“I have been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go. My own wisdom and that of all about me seemed insufficient for that day.” –Abraham Lincoln

“Speak softly and carry a big stick; you will go far.” –Theodore Roosevelt

“A people free to choose will always choose peace.” –Ronald Reagan

It’s October again, and you know what that means. Elk Hunting. Once again, Kelly Jr. and I had elk permits for area 31 which includes Little Mountain and Currant Creek.

For the past couple of days we had scouted a valley off of upper Marsh Creek where we had see several nice bulls including a monster seven pointer. There had been at least two six point shooters and six or more smaller six and five point bulls.

Dad and Scott joined us so we had an addition two pairs of eyes, and we headed out to Little Mountain late Tuesday night, where we drove in as far as we could and slept in our trucks.

In the morning, before first light, Dad and Kelly Jr. headed down a ridge to the South of the valley and Scott and i headed down a ridge farther North. Over the morning we saw several bulls, and heard many more bugling, but I only saw one worth shooting and he was gone over the next ridge before I could get a clean shot. We saw one other nice six pointer, but his 5/6 was broken off just above the fourth on on side. I think in all we saw about a dozen different bulls throughout the morning.

Late in the morning we became road hunters and drove all over the West side of Little Mountain, searching all of our usual haunts for elk, and mostly came up dry. We saw a couple of small bulls and a couple cows, but nothing more. When evening was on it’s way, at about 5:00pm, we decided to take a ride farther Southeast and look out over Currant Creek Valley and Dry Hollow. From the top of Currant Creek Ridge, (which, by the way, is a breathtaking look down) we spotted a large herd of elk a little farther down the valley, almost a mile away. We could see several nice bulls including a several five pointers, a couple small six pointers, a small seven by six and one good size six pointer.

We decided that we would head farther along the ridge and try to find a place right above them where we could take a shot. I figured if I could take him at up to 700 yards if I could get a clean shot without any cows, so we headed along the ridge. We found a place that we figured would be right above them, but when we snuck out on the edge, we found that they had moved closer to the ridge we were on, so we couldn’t see most of the herd below us, but we must have had too much noise because they then started running down the valley away from us. I laid down and started scoping the bulls until I found the biggest one, but he was always surrounded by cows. At a closer range I probably could have shot him in the mix, but not from that far away. In only moments, they were 1000 yards away, then 1200, and still moving down the valley.

There is no direct way from the top of Currant Creek Ridge into the bottom of Currant Creek Valley, so we debated on whether to head farther along the ridge and try to get another shot from above, or to make the 20 mile drive on dirt roads to come in from the bottom. There were pros and cons for each plan, but ultimately we decided to make the 20 trip around. We figured this was risky, because in that 40 minutes the elk could go anywhere. Needless to say, Scott and I booked it. I won’t tell you how fast we drove, because it was probably unsafe and more probably illegal, but we made it around to the bottom pretty dang fast.

As we closed the last gate coming off of Dad’s property, and made our way toward Jane’s Meadow where we hoped to find the elk, I asked Scott how far into the valley he thought we should go. He thought we should take the high road and try to get a better view of the meadow. I slowed down a little so we didn’t spook anything and I noticed some enclosures around some bushes next to the road and asked if they were new. No, he said, they had been there a while….and then I saw eight cows straight out ahead of us!

I jumped out of the truck with the rifle just as they bolted for the northern ridge. I layed down and started looking at them through the scope to see if there were any with antlers and I found a small five point up above them. Then I saw four more smaller bulls coming out of the meadow and heading up the hill where the cows went. I thought maybe we had missed the big heard, because earlier, these four had been trailing the large six pointer and his cows. Then Scott said “Wait, here they come!” and the big herd broke out of the meadow trotting right to left across our field of view.

Both of us scanned the herd, Scott through his binoculars, and me through my scope, looking for the best bull. I found one six pointer out in the lead and asked Scott if that was it. “Nope, there’s the big one. Right in the middle of the cows!” I found him in my scope and started following him, but he always had cows around him.

“How far is he?” I asked.

“$#!&, I left the range finder in my truck,” Scott replied, “just lay the crosshairs on the top of his back and it should hit him just right.”

I kept following him in the scope, but there was always cows in front of and behind him. Remembering that Scott had said something about having adjusted the trigger pull on the rifle I was shooting, (I was shooting his custom 30-378) I asked him how his trigger pull was. “Just touch the trigger and…”

While he was saying this, the cows, just for an instant, broke from around him and he was running all alone in my view through the scope, and, without thinking another thought, I tapped the trigger.

Everything went white as the gunsmoke filled my view through the scope, and Scott yelled, “You got him!” My first shot went through his hind quarters and immobilized him. “Pull your bolt, shoot him again!” Scott bellowed, and I did. This time, the shot went through is neck and knocked him around, but still didn’t kill him. I pulled the trigger again, and he didn’t move, so I though I missed. I pulled the trigger a fourth time and it knocked him all the way to the ground, and I thought it was over, but he lifted his head up again.

“Hold it right on his heart this time, the bullets aren’t dropping very far.” Scott said. I quickly reloaded the gun and let out my breath and pulled the trigger one final time.

It was over. Scott leaned down and offered his hand for me to shake, and then I got up and realized I was shaking. I handed the gun to Scott, and said, “I’m shaking too much, make it safe!” He took the gun and cleared it, and I leaned on the truck and calmed down. “That was a great shot,” Scott said, and we got in the truck and headed toward where the bull had fallen.

“Oh, wait, here’s my rangefinder!” Scott said, after we had gone just fifty yards, and he pointed it at where the bull had been.

“Wait, did you pick up the brass?” I asked him.

Overview of the shot trajectory.

“Nope,” he said, so I threw the truck in reverse and backed up to where the brass were laying on the ground.

As I picked them up he pushed the button on the range finder and said, “600 yards! 598 to be exact!”

Wow. I still can’t believe I made that shot. Truthfully, all I did was put the crosshairs where they belonged and pulled the trigger. I owe it all to Scott and the rifle he custom built and the bullets that he custom loads. When we got the elk home and skinned him, we found that all five of my shots had hit true. One in his hind quarters, the next three along his neck and back, and the final one in the heart. Five shots in about 20 seconds, all good. Of course I wish I could have given the bull a cleaner kill with one shot, but it doesn’t always work out that way. The first shot would have killed him eventually, but I knew he deserved better, so the four follow up shots were to make sure he wouldn’t suffer longer than he had to.

We haven’t measured him yet, but he is obviously a much nicer bull than the one I got last year, and he will probably score over 300 points. Not the monster trophy that I had hoped for this year, but a nice, big, respectable bull none-the-less. The only down side is that I already have my bull! I’m done elk hunting for the year! Now what am I going to do?

Well, Kelly still needs to fill out his tag, and Scott has a cow tag for the Sands. I guess I can be the driver!

“No, I said, just looking today.”

We drove around Little Mountain for about four and a half hours and saw plenty of antelope and deer, including a couple of nice muley bucks, but not a single elk. Not a single elk, that is, until we started heading home.

As we came around a curve in the dark, I thought, “Why is there a great big dead cedar in the middle of the road?” Then that great big dead cedar jumped and ran off the road to the right. He was massive. Long heavy beams and a big clubbed drop tine on his right side. I turned my headlights toward him and he stopped about ten yards off the road and struck the classic pose with his nose stuck up in the air. We tried to take a picture, but couldn’t get the camera to work in the dark. Arghhh.

Then, he turned around and walked across the road again right in front of us, ten or fifteen yards away in full view of the headlights. Six points on his left side, but way bigger than my bull from last year. Wow. He meandered across the road and jumped the fence on our left, almost getting his back feet tangled in the top wire, and joined a couple of cows just out of range of the headlights, but close enough for their eyes to shine blue in the darkness.

I know it was dark, and I know I was excited, but I’m pretty sure he was the biggest bull I’ve ever seen in the wild. (Yellowstone and feed lot bulls aside) Scott thinks he was probably a bull that a friend of his has been photographing for the last couple of years, and if he is the same one, estimates that he is about a 370 bull.

It was too dark to shoot him, even if I had brought a bow, but just seeing him was well worth it. Next time though, I bet I have a bow with me.

Not every vacation can go as planned, and sometimes you need a few rough spots to remind you to appreciate the good times. The raft trip turned around what had up until then been a pretty much horrible week. The following morning we made a beautiful drive along the Million Dollar Highway, and saw some beautiful countryside. It was a long day of driving but it is always nice to see new places.

-Island

Grandpa, Private Zorko at the time, was in the fourth boat that landed on Omaha Beach in Normandy, France, on D-Day, June, 6, 1944. The first three boats were destroyed. During the invasion, the U.S. 29th and 1st Infantry Divisions confronted the 352nd, the best of Germany’s coast divisions. The invasion almost failed, but with dedicated local leadership and a cost of over 2000 lives, the troops made it inland.

Many of Grandpa’s fellow soldiers, and superiors, were among those 2000. He was given a field promotion to the rank of Sergeant that day on Omaha beach.

He didn’t really talk about it for over sixty years, until he moved in with Mom, where he told her some of the stories about that time in his life that she had never heard before. He was so humble, he had earned service medals in the war that he never bothered to claim.

Encyclopædia Britannica has a site dedicated to the history of D-Day. You can find it here.

When J. Island was in France last summer, he got the chance to walk on Omaha Beach in Normandy, and learn a little about what happened there. He wrote Grandpa’s name in the sand, and took a picture of it. He gave the picture to Grandpa when he got back from the trip.

At Grandpa’s funeral, a large Honor Guard was present and he was given graveside military honors. He received a 3-volley salute, a bugler played Taps, and Mom was presented with the American Flag that had draped his casket. It was a deep and touching moment closing the final chapter in his long full life.

He was put to rest next to Grandma, where he will always be at peace. We will all miss them.

-Island