Sunday morning I heard a news item which saddened me.
I didn't know Paul Harvey, but when I heard he had died, I reflected back to another time.
I thought back to December 1971. I was on a temporary assignment to Galena Air Station, Alaska. Now closed, the base was located next to the native Alaskan village of the same name on the north side of the Yukon River. At the time, the station housed two alert aircraft, ready to respond to any intrusion into the airspace of the Northern Frontier.
Myself and three other fuels troops from Elmendorf AFB, near Anchorage, Alaska, arrived at Galena for a three month assignment in early October. Our main job was to support the alert aircraft. We also gassed up transient aircraft and motor vehicles. It wasn't hard work, but when the temperatures of the interior Alaska area dropped to well below zero, it made the desire to do the work a lot harder. I spent many a cold hours standing in the weather passing gas.
However, In early December, the person doing the fuels accounting for the office, went on a 30-day leave. Someone had to take his place and the lieutenant in charge of the office, gave that job to me. I quickly learned what I needed to know and when the time came, I settled into the job.
Things were going fine for me at that time. In the mornings, I would walk to work in the cold (there were several days in a row when the thermometer outside the door of the fuels office read -65 or more...yes, that is 65 degrees below zero) and once inside, warm my hands over the oil stove providing heat for the building. I'd then pour myself a cup of coffee, go to my desk and listen to Paul Harvey present the news in only the way he could.
I hadn't been working at my new job much more than a week, when I walked into our office, warmed my hands, got my cup of coffee, settled into my office chair and glanced at the paperwork in front of me as the voice of Paul Harvey came over the radio on the Armed Forces Radio and Television Service. As he presented his news, I was getting ready to dive into my work when I heard something which caused me to spit coffee across my desk and stare at the radio in disbelief.
I don't remember the exact words he used, but about midway through that day's presentation, Paul Harvey began his next news item with: "Galena, Alaska...Officials at the Bureau of Indian Affairs say the U.S. Air Force spilled more than 15,000 gallons of aviation fuel in the Yukon, killing fish up and down the river. " He continued with more information about the spill, including the date it happened and then went on to other items. By this time, I was in shock.
Everyone in the office turned and looked at me with a puzzled look on their face. The lieutenant looked up from his desk, with a jaw which had dropped almost to the floor. And then my phone rang.
I knew immediately who was calling...and I didn't want to answer the phone. Glancing skyward, I reached for the phone knowing I had nothing to do with the loss of fuel, but also knowing I would be the one catching hell for what Paul Harvey said.
"Fuels...Sergeant Sobkoviak," I said.
"Are you the one who took over for the guy on leave?" came an unfamiliar voice from the other end.
"Yes, I am."
"Were you listening to Paul Harvey this morning?"
"Yes, I was."
"Then why is this the first we are hearing of this massive fuel spill?"
I had no idea what to say to the person on the phone. I knew he was assigned to our headquarters at Elmendorf and he read the daily reports we sent down to him. I also knew he knew as much about our fuel situation as I did, maybe more, considering I had just started at the job. I looked over the lieutenant for help, and he grabbed the phone on his desk.
After a few minutes of talking, he said, "We'll have the report ready as soon as possible and call you back with our findings." He hung up, shook his head and told me some background on the Paul Harvey report. He told me how during aviation fuel (AVGAS) off-loading from the supply barge, a passing vehicle hit the pipeline system and caused a leak. Fuel did fall into the Yukon River, but the amount was determined to be 15 gallons or less.
He then asked me to go stick the AVGAS tanks, so another report could be filed. Sticking the tank meant measuring the depth of fuel. With that measurement and the temperture of the fuel, a chart could be cross referenced, and the amount of fuel in the tank could be determined.
When I completed my calculations, I found that close to 150 gallons of AVGAS was missing...not the 15 gallons as originally thought. I passed this information on to the lieutenant who wasn't happy. He had been in charge of the office when the accident occurred and now had to tell headquarters that his original report was in error. But before he would do that, he told me to double check my figures. This meant returning to the AVGAS tanks, getting another depth measurement and temperature reading, and redoing my calculations.
So off I went, back to the AVGAS storage area.
When I arrived at the tanks, I decided I would check to see if there was any water in the tank. To do this, a person needed to open a drain valve at the bottom of the tank, let about a pint of fuel to flow into a jar, and then visually check the amount of water in the bottom of the jar. If there was any water, another procedure would done to determine how deep the water was in the tank.
I grabbed a jar out of the truck I drove to the storage area, and began removing the three feet of snow covering the area I believed the drain valve to be. After moving about a foot of snow, I was puzzled to see snow stained in the color purple. I knew the AVGAS we had in the tank was dyed purple for visual verification of the type of fuel and I instantly knew there was a leak at the drain valve.
After removing all the snow from around the drain valve, I realized where the extra 135 gallons or so of aviation fuel was...it was in the bottom of the dike surrounding the tank. I checked the valve and noticed a steady drip of liquid coming from around the area where the valve was attached to the tank. After doing what I could to stem the flow of fuel, I redid my measurements and returned to the fuels office. Once inside, I told the lieutenant what I found out and put in a work order for maintenance to fix the leak.
When I completed my new calculation, I came up with the same number as before...150 gallons missing. Reporting this the LT, I speculated that additional missing fuel is inside the dike. Since the dike was sealed to prevent any leaked fuel from contaminating the environment, it was unlikely any more fuel was leaking into the Yukon. However, the river was frozen over and there wasn't any way to tell for sure.
Resigned to the fact that the Air Force at Galena AS may have screwed up, the lieutenant called headquarters back and relayed the news. After talking to his counterpart, he told me to get on the line and I gave my counterpart a blow-by-blow description of everything I had found out since he called me that morning. When I finished, he said, "This isn't over. We have everyone from state officials to people in Washington calling about this. File your report and get it in the next outbound mail." He then hung up.
I then turned to the lieutenant and said, "Of all people...Paul Harvey."
He let out a long sigh, cracked a smile, stood up and proclaimed, "Let's get something to eat, then hit the club before we do the report."
I grabbed my hat and parka and said, "You're buying."
Even after his report on Galena Air Station, I continued to listen to Paul Harvey when I could. I learned things I never would have known from his "Now You Know the Rest of the Story" segments, although I have probably forgotten everything I heard. But as before the incident above, I enjoyed listening to him.
He has passed on now, but I will still think fondly of him and am saddened by his loss...even if he did get me in trouble with my superiors back in December, 1971.
And now you know my story.
Showing posts with label Alaska. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alaska. Show all posts
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Friday, April 25, 2008
Rocky and Bullwinkle
Wednesday evening, I recorded the newest Mythbusters for later viewing and found the time to watch it last night. The show was interesting, in that they were tackling Alaskan Myths.
I lived in Alaska twice for two years and loved every moment of the time I spent there. I spent most of my time in the Anchorage area, but I did work for short periods of time in other areas. As I said, I loved the state. Alaska is definitely the land of extremes and amazement.
In the Mythbusters show, one of the myths they were tackling was whether or not you could lessen damage to your car if you speed up when hitting a moose in the middle of the road is the only recourse a driver has. They sort of proved it wrong, and I sort of knew they would. Moose legs are really long and most cars would go under the moose bringing it right into the windshield. As they were discussing their experiment, I thought back to one of my first moose encounters in Alaska.
It happened shortly after I arrived at Elmendorf AFB. I was tasked with driving an F-6S fuel truck containing low grade aviation fuel to Six Mile Lake. Once there, I was to refuel several Civil Air Patrol de Havilland Beavers. The lake was called Six Mile Lake for a reason...it was six miles from main base area along a dirt road cut through some of the thick on-base Alaskan wilderness.
I went out to my truck, inspected it, climbed in, did my radio check and drove off. The trip was uneventful for the first couple of miles and I was enjoying the scenery around me as I drove along. Most of the other workers in my job didn't like the Six Mile Lake run as it was long and dirty (dirt road, remember?), but it gave me the chance to get out and about and see things I wouldn't normally see. As I neared the midway point on the outbound run, I came across a sweeping right turn with woods on the left and an open prairie on the right. I also noticed a moose just entering the open field. The moose was on a fast run away from something, or wanting to go somewhere mighty fast.
As I watched the moose heading towards the road, I realized there was a very good chance that if both of us remained at the same speed we were going, that a collision would occur. Not wanting to damage government equipment, I decided I would slow down and let the moose cross in front of me. But as I began doing that, the moose also slowed and the collision again seemed likely. I decided the moose was slowing to eat or something and again applied pressure to the gas peddle and sped up. By this time, I was halfway through the turn, the moose was off to my right requiring me to lean forward a little and turn my head far to the right to see it and I needed to concentrate on navigating a washboard section of the turn.
I hadn't gone fifty feet, when BAMM! and the several ton fuel truck I was driving, began rocking. I knew what had happened and slammed on the breaks and came to a stop at the apex of the turn I was making. I immediately leaned forward and to the right and looked out the passenger side window of the cab. There, 20 feet away, I saw the moose. It was heading back into the woods from the direction it came, but it wasn't running. It was walking...slowly walking...and staggering. It's head was down and swaying from side-to-side as it walked. I got out of my truck and walked around to the passenger side, keeping an eye on the large creature heading away from me.
I wasn't much more than 40 feet from it, but it was ignoring me and my truck. I watched it for a moment and then looked at the side of the truck. There in the passenger's door, was a large dent. It wasn't there when I checked the truck out prior to departure...and my stomached cringed. How would I explain this to my boss? I looked closer at the dent and realized there were moose hairs around it. That would help, I thought. I went back around to the driver's side, reached in for my radio and keyed the mike.
"Fuels 4 to Control," I said.
"Go ahead four," came the reply from the dispatcher.
"A moose has hit my truck and damaged the door."
There was a long delay and then a new voice came on the net.
"Say again, four?" said my boss.
I repeated what I said and after a few seconds, came my boss' voice again.
"Where did you hit the moose?"
"I didn't...it hit me."
"Is the truck operable?"
"Yes."
"Finish the mission and bring the truck back to dispatch when finished."
After acknowledging the order, I glanced back at the moose who was now reentering the woods from where it came, started the truck and drove off. I finished my job and made my way back to the dispatch office. When I arrived there, everyone came out to see for themselves just what happened. I showed my supervisor the dent the moose made. While looking it over, they had also found moose hairs in the area of the dent and shook their heads in amazement. After I explained to them in more detail what had happened, we all retired to the office area where I got a cup of coffee.
As I stood at the bar sipping the hot liquid, my section chief, or boss, walked over and said, "Jones was able to pop the dent out with little effort. There was also a little damage to the pump section of the truck. You think it just didn't like yellow trucks?"
"Either that," I said, "or it was blind or just plain stupid."
That wasn't the last encounter I had with Alaskan wildlife. Stay tuned for more moose stories from The Last Frontier.
I lived in Alaska twice for two years and loved every moment of the time I spent there. I spent most of my time in the Anchorage area, but I did work for short periods of time in other areas. As I said, I loved the state. Alaska is definitely the land of extremes and amazement.
In the Mythbusters show, one of the myths they were tackling was whether or not you could lessen damage to your car if you speed up when hitting a moose in the middle of the road is the only recourse a driver has. They sort of proved it wrong, and I sort of knew they would. Moose legs are really long and most cars would go under the moose bringing it right into the windshield. As they were discussing their experiment, I thought back to one of my first moose encounters in Alaska.
It happened shortly after I arrived at Elmendorf AFB. I was tasked with driving an F-6S fuel truck containing low grade aviation fuel to Six Mile Lake. Once there, I was to refuel several Civil Air Patrol de Havilland Beavers. The lake was called Six Mile Lake for a reason...it was six miles from main base area along a dirt road cut through some of the thick on-base Alaskan wilderness.
I went out to my truck, inspected it, climbed in, did my radio check and drove off. The trip was uneventful for the first couple of miles and I was enjoying the scenery around me as I drove along. Most of the other workers in my job didn't like the Six Mile Lake run as it was long and dirty (dirt road, remember?), but it gave me the chance to get out and about and see things I wouldn't normally see. As I neared the midway point on the outbound run, I came across a sweeping right turn with woods on the left and an open prairie on the right. I also noticed a moose just entering the open field. The moose was on a fast run away from something, or wanting to go somewhere mighty fast.
As I watched the moose heading towards the road, I realized there was a very good chance that if both of us remained at the same speed we were going, that a collision would occur. Not wanting to damage government equipment, I decided I would slow down and let the moose cross in front of me. But as I began doing that, the moose also slowed and the collision again seemed likely. I decided the moose was slowing to eat or something and again applied pressure to the gas peddle and sped up. By this time, I was halfway through the turn, the moose was off to my right requiring me to lean forward a little and turn my head far to the right to see it and I needed to concentrate on navigating a washboard section of the turn.
I hadn't gone fifty feet, when BAMM! and the several ton fuel truck I was driving, began rocking. I knew what had happened and slammed on the breaks and came to a stop at the apex of the turn I was making. I immediately leaned forward and to the right and looked out the passenger side window of the cab. There, 20 feet away, I saw the moose. It was heading back into the woods from the direction it came, but it wasn't running. It was walking...slowly walking...and staggering. It's head was down and swaying from side-to-side as it walked. I got out of my truck and walked around to the passenger side, keeping an eye on the large creature heading away from me.
I wasn't much more than 40 feet from it, but it was ignoring me and my truck. I watched it for a moment and then looked at the side of the truck. There in the passenger's door, was a large dent. It wasn't there when I checked the truck out prior to departure...and my stomached cringed. How would I explain this to my boss? I looked closer at the dent and realized there were moose hairs around it. That would help, I thought. I went back around to the driver's side, reached in for my radio and keyed the mike.
"Fuels 4 to Control," I said.
"Go ahead four," came the reply from the dispatcher.
"A moose has hit my truck and damaged the door."
There was a long delay and then a new voice came on the net.
"Say again, four?" said my boss.
I repeated what I said and after a few seconds, came my boss' voice again.
"Where did you hit the moose?"
"I didn't...it hit me."
"Is the truck operable?"
"Yes."
"Finish the mission and bring the truck back to dispatch when finished."
After acknowledging the order, I glanced back at the moose who was now reentering the woods from where it came, started the truck and drove off. I finished my job and made my way back to the dispatch office. When I arrived there, everyone came out to see for themselves just what happened. I showed my supervisor the dent the moose made. While looking it over, they had also found moose hairs in the area of the dent and shook their heads in amazement. After I explained to them in more detail what had happened, we all retired to the office area where I got a cup of coffee.
As I stood at the bar sipping the hot liquid, my section chief, or boss, walked over and said, "Jones was able to pop the dent out with little effort. There was also a little damage to the pump section of the truck. You think it just didn't like yellow trucks?"
"Either that," I said, "or it was blind or just plain stupid."
That wasn't the last encounter I had with Alaskan wildlife. Stay tuned for more moose stories from The Last Frontier.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Rockin 'n' Rollin in the Midwest
Things were shaky today for people in the Midwest. A 5.4 magnitude earthquake rumbled through a number states in the early morning hours, followed by a smaller aftershock several hours later.
From what I have read, the quake was felt as far away as Atlanta, Georgia. It was definitely felt by a friend of mine in Lexington, Kentucky. However, my mom who lives about 200 miles north of the quake area, didn't feel it. She was asleep like a lot of people at the time the the temblor rolled through. But something woke her at the time of the quake...probably it rolling through.
I remember my first "felt" quake. It was in 1968. At the time, I was working in an animal hospital on the south side of Chicago. The animals in the back room where I worked started acting strange, then the cage doors started rattling and I could feel a rumbling. I could almost hear something, but the critters in the place were making way too much noise for me to know for sure. Not long after that, one of the front office people came back to tell me there had been an earthquake.
Several years later, I was in the Air Force, stationed in extremely seismically active, Alaska. My first quake there was an interesting one. I was at an off-base mobile home where myself and two co-workers lived to get away from the barracks life. I had just come back from a dental appointment, and sat down in a swivel-rocker to read my mail. The noon newscast was just beginning and suddenly, I saw the announcer dive under his desk. A split second later, just after I had opened a letter from a friend in Ohio, my chair started swiveling and rocking on its own. Then it was over. I looked around and then looked at the television screen and had to laugh. The announcer had poked his head up over the edge, looked around, then got back in his chair and said, "If you don't know, the Anchorage area has just experienced an earthquake. More on that as it comes in."
Several months later, during the early morning and I was out on the tarmac refueling a C-141 Starlifter. At the time, I was watching a distance aircraft in the landing pattern. Suddenly, I started swaying side-to-side and I looked towards the control tower. I couldn't see it moving, but I could see ripples in the runway. I looked again at the aircraft in the pattern and it was still coming in. When I went back to our dispatch office, I was told there had been an earthquake.
There were a few more minor rockers during my time there, but after I left Alaska, I didn't experience another earthquake until I was reassigned from Texas to northern Italy. Prior to my arrival there, there had been a series of quakes which brought devastation to a number of towns and I was heading into the area of the worst damage. After my arrival, things were rather quiet. The area was being cleaned up and life was returning to normal. Then another quake rolled through. This quake occurred early in the morning as most of us slept. However, it woke everyone in the barracks. I know, because as soon as it finished, the entire building was heard to say, "Holy shit...did you feel that?" Then a line formed at the urinals.
For me, that quake was interesting. I woke just before the shaking began. At that time, one side of my bed was up against a wall. Hanging on the wall, right above where my crotch area was (and still is), was a 4-point, mounted deer head I got in Texas. As soon as the shaking started, I looked up at the mount and said, "Don't fall...Don't fall," over and over. It didn't fall, but it did get moved to a different part of my section of the barracks room.
Later in the morning, I was at work and was being interviewed by a radio announcer from the Southern European Network, a division of the Armed Forces Radio and Television Service, in Vicenza, Italy, about 100 miles south of Aviano, where I was. I recall the announcer asking me what the morning quake was like and as soon as he finished, an aftershock hit. I had just reached for my little, yellow plastic coffee cup and couldn't immediately figure out why it kept moving just out of my reach. Then it hit me...EARTHQUAKE! I stood up and looked at my supervisor who was rushing out of the office and was frozen with what I was seeing.
I worked in a cinder block building and the wall I was staring at, was painted cinder block. I was watching waves move through the cinder blocks. I could see them actually bending and not crumbling...and I couldn't figure it out. Then the shaking stopped and slowly made my way outside the building. The entire cast of characters who worked in the headquarters for the 40th Tactical Group was out there. I was the last to leave the building. About 30 minutes later when engineers had given the building an okay for occupancy, we were allowed back in. More rumblers moved through the region in the days which followed, but none like that one.
I didn't feel anymore earthquakes until I was reassigned to Anchorage, Alaska in 1983. I hadn't been on base for more than two weeks, when a very strong, quick quake occurred. I was just walking into my office when it hit and almost as quickly, finished. When I entered the office, I saw the person I was replacing halfway out the window of the building. He had a mortal fear of quakes and would do anything to avoid them, including jumping out of a third floor office window to make sure the building didn't collapse on him. But the quake finished before he could leap, and he was spared the consequences of what might have happened on landing.
It was in Alaska, where something really strange happened regarding an earthquake. It was a year or so after I had arrived there. I was in a new job as the community relations advisor for the base. I was sitting at my desk in the office I shared with our media relations NCO, when I felt dizzy and put my head down. My office mate noticed something strange with me and asked if I was okay. I looked up at him and said, "In 24 hours, we will have a 5.2 earthquake," and I went back to work on some paperwork. The NCO with me, shook his head and went back to what he was doing. This took place at 3 pm.
The next day at 2:58 pm, a 5.4 magnitude earthquake hit. I had missed it by two minutes and two degrees of magnitude. However, soon as it finished, the person in the office with me gathered some notebooks, forms and pens and walked out. He went to another of the offices and told everyone what had happened. For the next several minutes, people would walk by my office and look inside at me, then walk away. The person in the office with me during that incident, refused to work with me after that. Our office areas were rearranged and I was considered a really strange person by everyone. Sorry, Tom. I didn't mean to upset you.
After I left Alaska, I felt minor quakes in Honduras while I was on temporary assignment there. None of them were big, just little shakers everyone laughed at. But in the summer of 1990, I was in The Philippines. On a nice July day, I worked a little late in the office and when I finished, went out to the bus stop to await transportation to my barracks. As I stood there talking to two Filipina women, a quake hit. It was so strong, and so long, it actually knocked me on my ass and began bouncing me around. As I sat on the roadway acting like a rubber ball with the quake, I recall looking towards our legal building across the street. It was a cinder block building and again, I could see waves moving through the cinder blocks.
As soon at that quake was finished, I got up, brushed myself off and went right back to my office. As I entered the front part of the office, my boss was walking through the door. He looked at me and said, "Where did you come from?" I told him I was at the bus stop when it hit and then the phone rang...and rang...and rang...and rang. It didn't stop ringing for several hours. By that time, several coworkers were in helping out and I was sent to the command post to help coordinate things there and answer media queries during the night hours. I worked the night hours there for six days before things returned to normal.
That quake was a doozy. It registered 7.8 on the Richter Scale and produced thousands of minor aftershocks. And personally, I believe it was the beginning of the end for Clark AB, as less than a year later, Mt. Pinatubo erupted and destroyed most of the base.
I haven't felt another quake since I left The Philippines in November 1990. However, in 1994, I was on the Oregon coast with my nephew. We were talking and walking along the shoreline when he asked me something. I don't remember his question, but I remember my answer. I looked at him and said, "I could tell you in two hours, California will be hit by one hell of an earthquake...but you wouldn't believe me." Two hours or so later, California was devastated by the Northridge Earthquake.
These days, I keep my thoughts to myself and hope someday to feel the frantic rumblings of a quake again. After all, they are Mother Nature's roller coaster rides.
From what I have read, the quake was felt as far away as Atlanta, Georgia. It was definitely felt by a friend of mine in Lexington, Kentucky. However, my mom who lives about 200 miles north of the quake area, didn't feel it. She was asleep like a lot of people at the time the the temblor rolled through. But something woke her at the time of the quake...probably it rolling through.
I remember my first "felt" quake. It was in 1968. At the time, I was working in an animal hospital on the south side of Chicago. The animals in the back room where I worked started acting strange, then the cage doors started rattling and I could feel a rumbling. I could almost hear something, but the critters in the place were making way too much noise for me to know for sure. Not long after that, one of the front office people came back to tell me there had been an earthquake.
Several years later, I was in the Air Force, stationed in extremely seismically active, Alaska. My first quake there was an interesting one. I was at an off-base mobile home where myself and two co-workers lived to get away from the barracks life. I had just come back from a dental appointment, and sat down in a swivel-rocker to read my mail. The noon newscast was just beginning and suddenly, I saw the announcer dive under his desk. A split second later, just after I had opened a letter from a friend in Ohio, my chair started swiveling and rocking on its own. Then it was over. I looked around and then looked at the television screen and had to laugh. The announcer had poked his head up over the edge, looked around, then got back in his chair and said, "If you don't know, the Anchorage area has just experienced an earthquake. More on that as it comes in."
Several months later, during the early morning and I was out on the tarmac refueling a C-141 Starlifter. At the time, I was watching a distance aircraft in the landing pattern. Suddenly, I started swaying side-to-side and I looked towards the control tower. I couldn't see it moving, but I could see ripples in the runway. I looked again at the aircraft in the pattern and it was still coming in. When I went back to our dispatch office, I was told there had been an earthquake.
There were a few more minor rockers during my time there, but after I left Alaska, I didn't experience another earthquake until I was reassigned from Texas to northern Italy. Prior to my arrival there, there had been a series of quakes which brought devastation to a number of towns and I was heading into the area of the worst damage. After my arrival, things were rather quiet. The area was being cleaned up and life was returning to normal. Then another quake rolled through. This quake occurred early in the morning as most of us slept. However, it woke everyone in the barracks. I know, because as soon as it finished, the entire building was heard to say, "Holy shit...did you feel that?" Then a line formed at the urinals.
For me, that quake was interesting. I woke just before the shaking began. At that time, one side of my bed was up against a wall. Hanging on the wall, right above where my crotch area was (and still is), was a 4-point, mounted deer head I got in Texas. As soon as the shaking started, I looked up at the mount and said, "Don't fall...Don't fall," over and over. It didn't fall, but it did get moved to a different part of my section of the barracks room.
Later in the morning, I was at work and was being interviewed by a radio announcer from the Southern European Network, a division of the Armed Forces Radio and Television Service, in Vicenza, Italy, about 100 miles south of Aviano, where I was. I recall the announcer asking me what the morning quake was like and as soon as he finished, an aftershock hit. I had just reached for my little, yellow plastic coffee cup and couldn't immediately figure out why it kept moving just out of my reach. Then it hit me...EARTHQUAKE! I stood up and looked at my supervisor who was rushing out of the office and was frozen with what I was seeing.
I worked in a cinder block building and the wall I was staring at, was painted cinder block. I was watching waves move through the cinder blocks. I could see them actually bending and not crumbling...and I couldn't figure it out. Then the shaking stopped and slowly made my way outside the building. The entire cast of characters who worked in the headquarters for the 40th Tactical Group was out there. I was the last to leave the building. About 30 minutes later when engineers had given the building an okay for occupancy, we were allowed back in. More rumblers moved through the region in the days which followed, but none like that one.
I didn't feel anymore earthquakes until I was reassigned to Anchorage, Alaska in 1983. I hadn't been on base for more than two weeks, when a very strong, quick quake occurred. I was just walking into my office when it hit and almost as quickly, finished. When I entered the office, I saw the person I was replacing halfway out the window of the building. He had a mortal fear of quakes and would do anything to avoid them, including jumping out of a third floor office window to make sure the building didn't collapse on him. But the quake finished before he could leap, and he was spared the consequences of what might have happened on landing.
It was in Alaska, where something really strange happened regarding an earthquake. It was a year or so after I had arrived there. I was in a new job as the community relations advisor for the base. I was sitting at my desk in the office I shared with our media relations NCO, when I felt dizzy and put my head down. My office mate noticed something strange with me and asked if I was okay. I looked up at him and said, "In 24 hours, we will have a 5.2 earthquake," and I went back to work on some paperwork. The NCO with me, shook his head and went back to what he was doing. This took place at 3 pm.
The next day at 2:58 pm, a 5.4 magnitude earthquake hit. I had missed it by two minutes and two degrees of magnitude. However, soon as it finished, the person in the office with me gathered some notebooks, forms and pens and walked out. He went to another of the offices and told everyone what had happened. For the next several minutes, people would walk by my office and look inside at me, then walk away. The person in the office with me during that incident, refused to work with me after that. Our office areas were rearranged and I was considered a really strange person by everyone. Sorry, Tom. I didn't mean to upset you.
After I left Alaska, I felt minor quakes in Honduras while I was on temporary assignment there. None of them were big, just little shakers everyone laughed at. But in the summer of 1990, I was in The Philippines. On a nice July day, I worked a little late in the office and when I finished, went out to the bus stop to await transportation to my barracks. As I stood there talking to two Filipina women, a quake hit. It was so strong, and so long, it actually knocked me on my ass and began bouncing me around. As I sat on the roadway acting like a rubber ball with the quake, I recall looking towards our legal building across the street. It was a cinder block building and again, I could see waves moving through the cinder blocks.
As soon at that quake was finished, I got up, brushed myself off and went right back to my office. As I entered the front part of the office, my boss was walking through the door. He looked at me and said, "Where did you come from?" I told him I was at the bus stop when it hit and then the phone rang...and rang...and rang...and rang. It didn't stop ringing for several hours. By that time, several coworkers were in helping out and I was sent to the command post to help coordinate things there and answer media queries during the night hours. I worked the night hours there for six days before things returned to normal.
That quake was a doozy. It registered 7.8 on the Richter Scale and produced thousands of minor aftershocks. And personally, I believe it was the beginning of the end for Clark AB, as less than a year later, Mt. Pinatubo erupted and destroyed most of the base.
I haven't felt another quake since I left The Philippines in November 1990. However, in 1994, I was on the Oregon coast with my nephew. We were talking and walking along the shoreline when he asked me something. I don't remember his question, but I remember my answer. I looked at him and said, "I could tell you in two hours, California will be hit by one hell of an earthquake...but you wouldn't believe me." Two hours or so later, California was devastated by the Northridge Earthquake.
These days, I keep my thoughts to myself and hope someday to feel the frantic rumblings of a quake again. After all, they are Mother Nature's roller coaster rides.
Monday, September 24, 2007
When is Autumn?
Winter is coming to the high desert.
I say that not because summer is over, but because the winter critters of the high desert are starting to move to their wintering grounds in town.
Today while out on safari, I saw and heard a number Townsend's Solitaires on the tops of trees. These birds come to town in the winter. During the summer, they spend a lot of their time in badland areas (areas of scrub, sage and juniper found anywhere outside of towns in the area of where I live).
Something else I noticed was only one butterfly, one dragonfly and few bees. There were a lot of Honey Bees around, but when I say bees, I mean those big, gorgeous Bumble Bee type bees. The last time I passed through the area I went to today, I noticed several large, and I do mean large, Bumble Bees I wanted to photograph. But I didn't have my camera with me that day. Today I did, and of course, I didn't see the bugs. But I didn't see many bugs and I like shooting bugs.
I can only assume the week or so of below freezing temps we have had here lately has taken a toll on the wildlife...mostly the small stuff that flies around. I did notice a Common Raven nest I hadn't seen before and was about to take a photo of it with a couple of birds nearby, when I saw a Steller's Jay. I have only one photo of a Steller's Jay and figured I could go back to the raven nest. I probably would have had I not spaced it entirely.
But I chased after the jay hoping to get a shot of it and it led me to the northern end of the Dry Canyon...and I still couldn't get a shot of it. The bird constantly stayed far enough ahead of me and in the trees making a good shot almost impossible. But after wandering around trying to get close, I gave up and headed back to my bicycle. Just as I mounted my "Specialized" beast, I saw a lizard moving.
It was a young Western Fence Lizard and it wasn't more than six feet away from me. So I brought out the camera and began shooting. I have seen (and photographed) a lot of lizards lately. But I don't care. All the shots are cool (in my opinion). Besides, lately they have been almost all I have found to shoot.
But back to what's coming. One thing I haven't seen yet, is snow in the mountains. That's a sure fire indication of winter here...and probably anywhere mountains and snows meet. I remember when I was stationed in Alaska at Elmendorf AFB outside of Anchorage, you could literally watch winter come down on you.
Elmendorf had mountains to the east...the Chugach Mountains, the northern part of a series of coastal ranges in the northwest. When the first snows would come, it normally blanketed the top portions of the mountains. Days later, another snowfall would drop the snow line lower. As more snowfall came, the line lowered and lowered until it met the ground and snow was everywhere. Then, everyone knew winter had come to Anchorage, Alaska.
It's not that easy here. Snow falls in the mountains, but normally when it does, it blankets the slopes. And it continues to blanket the slopes. Sometimes it will spread to the 3,000 foot level where I live and blanket the ground, but not often (knock on wood). Last winter I think we got less than two inches the entire season. However, four or five years ago, we got something like 60 inches, with several storms dumping 18 inches each.
Generally when the first snows fall in the mountains, the birds which live high in the ranges, move down to the valleys and towns of central Oregon. The most prominent of these birds is the Dark-eyed Junco. They come down after the first flakes fall so regularly, that they are called Snow Birds by the locals. But I haven't seen one of them yet.
But the lack of insects to photograph is a sure sign change that seasonal change is coming. And when that happens, I am going to miss summer. You see, I love the heat of the high desert. The hotter the better.
And believe me, I'll be waiting for the summer of 2008.
I say that not because summer is over, but because the winter critters of the high desert are starting to move to their wintering grounds in town.
Today while out on safari, I saw and heard a number Townsend's Solitaires on the tops of trees. These birds come to town in the winter. During the summer, they spend a lot of their time in badland areas (areas of scrub, sage and juniper found anywhere outside of towns in the area of where I live).
Something else I noticed was only one butterfly, one dragonfly and few bees. There were a lot of Honey Bees around, but when I say bees, I mean those big, gorgeous Bumble Bee type bees. The last time I passed through the area I went to today, I noticed several large, and I do mean large, Bumble Bees I wanted to photograph. But I didn't have my camera with me that day. Today I did, and of course, I didn't see the bugs. But I didn't see many bugs and I like shooting bugs.
I can only assume the week or so of below freezing temps we have had here lately has taken a toll on the wildlife...mostly the small stuff that flies around. I did notice a Common Raven nest I hadn't seen before and was about to take a photo of it with a couple of birds nearby, when I saw a Steller's Jay. I have only one photo of a Steller's Jay and figured I could go back to the raven nest. I probably would have had I not spaced it entirely.
But I chased after the jay hoping to get a shot of it and it led me to the northern end of the Dry Canyon...and I still couldn't get a shot of it. The bird constantly stayed far enough ahead of me and in the trees making a good shot almost impossible. But after wandering around trying to get close, I gave up and headed back to my bicycle. Just as I mounted my "Specialized" beast, I saw a lizard moving.
It was a young Western Fence Lizard and it wasn't more than six feet away from me. So I brought out the camera and began shooting. I have seen (and photographed) a lot of lizards lately. But I don't care. All the shots are cool (in my opinion). Besides, lately they have been almost all I have found to shoot.
But back to what's coming. One thing I haven't seen yet, is snow in the mountains. That's a sure fire indication of winter here...and probably anywhere mountains and snows meet. I remember when I was stationed in Alaska at Elmendorf AFB outside of Anchorage, you could literally watch winter come down on you.
Elmendorf had mountains to the east...the Chugach Mountains, the northern part of a series of coastal ranges in the northwest. When the first snows would come, it normally blanketed the top portions of the mountains. Days later, another snowfall would drop the snow line lower. As more snowfall came, the line lowered and lowered until it met the ground and snow was everywhere. Then, everyone knew winter had come to Anchorage, Alaska.
It's not that easy here. Snow falls in the mountains, but normally when it does, it blankets the slopes. And it continues to blanket the slopes. Sometimes it will spread to the 3,000 foot level where I live and blanket the ground, but not often (knock on wood). Last winter I think we got less than two inches the entire season. However, four or five years ago, we got something like 60 inches, with several storms dumping 18 inches each.
Generally when the first snows fall in the mountains, the birds which live high in the ranges, move down to the valleys and towns of central Oregon. The most prominent of these birds is the Dark-eyed Junco. They come down after the first flakes fall so regularly, that they are called Snow Birds by the locals. But I haven't seen one of them yet.
But the lack of insects to photograph is a sure sign change that seasonal change is coming. And when that happens, I am going to miss summer. You see, I love the heat of the high desert. The hotter the better.
And believe me, I'll be waiting for the summer of 2008.
Good Days Coming...I Hope
This weekend, a friend of mine was very happy. Her Cleveland Indians clinched the American League Central Division. It's been since 2001 that the Indians have gone on past the end of regular season play.
My team is still contesting their berth in the playoffs. The lovable Chicago Cubs are sitting with a magic number of 4 right now. They were on fire over the weekend, sweeping the Pittsburgh Pirates at home and belting a crap-load of home runs.
Not long ago, I mentioned to my friend that it would be nice to see the Cubs and Indians in the World Series. It will really test our friendship...hehehe. Lucky for us, we are a couple of thousands of miles apart, so tossing things at each other will not be possible.
Funny thing about the Cubs, they have fans across the country. Fair weather fans for the most part. Me? I'm a die-hard Cubs fan, having been a fan since either the late 50s or early 60s...can't exactly remember when the Cubs bug hit me.
I was rooting for the Cubs when they were perennial cellar dwellers. I rooted for the Cubs when everyone around me (south side of Chicago) were die-hard White Sox fans. I have been a Cubs fan for so long, I remember when the Chicago Cardinals football team played in Wrigley Field before they move to St. Louis.
I can recall the '69 season. A couple of times during that year, I skipped school and took the CTA to Wrigley, got me a $1 bleacher ticket and joined the Right Field Bleacher Bums. I wasn't a regular bleacher bum, but I did have my share of moments there. When in September of that year, the New York Mets came to town to face the first place Cubs, I was at the second game. Little did I know at the time that the series with the Mets would be a turning point that would send the Cubs spiraling out of first, and vaulting the Mets to the top spot. But it happened and at the end of the season, I was still a Cubs fan.
It was 15 years before the Cubs were to see light at the playoffs at the end of the regular season. I was in Alaska then. On Wednesday afternoons, I would wait at the golf course clubhouse on base for 1 pm to chime, at which time I would head out to a bus full of people wanting a tour of Elmendorf AFB. While I waited, I would watch the Cubs play if the game was still on. Sometimes, when I got on the bus, I would ask if any were Cubs fans and then relay the score at the time I departed.
Then came a game in Pittsburgh which, if the Cubs won, they would go on to the playoffs. I sat in my boss' office, while he and I watched the game. Near the end of the game, several co-workers came in and asked if I could give them a ride to the barracks. I knew the game would be on in the dayroom there, so I left with them. When I got to the dayroom, it was the bottom of the ninth, the Pirates had one out and the Cubs were ahead. I sat down in one of the chairs, and watched. Then with two out and a 2-2 count on the batter, I watched as he swung and missed the next pitch. The Cubs were in the playoffs!
They went on to win the first two games in Wrigley Field against the San Diego Padres and needed one more win to go to the World Series. They ended up losing three straight in San Diego and the Padres went to the series. They lost in five games to the Detroit Tigers.
Then came 1989. Then Cubs were again in the playoffs. They didn't make the world series that year. It was the Oakland Athletics and the San Fransisco Giants in the earthquake extended Bay Area World Series. Then again in 1998, the Cubs were in the playoffs. But they were defeated by the Atlanta Braves in the first round.
However, 2003 was the year...the year the Cubs were to go to the World Series. But, they didn't. They were playing the Florida Marlins for the National League title and the right to go to the World Series. They were playing at home and the catch which wasn't made, was made. Every Cubs fan remembers that play. A pop-up to the foul side of left field, the fielder going over to make the grab and end the inning and then...a fan reaches up, catches the ball and instead of an out, it was nothing more than a foul ball. The Marlins went on to take the title and beat the New York Yankees in the World Series.
The worst part of that foul ball was the fan who caught the ball wasn't a Marlins fan...he was a Cubs fan...and he will never live that catch down...not as long as he's in Chicago at least.
It's four years later and the Cubs are looking like a contender for the crown. They have a long road to travel still, but they can do it. The team has a good leader who has led a number of teams to the victory.
But win or lose, you can bet on one thing...this die-hard Cubs fan will be looking forward to next season...and will still be cussing out Fox Saturday baseball or ESPN when they don't show a Cubs game here when everyone else is seeing it.
Go Cubbies!!!!!!!!
My team is still contesting their berth in the playoffs. The lovable Chicago Cubs are sitting with a magic number of 4 right now. They were on fire over the weekend, sweeping the Pittsburgh Pirates at home and belting a crap-load of home runs.
Not long ago, I mentioned to my friend that it would be nice to see the Cubs and Indians in the World Series. It will really test our friendship...hehehe. Lucky for us, we are a couple of thousands of miles apart, so tossing things at each other will not be possible.
Funny thing about the Cubs, they have fans across the country. Fair weather fans for the most part. Me? I'm a die-hard Cubs fan, having been a fan since either the late 50s or early 60s...can't exactly remember when the Cubs bug hit me.
I was rooting for the Cubs when they were perennial cellar dwellers. I rooted for the Cubs when everyone around me (south side of Chicago) were die-hard White Sox fans. I have been a Cubs fan for so long, I remember when the Chicago Cardinals football team played in Wrigley Field before they move to St. Louis.
I can recall the '69 season. A couple of times during that year, I skipped school and took the CTA to Wrigley, got me a $1 bleacher ticket and joined the Right Field Bleacher Bums. I wasn't a regular bleacher bum, but I did have my share of moments there. When in September of that year, the New York Mets came to town to face the first place Cubs, I was at the second game. Little did I know at the time that the series with the Mets would be a turning point that would send the Cubs spiraling out of first, and vaulting the Mets to the top spot. But it happened and at the end of the season, I was still a Cubs fan.
It was 15 years before the Cubs were to see light at the playoffs at the end of the regular season. I was in Alaska then. On Wednesday afternoons, I would wait at the golf course clubhouse on base for 1 pm to chime, at which time I would head out to a bus full of people wanting a tour of Elmendorf AFB. While I waited, I would watch the Cubs play if the game was still on. Sometimes, when I got on the bus, I would ask if any were Cubs fans and then relay the score at the time I departed.
Then came a game in Pittsburgh which, if the Cubs won, they would go on to the playoffs. I sat in my boss' office, while he and I watched the game. Near the end of the game, several co-workers came in and asked if I could give them a ride to the barracks. I knew the game would be on in the dayroom there, so I left with them. When I got to the dayroom, it was the bottom of the ninth, the Pirates had one out and the Cubs were ahead. I sat down in one of the chairs, and watched. Then with two out and a 2-2 count on the batter, I watched as he swung and missed the next pitch. The Cubs were in the playoffs!
They went on to win the first two games in Wrigley Field against the San Diego Padres and needed one more win to go to the World Series. They ended up losing three straight in San Diego and the Padres went to the series. They lost in five games to the Detroit Tigers.
Then came 1989. Then Cubs were again in the playoffs. They didn't make the world series that year. It was the Oakland Athletics and the San Fransisco Giants in the earthquake extended Bay Area World Series. Then again in 1998, the Cubs were in the playoffs. But they were defeated by the Atlanta Braves in the first round.
However, 2003 was the year...the year the Cubs were to go to the World Series. But, they didn't. They were playing the Florida Marlins for the National League title and the right to go to the World Series. They were playing at home and the catch which wasn't made, was made. Every Cubs fan remembers that play. A pop-up to the foul side of left field, the fielder going over to make the grab and end the inning and then...a fan reaches up, catches the ball and instead of an out, it was nothing more than a foul ball. The Marlins went on to take the title and beat the New York Yankees in the World Series.
The worst part of that foul ball was the fan who caught the ball wasn't a Marlins fan...he was a Cubs fan...and he will never live that catch down...not as long as he's in Chicago at least.
It's four years later and the Cubs are looking like a contender for the crown. They have a long road to travel still, but they can do it. The team has a good leader who has led a number of teams to the victory.
But win or lose, you can bet on one thing...this die-hard Cubs fan will be looking forward to next season...and will still be cussing out Fox Saturday baseball or ESPN when they don't show a Cubs game here when everyone else is seeing it.
Go Cubbies!!!!!!!!
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