Rear view volume II
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| After we'd rested awhile and had a welcome cup of coffee, I decided I'd better go to C.B. and report that we'd eliminated a couple of possibilities as to Olstad's location. But enroute south I encountered a procession of six or eight vehicles heading north, with deputy Johnson in the lead. He stopped the cavalcade when he recognized me in my Jeep,
and asked if there was any late word on the missing man. I told him no, and gave him a resume of Carol's and my search that morning. "At least those are two localities you can be spared a lot of effort in searching", I concluded. He agreed and thanked me. Crested Butte in the 1970's always had a substantial summer population of young men and women visitors from out of town (and out of state) with no visible means of support. Some claimed to be artists or musicians, and a few actually worked infrequently on construction jobs or in restaurants to earn enough to support themselves and friends in communal quarters. During the day boredom was endemic for most in this group, and many spent the time occupying the benches and outdoor café tables scattered along the main street. So Johnson had no trouble recruiting a collection of volunteer searchers. So I reversed course and returned to the cabin, encountering another group of searchers from the RMBL school assembling by the parked Bronco. I stayed long enough to hear Johson take charge and give instructions to the volunteers. to begin searching the river upstream from the falls, divided into small groups assigned to specific areas. Carol and I spent the rest of the day in and near the cabin, and saw no more of the searchers except for a few that passed through our property on their way down to the river area below. Their response to my inquiries as they passed through, was always "No clues yet." At about 6 p.m. Johnson stopped in to report, as we were having before-dinner beers on the front porch and admiring the golden glow of the fading sunset. Before I could ask him for news he shook his head. "Nope, we've combed the river and canyon banks pretty well, and haven't found hide nor hair. Guess tomorrow I'll recruit some more help from the cadre of forest fighter volunteers that live in C.B., and we'll start combing the forest slopes on the other side of the river. I don't know why he'd be there, but he dang sure ain't in the river valley anywhere between the falls and Gothic. And we even had a few guys work the canyon valley for a half mile or so below the falls, on the theory he mighta gone over the falls and his body got washed down the river a ways." "Hard to believe he could disappear so well, even if he tried", said Carol. "Yeh." The deputy rubbed his chin. "Even if he tried. Do you suppose --do you suppose, maybe he did try?" That thought momentarily silenced everyone. Finally I said, "How about a beer?" "Don't mind", said Johnson. So I procured him one and we all drank in silence. Next day, when I drove into C.B. for mail and some groceries, I found that the case of the missing fisherman was known to most, and several stopped to ask me for late news of the search. Tony Mihelich, proprietor of Tony's Hardware where I stopped to gas up the Jeep, was a salty and wiry septuagenarian who had spent most of his life in C.B. and vicinity. "Found the fisherman yet?", he asked. I shook my head, and he said, "Dang shame. They've lost fishermen ever once in awhile in this country, but always found most of 'em. Usually a case of 'em slippin' on rocks, breakin' a leg or two, and not bein' able to get back to the road until they're found. Willard's pretty shook up about it." He punched the cash register and made change for a man buying a newspaper. "His wife was in here earlier, and told me Bill --that's his name, Bill Olstad--is a medical school student in Denver, and that he's engaged to be married in a month or so." Searches continued for several days, some into implausible and illogical areas like Copper Creek (above Gothic), and even around the base of Mt. Gothic. Mt. Gothic?! I said to the leader of that search group, "Copper Creek I can maybe understand, but Mt. Gothic? Why in hell would you expect a fisherman to be climbing a mountain? Fish are pretty scarce on those rocky slopes, aren't they?" After his tiring mountain slope climbing his temper was understandably a bit short, and he replied, "Look, mister,--if you have a better idea lemme know. We've covered every inch of the river valley with no clues. Maybe he decided at the last minute to go look for some fancy rock specimens, instead'a fish. Who knows?" He turned abruptly, went to his truck and poured himself some coffee. Over the next few days Olstad's disappearance was developing into a first class mystery, and the subject of much conversation and speculation among residents of C.B. and Gothic. But as the days accumulated into weeks the searches ceased and the initially intense interest in Olstad's disppearance waned. In some discussions the theory grew in popularity that he had purposely staged his disapperance for some reason and had headed off to parts unknown. As Botsie Spritzer,--a C.B. old-timer, accordion player, expert fisherman, and habitual drink-moocher--, was theorizing one evening in a barroom locale, "Tell ya what I think, captain. We've heard he was engaged to a gal in Denver, right? Mebbe he decided he wanted out, but heard the gal was pregnant so he felt he couldn't up and tell her he wasn't gonna marry her. So he thought the easiest way out was to get lost, make it look like he was dead somewhere, and head over the hill." No rebuttals were forthcoming, a few heads nodded sagely, and the discussion turned to fishing. We closed the cabin and returned to Houston in September. Shortly after our arrival we received a letter from the Stewarts, longtime friends who lived in Ouray, CO, whom we had visited that summer and told about the mystery. Enclosed was a note which said, "Thought you'd want to know this." Attached to the note was a clipping from the Denver Post which said: LOST FISHERMAN FOUND Crested Butte The body of William Olstad, missing since his disappearance July 29 while fish- ing in the East River canyon south of Gothic, was discovered yesterday by another fisherman. Henry Herberg, of Gunnison, spotted the body immersed in a pool of water at the base of a high falls in the East River about a mile south of Gothic. He notified the sheriff's office in Crested Butte, and they made arrangements for the recovery of Olstad, and transfer to a funeral home in Gunnison. Relatives have been notified. Deputy Sheriff Johnson, who supervised the recovery and inspected the site, said it appeared that Olstad, when fishing above the falls, had slipped and gone over the falls onto a ledge about fifteen feet below the crest of the falls, which caused his death. The ledge, now visible through the diminished flow of water which occurs late in the summer season, probably could not be seen through the high water volume cascading over the falls in July. The body presumably finally became dislodged and fell into the pool below the falls, but the timing of that event could not be determined since the body was well preserved in the extremely cold water. "Oh God!" I exclaimed after reading the article to Carol. For several moments we just stared at each other without speaking. "How awful!", she finally said. "Just think, that first day we went into that canyon he was lying dead behind the falls on that ledge, and we couldn’t see him through the water." I was silent for a moment. "Dead?", I said, finally. Carol frowned. "What --what do you mean?" I rubbed my brow."Don't you remember --I do--, that just as we were leaving we thought we maybe heard a faint yell from somewhere up above the falls? And we thought maybe a searcher had found him in the upper canyon? But when we got up there no one was there. Remember?" Carol's eyes widened and she clasped her fingers to her mouth. "Oh no! Oh no! You think what we heard was --was Olstad?" I nodded grimly. "I'm sure of it. A fifteen foot fall onto a ledge might have stunned him and maybe broke a few bones, but I don't think could have killed him. Godamighty! Wonder how many days he lay there hoping for help and probably realizing he wouldn't ever be rescued." "And finally died there?" Carol asked. I said, "I doubt it. Probably finally jumped." I folded theclipping and put it in my shirt pocket. Carol said, "Do you think we ought to write somebody and tell them what we think happened?" "No. Wouldn't do any good, and just cause the family more grief. I think it best that we just keep it quiet." And so we did. * * * *
Cabin's Career As of this writing we've had and enjoyed Valley Hi for 37 years, which is much, much longer than cabins survived during days of the silver mining boom when they were soon decimated by vigorous winter weather and massive loads of snow and ice on rooftops. Our cabin remains in as good condition generally, and in many respects much better, than when it was first built. This is a credit to all the Kyle family inhabitants who over the many years have spent time, money and energy in routine maintenance and repair work. In addition to the cabin itself, the property now also has three additional small buildings: an outhouse (for emergencies), a tool shed and shop, and a Jeep house (for winter and rainy weather storage). The cabin is of course electrically wired to serve the kitchen stove and refrigerator, water heater, lighting facilities, and heaters for the bedrooms or bathroom when the central wood stove needs help on unusually cold mornings. And in recent years a telephone has been installed.. Sleeping arrangements could accommodate nine adults if really necessary (and all are good friends!). The upstairs has one double bed and two twins, plus two adult-size cots. Downstairs the main bedroom has a double, and there is a cot under the stairs in the living room. I don't recall that we ever had as many as nine adults at one time, but there were a few occasions when I think we had six plus a couple of youngsters. I am so thankful and lucky that all the Kyles and their families have been outdoors and nature lovers, and have sincerely enjoyed their many vacations in the cabin and moutain environments. It has been a fine place to entertain our relatives and friends, all of whom I think have mentally given their experience there a five-star rating. Creating the cabin was the second smartest thing I ever did. (Marrying Carol was the first. And having Jerry Mike and Kappy as kids isn't in the "smart" category; that rates top in the "lucky" category.) Valley Hi has been a fine source of pleasure and adventure for all my family members, and I hope it will continue to be for all our descendants * * * * CHAPTER X: Retirement (1976 - now) By 1976 it became apparent that the geologists in Exxon's foreign country operations, whom I had visited and lectured on the new procedures for using satellite photos for exploration and assessment studies, were now practicing those techniques themselves and my foreign trips would be about through. My work continued in this field in domestic operations and research, but it became routine and somewhat boring, and I could foresee no probabilities of interesting changes in research subjects, or in promotions in Exxon Production Research Co. Also, I had gotten the impression from geologist friends in other oil companies that there might likely be opportunities for using my abilities in part-time consulting work for small companies or individuals in the oil business who weren't as yet experienced or staffed for aerial photo and satellite work, or other phases of geological exploration for oil deposits. The idea of working for various employers in wide ranges of exploration projects sounded very interesting. And I was sure my long experience and professional titles would be useful in promoting business relationships with potential customers. My business letterhead indicated my status as "Certified Petroleum Geologist" (authorized by the American Association of Petroleum Geologists) and "Certified Professional Geological Scientist" (authorized by the American Institute of Professional Scientists). So, early in 1976 I told my supervisors and associates I was considering taking early retirement. Regular retirement age is 65, but early retirement for special circumstances was rarely done before age 60. I was then 59, so some discussion and negotiation with EPRCo exploration department management was required. To my surprise I found that my expertise was still considered essential in Exxon's satellite research and exploration operations, and I was urged to defer retirement for another year or two. I agreed to reconsider, and did for a week or two, but finally decided to call it quits. After several meetings with EPRCo's exploration research manager, I agreed to a proposal (informal and undocumented) whereby I could retire at 59 provided I would give EPRCo first call on my consulting services for a period not to exceed three years. It was not to be full time employment. My reimbursement would be on an hourly basis for time worked, and would not invalidate or in any way reduce the monthly retirement annuity payment I would be entitled to at age 59. So, on April Fool's Day, 1976, I ended 37 years of employment (including 3 years of military service for which I got employee time credit) with subsidiary companies of what originally was called Standard Oil of New Jersey. That retirement day was a Thursday, which was appropriate since I had begun work for Carter on a Thursday. Thursdays have always been a good day of the week for me. I married Carol on a Thursday, received my B-24 pilot's diploma in the Air Force on a Thursday, and qualified after the war for my first commercial pilot's license on a Thursday. We bought our best and most-lived-in house (12214 Broken Arrow, Houston) on a Thursday. And on a Thursday I was---(oh, well, never mind. That's enough!) After about two months, during which time I enjoyed my extended vacation and assembled some drafting tables and equipment appropriate to doing geological work at home, I was solicited to do some work at EPRCo. The initial assignment was to order and organize some satellite photos and maps for doing additional work in China. This was to supplement my earlier China survey, and concentrate on locating potential geological structures which might be good prospects for wildcat drilling in an extremely remote and unexplored area in far western China. This part of China lies north of Tibet. It is mostly a vast desert called the Taklimakan, within which the target area was a region called the Tarim Basin. It was an interesting and challenging assignment, which I worked on most of the rest of 1976, on days of my choice where I spent from 4 to 6 hours at EPRCo, supplemented by map work and geological research at home. I was able to locate several large anticlinal structures that looked like magnificent oil prospects, on which I then recommended drilling in my wrapup report. That was endorsed by the EPRCo geological staff, but in final analysis by Exxon the area was considered too remote for development, so no attempt was made to approach the Chinese government with any leasing proposal negotiations.(It is my understanding that a partnership of two or three other major oil companies have now done so, and may initiate some wildcat drilling shortly, as I write this.) * * * *
In the summer of 1977 I was given another short assignment which was a welcome change. I was directed to confer with Exxon’s London office exploration personnel for two or three days, and lecture on my satellite interpretation and assessment techniques. It seemed like a good chance to also take some vacation time, and Carol of course was happy to join me. At that time Francis Stewart was working there, and we were glad to again visit Stew and Gloria. Stew had previously heard my presentations so, since my business time would occupy me quite fully for a few days, he suggested that he and Gloria host Carol on an auto trip and visit to Lands End,--the most western point in England. They did, and Carol had a good time. When they returned Stew went back to work, and after we’d spent a couple days touring London’s many attractions and points of interest, Carol and I decided to take a train tour of England and Scotland, which had been enthusiastically recommended to us by someone in the London office It turned out to be a fascinating journey of about 10 days, during which we visited many sites of historic and cultural interest. We, as recommended, bought a type of season ticket for the trains, which permitted us to get on and off at any stopping points we chose, at which we’d often stay overnight and resume traveling the next day. The trains we rode were unbelievably numerous, frequent, and always on schedule. It was a great and very convenient way to travel,--different in all respects from train transportation in the U.S. We selected a route which headed northwest out of London, and we made several stops at points of interest (Oxford; Shakespeare’s Stratford on Avon, etc.) until we reached Liverpool. Here we decided a brief excursion into Wales would be fun, so we got a train connection into Wales along its north border which is bounded by the Irish Sea. Carol was wanting to spend a night on that seacoast, so at the suggestion of the train conductor whom we consulted, we left the train at the city of Llandudno where we were fortunate in finding overnight accomodations at a small hotel which had a remarkably scenic view of the ocean. The next day, when we asked the hotel manager what we could see of interest, he suggested a trip on a local train south about 30 miles to another small town with another improbable name of Ffestiniog. (No, that's not a typo error!) It was an old fashioned steam driven coal burning train of only 3 or 4 cars, and its hospitable conductor, learning we were Americans, invited me to meet the locomotive’s engineer. He too was an exceptionally friendly Welshman, who let me join him in his engineer’s cab and demonstrated all the locomotive’s controls as he guided it down the tracks. We arrived in Ffestiniog just before noon, and after an interesting stroll about town we settled in a small restaurant for lunch. The menu was a remarkable surprise! It was all in Welsh, which that country’s old timers like to preserve, and any similarity to English is as remote as if it had been in Russian. The waiter of course spoke English, as most Welsh do where visitors are involved, so we simply ordered a standard British lunch of “fish and chips”. The waiter laughed when we shook our heads at the menu, told us about one in three speak both Welsh and English, and showed us a book in Welsh he was reading. Apparently writers in Welsh are addicted to combining a lot of meaning into one word. He pointed out a few examples where one word would occupy half a line on the printed page. One such long word he pointed out translated something like, “church overlooking scenic ocean beach”.
sounds like the th in this. No wonder Welsh speakers are a dying breed! We caught the afternoon return train to Llandudno, spent another nice evening and night in our hotel, and next day got a train back to Liverpool. From there we made train connections which took us into Scotland where we made an overnight stop in Glasgow, the largest and most indusrialized city in that country. The following day was a long one heading northwest with frequent stops in towns along the western side, and frequent views of the scenic firths (sea-connected bays) indenting the coastline. The name Kyle frequently appears in geographic names in the far north portions of Scotland: Kyle of Durness, Kyle of Tongue, Kylestrome, Kyleakin, etc. And my northernmost trip target was the town of (simply) Kyle,located a couple miles across a narrow seaway from the Isle of Skye. We arrived at Kyle in late afternoon, --a small community which I’d estimate had a population of no more than 1,000. There was only one hotel, and as I checked in I rather expected an interested greeting as I signed my name,--and maybe even a modest “family” discount on the price. But I got neither; the alleged Scotch reputation of monetary care and caution in transactions involving cash seemed to prevail in my assessed room fee.
dog doesn’t belong to anyone as far as we know. He just likes to ride on the boat, and often does that all day long, back and forth. We call him ‘Skipper’”. “My, how interesting,” said Carol. “But where does he live? Who takes care of him when he’s not ‘boating’?” The crewman said, “We don’t think anybody does. The dock people at both ends of this trip know him well, feed him when he seems hungry, and let him sleep in a supply shed at night. He’s a very friendly fellow, as you’ve noticed, and doesn’t seem to miss having a full time owner.” Needless to say, Skipper was one of the most interesting and friendliest traveler Carol and I encountered on our tour.
northern crust slid northeast, creating a prominent geographic offset on either side. (I have never seen a geologic text verifying this, but it certainly appears plausible.) From Aberdeen our train trip headed south, generally along the North Sea coastline, arriving late in the day at Edinburgh (pronounced ED-in-Bur-uh, incidentally), which is Scotland’s capital and second largest city, picturesquely located on hills south of the Firth of Forth. It is a city with many fascinating sites and scenic sights, a major one of which is Edinburgh Castle on top of historic Castle Rock, high above the city. The castle was once the home of Scottish rulers and nobility, and is still occasionally visited by the Queen of England. We toured the castle the second day of our visit there, and it happened that there was a special celebration during which many city citizens and visiting tourists were enter-tained by a parade of Scottish troops in uniforms with kilted skirts, marching to shrill music of bagpipes. Very inspiring! Our last train tour day returned us to London, where we were met by the Stewarts who kept us overnight and very patiently listened to our entertaining (to us, at least) trip events until late that evening. The next day they escorted us to the airport, where our airline excorted us back to the U.S. It was a fine trip which rated well in Kyle records. Download 0.54 Mb. Share with your friends:
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