I never knew I had a bucket list until I saw the movie. Not that I'm terminally ill. I'm not. And, not that I have a list of places I must go before I do kick the bucket forsaking everything else. Well, I do have a list of sorts. But, in the days after watching the movie, I slowly realized that my life has been my bucket list. I don't expect the reaper to be knocking at my door soon, but, if he dropped by a few days before the day for a chat about my life, I think I'd tell him that I've done most of the things I wanted to do. Not that I popped out of my mom's womb trailing this long list of things to do and places to go. It took me at least eight or ten years to begin the list. And, most importantly, not that I'm done with the list. I hope I'll keep crossing things off of it until the day the reaper finally says, "OK, that's it. Put down your list." But, until that day, here are some of the things off my bucket list ....... in no particular order .......

Wranglers, Wagons and Wilderness

Few people get to live their dreams, but isn't that what Bucket Lists are all about? The call of the wild has always been strong in my life. Some folks may recall times when that probably was a bad thing. But that's what life is about; following your inner voice and trying to work that into some sort of lifestyle for yourself. I didn't always get it right the first time or even the second time, but practice makes perfect. And I let that call of the wild take me to many places.

I spent many happy years in and around the mountains of Wyoming. In that part of the country seasonal jobs are are a very common way to make a living. All through the Rockies and the West, as the winter snows melt, people push their way up into the high country and the mountain wilderness areas for the summertime and early fall only to be chased out again when the snow starts to fly in late fall. Well, not always.
I do recall waking up one Fourth of July morning and looking out from beneath the wagon that I was sleeping under to see a summertime snowstorm dusting the the high meadow around me. But that's part of summertime in the Rockies, and I need to get back to the subject at hand.
Lots of folks who live in other areas of the U.S. or the world want to experience the mountains and wilderness areas of the American West. Many do that by joining organized groups or trips that will take them into those areas. For many years I worked alongside other local folk who made those trips possible. I worked as a camp cook, packer, wrangler and guide in the mountains of northwestern Wyoming. Often my job changed seasonally depending upon what outfit I signed on with. For many years I was hired by an outfitter as a cook and camp jack on his wagon train that rumbled through the high country on bumpy old logging roads east of Jackson's Hole. Guests would join the wagon train for about a week during which time the outfit would move daily from one camp to the next.

For many, this trip was the epitome of roughing it. Meals were prepared over an open cooking fire in huge cast iron pots and pans. Cakes were baked in dutch ovens buried in hot coals. Bathroom facilities were minimal. Pit toilets with a seat fixed atop a wooden box housed in a small tent served everyone. Wash water was heated over a fire. Bathing consisted of a sponge bath or, for the completely hardy ones, a plunge in a frigid mountain stream. Everyone slept in sleeping bags rolled out inside small tents that were pitched and taken down daily as the outfit moved from camp to camp.

The guests could take off on horseback after breakfast with some of the guides for day-long riding adventures and rejoin the wagin train later in the day. Or they could ride in the wagons and just enjoy the scenery as the teams pulled the wagons slowly along the old mountain roads. It was a fun job.

The men I worked with were a great bunch. We all worked hard and long every day. Our days would start about 5:00 A.M. and end around 9:00 P.M., but we all enjoyed the work in the mountains and sharing our country with visitors from all across the globe.

Trips began Monday morning and ended Saturday morning. Most weeks, the rest of the crew would take off once the guests were gone leaving me to tend to the camp, wagons and horses for the weekend until the whole affair began again the next Monday morning. I thoroughly enjoyed my solitary weekends when I had the outfit to myself. I'd go for short hikes, read books, write letters, get a leg up on chores for the week ahead, and in general just enjoy being alone with Nature and my thoughts. Sometimes I'd drive down to the nearest campground and buy a shower. Othertimes, I'd just find a good hole in a nearby creek and bathe in it.
This is one of those examples where an item on my list was simple, enjoyable, lasting and created more of those great memories I'll carry with me for the rest of my life.

The Islands of Hawaii

As we prepare for yet another escape to America's 50th state, I have been reflecting on the reasons why it has become so much a part of our lives. Over the past 25 years, we have visited the former island nation more times than we can count. Hawaii represents so many things that put destinations on the bucket list. It's remote and exotic and has a rich history. Two of the most powerful natural forces in my life, the energy exuded by the sea and the mountains, are abundant there. The perpetually tropical weather, accompanied by beautiful beaches and endless diving opportunities from every island, also make Hawaii a natural for the list.

I am sure that I romanticized Hawaii as a youngster (as I also posted in the New Guinea section) as I read about sailing ships, explorers and buccaneers plying the waters of the Pacific seeking fortune, fame, adventure and uncharted lands. Closer to my life's experiences, the role that Hawaii played in World War II always captured my interest. And, I guess when it really comes right down to it, I could say that Hawaii is the first destination that reinforced my then awakening desire to travel the globe.

As it turns out, the first thing that captured my attention on my first visit to Hawaii was the culture and history of the islands. A visit to Oahu's Polynesian Cultural Center explained how the islands were discovered and then colonized by explorers from the Marquesas and then later from Tahiti, Raiatea and Bora Bora. The famed explorer Capt. James Cook was the first European to discover the islands. That began the exploitation of Hawaii by Europeans. Protestant missionaries worked hard to bring Christianity to the islands and, at the same time, worked equally hard to destroy the Hawaiian culture. King David Kalakaua (pictured) initiated the resurgence of Hawaiian traditions in the late 1800's. It's those traditions as well as the ever happy and welcoming Hawaiians that hooked me on the Lands of Aloha.
After several trips to the islands, we dedicated one vacation to becoming certified scuba divers. We then sharpened our skills and became advanced divers. And, as you have read in other sections, scuba diving then became one of the leading factors that contributed to our desires to visit other parts of the globe.
The undersea world, the single largest unexplored wilderness on the globe, has completely captured me. In my younger years, I learned that in any pristine wilderness area, you walk softly, take ony photographs and leave only footprints. That practice is even more important when diving. The damage that those who do not follow those principles have done is probably more evident in that environment.
I recall the words of one of America's memorable movie roles, "Stupid is as stupid does." (Forrest Gump). When I see divers kissing sharks, it reminds me of dumbass pedestrians here in Alaska that want to go up and touch the wild moose or commune too closely with half ton brown bears. Of course, the result is frequently the same, and the perpetrators then wonder why on earth whatever creature it was decided to attack them.
Hawaii's role in history is interesting from every aspect. Over the years we have visited all of the major islands, Oahu and Maui most frequently. More than once we have taken a day on Oahu to visit Pearl Harbor. Being able to climb aboard the U.S.S. Missouri and explore its seeming miles of passageways or scrunching ourselves into the Bowfin (pictured) wondering how so many sailors could endure so many days beneath the surface in such cramped quarters are very interesting experiences. Likewise, taking the trip to the U.S.S. Arizona memorial is a must-do, but that activity is quite sobering and thought provoking.
Of all the visits we have made to Hawaii, we have found ourselves on Maui more often than any other island. It just suits our style. Every island is unique and has its own charm.

Guns, Germs and Steel

I have always wondered why some societies around the globe thrived, prospered and evolved into our modern day civilizations while others seemed to sort of get stuck back in their own time. In his book, Guns, Germs and Steel, Jared Diamond proposed it was because of differences among peoples' environments, not because of biological differences among peoples themselves.

Primitive civilizations probably found their way onto my list as I dreamed of swashbuckling adventurers I met in books or movies finding themselves on the short end of the stick in the midst of head hunters or people making human sacrifices off at the far corners of the world. As I grew up and learned more about the world, the idea of visiting one of these places and meeting the people in an effort to understand these larger questions in life stuck vividly with me. And so it was one day that we found ourselves departing home for a 22-day 28,000 mile oddysey to the highlands of Papua New Guinea.

It took us three days of travel to reach Mount Hagen, a comparatively large town (17,000) in the New Guinea highlands. Our lodging,located in the hills above the town, was a small bungalow constructed in the native fashion. Everyone staying at the lodge socialized and took family style meals at the main building. I truly enjoyed our accomodation. By PNG standards, it was deluxe. We did share our room with all the local critters (but we were bigger than they were).

One family we visited was just finishing the cooking of several days worth of yams, the most common food. They asked us to join them in a meal, which consisted simply of taking a yam from the baking pit, peeling it and eating it. Yams are not only a staple for humans. They are also fed to dogs and pigs (I'm not sure where we fell in that heirarchy).


A note about clothing. We got the distinct impression that the missionaries didn't work too diligently to get rural folks to wear clothes when nobody else was around. But, we noted that almost everyone donned some sort of local or westernesque garb whenever we appeared. We'd see kids dressed only in an adult western style shirt, which worked well as it would hang to their knees or lower. In towns and larger population centers, locals were always dressed in western attire.

We learned that most tribal folks do not identify themselves as being New Guineans. They do not have much of a concept of nationalism as their worlds still revolve around their tribal lands and associated boundaries. Altercations between tribes usually involve members of one tribe doing something in another tribe's territory or doing something to a member of another tribe. Retribution is usally the result. Interestingly enough, tribes are seen as families, so it doesn't really make any difference who the offenders are. Retribution is simply taken against any member of the offending tribe.

After visiting some small villages, getting a thoroughly warm welcome from the locals, and learning a lot about subsistence and local traditions in PNG, we flew from Mount Hagen to Goroka for the annual tribal dance festival. The festival is THE annual event in PNG. We were told that it attracts the single largest group of visitors of any event in the country. Over the days we attended, I think we may have counted something between 100-200 foreginers. Tribes from all over the country came to the festival to out show and out dance their rivals. It wasn't that long ago that these same tribes were attacking and killing each other.

To say the least, the festival was spectacular and colorful. Every tribe is visibly different from each other as they turn out in their traditional tribal regalia. Dress is tribal, so all members of a tribe wear the same clothing and plumage and paint themselves similarly.
There was only one hotel in Garoka, and we were not able to secure a room there for the dance festival. So, we followed the suggestion of a local tour company and booked lodging in Kainantu, a provincial center about 90 km from Garoka. The tour company informed us that we would have to travel through an area that could be dangerous for visitors between the two towns. They notified the local constabulary, who was quite willing to escort us back and forth each day.


Locals had heard of our arrival and we spent a few hours each evening after dinner in the company of the local Commissioner, Police Chief and doctor quaffing local brews and discussing current events in PNG, America and the rest of the world. When we travel, we are always amazed at how similar our issues really are around the globe despite the different ways in which they are couched.


All of PNG is quite lawless. Interestingly enough, the capital, Port Moresby, can be one of the most dangerous places in the country. Hotels there are surrounded by high walls topped with barbed wire and broken glass. Armed guards patrol their perimiters. Guests are not permitted to leave hotel compounds in the evenings without an escort. Similar situations are found in the larger towns across the country. It seems that as the population becomes less urban and more rural the safer one is there. Of course, there are tales of busses being stopped by bandits as they ply the lesser populated areas of the country. All of this is because there is extremely high unemployment in PNG. So, thievery has grown into a means of support. I don't want to unduly alarm readers. Visitors from across the word visit PNG annually and trek its rural areas without ever running afoul of ne'erdowells, as did we. But crime is a risk that needs to be heeded.


As we boarded our flight in Port Moresby for our return trip home, we felt as if we had grown some more. We had traveled to remote places and met people on their own terms. We had been rewarded with their smiles and friendship, and we had learned from them. Again, the globe shrunk a bit more for us.