Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Fwd: A better photo version


​Good morning everyone,

This story is from John Slowsky.  The story is about the original group of Rookies, 1969.  There are good photos of the the original group of Rookies, the Main Tower as it was in the 50s and John Bachman's Ironman competition.  If one ponders on the the story and photos a lot of history will unfold and changes throughout the years will be remembered.

Will someone send me the names of the people in the last picture?  Does anyone have one of Bachman's Ironman metals?  Will you take a picture of it and send me copy? 

Dale​


 


Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Fwd: old stories


After sending out the picture of Jeff Quams board I received a reply from Earle Richmond.  Here is his letter and my reply.

from Rich:

That is a beautiful board, but it reminds me of the redwood log of a paddle board that sat on the deck of the main tower in the summer of 1960. Early in the summer I was on duty at the main tower as the relief guard and day off guard my first year.   We all looked up and saw a person parachuting out of a small plane.   He was aiming for the beach but landed  hundreds of  yards out beyond the buoy.  I was told to go get him.  Paddling that big log out to get the culprit was hard enough.  But, when I got to him he said he wanted to save his parachute so he climbed on to the board with his chute.  I told him he was going to have to pay his way back in by helping to paddle.  By the time we got back to the beach my arms felt like they were going to fall off.  Of course the board we were using was a lot bigger and heavier than the one Jeff made.  But looking at his beautiful board brings back bad memories of another red wood board.    I don't surf,  But, even if I did, because of its beauty and my past memories I would probably use it as a coffee table. 

My reply:

I rescued one of the other guys who parachuted that day.  I swam out from Saint Ann's to pick up my guy.  When he said,  "I need to bring the chute in because it was rented."  I simply said, "Are you kidding?  I can take you or the chute, but not both."  He dropped the chute and I swam him back to the beach.

Fwd: Fwd: photographs

Hello everyone,

This morning started out well with friends celebrating Easter.  When I got home I received the following email.  Then Marilyn and I spent the rest of the day with our mothers.  This has been a great day.

I have been waitng for these pictures.  So here they are. These are pictures of the board that Jeff Quam made out of the redwood I gave him.  I figure the wood is more than a thousand years old.  The board was shaped by Josh Martin.  It is about 8' long and weighs about 30 pounds.  I will give more details about the board in a future email.

I had this wood sitting in the rafters of my garage for more than thirty years because could never figure out what to do with it.  I offered the wood to several people and never could get anyone to take it.  I showed it to Jeff and in 3 second he saw a surfboard hidden in the pile of sticks. I am so glad someone finally figured out what to make that would be worthy of this quality of wood.  Thank you Jeff.  Thank you Josh.  Thank you Mitch for the pictures.

I hope your day was as enjoyable as mine.

Dale Ghere
guarded 1960-1974

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: SUN DOLPHIN SURFBOARDS
Date: Sat, Apr 19, 2014 at 11:11 PM
Subject: Re: photographs
To: Dale and Marilyn Ghere <dmghere@gmail.com>


​I ​
am sorry for delay. I couldn't send larger photos,so these are smaller sized photos.

Mitch

埋め込み画像 21埋め込み画像 20埋め込み画像 19埋め込み画像 18埋め込み画像 17埋め込み画像 16埋め込み画像 15埋め込み画像 13埋め込み画像 14埋め込み画像 12埋め込み画像 11埋め込み画像 9埋め込み画像 7埋め込み画像 6埋め込み画像 5埋め込み画像 4埋め込み画像 2埋め込み画像 10埋め込み画像 3埋め込み画像 8埋め込み画像 1

On Apr 8, 2014 9:20 PM, "Dale and Marilyn Ghere" <dmghere@gmail.com> wrote:


When I sent the board pictures I asked if anyone had a Rock Story.  Here are two I received.  the first one is from Jonh Slowsky and the next one is from Tony Verdecia.  Not all rock stories include danger.  


Rocks are your Friends

By John Slowsky - Lifeguard 69-73

There was this one spring day where I had gone to Bluebird beach for a day of delight with other 

schoolmates from Thurston Jr. High had gathered. I remember it being quite a gaggle of young 

boys and girls beginning their departure from childhood and into the brave unknown of being an 

adolescent. It was on this particular day that a change in my life was about to happen. I was the 

smallest kid in school and I always struggled to be accepted by my peers. I felt the surest way to 

win their approval today was to go where they went without hesitation and do what they did. But 

where did they go and what did they do? They swam way out to sea to go bodysurfing where 

the college guys did. Yeow! I had never left the shore before this day and I didn't want anyone 

to know how scared and intimidated I was.

It sounds so simple and silly now but when you have grown accustomed to the world as you 

know it and about to enter the world that you don't… well the idea of leaving the shore for the 

first time is horrifying. I can remember the other guys already out in the water and I remember 

that I needed to prove to myself that I could do this. I never let on to them that I had never done 

this before… so I faked it. I just swam out as fast I could and screamed at the waves like I 

was stoked, when in reality I was freaked out of my mind. A collection of rocks were directly 

in front of us and when you took off on a wave you had to successfully navigate left to avoid 

being smeared across them. With each passing wave of success it became easier and more 

enjoyable; I didn't want to get out of the water. This leap into the abyss has continued to this 

day. The more I learn to expand my world; greater the depth of life I get to enjoy. 

By the time summertime came around I had begun bodysurfing at most of the beaches that 

were closed to surfing during the day (Brooks, Oak and Thalia Street) with my best friend Bill 

Brown. I can still remember the first day he took me out to the reef at Thalia Street. Billy had 

been swimming in front of me and when he arrived to the reef's shelve he turned and to my 

surprise… stood up. I didn't know that you could stand all the way out there and so I yelled 

to him "are you standing on sand"? And he yelled back "No Rocks!" "Rocks are your friends". 

Proving that if you needed to catch your breath; just stand on a rock.

By the following year my small band of friends had become quite proud with our ability to 

navigate over, around and through any rock surface, hole or cliff found on the shore or off-

shore. With deliberate intention we would zoom past tourists struggling to get over the rock 

glades at Cress Street in our bare feet to show-off how invincible our feet had become. We 

would jump off the Arch or a number of other smaller ledges. We would catch waves from 

partially submerged rocks at Woods. And to really top it off, wait for some unsuspecting tourist 

to walk towards the Blow Hole when we would run past them and "fall" into the Hole. We would 

then pretend we were getting sucked down and out of sight all the while screaming for our lives. 

It was all a grand theatrical performance played over and over to our amusement. 

Then came August, lazy, lazy August. Watermelons, beach chairs, sandy swimsuits, ebony 

tanned children with too much time on our hands. It would be time for a swim to First Reef. We 

grabbed our beach chairs and slung them over one shoulder while we held our Duck Feet (the 

yellow ones) with the other hand and with finesse would roll a watermelon down to the water. 

The group of us would slip on our fins and balancing the beach chairs on our shoulders we 

would lumber out to First Reef with this awkward floating rolling watermelon. There must have 

been a dozen of us both girls and boys: The Slowsky's, the Parson's, the Gleason's and more 

I'm sure, all giggling and laughing the whole way out. We had all become quite natural how to 

use the swell to lift us high onto the reef in perfect rhythm and timing. How to quickly "hold still" 

while the remaining surge rushed past us and then receded off the sharp face we were clinging 

onto. Then quickly scamper up the face and to the top surface of the reef (running with our fins 

on) where it was hot and dry and free from the surf because of the low tide. There we uncurled 

our beach chairs, pushed our watermelon into a tidal pool to keep cool, proceed to remove our 

fins and rest in our chairs. Within a short time we would become comfortably hot once again and 

the idea of eating a cold watermelon was on everyone's tongue. We would need to "crack" open 

the watermelon; use our child-size hands to carve out a delicious helping for ourselves (being 

as messy as we wanted to be). When everyone was stuffed and with the remaining melon it 

was time for a last minute food fight before grabbing our chairs and fins and leaping back into 

that incredible sea. Yep… that was great! I would give anything to relive that same experience 

today.

When Dale asked if there were any rock stories we would like to share. I felt he was suggesting 

some scary rescues (which we all have had at least one) or some in-training group experience 

with some psycho mentor that threw us off of Seal Rock (yea, that tall cliff part) but my first 

thoughts were indeed "Rocks are your friends" and what good friends they have been.

End


Here is another rock story by Tony Verdecia

I have a funny rock story.

I was guarding Picnic beach on a somewhat slow day. I called the Diver's Cove guard to let them know I was going to take quick peek around the rocks to the south to make sure there was no one out there as the tide was coming in and I was going to put my rocks closed sign up. Once I got around the corner, I spotted a grown man standing on the rocks. I began navigating my way towards him (mostly watching my foot placement on the rocks as I made some progress). As I look back up in his direction, I am now within the distance to slightly yell and motion for him to come back around to Picnic, but at the moment I look up, I see him drop his pants and squat. At this point, he sees me and holds up a hand with his index finger extended, signing,  "give me a minute", and before I could say anything, he proceeded to poop on the dry rock in the hot sun. Not even in the tide pool, but literally pooped on the peak of the rock that he was standing on. 

It caught me so off guard, I didn't say anything right away. I turned away (shocked) to give him privacy for a minute and when I looked back, he was pulling up his pants. And that's when it happened.

BAM! A basketball flew down from the Heisler park bluff and hit this man right in the head nearly knocking him off his feet to land in his own waste. It then bounced of the rocks and landed in the water. I didn't know how to react. I asked if he was ok, he nodded, and I walked back around to Picnic dumbfounded. 

That is my rock story.