It was my second trip in one summer. Up 2500’ vertical feet of brushy game trail to get to the top of this one.

From the flat summit there are beautiful views of the Wild Sky Wilderness, which Cascade Land Conservancy helped to foster last year. It’s great to know that Case D&PM’s contribution was one of many that helped preserve this area.



Looking West, there’s a terrific view of the Puget Sound basin, the Olympic Mountains, Vancouver Island, and the San Juan archipelago.
We came prepared to spend the night, and watched as the sun set over the ocean and the stars came out. Lovely.

We’ve been doing some longer day rides around the Puget Sound region on Sunday mornings, most often with a good friend who raises bees. I’ve been intrigued to hear his descriptions of the intricacies of his bee colonies, and listening has helped pass the long hours in the saddle. A few months ago, I put on a bee hood and gloves, and helped him check the hives. I was soon hooked. They’re incredibly organized, industrious, and co-operative - there’s a reason the State of Utah has a beehive on its flag. They communicate instantaneously - like a school of fish or a flock of birds on the wing. They’re also subject to moods - they can be contented, curious, startled, and, of course, angry. Who’d have thought the little critters could be so complex?

So, after a rural drive to pick up some used hive supplies, and an afternoon of cleaning up and assembling equipment, I had the hive boxes and the outfit. But looking the part is rather less than half the game in this case - so I grabbed a copy of Beekeeping for Dummies to read in the car in the way back. Terrifying stuff.

The bees arrived in my friend’s car late the next night, and we put them in the garden. Curiosity struggles with terror. Next morning I took the wraps off the hive, and was met by an angry swarm. Pain overwhelms curiosity, panic follows. Resolution ensues to let the bees establish their own Republic.

By coincidence, I met Dawn and Jerry at dinner the next evening. They’re professional beekeepers. Dawn sells honey, and Jerry has a side business getting rid of hives in peoples’ houses. Both are active members of the Puget Sound Beekeepers’ Association. A few days later, Jerry arrived with a nest of bumblebees, which we put in a corner of the garden. Bumblebees, it turns out, are even better pollinators than honeybees, but they don’t make honey.

Doing our bit to restore the local insect population, we’re learning a lot, and the garden is thriving for it.

If you have ever bought or sold anything, this short movie at storyofstuff.com may help you understand your role in the materials economy. It's like a preview for the director's cut version of how our society has fallen out of balance. Enjoy!

On October 31th I completed fabrication of a temporary canvas panel for the Bruja Dulce’s highly experimental cover. Though it doesn’t quite express the desired architectural concept, I do get a kick out of its cheap ghost-costume-like appearance. Please see my previous post for the turtle back-story on this subject.



Much more interesting than the linseed oil-soaked canvas waiting to spontaneously combust are the pieces that make up the support structure. The details of this system are what have kept me up at night; either discussing options with late-stayers after work, soldering the many copper pieces involved, or mass-producing the round seizings used to terminate the short lengths of nylon cord. Good thing the boat came with a Marlinspike Sailor book which illustrates practical rope-work. After much trial and error, the resulting marine-based tent pole support system is at least a precursor to a thing of beauty.





The challenge now is to learn to sew, and sew well. Since I’d like to be able to use the cover in a variety of ways, its design is becoming complicated. The idea is to have seven separate and independently constructible panels. Each panel will be supported by a pair of poles.
I’ll let you know how it turns out…