The Red Mountain Time Machine — 1980

Posted on May 11, 2020 by Teresa

My parents bought their property in ’73 and began building out here.  They planted a peach orchard and we had chickens, goats, and a garden.  Mom and Dad kept ledgers of their activity and the weather.  I dug some up and thought I’d share with you some of their entries.

We were flat stick into our farming.  My goats had triplets, we were gardening like we were stockpiling for the end-times, and Mt. St. Helens rumbled in the distance.

We named one goat kid “Noky”, short for “no keep ’em”.  Self-explanatory, yes?

Sunday, May 18th.

“Mt. St. Helens erupted at 8:32 this morning.  At 12:15 rattlesnake mt. is not visible from house.  sky is black to the north.  the night lites are on north of Benton City.  Volcanic ash fell for about an hour — the kids collected about a quart.  took pictures of clouds.”

(Apparently my parents had zero fear that the stuff might be toxic.  Meanwhile the rest of the world was hunkered down and warned not to handle the ash.)

Friday, May 23rd.

“What appears to be fog is volcanic ash.  Some pictures taken.”

Saturday, May 24th.

“Still more of the stuff — no accumulation but it is present.”

Sunday, May 25

“St. Helens blew again — 2 times last night.  wind blew ash west, affecting Portland.  This morning was clear.  This afternoon wind is from SW.  Visibility less than 1 mile.  White dust blowing.”

It was a tough year.

Saturday, June 21

“Saw about 6 pheasant today.  Finished mowing orchard and mowed fire break around the place.  Garden is in terrible shape — weeds, weeds.  We just have not had time to do all the chores.  I’ve had to work some weekends lately and some long hours.  Unable to get time off from work though I have approx. 34 days vacation coming.  Grasshoppers are bad this year.”  

Wednesday, August 27th.

“think we started picking this day.  things got hectic.”

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The Red Mountain Time Machine — 1985

Posted on April 10, 2020 by admin

My parents bought their property in ’73 and began building out here.  They planted a peach orchard and we had chickens, goats, and a garden.  Mom and Dad kept ledgers of their activity and the weather.  I dug some up and thought I’d share with you some of their entries.

1985

We had a handful of neighbors out here.  We spent a lot of time with one couple, fishing and camping.  They had a horse that they let me ride, which I did, every chance I got.  Man, I loved that horse.  In the summers I’d spend hours on her back, sometimes just lounging around, other times riding out in the sagebrush.  It was pure magic.  

One day I noticed that the little chestnut mare was gone.  Sometimes Jerry sent her off to pasture at his brother-in-law’s place, so it didn’t alarm me.  But she didn’t come back.  I got word through the grape vine that she’d been sold.  First, my heart broke, even though I knew she wasn’t mine, I felt like she was.  Second, I immediately commenced “Operation Black Cloud” in which I stomped around angrily and refused to acknowledge or speak to my neighbor.  

April 12th we sat at the family dinner table when we noticed Jerry driving up the road.  Dad went out to greet him.  I figured I was in trouble for being disrespectful to an adult or I’d left a gate open.  When Dad called me outside to talk to Jerry I knew Operation Black Cloud was getting shut down.  

Jerry thrust an old bridle into my hand and said, “know who this might fit?”  I was still waiting for the hammer to drop and didn’t understand what he was getting at.  

“You go put that on that mare and bring her home and you can have her” he smiled.  

I honestly don’t know if I even thanked him.  I was absolutely gob-smacked and unable to even register any kind of emotion.  

Turns out Operation Black Cloud had somewhat of an impact and he bought back “my” mare and somehow coerced my father into letting me have her.  

Saturday, May 4  Low 25 degrees, High 65 degrees.

“Potluck here today, Williams [John and Ann, of Kiona Winery], Beavers, Us.” 

Saturday, May 11.  Low 32 degrees, High 66 degrees.  

“Ice on dogs’ water this morn.” 

And the birth of my niece, Brea Ann, mother to Mikey who you probably see a lot of in our Instagram as she visits us in the mornings and I take her out to do chores with me.

Wednesday, July 31.

“Teresa is fifteen today.  Got her a saddle blanket.  Got a line on a saddle.”  

I got my saddle when I was 16, and still have it. 

A couple of years later I was gifted another horse.  Only able to keep one at a time, I gifted my mare to the neighbor who had kids.

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The Red Mountain Time Machine — 1988

Posted on March 30, 2020 by admin

My parents bought their property in ’73 and began building out here.  They planted a peach orchard and we had chickens, goats, and a garden.  Mom and Dad kept ledgers of their activity and the weather.  I dug some up and thought I’d share with you some of their entries.

1988

Dad ordered our first family PC on January 15, 1988.  Details:

  • PCs Limited 80286 chip
  • 1 meg memory
  • 30 meg hard disk
  • 1.2 meg floppy
  • mouse
  • 1200 baud modem
  • DOS 3.1 
  • 8MHz cycle
  • $3900.00

Yeah, seriously.  Not sure about that modem but I do recall us having an acoustic modem — you’d get a call and have to place your handset on this cradle and the computers would literally chatter away like a couple of hens fighting over a june bug.  

March 27th, 28th, and 30th were really kind of crap days for farming that year:

5:30 am March 27th.  32 degrees. 

“all buds about to burst, several on every tree already in bloom.”  

“gearing up to plant 450 trees (peach) tomorrow.  Teresa and Deanna went after hay this evening.  Ran out of gas in Badger Canyon.  Adam and I went and bailed them out as Jerry wants to borrow the pick up tomorrow.”  (I remember this trip — the truck had an auxiliary tank and a bad gauge so if you switched from the main tank to the auxiliary it looked like you had a full tank of gas.  You did not.)   

Saturday, March 28th 5:30 am.  35 degrees.

“Trees were delivered at 7:00 am.  Scheduled delivery was yesterday afternoon.  Teresa and Deanna went after hay at 7:00.  Water pump went out on Datsun pick up.  Had to have datsun today.  Exhaust tail pipe came off Chevy pick up, had to fix that (that was the one I was using to haul hay).  
Windy and cold today.  Adam, Teresa, Deanna, Mary and I  staked, drilled, watered, planted, and pruned 110 trees by 17:00.  All were tired.  

And, water truck wouldn’t start so, I set up a line to water trees with.”

Yeah, so I had to take two attempts to pick up hay (which we loaded and unloaded by hand), Dad had to replace the water pump in the pick up, the exhaust pipe on the Chevy, and then we all planted 110 trees.  

I don’t remember being all that tough, but reading this exhausts me.  The next day gets better.  No, I mean, it makes for better reading, but equally frustrating…

Sunday, March 29 5:30 am. 32 degrees.  sunny.  

“322 trees total planted — +1 in older 4 acres.  

213 today — Bruce, Mary, Teresa, + Adam.

The old folks are tired.  

Universal joint on auger busted.  127 tree holes yet to dig.”  

Judas Priest, I don’t know how they even pressed on.  It was like everything we touched that weekend either died or broke.  But it wasn’t over…

March 30 — 5:30 am, 26 degrees. 

“Smudge pots smoke thickest we’ve ever seen.”  

Back then farmers used kerosene heaters called “smudge pots” that they burned in their orchards to protect new buds from late-season frost.  That year it was a doozy.  Our orchard had mostly budded out or already blossomed.  We didn’t use smudge pots, or really anything to protect the buds.  

April 7th

“Bruce says it looks like we’ve lost a lot of the crop from that Mar. 30 cold.”  

Well dang!

Then, dad left for a work trip at the end of the month.  Almost as if it were planned, someone got the tractor and mower stuck. 

It was me.  I got the tractor and mower stuck. 

Sunday, May 3

“40 trees in #2 dying or dead.

Tractor out. 

Mower still stuck.”

Farming is for the stubborn.

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I Don’t Think I Got The Horse Bug From My Family

Posted on March 26, 2020 by Teresa

No one in my family has ever been particularly drawn to horses.  I was since birth and have no idea why.  

Yet, the horse business isn’t exactly a new career path for us Olivers (my maiden name).  As a kid, my father developed polio.  It left him with one functional leg and one leg that has to be in a brace.  It’s a medieval looking brace too — lots of hardware and leather and ratchety things that control whether his knee bends or straightens.  It’s rigged to his boot at the bottom and has a big thick leather cuff that fits around his thigh.  Honestly, I’ve never thought much about his polio or his brace.  It’s always just been a part of him. 

I did ask him the other day, after spending some time on crutches and after seeing Jeff struggle on crutches last year — what the heck ever possessed him to build a two-storey house?  He said, “I was too dumb to know I was crippled.  I just thought it took me longer to get anywhere.”  

The closest thing to concessions my grandparents made for my father was to buy him a donkey so that during their times in the coastal range of Oregon, Dad had a way to get around. 

We are conditioned to imagine a scenario where a challenged little boy bonds with a sweet, doting donkey.  They go everywhere together.  The donkey pines for his little boy when he’s gone, and runs to greet him at the bus stop in the afternoons.  The parents regularly find their son — who nearly died in their arms — curled up in the straw, napping next to his kind donkey.  Maybe the donkey was rescued from a life of starvation and torture and frequently expresses his gratitude by frolicking gaily in the green meadows of the farm, picking daisies with his teeth and leaving them at the pasture gate as a token of his appreciation.

From Dad’s stories, the donkey was about 30% assistive and 70% dangerous… and 0% doting.  Abe, as a therapy animal, employed the “tough love” approach and largely ignored the “love” part of the equation.  The only thing that kept Abe alive was dad’s equal measure of stubbornness.  I guess in that regard you could call it a “rescue” situation.  Abe didn’t have a lot of options beyond abusing a 10 year old.  

Abe’s form of therapy included slamming on the brakes while running downhill, thereby pitching my father ass-over-teakettle into bushes, poison oak, ditches, rocks, and any other number of potentially deadly hazards.  Dad fixed this behavior by grabbing onto Abe’s ears on the way over.  

Abe was the equivalent of having a homicidal wheelchair.  It’s little wonder that when I started to express an interest in equines my father’s eye began to twitch.  

As a youngster, dad wanted a paper route.  It’s what kids did, usually on their bicycles or walking, to make a little money.  Dad couldn’t ride a bicycle with his bum leg, and walking a delivery route would take him so long the papers would be a day old before he got them all delivered.  (Though, I will say, in dad’s younger years I remember him being plenty fast to outrun us kids trying to evade his discipline!)  Dad employed ol’ Abe as his delivery vehicle.  At 4 a.m. every day he’d swing up on Abe and trit-trot down to the store to pick up his pack of newspapers.  Then off they’d go down the street, Dad flinging newspapers off the back of Abe.  I can just imagine that little donkey’s tail twitching and those big ears bobbing as he and Dad delivered papers.  

I like to think Dad’s donkey-powered paper route may be my tiny, faint connection to having a horse-business of my own.  It’s a stretch, I’ll admit.  

Dad had Abe for years, and frequently rode him to school.  In 1959, Roseburg High School held “Oregon Centennial Days” and dad’s costume was complete — he slapped a stovepipe hat on and rode Abe to school, looking the part of an early settler.  It wasn’t much of a stretch.

Abe didn’t take much pleasure out of anything that didn’t involve inflicting pain on a human.  The only time he seemed truly happy at no one else’s expense was riding in the back of the pickup truck.  Anytime dad and my grandparents went logging or working in the mountains around Roseburg, they loaded Abe up in the back of the pickup truck.  Abe just hopped in like an old dog and hung his head over the top of the cab or the side-rails on the bed.  Sometimes dad would look in the rear-view mirror and Abe had his head out in the wind, his big donkey lips flapping as they rattled down the highway.  

Dad celebrated his birthday last month.  I’m not sure if Dad’s stubbornness is because of, in spite of, or unrelated to his childhood with Abe the donkey, but he still has it.  He may’ve passed it on to us kids, too.  

Happy Belated Birthday, Dad, and Thanks!

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Do We Have a “Mud Season” Now?

Posted on February 27, 2020 by Teresa

The Farmer’s Almanac assures us a warmer winter, although a wetter one.  How you could wring any more moisture out of the sky than we had last year is a mystery.  

Mother Nature: “Challenge Accepted.”  

Jeff calls from the mountains every day with updates, “21 inches last night.”  “A foot last night.”  

We may need to invest in snorkels.

Most of all, the horses love the mud.  LOVE it.  A better person than me would bathe the horses (especially the ones with any white spots) prior to going out.  Ugh, please.  I can’t.  It’s such a futile effort and it seems like there are so many better things to do with my time than to wash a horse that loves nothing more than to be dirty.  Should we really take that joy away from them?  

We’ll continue with our mantra that “happy horses are safe horses” and use that as our excuse for having “brown” white horses.  

Guest, “That’s an unusual color of horse, what do you call that?”

Us, “Manure stains and mud.”  

What the horses fail to realize is that no one wants to pet a dirty horse.  You know what horses love almost as much as a roll in the mud?  Human affection.  Yet, the two activities are diametrically opposed.  

I’ll explain that to them, “You guys, rolling in manure is diametrically opposed to getting loves.”  

The problem is, the mud-rolling isn’t a deterrent for ME to keep me from scratching them.  So, I’m reinforcing the behavior I don’t want.  Clearly this is why they don’t believe me that rolling ≠ petting.

Maybe the better approach is to tell people that the horses are covered in Red Mountain Terroir.  

“And you’ll see here a collection of Red Mountain soils — highly alkaline — baked by the sun into the coat of this horse.”  

Well, the presentation needs work but I think we may be onto something…

The horses enjoy a little nap in the dirt.

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The Business End of the Business

Posted on February 27, 2020 by Teresa

At some point I’m going to have to try and track how much time we spend on “businessy things” as opposed to “the business”.  The business is — riding horses, taking guests touring, stuff like that.  Businessy things are taxes, bookkeeping, marketing, planning…  It’s the difference between riding horses and being a desk jockey.  

Not complaining.  

At all.

Though I guess I’d be happier if I could do all of the desk-jockeying from the saddle.  

Jeff and I sit down every year in the winter and go through a series of 20 questions about our business.  There are the obvious questions like, “what went well?  what didn’t?”  Then there are the tougher ones like, “what new things are happening in your market?”  

We’re like… ~blink blink~  

Anyway, so we do that exercise and then when we’re done answering the questions we go over them together and then go over last year’s answers.  Hilarity ensues.  

I think at times our goal should really be to see how closely our answers reflect reality vs. our “dreams”.  We were off the mark last year on a few things.  For instance we really thought last year we could focus on a few events every year and that could be a good facet of our business.  Pretty sure we didn’t do a single event last year.  

We’ve been late this year in having our strategy session.  We’ve actually been too busy.  I know.  Kinda funny.

It’s a valuable exercise, and we’ll still do it this year.  I think part of the reason we haven’t is that the questions have become part of our regular business mentality.  We are always thinking, “okay, this applies to the question about what we’d do differently next year”.  We find ourselves discussing things in terms of the strategy we know we’ll be working on.  In a way, it’s become something we do all the time.  

The winery adds a new element to strategic planning.  It is its own, separate business.  But, we are still the same people.  Our big question has been how we work the two together at the same time.  We’ll let you know when we figure that out!

We’ve also tripled the amount of office work required of us.  Wineries require a ton of paperwork.  We’ll likely end up farming out the taxes, payroll, and reporting tasks.  

Our marketing work is all social media and networking.  That suits us.  We like connecting that way.  

But the “real” work — the business work itself of leading tours and making wine — that’s maybe only 60% of the work we do.  I know, y’all thought we just drink wine and ride horses every day.  Oh to lead such a charmed life!

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The Greatest Compliment

Posted on February 24, 2020 by Teresa

Did I already tell you that we received the Excellence in Service award for 2017?  Well, even if I have, I’ll probably say it again.  You share photos of your kids and grandkids, I’ll share photos of my horses and business.  🙂  

We do an annual event that requires all hands on deck and working in areas where interaction is barely possible.  The event is always VERY well attended (when Frichette Winery has a party, people SHOW UP!), so even if we’d wanted to discuss things, we don’t have any breaks to do so.  It doesn’t scare me, our staff get it.  They are used to working like this.  

At the end of one event I received such a great compliment about our staff, “They never asked me anything, they just took care of themselves!”  It’s what a business owner really wants — their staff to truly be an extension of them in everything they do.  I know that they are an extension of Jeff and I in customer service, the award shows it.  To go to a new environment, a new route, and do a couple of special tasks (bring Santa onto the premises for his grand arrival) never phased them at all.  They did their tasks just as if Jeff and I were doing them.  

When the dust settles after weekends like that, Jeff and I will usually have a little debriefing.  Mostly we just repeatedly shake our heads, say, “Wow, those guys are good” and thank our lucky stars.

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The Genesis of the Sunset Dinner Tours

Posted on February 21, 2020 by Teresa

Sometimes folks ask us how we came up with the idea for the Sunset Dinner Tours.  Really, when you think about it, it might initially sound odd to say, “we’re going off into nowhere, in a horse-drawn wagon, and having dinner.”  I mean, where’s the fancy kitchen, 30-page menu, and pianist in the corner.  Isn’t THAT what you need for an amazing dining experience?

In the early 2000s I worked as a whitewater raft guide.  Our company had an arrangement with the very prestigious Abercrombie & Kent luxury travel tours.  All of the tours our company did were really nice, but the “A&K” tours were in a class of their own.  Guests had multi-room tents, fancy cots, night stands, door mats, bedding… Every evening of their 5 day rafting tour of the lower Salmon River ended with brandy and cigars.  We hauled a fairly well-stocked bar on those trips.  We had a chef on the tours and her job, her only job, was to prepare the meals.  

I learned a lot from her about doing “more with less” and that dining al fresco, far removed from town, didn’t mean skimping on a single detail.  I also learned a lot about making do when you did forget a single detail.  Like silverware.  

It was so fun to work those dinners and see how elegant “camp cookin'” could be.

Hope you’ll join us this year for one of our sunset dinners!

 

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Feedin’ Time!

Posted on February 20, 2020 by Teresa

We are often asked about feeding the horses — how much we feed, how long it takes to feed them, and how often.  

Well, here’s how it works (caution: serious nerding happening here):

Free Feed Grass Hay

The foundation of our feeding program is free-feeding grass hay year-round. We load 1 ton of hay per week into large round feeders and the horses eat from that hay whenever they want.  It’s good grass hay, so it’s safe for them to eat it all they want.  Horses have small stomachs and large/long digestive tracts, they are made to graze throughout the day, so this is similar to how they’d eat in their natural habitat.

Pros: 

  • more natural way for them to eat
  • good for horses that have ulcers or other digestive issues
  • seems to reduce a lot of behavioral issues that revolve around feeding, horses get Hangry just like us!
  • the low horses in the hierarchy still get plenty to eat
  • horses never have to work on an empty stomach

Cons: 

  • doesn’t adequately address EVERY horse’s needs
  • buying the large round bales can have a lot of garbage in them sometimes

Pasture Turnout for Variety

We rotate them in the summer on a dry “track” with free feed hay and then to green pasture for a few days.  It’s just to ease a little pressure on our hay bill and to give them some variety.

Pros:

  • nutritional diversity
  • it makes them happy

Cons:

  • can be a bit too “hot” — making them gain weight.  (I’m not too worried about my horses getting too fat.)

Supplementation

A handful of our horses need more than what they get from grass hay.  The main things we supplement for are digestive issues, respiratory problems, hormonal imbalances, joint support, and difficulty keeping weight on. 

I’ll also say, we have our vet out every year to do a whole-herd check and help us develop a feeding and management strategy.  Our supplementation isn’t just a crap-shoot of us going to the feed store and buying every shiny bottle of snake oil.  And there is a LOT of snake oil out there!

Digestive Issues

Symptoms we’ve seen for digestive issues are diarrhea or just generally loose stools, discomfort when we cinch their saddles up, “cribbing”– where they latch onto something with their teeth and sort of suck in a little air, standing with their hind legs camped far out behind them, general grouchiness.  

Not everything works for everybody.  Some of our horses with digestive issues do great with some sweet feed and daily probiotics.  Some do well with omeprazole or ranitidin depending on the type of ulcers they seem to maybe have.  Others feel better after eating bentonite clay.  

Respiratory Problems

Our sweet boy Dash has a bit of a cough.  He’s had it for years.  During our vet check we did ask about potentially offering him steroids but the Dr. thought he was a way off from that and we’d like to avoid it as long as we can.  So, we feed him nettle leaves.  Yup, stinging nettle leaves.  Fortunately for us and for our herd, that is the only respiratory issue we’ve seen other than the occasional bouts of flu or whatever that the herd may pick up. 

Hormonal Imbalances

This is one of those broad terms that I probably use incorrectly, but is a lot nicer and kinder than the term I’d like to use for some of our mares who struggle with their heat cycle.  We usually offer a couple of things — raspberry leaves and then pain killer if they look really uncomfortable.  

Joint Support

And some of our horses have a little creak and groan in their stride, kinda like me!  They get a little joint support daily with their feed.  A nice easy walk on the trails is great for keeping them limber and to keep their blood circulating and nourishing their joints, too!

 

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My Valentine

Posted on February 14, 2020 by Teresa

As you may’ve heard, Jeff works ski patrol at White Pass. His is a full-time paid position that involves skiing a lot, building bombs, saving people, and throwing explosives.  And he does all of this in a solid black uniform.  

You’re darn right it’s hot.  

Building bombs?  Explosives??  Sounds crazy!  
It is a little.  That’s how they attract women by droves control avalanches.  They build bombs, and carefully measure enough fuse so that after it’s lit they have 90 seconds to get out of harms’ way.  A friend told me once that he threw a bomb and it hit a tree limb, which flicked it right back at his feet.  In the industry they call that “a bad thing.”  He didn’t really wait around to measure how much fuse was left, this friend of mine, to see if he could re-throw it.  Hilarity ensued (that is, if you like your “hilarity” of the panic-stricken variety).  
He skied away (and I imagine if it were me you’d see a set of ski tracks with a yellow line of urine right between them.  But I’m a wimp.)  

So, besides skiing around in a solid black uniform, he carries a backpack full of explosives, which he ignites one at a time and throws into piles of snow to set off avalanches so the slopes are stable before the ski area opens. 

It works out well that ski season is the opposite as our business season.  He is gone a lot for his winter job, but that’s okay.  All we’re doing around here is chipping ice and feeding hay. 

Jeff and I skiing at White Pass.

I try to head up for a few days each month and join him.  My favorite thing is to ski around with him.  It’s not real tough — he’s confined to the groomed runs.  But it’s him, and me, and snow.  And he’s not a real power-hungry snow-tyrant, but he and the rest of the patrol are the benevolent Alphas of the hill.  They’ll do everything to keep you safe — from roping off dangerous runs (which annoys everyone, to breaking up fights, to giving you a courtesy ride in a toboggan if you’ve bitten off more than you can chew in the middle of a run.  These guys 1.) ski their brains out, 2.) play with explosives, and 3.) are heroes.  

When Jeff and I first started dating he was called out on a search on Christmas Eve.  I was camping in the back of my pickup truck in the R. V. lot (I was much tougher then).  It was a clear and bitter cold night.  Because I was camping in my truck, I spent as much time as possible in the lodge before heading to my truck.  

Jeff and I had been on a couple of “dates” and hadn’t so much as kissed yet.  I was in the first aid room, listening to the radio for information for the lost parties (okay, and keeping an eye on the spare wool blankets, and Jeff…).  Jeff came in, bundled in a huge down coat and loaded with rescue gear, ready to go out on the search.  He had a rescue pack, avalanche beacon, probe, shovel, “skins” (traction devices for skies so you can use them to climb uphill), radio, blanket, first aid kit, water — he was loaded down with about 80 lbs of “essentials.”   He marched over to me, his heavy ski boots thumping on the floor, took me in his arms, and kissed me.  Yeah, it was that dramatic.  

18 hours later I got word that they were out.  Not finished with the rescue, just out — in cars, in contact with other people.  They still had hours of First Aid and paperwork to complete before the rescue would be complete.  

So, our relationship was forged early on in the fires of “rescue” and “emergency”.  

Then we started a business together…  you’d think we liked adrenaline or something.

 

 

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