H.A. Espy and Log Wagon Headed South on Territory Road, circa 1900

…when my grandfather was a boy in Oysterville — in the i870s and ’80s — almost every house had a boat of some kind or other in the yard or the field.  It could be a skiff or an Indian canoe or a larger boat for oystering or fishing.  That’s not to say there weren’t also boats pulled up past the high tide line on the bay or in the anchorage near the Oysterville dock,  But boats were definitely part of the upland landscape — whether they were there to be worked on or just to keep safe from winter storms. In addition to boats, every household usually had a horse at pasture — often more than one.  And, perhaps a cow or two.

By my mother and her siblings’ time in the 1900s, 1910s and 1920s, not much had changed.  At our place, there might have been a few more horses at pasture.  My Uncle Ed said that there could be as many as “sixteen at the maximum,” which included the work horses for Papa’s Dairy Ranch and riding and carriage horses for the family.

By my childhood, things had morphed a bit.  The families whose men worked in the oysters often had a boat in the front yard or the  driveway — a boat they were working on, perhaps.  But only the families with kids had horses and usually, one horse per household.  Judy and Peter Heckes were the envy of most all of us because they each had a horse and sometimes Peter could be talked into letting one of the visiting cousins (mine or his) borrow it.

But… the morphing continues.  Now, at least in Greater Downtown Oysterville, there is seldom a horse to be seen — only one being ridden through once in a while by someone who lives outside of town.  I’m happy to say that there are still a few boats — mostly of the recreational variety as opposed to work boats.  And, as there have been since the early 1910s, there are automobiles and “automobile trucks” as my Aunt Medora called them.

AND… there is now a brand new wrinkle!  Electric cars (as well as hybrids) are appearing here and there in driveways around town. And so the morphing continues!  YAY!

Four of Six on Saturday

It’s Regatta Weekend in Oysterville — THE EVENT OF THE YEAR — someone said at the Regatta Dinner last night!  Judging by the numbers of far-away friends who gathered to clap and cheer at bayside yesterday afternoon and the scores of folks at the traditional Regatta Awards Dinner last night, that assessment is not far off!  Still… I missed some of “the regulars” — the Charley Wachsmuth Family, Lina and Dave Cordray, and Tucker’s cousin Meredith for starters.

Kenny and the Commodore!

I loved it, though, that there were new participants — and twice as many sailors as last year!  “Commodore Tucker” — no longer sailing competitively — sat with the crowd at the end of Clay Street and offered expert commentary on what we were seeing.  I don’t know that anyone has kept count over the years, but I think that there were more sails that hit the water yesterday than ever before and, each time, we landlubbers waited for Tucker’s assessment — was everything all right out there?  Was anyone in trouble?

Lazer Down!

From this old lady’s perspective, the wind was wicked.  AND cold.  I was wearing my own winter jacket and two extra hoodies that friends had offered.  (I must have looked like one huddled mass!)  Later, at the Awards Dinner, the Dees provided a huge basket of blankets for anyone who wanted to wrap up!  (And I was far from the only one who did.)

Wes Weddell’s Potluck Offering

So, here it is… Regatta Sunday 2023.  It’s Tucker’s turn for the “Oysterville Moment” at Vespers.  I’ll let you guess what the subject will be!  (Hint:  the first Oysterville Regatta took place here in 1872…)

Amelia and Carol Wachsmuth – Granddaughter and Grandmother

Camp Willapa Map, 1940 — as I remember it

I’m sure there’s a saying about not really appreciating something until you don’t have it.  If you’ve been without one of those “take-it-for-granted” things like running water — and not for just a day or two but for a full week or more — you know just what I mean!   After  seven full days and nights in that situation, I can scarcely tell you how joyous it is to shower and to flush to say nothing of use the dishwasher and the washing machine!

It’s not that I’ve never done without the amenities of running water or even electricity.  From the time I was seven until I was fourteen, I spent every July and August at Dorothy Elliott’s Camp Willapa.  We had neither of the above and I honestly can’t remeber giving it a thought.  Each group of campers (“Squirrels” were the youngest — five and six year-olds, I think) included roughly 12 or so girls of a two-to three year age span.  By the time I was 14, I was a “Junior Counselor” and lived with the Squirrels in Squirrel Lodge.

From My Scrapbook – “Our Tent, 1947”

Before that, I worked my way up the age groups, each group having their own large lodge and four or five “tent cabins” in which we slept.  Each group also had an outhouse, a fire pit over which hung an huge cauldron from which we scooped warm water in our tin basins for washing ourselves and maybe our underwear.  Most of our clothing, though — shirts, pants (called “longs” and “shorts”) were sent once a week to the Chells Laundry in Ocean Park.

Our various  daily “duties” were rotated each week and  included “outhouse duty” (sweep, mop, make sure there was T.P. and a supply of lime, “fire duty” which meant having a supply of firewood handy to the fire and keeping an eye on it throughout the day so it never died out completey; water duty which involved pumping buckets and buckets of water from the pitcher pump and filling the cauldron each day.

Hot Water Supply at Camp Willapa

Fortunately, we all took our meals at the Cook Tent whcih most years was run by Mrs. Eberhardt from Ocean Park.  I think it had electricity and I know there was running  water because one of our “punishments” was KP Duty (which I do remember, but not what my transgressions were.)

Those years were later followed by dry camping out of our VW Bug when Charlie and Marta were little.  After many camping trips with zero amenities during my Camp Willapa years, I thought having a Coleman Stove was a luxury beyond compare!

All of these memories notwithstanding, this past week waiting for my ancient pipes (not my personal ones… not yet) to be replaced by the plumber was not a pleasant time.  I would have traded almost anything for the old outhouse that I remember here when I was very young  or that old pitcher pump by the back door with its reliable stream of running water!