|
|
|
Idaho PTV Home > Productions > Dear Diary > Diary Archives
DEAR DIARY, What a day it's been...
October 10, 2002
Cloning Ole Bud Moore
By Bruce Reichert
If you've ever wanted to clone someone, then you'll understand my fascination with 85 year old Bud Moore. Bud used to be the Forest Ranger at Powell Ranger station in the Clearwater National Forest. If I could clone him, I'd stick Bud in all the ranger stations in the West, because I'm convinced so many of our problems on Forest Service lands would quickly vanish with him at the helm!
I met Bud in late September, when videographer Tom Hadzor and I went up north to begin working on a story on the Clearwater forest. The Clearwater is a complex forest, one of the real jewels of our nation, and loggers and enviros definitely believe it is a prize worth fighting for. The Forest Service finds itself stuck in the middle somewhere, trying to do what's right for a public that can't seem to agree on much.
That's where someone like Bud Moore could be of help. He's a big friendly bear of a man, who immediately puts people at ease with his smile and his wisdom and his candor. Oh, yeah, and his energy! This guy is in better shape than most 50 year olds!
Bud took us to Rocky Point lookout, one of the highest points in the Clearwater. From there we could see why Lewis & Clark had so much trouble in this country. We could see why loggers value the timbered hillsides and drainages. We could see why some folks are upset with so many clearcuts.
Bud makes no bones about it: the Forest Service made some mistakes in the past. They lost the respect and trust of the American people; so now they have to work overtime to get it back.
Bud is a big believer in “ecosystem management,” managing for the entire forest. Get the timber out, sure, but don't wreck the land to do it. On his own eighty acres in Montana, Bud is actively practicing ecosystem management, and he's convinced his neighbors to do the same. He takes trees off the acreage, but it's also a haven for animals, including the grizzly bear.
We'll be seeing more of Bud Moore in our 20th Anniversary Outdoor Idaho show in March. Someone this wise about the forest just needs to be profiled!
August 12, 2002
It's a Good Life if You Don't Weaken
By Bruce ReichertEven before the llamas and hikers and ATV had made it back to the trailhead, folks were calling it memorable.
Our 20th Anniversary “Outdoor Idaho” work party featured an eclectic group of folks… a beautiful mountain lake… wonderful weather… and, best of all, incredible food!
We needed to shoot interviews and scenics for our 20th anniversary show in March, as well as our fishing show in December. So… we figured the most economical way to accomplish all this was to do it all at once!
Twelve llamas loaded with food and supplies, a horse, one ATV stacked high with cameras and tripods, converged on a lake about 40 miles from McCall, Idaho.
But I digress. Let's get back to the food. Dutch-oven baked salmon, garlic mashed potatoes, salad, huckleberry-chocolate-peach dessert. And that was only the first meal! In the space of 3 ½ days, our chefs -- Jo and Jay Rais, Kay Johnson, Ann Joslin, Greg Doner, and Norm Nelson -- never failed to delight the dozen or so people who hiked the three miles. Pork tenderloin, rice, black bean soup, tortillas, quesadillas, and chocolate cream cheese chocolate chip cake… We were all happy campers!
Oh, yeah, we also managed to shoot several segments on mountain fishing and camping. Three videographers -- Alan Austin, Pat Metzler, Jeff Tucker -- spread out over the landscape, capturing on tape the majesty of this charming mountain setting. Our December program, “Idaho, An Angler's Paradise,” will feature some of their unique artistic sensibility. Joining the shooters were “Outdoor Idaho” producers John Crancer and Marcia Franklin.
One of the highlights of the trip for me was a campfire discussion late into the evening. The topic we threw at our guests: How has Idaho changed in the last twenty years? Eventually some of this will make it into our March “Outdoor Idaho” program. Probably all of it will make it onto our web site.
I also took from the trip a few other memories: Teaching a young child how to fish (and thankfully, having the fish cooperate!)… serving espressos in little silver cups to some of my late-sleeping comrades… and thinking how very lucky I am to have such great friends and to live in such a rugged state!
July 1, 2002
Shooter Dude Tells All in Search for Famous Sacagawea
By Alan AustinAfter driving nonstop and shooting non stop for 5 days, we finally stayed in one place for 2 days. Which is actually back where we started from in Great Falls. Yes, we did one of John Crancer´s infamous “circles of shooting doom”… where you drive and drive and drive, and shoot and shoot and shoot, and he say´s…”I just want to check this road to see if there´s a shot”… and you´re thinking to yourself… “do we really need this, we´ve already got GREAT stuff?´´… and it´s 9:00PM… we still haven´t had dinner, much less a place to stay the night.
Day Two
So on day 2 the bantering pretty much became non-stop from yours truly. John became “MAP GUY”… because, of course, he bought every Gazetteer he could find cause they were on sale… He even has one of Nevada, and we´re not even going there! There are maps all over the dashboard…
Lori Joyce became “SPIRIT GUIDE”, cause when we couldn´t find a shot without power lines or urban sprawl, she would do her MOJO (secret books, chants, etc… don´t really know for sure, she won´t say) and then all of a sudden MAP GUY would say…”hey, turn on this road past the bridge, I think there´s a shot”… and guess what?… there before us would be THE shot, the one and only that would work!
I of course, working on my tan and being from LA LA LAND, was dubbed “SHOOTER DUDE”. So that´s how it went for days 1 & 2.
I neglected to mention the gleam in Pat Metzler´s eyes when he realized that he got to go home on my day 1. He did look tired in more ways than one, and you gotta love him… he left us all of his 252 music tapes, which I thought we would never need. But, now I´m convinced we´ll listen to them ALL at least twice by the time we get back to Boise.
Day Three
As we were climbing Lemhi pass from the Montana side -- where Lewis & Clark first saw Idaho -- to get the last shot of the day, I kept hearing an unusual banging noise coming from the back wheels. The road looked good and I was looking for that magic shot, so I wasn´t too concerned with the noise, and anyway… I wasn´t driving. There had been some thundering and rain but at this point the light was just beautiful and SHOOTER DUDE was looking for the sweet shots.
Then without warning and right out of an action movie, I´m looking at the side of the mountain… the Tahoe is going SIDEWAYS down this dirt road without any sign of stopping anytime soon… At this point I gotta hand it to MAP GUY… he kept his cool cause it could have been bad… he does a total Mario Andretti and cranks it the other way… now we´re going sideways the other way and I´m looking down a step ravine… then back again the other way… OH NO…will this ever stop!… then a few fishtails, and he gets it under control! Whew!!
After we took our hearts out of our mouths and put them back were they belong… we realized it had rained really heavily just on this section of the road. Then MAP GUY says…”yeah, there was a sign back there that said ROAD UNPASSABLE WHEN WET” Now he frantically is trying to put the Tahoe into 4 wheel drive, cause it looks like we´re gonna get stuck in the middle of nowhere in mud that looks like chocolate pudding!
During all this SPIRIT GUIDE was totally calm (or at least appeared that way)… I think she was praying. Whatever it was, it worked, cause we made it to the top and got great shots.
That night we ate a fine meal at Bertrams in Salmon,ID. SHOOTER DUDE could be found at the bar de-stressing, ‘cause Bertrams brews their own. You should definitely try the “Lost Trail Amber”, but don´t take that road if it´s wet!!!….
More to come from North Dakota. if the Indians don´t get us and the hotel room has internet access… see ya all soon… I HOPE!
June 17, 2002
A Dog of an Assignment
By Jim PeckWhen I pulled on the big padded suit and faced the snarling police dog I had no idea I would be providing such merriment for my friends and co-workers. It seems there's nothing that makes people you think are your friends happier than seeing you get gnawed on by a big dog. But more on that later.
Putting together "Our Dogs" for Outdoor Idaho was a great assignment for me. I'm a dog person. It's not that I have anything against cats, mind you, it's just that, well, if you can have a dog why bother with a cat? I like the old line about the difference between cats and dogs, "If your house catches fire in the middle of the night while you're asleep a dog will bark and pull at your clothes so you wake up and save yourself and your family. A cat will slink silently out the back door."
"Our Dogs" takes a look at a handful of people and the dogs they work and play with. It's always amazing to see how in tune these teams are. From the sheep dogs to the search and rescue dogs, there's a strong bond between K9 and human. Getting a chance to show some of that in the program was very cool.
Heading out on the grouse hunt with author Craig Kulchak was something I was really looking forward to. It was my first chance to hunt in Idaho. After years on the flatlands of the Midwest, it was great to be up in the mountains, making my way through the pines. If you saw the show you know that the weather changed dramatically while we were out hunting. What you don't see in the show is Craig and me heading home in his vintage Land Rover. It's a terrific vehicle. Goes anywhere. Climbs hills like a mountain goat. And the experience is enhanced by the open air ride with the top off. Craig likes to drive around and feel the wind in what's left of his hair. I liked it too. Until the temperature dropped into the 30's and rain, sleet and then snow pelted us the entire drive home. But I did feel like I was a real "guy" riding along with Craig. I mean, what could be better than freezing your behind off while listening to hard luck tales of the hunt? Listening to this while creeping along at just over 20 miles per hour (the top speed of the old Land Rover)? Listening to these stories of near misses and REALLY bad weather while getting the opportunity to claw the ice off of the inside of the windscreen with bare hands so he can see where we're going? I ask you, what could be better than that?! I would like to point out that our hardy crew was snuggly warm inside the production vehicle. And I now dislike them intensely due to their smugness upon our return.
Oh, and did I mention we didn't even get to take a shot? That the only bird we saw was the one you viewers saw sitting in a tree? And did I tell you how my heart was warmed by the knowledge that Craig got some "great" shooting in the day BEFORE we arrived for our hunt? I mean, the freezing cold and soaking wet conditions hardly mattered once I knew he had cleaned up on grouse less than 24 hours earlier. But I'm not bitter. No way.
Fortunately the other shoots went smoothly. Pam Green and her search and rescue dog Inca were wonderful to work with. Jeff and Judy Snyder and all the folks at the Ashton Dog Derby were a pleasure. Joan Cartan-Hansen has nothing but good things to say about her shoots with sheep dog trainer Patrick Shannahan. But for me, the best part was indeed getting chomped on by Rader, the Nampa PD's ace K9.
What I liked was Lt. Rick Wiley's easy nature as he helped me cram myself into the bite suit. That thing weighs about 60 pounds and you'd think it could protect you from just about anything. Really, you'd think that. Wouldn't you? I did.
The whole feel of the shoot changed when Rader discovered the rare delicacy of fresh producer. He seemed so nice, peaceful, playful and almost a bit reserved. Until I donned the suit. Then I was like a big ol' hunk of bacon to him.
Now, I want to point out that this is the portion of the show that has friends of mine here in Idaho and across the country with their fingers on the rewind button of the VCR remote. I have been regaled by tales of their "watching it over and over" so they could see me take the punishment this dog was dishing out. My dad called from Wisconsin and said, "Wow, it was fascinating to see that dog attempting to eviscerate you." My dad tends to talk like that and actually does use words like eviscerate. I could hear the joy in his voice. Was this a kind of payback for my teen years? My mom was a bit more sensitive about the experience, "Was the dog okay?" Yes, Mom, the dog was okay. My best friend and best man called to say he hasn't had so much fun since I got blind sided by a cheap, illegal block during my gridiron days of long ago. And, of course, the entire Idaho Public TV staff gathered 'round the edit bay to watch me in super slow-mo as I, dressed in a fashion that only the Michelin Man could envy, lumber clumsily away from Rader, just far enough to give him a proper chance to hit his stride before taking me down and out swiftly and viciously. With friends like these...
If you wonder, as you watch me getting treated like dog jerky, what is going through my mind it was this; "Okay, I'm on the ground, the dog is attacking me and there is nothing covering my head. Wait, I'm all right, he's well trained."
So now you'll understand my delight when, only moments later, I asked Lt. Wiley how they train the dogs not to go for the head and neck. "Oh, they do sometimes," he calmly explained. "Every once in awhile they catch an ear or something. It happens."
Ah, the joys of television.
Please always remember, dear viewers, the things we do for your enjoyment.
Until next time...
Jim
May 20, 2002
“Draining the West?” shows us the power of water in West
By Bruce ReichertIt´s maybe the toughest, most contentious issue facing the Intermountain West, and the folks in our studio tackled it head-on: what to do about a limited resource that more and more people are demanding.
John Keys was there. He´s the head honcho at the Bureau of Reclamation, the agency which made the desert bloom. So was law professor David Getches, author of several important books on western water issues. These two panelists were joined by Jeff Fassett of Wyoming and Kay Brothers of Nevada... and an audience of dedicated professionals from every conceivable political persuasion.
For almost three hours folks spoke and argued passionately about high fallutin´ topics like in-stream flow, prior appropriation, beneficial use, and tribal water rights.
Can the 150 year old doctrine of “first in time, first in right” survive the onslaught of masses of people moving to the west? These folks expect water on demand. They expect water in the streams for fish and wildlife. Many of them don´t give a damn about the needs and rights of farmers and ranchers, whose claims to the water predate many of the cities. And what about those pesky Native Americans who say their rights supersede those of irrigators? Some of our most persuasive audience members came from the Nez Perce, the Sho-Bans, and the Coeur d´Alene tribes.
Is there enough flexibility in the system to avoid the train wreck that many foresee? Not surprisingly, there are no easy answers; but water experts like author David Getches, Commissioner Keys, Wyoming consultant Jeff Fassett and Nevada official Kay Brothers did hold out hope that disaster could be averted, that there is indeed flexibility in the system.
“Draining the West?” aired as an hour long program on May 16 in three states: Idaho, Wyoming, and Reno, Nevada. It is the second of three projects funded by a grant from the Ford Foundation. Our partners in the experiment were Wyoming Public Television and Reno Public Television.
If you missed the show, be sure to check out our interesting, if dense, web site at www.focuswest.org. But don´t be in a hurry, because we´ve got the entire two and a half hours of debate indexed and analyzed in fascinating ways, with lots of streaming video.
Two of my colleagues, Joan Cartan-Hansen and Al Hagenlock, have created a half hour show focusing primarily on issues surrounding Native American tribal rights. Central to this program is a video piece that Marcia Franklin put together after talking to folks on all sides of this tough issue. This half hour version will air eventually; and, like the hour long “Draining the West?” can be purchased on-line or by calling 1-877-224-7200.
As someone who helped pick the panelists and the twenty eight audience members, I was pleased with the assistance I received from the Idaho Water Users Association and from Idaho Rivers United, two groups with decidedly different agendas.
And I was reminded, once again, of the power of ideas and the importance of public affairs to Idaho Public Television´s mission.
February 8, 2002
The Frank Church Wilderness
By Joan Cartan Hansen
Imagine standing a few feet away from a black bear, so close that the bear is "huffing" at you to signal danger. Imagine getting down on your hands and knees to look for faint impressions of paw prints in the earth. Imagine standing in absolute darkness, engulfed in a sky filled with stars. Tough assignment, huh?One of the best parts of my job is getting a chance to go to interesting places and to meet great people. This assignment was no exception. The Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness Area is spectacularly diverse and has a rich historical past. The only sad part of this assignment was all the great material we had to leave out!
The first thing we shot was actually the third segment of the program, tracking wolves. I can't say I am much of a morning person and trackers all seemed to start before the sun comes up. But our hosts, Dan Gardoquia and Jon Young from the Wilderness Awareness School were very patient. They opened my eyes to a new way of looking at the world. Listen for the birds. Smell the ground. Read the landscape. You don't have to go into the backcountry to experience tracking. Start by looking around your back yard or a near-by park. Dan said tracking was part of humankind's blueprint, something so old it is something all of us have inside. After working on this piece, I think he is right.
Next was a backcountry plane trip into the Frank Church Wilderness. Having had one plane crash in my life, I am not a big fan of small planes. But this ride is a piece of cake. And Taylor Ranch is one of the most beautiful I've ever seen. It was absolutely amazing to be standing that close to a bear. The huffing sound they make when you are too close and they are annoyed really does make the hair stand up on the back of your neck. On our first night there, everyone at Taylor Ranch welcomed us with a barbecue. We had a delightful conversation about evolution and about what it like to live in the most remote year-round residence in the lower 48. They all went out their way to help us do our piece and I appreciate their kindness.
Jim Peck put together the story on the llama trek. He hadn't been in Idaho very long when he did the piece and I hope it was a good introduction to the state. When I tell people we get to go on llama trips as part of our job, they always claim that's the kind of work they'd like to do. I won't argue that it is fun, but it is work. Jim does a great job of making the viewer feel like he or she is coming along for the ride.
The final piece I worked on is the first piece in the show. I have long hoped to do a full biography of Frank Church. It is even a joke among my colleagues, Joan and her Frank Church "doc." But I think his is a story worth telling. And you can't tell his story without his wife, Bethine.
Bethine Church is an amazing lady. She is equally at home in the lofty circles of power in Washington D.C. as she is on porch of an Idaho ranch house. Together, she and Frank made a huge difference in Idaho and in America. Whether they agreed or disagreed with Frank Church's politics, no one questioned that he did what he felt was right, even at great political expense.
Frank Church said that saving the River of No Return Wilderness, as it was called then, would be his last great accomplishment for Idaho. It was, but what a wonderful gift!
January 22, 2002
Covering the Idaho Legislature
By Marcia FranklinAt the end of my first legislative session in 1991, I clipped out a Gary Larson cartoon (don't you miss those?) and gave it to my boss at the time, Barbara Pulling.
The comic showed an ant sitting in a classroom, raising his hand. "Teacher, may I be excused?" he was saying. "My brain is full."
That's certainly how I felt, after learning what I considered to be a whole new language. "First readings," "print hearings," "10th order"--- the terms of the legislative process, while often arcane, have great meaning. After one session, I still felt like I had a tremendous amount to learn. Even though I had grown up in Washington, DC, I was virtually clueless about the legislative branch.
This year will mark the 12th session that I have covered the Idaho statehouse, and I'm still learning. But there's at least one large comfort--the fellowship and group knowledge of the other reporters here.
Many people may not realize that more than 15 press people from around the state have their offices in the basement of the Capitol during the session.
The Idaho Statesman, KBSU radio and the Associated Press have permanent space, but the rest of us troop in for three months a year to spend our days in the "bullpen," a large area also inhabited by broken down chairs, a 1960s era refrigerator and shag-carpeted office dividers. IPTV also has a small studio and control room from which we can do interviews with lawmakers.
Gone are the green eyeshades, the smoking (even Bob Fick quit) and the drinking (the carouser moved out of state). But the intensity of coverage has not waned. Although budget cutbacks have meant that the Idaho Falls paper does not have a fulltime reporter here, all the other major papers in the state still do.
And what has impressed me has been the new crop of reporters that has arrived, interested and intrigued by the process of government, and committed to conveying that to their readers.
"This is an honor," says Brad Hem of the Idaho Press Tribune about the beat. "I beg to do this."
Hem, 24, a graduate of the University of Missouri, says while some might consider government reporting boring, he never has a dull moment. "For three months this is where some of the most important decisions are made," he says.
"I like living my beat," says Graham Garner of the Pocatello-based Idaho State Journal. "Everyone I need to talk to is here. Within four floors, I've got all the fodder I need."
Garner, 23, a fulltime ISU student, is a native of Idaho Falls. But he never knew about how state government worked until he started reporting at the legislature.
"If anybody could come and watch this for a week," says Garner, "they'd have such an appreciation for it. No matter how much you watch that "How a Bill Becomes a Law" film, it doesn't stick until you see it."
(Note to Graham: have you seen "Saved by the Bill?" Check out idahoptv.org/saved. We think it's a pretty cool site.)
It certainly isn't money that brings these new reporters to the beat. Many are making $20,000 or less a year. "The guys who repair hot tubs make more than I do," says Garner.
"You'd probably pull your hair out if you calculated how much you're making per hour," says Brian Peters of the Lewiston Tribune. Peters, 34, who just received his Masters degree from Northwestern University (way to go, Brian--my alma mater, too) says he loves the diversity of issues he covers at the legislature.
"Every day seems to bring another issue to become knowledgable about," he says, which he enjoys despite the fact that he often works from 8 AM to 8 PM.
For Julie Pence, the issues are familiar. Before becoming a reporter, she was a teacher in the Twin Falls area for 20 years. Pence, who is in her 50s and was once also a welder, has been reporting for the Twin Falls Times-News for the past eight months. Even though she has to leave her husband and her dog behind in the Magic Valley to live here for three months, "I've never had so much fun."
Because there is little or no competition between the papers, reporters often share information with each other about meeting times and contacts. Veteran statehouse reporters like Bob Fick, Mark Warbis and Betsy Russell are gracious about sharing what they know.
But there's still the internal competition to break a story, something no one else in the bullpen has. When that happens, other reporters are often the first to congratulate that person.
"There's a sense of friendly rivalry and camaraderie that may be unique to this beat," says Betsy Russell of the Spokesman-Review.
I've heard it said that reporters have lost their edge,that reporting is nothing but fluff and entertainment. In many venues, that may be the case. Here at the Idaho legislature, I'm convinced that there is still good old fashioned reporting occuring. Betsy Russell even had to replace a pair of shoes after last session.
Plus, it can be fun. "The governor knows my first name," says Hem. "That's cool."
January 17, 2002
Desert Therapy for Troubled Teens
by Marcia Franklin
Imagine waking up in the middle of the night to the harsh sounds of strangers, yelling at you to get up, get dressed and leave your house immediately. Now imagine being 16 years old and that your parents have asked those people to take you away,
That is the scene for hundreds of youth all over the country, whose parents have come to the end of their rope and are looking for an intervention to help their troubled children. They pay for escorts to take their sons and daughters to outdoor "boot camps" and therapeutic programs, hoping that months in the desert will turn their children around.
It's a big business, but a relatively quiet one. Indeed, one of the oldest therapeutic camps is right here in Idaho, and most people in our state, even in the town where it's located, don't know it's there.
I have always been interested in so-called "troubled youth." It seems that one of the measures of our society is how we help children in need, and also whether we can learn from them. For many times behind their aberrant behavior lies a wake-up call, a warning cry about drugs, about violence, about lack of love.
I am also interested in different therapeutic models for working with children and adults. There has been a great emphasis in the past decade on using drugs to treat problem behaviors. Many drugs have shown great promise and have turned lives around. But there are other modalities that can be used, or used in tandem with medication. I wanted to learn more about the use of the outdoors to treat wayward youth.
So with photographer Jay Krajic, I set out to follow five children for three weeks at SUWS, a camp located outside of Gooding, ID. SUWS, which originally stood for School of Urban and Wilderness Survival, was founded in 1981. It was based on a class taught to failing BYU students.. It has gone on to become one of the most established programs of its kind in the country.
It is not a "boot camp." Instead, kids are often ignored rather than yelled at. That brings out behavioral coping patterns that can then be assessed and treated. But that doesn't mean the experience isn't harsh. In the desert, with the same clothes and food for three weeks, children are forced to look inward. There are no distractions. The youth have to make their own backpacks, sleep without a tent and make fire with a bowdrill.
The first day the crew and I simply sat for five hours, as a boy refused to walk. It was over 100 degrees. The next week we watched as the children negotiated a harrowing ropes course. And the third week the group had to figure out how to help another camper who had run away and was hurt. It's all part of the camp's philosophy of "search and rescue." Learn how to take care of oneself, learn how to take care of your family, learn how to reach out and help strangers.
There were times when we were terribly hot, thirsty and tired. But as I reminded the crew; we could leave, take a shower and change our clothes. The children had to stay. In between shoots, as I watched the weather change from very hot to very cold to very hot again, I found myself worrying about my new young acquaintances. On the one hand, their parents were trying to help them. On the other, it seemed such a drastic action, one which made me wonder about the parents, too. Would they, too, look at the issues that had brought their children here and work on their role in that? And would they be able to build on what the camp had taught their children?
December 14, 2000
“Western Divide” Brings Together Eclectic Group
By Bruce ReichertIt was a first for Idaho. Cecil Andrus on the same platform as Helen Chenoweth-Hage. And sitting between them was Jack Ward Thomas, the former chief of the Forest Service.
And in the audience were twenty five individuals from every political persuasion possible. I joked to a colleague that he’d only want to invite half of them to his party.
These auspicious individuals were in our studio to discuss public lands issues for a program called “Western Divide,” the first of three projects funded by a grant from the Ford Foundation. Our partners in the experiment were Wyoming Public Television and Reno Public Television.
We videotaped the ensuing discussion for about two and a half hours on the afternoon of December 6, then edited it down to an hour. “Western Divide” aired simultaneously in Idaho, Wyoming, and Nevada, on the evening of December 13.
Aside from such an eclectic and interesting panel and audience -- which in itself was a “first” for IPTV -- there is an interesting, if dense, web site associated with the program, at www.focuswest.org. Check it out, but it’s best not to be in a hurry. You’ll be amazed at what you’ll find there! For one thing, we’ve got the entire two and a half hours of debate, indexed and analyzed in fascinating ways.
One of the journalists on-hand later wrote a favorable review of our effort, entitled Grant Lets Viewers Watch Great Debates on IPTV. “We should all be grateful for a system that brings divergent voices to every corner of Idaho and engages us in debates that really matter,” concluded Dan Popkey of The Idaho Statesman.
We are planning to produce a half hour DIALOGUE program in February, using some of the material that didn't make it into the hour long "Western Divide" show.
As one of those who helped bring the audience and panelists together, I was reminded of the reason I originally got into television... for public affairs. And I loved the fact that everyone in our Production Department contributed to this effort. Usually, we have several projects going on simultaneously. But for this one, all hands were on deck! It really was an exciting day for Idaho Public Television.
November 5, 2001
Who Ever Heard of a Premiere in Chubbuck, Idaho?!
By Bruce ReichertYou can’t help but smile when you arrive at the parking lot of the Mystique Theatre. Outside sits a horse drawn hearse, complete with casket. One assumes it’s empty.
Inside a complete set of armor from King Arthur’s time greets the visitor.
The main room is filled with nicely decorated tables, a wine tasting area, and a long table filled with incredible hors d’ouvres. Behind the curtain on the stage was a huge screen.We were there to show folks in the Chubbuck/Pocatello area a new program, called “Idaho Edens.” It was our attempt to show our appreciation for our public television friends in eastern Idaho.
More than a hundred folks showed up the evening of November 1, to listen to a few speeches, to eat and drink, and to watch the show.
Luckily, we had finished “Idaho Edens” a few days before, thanks to the herculean efforts of Producer Jeff Tucker. He had spent the previous six weeks in a small room called an edit bay, pouring over video images captured on an expensive digibeta video camera.
For most of those six weeks, he would arrive a little after 5 a.m., and leave long after 6 p.m. For about three of those weeks, my job was to hand him a rough draft of a script as he walked in the door. I would then leave for a few hours, after which we would discuss the script, trying to tie it ever more closely with the available video.
We had chosen about fifteen special places to honor as “Idaho Edens.”
We realized that no two Idahoans would ever agree on which fifteen places to honor, but that didn’t matter, because this state has dozens of special places.That night in Chubbuck was delightful for a lot of reasons -- the wonderful hospitality of eastern Idahoans, the specially chosen wines, the food, the exotic locale. I now understand why Chubbuck is such a great place for a television premiere.
October 16, 2001
An Owyhee Adventure: One Tough Shoot
by John Crancer, Lead Producer of "Outdoor Idaho""Getting There"
The sagebrush appears to stretch to infinity as it rolls by the windows of our Chevy Tahoe. It seems like we've been driving all day even though our group of trucks, vans and a trailer full of canoes just passed the small town of Bruneau an hour earlier. The further south we head down the highway the colder it seems to be getting outside. Before long we start to notice large patches of white snow layered on top of the endless sea of sagebrush. Soon there are actually snowflakes falling on our already slick windshield. Yes it's perfect weather to shoot an "Outdoor Idaho" segment about canoeing on the East Fork of the Owyhee River.
Actually, the closer we got to the Nevada border and the turnoff to the river the more certain we were that the shoot would have to be called off. But by the time we hit the dirt road west of the Duck Valley reservation our trip leader Pip Coe was assuring everyone that "Even if we can't drive all the way to the put-in we can get close enough." I guess this was the standard procedure for an outing with the National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS). For these diehards there is no such thing as "good weather or bad weather, it's just weather." Later, Pip would comment that on nearly all of her many trips to the Owyhee country she has seen at least some snow.
We continue to zig zag over the now muddy roads that lead to a remote natural gas plant that is near the Garat Crossing put-in. Our guides seem to be encouraged that we can drive through pools of water without sliding too far off the road. Finally, after several hours of little more than mud and sage we arrive at the pipeline plant. Here's where it gets interesting. Pip and some of the other senior staff get out to take a look at the "road" that leads from the plant to the put-in. It looks a lot soggier and muddier than anything we've traveled on so far. Quickly the decision is made. It's not worth risking getting the vehicles and the trailer carrying the canoes stuck. Everybody and everything will be unloaded right here.
Of course we can't even see the canyon, just more of the same sagebrush we've seen for hours and a muddy slick path leading into the cloudy horizon. That doesn't seem to be a problem for the two-dozen or so outdoor adventurers who have signed on for this special "leadership" class. Most of these folks have tons of wilderness travel experience. They've likely encountered scores of challenging situations. Confronting cold and strenuous portaging is nothing new to the several Canadians among the group. Paddlers from Minnesota, Wyoming, Idaho, and even Australia are also part of the team. In other words these people know all about traveling in tough conditions. They're ready to go.
Pat Metzler, the lead videographer for "Outdoor Idaho", and I try to match the gung-ho spirit. We grab all our rather large load of personal and camera gear and strike off down the muddy road. Of course in about three minutes we are lagging far behind, and we're not even trying to keep a canoe balanced above our heads! We continue slogging through the mud trying to keep our heavy bags from dragging through the mud. Rough lava rocks wedged in the ooze slow our progress. The rim of the canyon is far in the distance and so is the rest of our party. By the time we get closer to the rim several of the team members are already on the way back to the initial drop off spot to pick up their second load of gear. To our great relief a couple of them also grab some of our gear and scamper off through the sage.
Eventually with our lighter load Pat and I plod our way to the rim. Grey skies hang low over a vast panorama of canyonlands. We can finally get an idea of exactly where we're headed. Most of the group is already in the process of picking up another load of gear. We won't be making that second run, so we have time to set up our relatively new wide screen digital camera. We're hoping to get some shots of the group as they return to this staging area and begin the trek down the steep canyon grade to the river below.
A short break in the weather has given us a brief respite, but just as the main group returns the snowflakes start to fall again. It's an odd scene as this group of hardy adventurers begins their descent. A caravan of precariously balanced canoes popping up amidst sagebrush and swirls of snow. I leave Pat with the camera gear to continue videotaping the event and begin gathering some of our dry bags to hall down to the river. About half way down I run into a tag team carrying a canoe. I just have to get an idea of what's involved in moving one of these rather unwieldy looking boats so I trade a couple of gear bags for a canoe. I think "maybe this wasn't such a great idea" as I begin trudging down the grade. After maneuvering a few hundred yards down the hill I'm relieved when a voice from behind says "Thanks, mate I'll take it from here."
Handing over the canoe I regained my field of vision and was immediately glad the boat would be riding on some different shoulders for the next leg. The grade to the river was getting much steeper and the rough so called road that led downward was a slippery collection of long ruts and claylike mud. Despite the difficulties, we all finally made it to the small grassy area near the Owyhee that is the put-in for this stretch of the river.
The next task of setting up camp was a rather interesting job of cow-patty avoidance. Someone remarked that "If there's any way a cow can get to water in this country you can bet they'll find it." The odiferous obstacles were avoided as Pat and I put up our less than spacious tent. The accommodations didn't seem important though. We were exhausted and ready for some sleep. We managed to doze off for several hours but by around three in the morning it was so cold in the tent we were both half awake drowsily wondering if we had packed anything warmer to wear. By the time a sliver of light hit the canyon we were wide awake, watching our breath create little steam circles in front of us. Outside the tents, canoes, and assorted gear bags were covered with a thick coat of frost. We knew it got cold in the desert at night but this was even more extreme than we had expected.
Of course for most of this bunch the frosty morning was just old hat and they merrily went about their various duties of striking camp and preparing the canoes for the trip down river. The sun finally peaked into the canyon about mid-morning. By then Pip had already gone over the river maps with the group to give everyone an idea of what was ahead. We had also learned about paddle signals and loading canoes from "instructors in training". Different members of the team took turns showing the rest of the group different methods they used and other little tricks of the trade. The teaching element is something NOLS emphasizes during their leadership courses. By now Pat and I were well aware we were with a very savvy group of outdoor veterans. Even though we both have years of outdoor adventures behind us, we realized this groups knowledge, wilderness travel skills, and physical fitness were several notches above our current level. It was going to be an interesting trip.
September 13, 2001
Something Wild This Way Comes
By Jeff TuckerIt was the hooting of a nearby owl that awakened me. But it was nearness of a very large animal that kept me in the tent that night!
Upper Priest Lake is a beautiful lake in the Kaniksu National Forest, near the Canadian border. We were there to shoot a segment for IDAHO EDENS. The area is quite remote; in fact, we had to boat to the lake because there are no roads, only a 2-mile wake-less water thoroughfare and foot trails.
I lay awake listening to the owl, trying to figure out how far it might be from our camp. Other than the owl, there was no noise. No crickets, no birds. Everyone and everything in the forest was asleep and still. My ears strained to hear something.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of a deer moving through camp. Its heavy breathing made me wonder. About 10 minutes later I heard two more deer running into our camp. Again, I could hear them breathing and gritting their teeth. "Neat," I thought to myself, "more deer; but why are they running and breathing heavily?" "Don’t go there," I said to myself, but in the back of my mind I was already thinking grizzly or coyote or mountain lion.
I strained to listen for more clues and dozed off again.
I woke with a start. It was the unmistakable sound of an animal sniffing loudly near my tent. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. The animal moved to the foot of my tent, then headed down toward the shoreline.
My mind raced, rapidly listing my options. “Make a noise so it will get scared and run off. Sit up and press my face into the mesh of the tent to see something. Lie here and listen." I opted for the latter, mainly because I couldn't move!
The noise disappeared off into the darkness, still on the trail of the deer. Now, even deeper down inside my sleeping bag, I looked at my watch. 11.50 pm. This was going to be a long night.
I heard more thumps. "Here we go again!" But it turned out to be my heart beating. I tried to calm myself.
Several hours later I heard the soothing hoots of the owl. I dozed off with one eye open and my ears turned up all the way.
The next day we found deer tracks throughout our camp. And among them were large canine tracks, almost four inches long, directly in line with where the deer ran. We followed the trail looking for more tracks. They disappeared in the sand, like the sounds in the night.
August 25, 2001
Back in Time
By Bruce ReichertIf people had stumbled onto the scene that night, they would have rubbed their eyes in disbelief.
The group of buckskin-clad men around the campfire looked like something straight out of the 19th century. Their clothes, their eating utensils, everything about their camp along the Salmon River was patterned after that of the Lewis & Clark Expedition.
In fact, the Hog Heaven Muzzleloaders were there to help us answer the age-old question, “What If?” What if the Corps of Discovery had taken dugout canoes down the wild Salmon River? Could they have made it? Would they have survived?
I first met up with Tom Fleming and his fellow buck skinners in 1997, while we were producing our hour long “Echoes of a Bitter Crossing: Lewis & Clark in Idaho.” In fact, they played a major role in that program, providing us cover footage whenever we needed shots of mountain men.
Two years ago I suggested that they build dugout canoes and run a section of the Salmon River. Naturally, they thought I was crazy. But eventually, their curiosity got the best of them.
On August 20, our small IPTV crew met them just outside Salmon, Idaho, on a wonderful piece of property owned by relatives of friend Bill Studebaker. Surrounded by towering cottonwood trees and massive white sandstone cliffs, the Hog Heaven boys set up camp. They pride themselves on knowing the history of the era. Everything was authentic, including the flint and steel used to start the fire.
As it got dark, videographers Alan Austin and Tom Hadzor brought the set alive with just the right amount of illumination from two small battery-powered Frezzi lights. The effect was breathtaking!
In the glow of the campfire, the men, who had studied the journals of Lewis & Clark, talked with feeling about the Corps of Discovery, and about their own impending rendezvous with destiny. When the interview ended about an hour later, the audience of half a dozen folks applauded.
Early the next morning the men proceeded on to a section of the Salmon River three miles above North Fork, Idaho. They lowered two sixteen-foot dugout canoes down a steep embankment with ropes, and proceeded downstream. Less than an hour later they arrived, hardly wet, at the takeout behind the North Fork cafe, whereupon the canoes were again loaded onto a large trailer.
It was now time to visit the treacherous pile of rocks just below the town of Shoup, where William Clark decided to drop the notion of a water route and instead head north on horseback to Nez Perce country.
You’ll have to watch our hour long “The River of No Return” on November 4, to see what befell our stalwart buck skinners as they headed into Pine Creek rapid riding a five hundred pound log. Suffice it to say, we have some nice video, and we all have a renewed respect for the wisdom of Lewis and Clark!
