Bert, Lowell and me.
My dad stayed pretty busy working on the ranch. He "tanned up" and started looking the part, Cowboys got an "air" about em. Straight jawed, beard a little past a clean shave, always a little wrinkled but never dirty or unkempt. Bert was loving ever minute of it. I think at the same time he felt a little guilty because the rest of us couldn't really be a part of his adventure.
Pop was the kindest and gentlest man I ever knew. His brother Bill was just like him. Thats not to say they backed off in a bind. Those that thought they would generally regretted doing so. You never had to worry if Bert or Bill loved you. They never left any doubt.
Reason I'm telling this is to kinda lead into the relationship between my dad, my brother and yours truly. Mind you now, I'm not taking anything away from how it was between mom, little brother and me.
One Friday night Bert asked how us boys would like to go up to the ranch and spend the day with him "riding the range" no less. Mom got a little concerned about one of us getting hurt around the horses. Heck Irene, we're gonna use a Jeep was his comeback. That settled mom's fears and it was all set.
Bert got us out of bed before sun rise which wasn't all that great. Loaded us into the Jeep from his ranch job and we headed out. Lowell asked, why we up so early daddy? His reply was that there was something he wanted us to see. The little Jeep rattled along the Pebbly road, past the old "Sneaky Snake" spot and the "Eagles Nest" on toward Avalon.
The route to the ranch meant going through town, up the road past Shela and Joe's El Miridor hotel and then starting the climb to the island "High Country". The ranch was set up in an area of much higher elevation than the town.
We'd gone about three miles out of town when Bert stopped the jeep. He pointed toward the eastern sky and took us to watch. The big orange red orb of the rising sun was just peeking out over the horizon. It sent a "Blazing" beam of light across the calm Pacific. God's own personal light show. All different shades of blue, red and purple. It was like a signal to all living things. The birds sang, wild life stirred and the surrounding "Greenery" changed color as the sun rose. Dad asked, boys, aint that one of the prettyest sights you ever saw. I thought to myself, yes it is.
Things at the ranch were quite and peaceful. Mr White and his wife were visiting in relatives Arizona. George had left the cook in charge in his absence. Old Pete was a good feller and a damn good cook. Him and George had been together since way back when. He was feeding the rest of the crew when we arrived. Guess he knew we was coming cause he'd set us a plate. What a meal it was. Pete had pulled out all the stops for his visiting company. After all that food a feller was ready for a full day of "Range Riding". Old Pete loved for you to "Brag" on his cooking. Believe me, he truly earned the praise.
Dad gave us a tour of the ranches living area. There was a lot of new things added since he started working there. A new and separate "Bunk" house set up just for ranch guest. Pete's "Cook" house had been made bigger and now had a "Walk In" cooler. My dad's pride and joy was a new outdoor patio area that him and Mexican Joe had laid out and built right down to the landscaping.
The first "Official" guest would be coming in ten days. All the extra work had been to prepare for their arrival. Just a few minor details and the ranch would be ready for them. Bert's job today was to take the Jeep and just "Scout" the entire area and trails around the living area to make sure everything was up to "Snuff". After filling a couple of canteens and loading on a big lunch that Pete had packed for us, we set off to see the sights. I noticed that dad had brought a Winchester pump action twenty two caliber rifle. I asked him about it and he said he always carried the little gun in the Jeep for varmints and such. I remember thinking that I sure hoped that little gun wasn't all that we had if we run across a mean buffalo our wild pig. Both of which inhabited the island.
I had wanted to bring Dobe but dad thought we might lose him up here and I now saw what he meant. This "High" country side of Catalina wasn't at all like the area where we lived. It was strictly off the beaten path. The little Jeep was having to run in four wheel drive now as we "Clawed" our way along horse trails and hiking path's. Ever so often my dad would stop and put out a little yellow sign with black numbers. Each number matched a number on a map Bert carried in the Jeep. He had devised a kind of spot location system in case of accident.
People that visited the ranch were mostly guest of the Wrigley family. They were given pretty much free rein of the place. The only rule was that no one rode or hiked alone. Generally one of the ranch hands would be with the guest. However, there were times when the guest were allowed to travel in groups without the aid of the cowboy's. The standing rule was that in case someone got hurt, another party member would "Back Track" and come to the ranch for help. All the trails had several access route but if a person didn't know them they would get lost. My dad's number system would "Pin Point" the location more closely. The guest were advised to pay attention to the number signs as they traveled along the trails. If anyone had to come back for help, knowing the number would help to locate and reach the problem area much faster. The idea proved out to be pretty good. Lot's of the guest just were not in good physical shape. They tended to take on more than they were fit for. More than a few had to have themselves hauled out by Jeep because of fall's and broken bone's.
This part of the island was home to many types of animal life. Deer, wild pigs, phesant, quail, wild goats and the buffalo not to mention the ranches herd of cattle. Everything just kind of got along and weren't much trouble except for the buffalo. Big buffalo like big gorillas do pretty much as they damn well please and that is that.
One spot Bert wanted us to see was the "Orchard". Seem's no one really knew who first started the orchard. It was tucked into a little meadow like depression on a hill top. It was beautiful "Garden Of Eden" that went unknown to most tourist or Islanders. My dad said that Mrs. White believed it was the work of the early Spanish explorers. Who ever it was they left no indication of who they were.
The "Orchard" had about everything you could imagine. The standard apples, oranges, lemons, figs and black olives. All of these were old tree's. Perfectly aligned and separated into specific groups. The animals grazed in the area and kept the grass short and the lower limbs pruned. It was as though an invisible gardener kept the place up.
There were sign's that someone had been here. I guess at least a few other people knew this place existed. My favorite fruit up here was the pomegranate. I had never seen one until coming to California. Mom would buy one at the SafeWay store now and then. I loved the messy fruit. Little juicy seed's that stained your teeth red. Now I was confronted with a tree full of them. My dad was able to pick me a few by standing on the hood of the Jeep. Alright!!!
Catalina at that time was known for the city of Avalon and the surrounding area's. Not to much tourist interest in this part of the island. Actually this wasn't an accidental happening. There was a another Catalina that was reserved for people of wealth and fame. It catered to their particular needs. It was called the "Isthmus" which it indeed was. It was the narrowest point on the island. This was where the "Rich and Famous" anchored their steam ship sized yachts and slipped ashore for a meal or drink. Movie stars came there often. My dad took us there and gave us the "Grand Tour". Didn't meet or see anyone famous but it was neat anyway. My dad knew several people on the Isthmus because all the ranch supplies came in at that dock. He'd been there several times and was considered a regular.
The day was going by pretty fast. Little brother was getting tired and cranky. Dad needed to check back with Pete before we called it a day. We stopped for a late lunch. Didn't want Pete thinking we forgot the lunch he packed. We were hungry and the lunch was first rate. Steak sandwiches and homemade sweet rolls. Needless to say, we didn't throw any of it out.
We made it back to the ranch. Pete was sitting on the cook house steps drinking a cold Blatz beer. We told him thanks for the fine lunch. Lowell told him, "Mister Pete , them was dern good rolls". The old man just beamed. He ran inside a brought back a wax paper package full of rolls, saying he couldn't find a paper sack to put them in. Bert told Pete he'd see him Monday morning. We stopped at the ranch fuel tanks and gassed up the Jeep. It had been a good day but it was getting late. Time to go see Irene and Dobe at Pebbly Beach.
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