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8-12 Feb 2007: Old Frogs Ski In Tahoe

by Mike Hammond

 

It took time to get five old frogs (since renamed U.S. Navy SEALs) who were on active duty  together to our Lake Tahoe home to, reminisce, laugh, ski, recount and embellish old sea (and land) stories. After many emails we all agreed to gather at the Hammond’s to honor our friendships. Skiing was going to be  problematic as we had no snow since the 4th of Jan. Resorts were reporting packed powder, making snow but the cover was a thin, and in many spots very thin. Somehow the old frogs would improvise.

It was a marvelous weekend, remembering, celebrating, eating, chattering, and teasing each other unmercifully. We even managed to get in one hike and two days of skiing. The question that ultimately seemed important was what happened since we were a band of brothers during the Viet Nam War? The answer was that nothing has really changed. Time has passed but we are unchanged. Time stood still, seasons have passed, aged our bodies, but we are essentially the same as we were 45 years ago, hard charging, half fish half nuts, Special Warfare Officers. This is not to say that we have not matured, mellowed and become responsible but our personalities, our mannerisms and basic make up have remained undamaged. We picked up right where we left off so many years ago. It was great, no pretenses, no hiding, just open honest heart felt dialog on any and all topics.

We also decided our Viet Nam active duty era was a transition not only for the Underwater Demolition Teams (UDT) but the newer emerging SEAL Teams as well. The traditional UDT water missions were still being done but not with the intensity of years gone by. Instead UDT was being asked to perform a different mission, direct action, ambushes and intelligence gathering; each further into the hinterland. We were not trained to perform these missions and it was an awkward time for the UDTs. SEALs on the other hand were struggling to define its new mission which they eventually did with applicable training close behind. We agreed that the product BUDS builds today is superior to our day.

The old frogs were:        

George Tillotson aka Jorge
Bill Jebb aka the Heeb
John Gulick aka Guns
Vern Clinton aka The Ole Man
Mike Hammond

 

8 Feb: George Tillotson had indicated that he would arrive late and leave early to make up for coming late, I guess. In fact, he arrived before the rest of the gang, called me from Granlibakken and we met for dinner at Sunnyside Lodge. We had a nice dinner at the bar kibitzing with two good looking young ladies who worked for the local Tahoe newspaper. George preferred to stay where he had more privacy and access to a hot tub and I think he has a history staying at Granlibakken so he did not bunk at our home. He returned to his accommodations and I went back to the house to receive Bill, Vern and John. They all arrived near 10:00PM and with a myriad of ski gear and considerable geriatric paraphernalia for surviving the weekend.

When the guys started to take rooms in the back of the house I mentioned that all we needed to do upon leave was to make up the beds with clean sheets and pile the used sheets in the laundry with the wet towels, and clean the latrines.  Vern and Bill grasped the idea quickly but John’s facial expression looked a bit perplexed (sheets?, clean?, ,make up bed?) so I indicated that we also had fleece lined sleeping bags that could be used on top of the beds. John thought that sounded good and more appropriate for him. He must have felt that sleeping between sheets would be a strange event complicating his life and wished to avoid getting the bedroom more befuddled than historically normal. Bill started one of his many filibusters expounding on John’s condo, describing in infinitesimal detail the condition it was in, the untidy clutter, the jumble and the disorder he witnessed when picking John up. He then provided the details of the two Hispanic workers trying to rehab John’s bathroom. Apparently the tiling progress was below Bill’s standards of a couple of ceramic squares every few hours.  More garbage came out of the woodwork from the early 60s and was heaped on John. Everyone remembered how Vern, at the behest of the base commanding officer, had to chastise John for creating absolute chaos of his BOQ room on the U.S. Naval Amphibious Base. Vern may even have put him in hack under the order of the CO, CDR Viera.  At the time someone, as I remember it, offered to provide him a trunk-stick to stir his bits and pieces around in the room until the one he needed surfaced.

Times never seem to change and this was going to be a remarkable weekend. By now it was 3:30AM for Bill, being from the east coast; we turned in but not before we had some real concerns that Vern might not live through the night. He has sleep apnea and had forgotten a critical hose piece vital to his air unit that assisted him through the night. For some unknown reason no one volunteered to give him CPR. I have to assume it was because we getting a good seal around Vern’s beard was not possible.

9 Feb: I was up early and rustled up some oat meal combined with chopped fruit, nuts and brown sugar. It was a hit so I put it on the menu each morning. Everyone was up by 7:30AM nursing themselves with coffee while their bodies were still acclimating to the elevation. Outside it was rainy and nasty which unfortunately prolonged more of Bill’s incessant filibustering.

Note: The entire weekend could be described as non stop pontificating clatter about our lives in the teams, our past, stories (some true and many embellished), current events, solving world problems from Iraq to global warming and the environment. When anyone could butt into one of Bill’s officious diatribes they attempted to articulate their unbiased point of view as quickly as possible, jowls flapping, arms gesticulating in self righteous enthusiasm. There was a high level buzz of everyone jabbering at the same time. This simultaneous prattle might have been warranted, but unlike females who can send and receive at the same time, these males could not. It made little difference, Bill had the floor most of the weekend and it required very little to set off his flailing six foot frame, arms flying about as if he had been a reincarnation of Teddy Roosevelt himself!

We went into Tahoe City to secure the required rental gear for skiing at Dave’s Ski Shop. While on the way I attempted to teach Bill and John to sing the University of Michigan fight song so they could garner a 10% discount. The proprietor was from Michigan. John made a valiant attempt but Bill was adamant to his almamater and feebly squeaked out the Colgate’s version. The sales folks were terrific and we managed to get them all spooled up and engaged in our jocularity resulting with both Bill and John purchasing more merchandise; John, pants that would now fit, and Bill a pair of hiking boots. John needed a pair of goggles so I told him I had an extra pair he could use.  Back home when he was trying on some of my extras he mentioned that he did not think it wise to loan him a really fine pair (I wonder why) so I went to the bottom of my stash for the oldest. Sorry John, I didn’t realize there was no foam insulation around the edges.

After lunch the rain stopped so Bill, John and I went for a hike starting at the end of Grand Ave. to the Blackwood Creek Bridge and then back via the road to our house. Vern stayed behind checking for light leaks in his eyelids. We hiked for 5 miles getting home just in time for the Hammond Happy Hour.

George arrived and we continued our loud blustering right on through dinner. The meal was quite nice, homemade beef stew (Sara’s pre-made with Mike as sous chef), rice, salad (John assembled), bread and ice cream for dessert. It was noted that George had three helpings of stew and John was seen eating out of the pot. George left shortly afterwards and since it had been a long day (Bill still adjusting to time zones) bed was a welcome sight.
 

10 Feb: We went skiing in some of the most adverse conditions that any of those who live in California have witnessed. It rained a wet snow most of the night and we awakened to a very heavy, dense, water soaked covering around the house. To avoid shame, humiliations and dishonor we screwed around our courage and mustered enough energy to leave the house and ski. Before leaving we had, again, breakfast of more fruit riddled oat meal and loads of coffee. Getting everyone dressed and ready to go was a sight to behold making one ask where their mothers had been in years past.

It was still snowing hard when we arrived at Alpine Meadows. The flakes were big and serious, a wind blowing hard and sideways, the sky dark and fog lingered most everywhere, the temperature just above freezing but there was a wet chill that dampened the best of gear. Puddle filled chairs awaited us for each ride up the hill. For Californians it was a marginal day at best but Bill kept rattling on that it was a great day, a wonderful day, especially if you ski back east. If true, we who live in the land of sun were happy to be from here. George who brought both his dog and ski gear preferred “pheasant hunting” indicating he would then head home afterwards. This all seemed kind of strange to us but given the snow conditions he may have been the smartest one. We didn’t see him again.

 

While we strapped on our boots we suddenly spotted John, a smirk on his face, audaciously standing next to the front of the car, next to a snow bank, marking his territory, presumably; or maybe he was practicing his penmanship. Somehow we guessed we hadn’t seen the end of this behavior and as for the skiers walking past we could not begin to comprehend their thoughts. We were trying to act like we didn’t know him.

The first run confirmed that it would be a miserable day skiing. We would need to endure being completely wet, cold, face stinging wind combined with almost zero visibility in horrible conditions. But this would be a great day on the east coast. For some unknown reason John decided the chair lift was for only three instead of four skiers and opted to fall back to the next chair. Half way up while fussing with his gear to protect himself from the elements he took a step backwards. He dropped one of his gloves by stanchion 11. At the top we tightened our boots and shoved off in heavy wet snow and a stiff wind. Fortunately for John we found his glove on the way down. We cautiously brailled our way back to the lift where Vern and John decided discretion was the better part of valor and opted for an early lunch and maybe some hot cocoa. The skiing was difficult because you simply couldn’t see the heavy wet, un-groomed snow causing one to be reactive to the underlying conditions. Bill and I continued to ski a few more runs and then rendezvoused with Vern and John who were snuggled into the bar. Needless to say we were soaked as we ate lunch and swilled draft beer. Then out of no where the son of a good friend came over to say hi, Brandon Duisenberg who claimed he had a “hall pass” and was having a great time skiing with a male friend (He has a wife and two young children). We had a nice reunion and he fit right in with the guys. Bill and I then returned to the slopes to get our monies worth while Vern and John continued to hunker down in the bar for the duration. By 3:00PM I retrieved the 4 Runner; we loaded up and headed back to the house fantasizing on hot showers, cold beer, dry clothes, and warm food.  

For dinner I produced a mild Italian sausage casserole again made under Sara’s direction. With this we had salad (ensemble by John), bread and more ice cream. For some of us old guys it was long day. After all, getting up and dressed, putting on boots, walking to get lift tickets with skis and then to the chair, not to mention one run, made for an arduous day. Again, bed was a welcome sight.

11 Feb: Once again we didn’t exactly get off to a rapid start. Breakfast consisted of more fruit & nut filled hot oat meal which was still going over pretty well. The hot cereal along with toast and lots of coffee began to awaken our testosterone levels and we managed to get out the door 10:30. Arriving in the Alpine Meadows parking lot near the handicapped lift we started to gear up only to find John standing by himself, again, near the front of the car once again marking his territory. Just as we started heading over to get our lift tickets John’s pants fell to his knees. When I looked over Bill had gone into irrepressible hysterical convulsions and uncontrollable laughter, doubled over in the parking lot.  John, very nonchalantly gathered himself together and we proceeded to the ticketing area where several other individuals were also purchasing lift passes. At one point I almost felt sorry for the women behind the window as an untold amount of humorous verbiage spewed through the glass and elsewhere for everyone to hear. Simply put we were all seniors and the gal was just not quite sure if we qualified. Vern comes up asking for the “super” senior rate ($15 for an all day pass) and then more raucous language and laughter fell on the crowd. Yes, we were, or at least I was “carded” and it made me feel great! I even asked the young lady if I could take her out after I was done skiing.

Finally. Finally, we all had our skis on and worked out way over to the double chair lift. There we found a very young (5-6 year olds) group of skiers taking lessons. Since the kids were too young to ride by themselves, or with each other, the instructor asked if we wouldn’t mind helping out by riding with each of her students. Of course we were feeling exceptionally noble and said yes. Bill, John and I each took one of the young skiers under our wing, to Shepard and keep safe while riding up the chair. We were charged with protecting them from the evils of the world. We were doing our bit, maybe even our civic duty and it made us feel honorable and all warm inside. The mission went well as I assisted my little girl off the lift, ensuring that she did not fall or falter as she skied to meet her waiting group. Bill followed suit ensuring his little boy got safely to where he needed to go. John looked so proud as he and his kid neared the top and John’s skis began resting on the snowy ramp and he smoothly slid down the small slope looking so proud that he had made an uneventful exit without himself falling. The small kid however did not get off the chair and the ground began to rise under him. John must have been having a senior moment, as he reveled in his own accomplishment; he had forgotten about the little kid. He was absolutely no help. The next thing we saw was this poor little kid falling through the air, albeit a short distance, to the ground with John totally oblivious to what had just transpired. So much for good deeds.

The weather was the same as the previous day but colder and the wind blew harder, there was fog and flat light challenging us and causing vertigo. At the top, on our first ride up, my ski boot got caught between the chair and the ski but all was fine at least with me, but for some unknown reason this caused a chain reaction. As I pushed forward, I looked back and saw the other three sprawled on the down ramp of the chair lift all tangled together. Fortunately the lift operator quickly averted a larger disaster from skiers in the next chair stopping the entire lift. He then assisted Vern, Bill and John unravel themselves. Oh, if Specwar ever knew. After only two runs Vern and John repeated their previous day’s scenario retiring early while Bill and I braved the elements. We decided to take the Summit Chair all the way to the top only to find more fog, stronger winds and an absolute whiteout. Bill and I skied a few more runs, met the guys in the bar, again, for lunch and returned to the slopes for a couple of more runs. Near 3:00PM I picked up everyone in the same place where we loaded up and headed to Tahoe City to drop off all the rental gear. From here I was required to stop at Albertson’s where the three of them purchased beaucoup wine for the house. I was amazed at their generosity and good will. This act of kindness was not necessary and I was deeply moved.

Before dinner the usual bantering continued. John related a story involving one of our teammates. Chris Stack, a natural stand up comedian with a very dry dead pan sense of humor, came up with a spur of the moment comment he made to John while they were eating sandwiches for dinner. After a couple of bites of the tuna fish Chris said, “Gee, aren’t home cooked meals just great?!”  More embellished stories surfaced until I was treated to dinner at Wolfdales in Tahoe City. The food was magnificent with fresh wild salmon, delicious vegetables and salad interspersed with convivial conversations with the waitresses.

12 Feb: By 9:30AM breakfast was done, beds made, gear packed and fond farewells said. Bill, John and Vern headed down the road happy to be intact, and still breathing. It was a great weekend and we didn’t destroy the place.