After a ways I could see a huge boat mostly buried in the sand, while examining the boat it seemed to have been a cabin cruiser about 65 feet long. Then walking about 100 feet south of the boat I was stunned to find a human body, not something you see every day. The person was mostly a skeleton although hair was evident on his head; jeans and shirt were tattered and the skull looking toward the sky where I could see some primitive dental work. After a couple more frightening traverses, while hanging in space, I thought we had passed the most difficult situations, wrong again! We came to a place where you're climbing along the cliff face with no more than 4 inches of rock on which to place your feet. That accelerated my heartbeat a tad! While hiking on a narrow dike I came face to face with a Bison almost blocking my passage. As I walked past he charged me. I yelled "Stop That!" and he stopped about 2 feet away. Few people have a desire or capability to experience 'the edge'. For most of my life I professed, "To experience life as close to the edge as possible to death, as this is the only way to live a life to its fullest." Being up here, among 12,000 foot peaks, in the enchanting time before sunrise, will always remain as a consummate memory in my mind. I was filled with a delightful wonderment. Then there came the serene Alpine Glow as the sun embraced the mountain peaks. As John Muir would say, "A noble experience." The sun would occasionally pop out, followed by dark clouds and usually hail or sleet. I didn't care; I was wet; in a numbing trance and reduced to taking baby steps forward-'one step at a time'. Around 6 pm I reached the road, which was back down at 10,000 feet. I had only traveled 8 1/2 miles, but on the most difficult trek of my life. We had chased the Gator near shore; I jumped from the boat in knee deep mud; struggling through the mud I grabbed the Gator with my left hand and immediately he came around and imbedded his teeth in my right arm. Just as quickly he let go and I loaded him into the boat. Mostly I was concerned with infection, but a little Rum in the holes took care of that.
July 1927, in the rugged mining country of Wapakonetka County, Ohio, the miners of Mine Seven call a strike, and it propels them into an unforeseen and bitter conflict. This was a time when men worked twelve-hour days, seven days a week, for seven dollars and fifty cents a day; struggling to keep themselves and their families clothed and fed. But the owner of Harwick Coal Company, and its president, are powerful, iron-willed kings of industry, determined to crush the strike at any cost, and by any means. Without warning, trainloads of strikebreakers are rushed in. The miners are forced to exchange picks and shovels for guns and dynamite. With a single shot the violence begins. Bloody Wapakonetka is born. This exciting and suspenseful story vividly creates the brutal clash between the haves and have-nots; a test of human wills thatsweeps everyone involved to the threshold of destruction. The cast of characters is unforgettable as each side battles for dominance and power.
Hello there! You'll have had your tea? Dougal here. Well, here we go, with our wee book. It's a collection or pot pourri (I've no idea what Hamish means by that - it sounds like something to do with the Pope) of our activities or 'doings' in the village we call home, because that's exactly what it is. Together with our housekeeper, Mrs Naughtie, and of course, the Laird who lives up at the big hoose and shoots grouse and other bottles of whisky, these are the actual scripts of our wee show which we performed on the wireless, when most of you were probably in bed! Hamish and I have known each other all our lives - well, not yet, obviously! We have a very close relationship and also with each other. Mrs Naughtie been with us since we first met her at the Krankie Arms, where she was working as part-time barmaid and bouncer. In addition to the scripts you'll find all kinds of other things tucked away under its kilt. There's a hectic social life in the village. You'll visit the 'bide a wee' café, proud possessor of three Michelin tyres. You'll have a conducted tour of the big hoose by Big Tam, our local guide (not during opening hours). You'll marvel at the site of the Battle of Auchtermuchty, now allotments. You'll peek into the Laird's social diary in 'oot and aboot' (40p at the post office). And a great deal more. Well, I hope this wee note will make you hurry to the till and spend the terrible amount of money these wee books cost these days. But then again this particular wee book is Scotland's answer to Richard and Judy! Hurrah! Away now ...
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