Uncle Brent 1931-2020

The poem was done by Stump's youngest son, Blair Macnab

July 1st, my Uncle Brent crossed that big divide and joined his parents, his first wife, and my Dad and brothers in that other place.

It is hard to describe how much this man meant to me, he was my hero, a professional hockey player who like any good Canadian boy had turned down an offer from the the Yankees to play Canada's national sport. He was an all round athlete, a scratch golfer, a switch hitting baseball catcher and a solid defense man on anyone's blue line. He came by his nickname, Stump, because running into him on the ice was a lot like hitting a stump, he wasn't moving, so you might be able to go around him, or over him, but you sure weren't going through him.

But that was only a small part of the man, although playing hockey took him away from school at an early age, he was one of the wisest people I knew. He knew the value of a good day's work wasn't measured in dollars. He parlayed that wisdom and hard work into a pretty successful farming business after he hung up his skates when his kids started school.

I spent many weekends and a few summers on the farm, living with my grandparents, and hanging around with my cousins down the road and credit him with a lot of life long lessons, about life and important things, like how to set a solid gate post, how to treat people.

I will miss his quiet wisdom, his chuckle that rumbled quietly from deep in his chest, the sparkle in his eyes, and that "you can do it" attitude of his.

California in our Rear View Mirror

Sunrise at Ogilby Road

Sunday morning we packed out stuff and headed west, well a little north and then west across the Imperial Dunes. We were heading to Borrego Springs a place we have never been. We pulled into the Arco station on Highway 78 just as we turned west to Borrego and dumped our tanks and filled with fresh water. They have four dump lanes here but only one was working properly so things were a little hectic on a Sunday afternoon. Folks were filling their tanks with the water at the dumpsite but I am always a little leery about those taps and went looking for some marked "potable". They were well away from the dump lanes. Our rig has a big tank so it takes a while to fill it and it is always nice not to have to entertain all the folks behind you in the line so out of the way is good.

After dumping and filling we headed west for Rockhouse Road. We have heard about this spot from other RV'ers and figured it was a good place to spend some time. Once we got there we found that a lot of other folks who had heard about Borrego Springs had also heard about Rockhouse Road, We rolled up the rolled three or four miles until we were long gone from phone coverage and deep in the valley before we found a spot almost big enough to turn our rig around. After tearing up the road surface and then having to fill the ruts we had made in the sand we trooped our way back to the area where everyone else was parked. Another look confirmed what we had figured on our first cruise through, there were way more rigs and way less space than we are used to. A command decision was called for and a conference called, it was decided that America's most populous state was way to crowded for Dogpound Anywhere so we headed into town spun around Christmas Circle and then waved adios to Borrego Springs. We found a spot on a cliff just above Ocotillo Wells to spend the night.

The view from our doorstep last night

This morning we loaded up and headed for Indio this morning, where we met up with my Uncle Brent and Aunt Helen and enjoyed a great breakfast and then headed back to their place for a visit. It was good to catch up and Brenda had a jar of Buffalo Creek Ranch Saskatoon jam that was made from berries on Uncle Brents place, but we forgot to leave it, so I guess he will just have to believe me when I say it was great.

Aunt Helen and Uncle Brent taken by Brenda

After our visit we headed back east and climbed out of the Coachella Valley and headed for an old favourite spot. Nice to be here the nearest rig is pretty near a half mile away and the view is great. Good to be back in the land of Arizona sunsets and sunrises.

Not another rig in sight

Ogilby Road Sunset

Heading to the Farm

We are all hooked up and ready to roll north and east to the "farm"

I know it sounds like we live on a farm here at Dogpound North, but the "farm" for us has always been the place where my Grandfather and his parents homesteaded over 100 years ago. It is halfway between Vermilion and Wainwright in East Central Alberta. My Mom and her brother were born and raised there and my uncle and some of my cousins still call it home. Uncle Brent has a bunch of land up there and a couple of my cousins still live on his home place. Blair lives in the house on the Buffalo Creek Ranch and Mike has built his own new home just a half mile west of there up on a hill with a view of the whole country.

A view off of Mike's deck to the SE

A view from the same deck looking SW

We didn't really have an important agenda to keep, we were just up to have a look around and maybe give Mike's new digs the once over. We took my Mom along with us and drug our trailer with a couple of ponies along for the ride. Long term readers will remember there is some great riding up here on the Buffalo Creek ranch and we never miss the opportunity to reacquaint ourselves with this beautiful country. This is where I learned to love to ride and it is always refreshing to drop down the trail into the coulee and watch as the cell service drops off and the world gets left behind. Below the coulee hills nothing much has changed in 50 years, and I think if my kinfolk have anything to do with it nothing will for at least another 50. I hope that works out.

This is an old photo but it gives a good look at the bottom of the coulee

The coulee from Mike's deck

Heading down into the coulee

Another view from the top down into the coulee

Although we didn't plan it that way we did stumble into a Father's Day celebration at the farm and enjoyed visiting with family who came from farther away to celebrate with my Uncle Brent.

Mom and Uncle Brent

Uncle Brent is a pretty active guy and spent the morning before the party fixing fence and helping some beavers move on, off of his pasture. A good mornings work after all he is only 82 and in his family that is just a little bit on the long side of middle age.

My youngest Macnab relative, Braxton, first cousin, twice removed

And of course I got a chance to get my camera out and wander around the machinery yard. Some of this old equipment makes for great photo opportunities and your imagination can tell their stories.

An old horse drawn manure spreader

The head of a horse drawn hay mower

The steel wheels are neat but the rock caught my eye

Cousin Mike gave me strict directions that there were to be no photos of him on Facebook and being as how I always listen to my subjects I thought he might not mind an appearance on my little blog. I mean nobody reads this thing anyway.

But luckily I was able to use photoshop to remove the numbers across the bottom of the shot.

And you just knew I couldn't leave you all without another horse shot. Here is Brenda and Mike enjoying the view back into the coulee after scrambling up the hill.