continued 12 and then volunteered at the state wrestling tournament for 25 years after I graduated. Dad often had a far-fetched story for every situation. Often it was just believable enough that if you weren’t really paying attention you might fall for it, ever so briefly. Dad killed his biggest bull elk, a 6x7, while surveying on the Oregon Coast just outside of the city limits of Bay City about 1975. The full head and shoulder mount hung in our living room in Milwaukie for many years. Eventually the “story” of the elk expanded to include it getting stuck in the wall while running through the forest when the house was being built. They cut off the back half and built the house around him. Many young eyes opened wide in amazement at that one! Early in my life, my dad taught me everything he could about the outdoors. In the last few weeks of his life, he and I talked about many of those lessons, but the one that stood out to both of us was my first elk season when I was about 12 years old. Through a turn of events, we ended up separated and I was “lost” for many hours. Drawing from the many lessons he taught me I hiked nearly six miles, found my way to a road, hitchhiked for the first time (twice), visited with my first state police officer who left me on the side of the road (Dad was mad about that one), and we found each other just as darkness set in. As we recounted this trip, he told me, “I knew you were never lost, just temporarily misplaced. You knew what you needed to do.” He could be very matter of fact about life decisions, like when I needed to move out and pull up my own bootstraps. After a couple return trips from college, first finding my bed covered in things, then gone and moved to the garage, then the wall of the bedroom gone, I received a call one fall day saying, “Hey, there’s a good trailer for sale up here in Portland. I think you should look at it and buy it, so you have a place to live.” As his mobility diminished, the area around Dad’s chair became a thing of wonder. Somewhere between MacGyver and Inspector Gadget, he had everything he needed to solve any problem that arose. If I was fixing a plumbing problem, he could pull out a pipe wrench. Need a length of rope? Here’s 50 feet. Zip ties, map books, flashlights, dog treats, you name it, he had it within arm’s reach and plenty of advice to go with it. Fred Gaylord working for BPA, December 1968, with his beloved dog, Patches. Fred Gaylord surveying with APL1 robot on the Oregon Coast about 1994. Dad’s honesty, integrity, and “can do” attitude are what carried him and my mom through many years of his surveying career and their business. The loyalty and respect of his clients and his friends in the surveying community spoke to those three things he valued most. His very first client in 1970 attended his memorial. I think in a slightly romanticized way every property surveyor has a bit of immortality. The first time you set a corner, file a survey, or prepare a legal description, you’ve left a mark for others to follow and one for which you will be judged (good or bad) by your peers quite literally for the rest of time. Dad filed well over 500 surveys and plats in his lifetime in multiple counties throughout Oregon. His footsteps will be followed, his decisions judged, and he will be remembered forevermore because of it. As a public land corner restoration surveyor, a fellow surveyor in Clackamas County has reviewed a large body of my dad’s work. In that spirit, I would like to share a portion of an email I received from him. “I did not know your dad well, other than retracing his surveys on numerous occasions. His obituary mentioned that he had surveyed much of Clackamas County. That, he certainly did. When doing PLC histories, I am always amazed at how often your dad’s surveys come up. As you well know, we have relied upon his surveys to reestablish and to verify many corners throughout Clackamas County. I personally appreciate the integrity, thoroughness, and reliability of his surveys. It is quite apparent that he would refuse to cut corners or take short cuts, where others before him did. Instead, he would put much more work into his surveys, just to make sure he got it right. I am quite certain that many times he did extra work without compensation, just because of his high professional standards, to do it right the first time, regardless of costs. I consider your father to be a survey legend, that others and I should strive to follow. He will be greatly missed by all who know him and by all in the surveying community. Please take comfort in knowing that your father’s legend is well documented, and continues, each time someone retraces one of his surveys.” Dad would be extremely proud of that. As he told me just days before he died, “It was quite a life.” Good job Dad, it was. I consider your father to be a survey legend, that others and I should strive to follow. The Oregon Surveyor | Vol. 47, No. 5 The Lost Surveyor
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