<![CDATA[My Northern Wisconsin - Off the Road Again]]> https://www.mynorthernwisconsin.com/news/ Fri, 17 Apr 2026 22:24:02 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[THE WINTER THAT WASN'T]]> https://www.mynorthernwisconsin.com/news/thread-457.html Mon, 26 Feb 2024 19:56:58 +0000 My Northern Wisconsin]]> https://www.mynorthernwisconsin.com/news/thread-457.html
By:  Sandy Onchuck

Last week, someone described this winter season as “the winter that wasn’t,” after snowplowing for our township for over 30 years; I think this is a perfect description. This year has definitely been way beyond unusual.

……The Winters That Were

During our plowing years, winter's end was always an interesting time for us.  As the snowbanks melted, we never knew what we might find.  Usually, it was damaged mailboxes, busted-up sign posts, damaged lawns, grader parts lost while plowing, and a host of other issues.  But a smashed-up car?  And the humorous part of this story is that no one realized this until the spring thaw.

It was the spring of 1998, and as the snow began to melt and as the crocuses started peeking through the snow, we were shocked, to say the least, to see Grandpa Onchuck’s old Citation peeking through the snow bank, emerging from the mounds of snow, all smashed to smithereens.

Even though the old girl was a “beater” and had seen better days, she still had some life left, and Grandpa still used her when driving back and forth to his son's farm to help with the chores.

He had bought a newer car and that winter was allowing the Citation to hibernate.  Not foreseeing the enormous amount of snow that winter would bring, pappy had parked it too close to the snowplow turnaround.  So out of sight - out of mind, the grader operator, (this time not Dennis), had forgotten it was there.  As the winter snow began building up, the snowbanks increased.  The plowman, thinking he was pushing the snowbank back, was actually climbing up on top of the car.  The grader’s engine noise muffled the sound of crushing metal and breaking glass.


.jpg   The Winter that Wasnt.jpg (Size: 55.2 KB / Downloads: 915)

Even though the old girl ended up "Off the Road," Dennis, the "King of Surgical Transplanting," managed to salvage the starter, heater, motor, headlights, tires, and just about everything else he could disassemble to donate to other vehicles.  Thus, she became a "vehicle" donor who gave life to other cars before she went to that great "junkyard on Earth."

Sadly, Grandpa passed away the following winter, but we still have the pictures and memories that continue to bring us smiles and laughter.

You can share this story on Facebook at this link.]]>
By:  Sandy Onchuck

Last week, someone described this winter season as “the winter that wasn’t,” after snowplowing for our township for over 30 years; I think this is a perfect description. This year has definitely been way beyond unusual.

……The Winters That Were

During our plowing years, winter's end was always an interesting time for us.  As the snowbanks melted, we never knew what we might find.  Usually, it was damaged mailboxes, busted-up sign posts, damaged lawns, grader parts lost while plowing, and a host of other issues.  But a smashed-up car?  And the humorous part of this story is that no one realized this until the spring thaw.

It was the spring of 1998, and as the snow began to melt and as the crocuses started peeking through the snow, we were shocked, to say the least, to see Grandpa Onchuck’s old Citation peeking through the snow bank, emerging from the mounds of snow, all smashed to smithereens.

Even though the old girl was a “beater” and had seen better days, she still had some life left, and Grandpa still used her when driving back and forth to his son's farm to help with the chores.

He had bought a newer car and that winter was allowing the Citation to hibernate.  Not foreseeing the enormous amount of snow that winter would bring, pappy had parked it too close to the snowplow turnaround.  So out of sight - out of mind, the grader operator, (this time not Dennis), had forgotten it was there.  As the winter snow began building up, the snowbanks increased.  The plowman, thinking he was pushing the snowbank back, was actually climbing up on top of the car.  The grader’s engine noise muffled the sound of crushing metal and breaking glass.


.jpg   The Winter that Wasnt.jpg (Size: 55.2 KB / Downloads: 915)

Even though the old girl ended up "Off the Road," Dennis, the "King of Surgical Transplanting," managed to salvage the starter, heater, motor, headlights, tires, and just about everything else he could disassemble to donate to other vehicles.  Thus, she became a "vehicle" donor who gave life to other cars before she went to that great "junkyard on Earth."

Sadly, Grandpa passed away the following winter, but we still have the pictures and memories that continue to bring us smiles and laughter.

You can share this story on Facebook at this link.]]> <![CDATA[DENNIS, THE GOOD SAMARITAN]]> https://www.mynorthernwisconsin.com/news/thread-427.html Fri, 08 Dec 2023 09:47:16 +0000 My Northern Wisconsin]]> https://www.mynorthernwisconsin.com/news/thread-427.html
.png   Dennis, The Good Samaritan.png (Size: 30.99 KB / Downloads: 1158)

[Image: sandyonchuck.jpg]
By:  Sandy Onchuck

“NO, DON’T STOP” was hardly out of my mouth before I felt the forward thrust from the braking of our flatbed trailer as we pulled off the interstate.  There, on the shoulder of I-94, somewhere between Chicago and Milwaukee, stood one unsightly group of people (seven, to be exact, four adults and three children).  The children looked pitiful, and their disheveled appearance screamed “neglect.”   Their old, rusty, and beat-up vehicle with its hood raised appeared to have given up the ghost, and they were waiting for some "Good Samaritan" to stop and rescue them.  Even though my “DON’T STOP” request had gone unheeded, I could understand why Dennis was stopping.  He holds the record for being rescued from a “MULTITUDE” of perilous situations and feels a deep obligation to repay society.

A born mechanic, he had intended to help get their rig up and running again.  He figured they might need water in their radiator, or maybe they had a broken fan belt.  But immediately after pulling over, Dennis’ furrowed brow told me, this time, he might be experiencing "Samaritan's remorse" and had misjudged the need.  The reason?  We had yet to come to a complete stop before they began hoisting the women and children onto the back of the pickup.  Then, one of the men started jerking their earthly belongings out of that old car trunk and throwing items onto our truck bed without taking any measure of care.  Before Dennis could get out of our vehicle, the other man poked his head (bad breath and all) inside the passenger door window to thank us for stopping.  Happy couldn't begin to describe his reaction.  He was probably in his mid-thirties, with ratty hair and scummy teeth, and was smiling from ear to ear.  We had definitely made his day.  We were dumbfounded; they weren't interested in exchanging information about their breakdown, names, or intended destination.  It was evident they just wanted to get out of there.

Their vehicle had Michigan license plates, but it was apparent from their gear they were not on vacation or out sightseeing.  Our biggest clue was the humongous wire cutters they transferred from their trunk onto the truck bed.  Vacationers usually take swimwear, golf clubs, roadmaps, and cameras - not hammers, wire cutters, and crowbars.  Their dirty and disheveled appearance suggested they had yet to be guests at any Holiday Inn or even a low-budget Okey Dokey Motel.

I wondered about these people - what was their story?  Had they fallen on hard times, or were they, as my mama used to say, "Just plain trifling and wouldn't shake a stick at a snake?"  One thing was for sure: they needed basic hygiene skills.  But there was no guessing as to their intentions.  They had no plans to stick around and revive that old car.  They performed like the “Incredible Hulk” as they cleaned out that old beater in record time.

My curiosity turned to fear as their actions revealed sinister and criminal intentions.  We watched in horror as they removed the license plates in plain sight of all the interstate traffic whizzing past.  Then, they began smashing the windshield, windows, mirrors, and headlights with tire irons.  Their actions were beyond belief.  We were pulling a trailer loaded with a sizeable D6 bulldozer, so a fast getaway was not an option.  We were helpless.  Also, the women and children had already made themselves comfortable in the back of the pickup.

Thankfully, for Dennis' sake, thoughts and looks can't wound.  Don't get me wrong, I believe the Bible encourages us all to be "Good Samaritans" and to help the wounded by the wayside.  In this case, however, I was convinced they weren't the wounded; they were robbers!

When the men finished their destructive frenzy, they jumped on board, and we pulled back on the freeway with absolutely no idea what these hoods expected or where our end might be.  I’m sure the passing motorists were intrigued.  I mean, we were a sight for sore eyes.  We looked like a modern-day version of the Joad family from the “Grapes of Wrath."  It was July 1984.  Crammed into the cab of our airless 1969 service truck were my husband, me, our two small children, and our teenage foster daughter.  And the seven characters were situated in the truck bed behind us.

With my teeth clenched and an icy but low voice, not wanting our uninvited guests to hear me, I asked my husband, "Now, what are you going to do?"  He said, “I don’t know," words which were quite unnerving, especially from a man who was always solving problems.

Several miles down the road, we came to a toll booth.  The attendant took the money and asked Dennis if the people in the back of our truck bed were the same ones beating the “X*^”>?#@%X” out of their car a few miles back.  Dennis sheepishly nodded his head.  The men were within earshot, and he dared not say anything.  People who travel with wire cutters, hammers, tire irons, etc. likely have guns and knives as well, and we were in no position to defend ourselves.  So, he paid the toll and slowly began to pull through the toll gate.

Then, literally within seconds, seemingly out of nowhere, and from every direction came five or six squad cars with lights flashing and sirens screaming.  We were surrounded.  Police officers began jumping out of their squad cars with guns drawn and pointed toward our “male” riders.  They were yelling for them to get down off the truck bed.  Once off the truck, they made them raise their hands, spread their legs, and began frisking them.  Dennis opened the truck door to get out, but one of the officers screamed at him to get back in the truck and stay there.  And stay there we did, for what seemed like an eternity.  We watched in horror as the officers removed handguns and switchblades.  Then, the frightful encounter became a total embarrassment.  Stenciled on our side doors was "Northern Equipment Service LTD. Phillips WI" for all the world to see these ruffians spread eagle over our hood.  I felt like yelling to the passing motorist, "We are not the crooks."  Instead, I muttered angrily at my husband, and it wasn't "sweet nothings."

Finally, at my coaxing, Dennis asked one of the officers if he could talk to him.  After getting permission, Dennis walked over to one of the patrol cars.  Dennis explained our plight to him.  They believed our involvement in this situation was innocent and made the women and children get off the truck.  They permitted us to leave the scene only after reprimanding Dennis for subjecting his family to such danger.  We felt terrible for the three young children.  As they unloaded their gear, the children cried and begged Dennis not to leave them.  That was heartbreaking.  Even after all these years, I pray for those precious little ones.

We left the scene never to discover who these people were or what they were up to.  Had passing motorists not alerted the toll booth attendant and police, we might be pushing up daisies today.  However, I would like to note they did not have any shovels in their arsenal, and I doubt they would have had the ambition to bury us anyway.  They most likely would have just shot us and left our bones scattered, who knows where.

I wish I could say the rest of our trip home was uneventful, but the Dennis Onchuck family and EVENTS seem to go hand in hand.  After leaving the scene, we drove for a few hours, but it was so hot and humid, and everyone was so tired and crabby that we decided to stop in Waupaca for the night.

The next day began great, but by midafternoon everything changed.  When many men travel, it is "from this point to that point and nothing in between."  Not Dennis.  Always the lover of "big equipment," he contends no trip is ever complete unless he stops and drives through all farm and heavy equipment lots along the way.  This trip was no exception; unfortunately, he drove through one lot too many . He spotted some "yellow iron" that he wanted to check out, and after sizing it up, he drove through an adjacent car lot to get back onto the highway.  It was a narrow strip, and Dennis was carefully maneuvering his way through when I looked out my window, misjudged our distance from a culvert, and yelled, "watch out."  He, thinking he would hit something, jerked the wheel to the left, "Uh oh"…not good.  He had smashed the front end of a brand new Oldsmobile.  Oh boy; this time I received the "unholy look" and the less than "kind" remarks. Thankfully, Dennis doesn't swear, so I got off easier than many women would have.

For the second time in two days, we found ourselves conversing with the highway patrol.  The owner estimated damages to the tune of $700.00.  Ouch!  After we filled out the paperwork, the patrolman left the scene.  It was getting late in the day, so the business owner closed up shop, and all five of us piled back into the truck cab.  But, when Dennis turned the key, nothing happened - dead battery.

There were no homes or open businesses nearby, and this was years before cell phones.  So, we became the motley crew standing on the side of the road with our truck hood raised, hoping and praying that some "good Samaritan" would stop and rescue us.  We looked less threatening than the characters we had stopped to help the day before but discovered quickly that "good Samaritans" were in short supply.  Few motorists are willing to stop to help, which, after events we had experienced the day before, we could understand why.  Finally, though, a man stopped and gave us a jump, and we were on our way.

We were tired and hungry by this time, but Dennis was afraid to stop.  Poor little Andy was whining, "Papa, I 'hungy,' let’s stop at a 'restwant.'”  Dennis, trying to be funny, said, "We will; we'll stop at the Onchuck Restaurant."  That didn't go over very well with the kids or me.  Finally, as we neared home, Dennis did relent and stopped for us to eat but not before he saw a neighbor in a café parking lot and knew we would be able to get a jump from him.  Finally, "Home Sweet Home."

Reflecting on this incident from 40 years ago, I am reminded that no occurrence ever surprises our LORD.  Our lives often intersect with "ruffians," and we won't know until “eternity” why some people are spared from disaster and not others.  Despite my warnings, Dennis still stops to help stranded motorists.  Some things will never change!  That's what sets him apart from many others.  Dennis – the Good Samaritan.

This story can be shared on Facebook via this link.


.png   Christmas Contest.png (Size: 436.41 KB / Downloads: 1139)
Send your photos to contact@mypricecounty.com by December 12, 2023.  Get entered to win!]]>
.png   Dennis, The Good Samaritan.png (Size: 30.99 KB / Downloads: 1158)

[Image: sandyonchuck.jpg]
By:  Sandy Onchuck

“NO, DON’T STOP” was hardly out of my mouth before I felt the forward thrust from the braking of our flatbed trailer as we pulled off the interstate.  There, on the shoulder of I-94, somewhere between Chicago and Milwaukee, stood one unsightly group of people (seven, to be exact, four adults and three children).  The children looked pitiful, and their disheveled appearance screamed “neglect.”   Their old, rusty, and beat-up vehicle with its hood raised appeared to have given up the ghost, and they were waiting for some "Good Samaritan" to stop and rescue them.  Even though my “DON’T STOP” request had gone unheeded, I could understand why Dennis was stopping.  He holds the record for being rescued from a “MULTITUDE” of perilous situations and feels a deep obligation to repay society.

A born mechanic, he had intended to help get their rig up and running again.  He figured they might need water in their radiator, or maybe they had a broken fan belt.  But immediately after pulling over, Dennis’ furrowed brow told me, this time, he might be experiencing "Samaritan's remorse" and had misjudged the need.  The reason?  We had yet to come to a complete stop before they began hoisting the women and children onto the back of the pickup.  Then, one of the men started jerking their earthly belongings out of that old car trunk and throwing items onto our truck bed without taking any measure of care.  Before Dennis could get out of our vehicle, the other man poked his head (bad breath and all) inside the passenger door window to thank us for stopping.  Happy couldn't begin to describe his reaction.  He was probably in his mid-thirties, with ratty hair and scummy teeth, and was smiling from ear to ear.  We had definitely made his day.  We were dumbfounded; they weren't interested in exchanging information about their breakdown, names, or intended destination.  It was evident they just wanted to get out of there.

Their vehicle had Michigan license plates, but it was apparent from their gear they were not on vacation or out sightseeing.  Our biggest clue was the humongous wire cutters they transferred from their trunk onto the truck bed.  Vacationers usually take swimwear, golf clubs, roadmaps, and cameras - not hammers, wire cutters, and crowbars.  Their dirty and disheveled appearance suggested they had yet to be guests at any Holiday Inn or even a low-budget Okey Dokey Motel.

I wondered about these people - what was their story?  Had they fallen on hard times, or were they, as my mama used to say, "Just plain trifling and wouldn't shake a stick at a snake?"  One thing was for sure: they needed basic hygiene skills.  But there was no guessing as to their intentions.  They had no plans to stick around and revive that old car.  They performed like the “Incredible Hulk” as they cleaned out that old beater in record time.

My curiosity turned to fear as their actions revealed sinister and criminal intentions.  We watched in horror as they removed the license plates in plain sight of all the interstate traffic whizzing past.  Then, they began smashing the windshield, windows, mirrors, and headlights with tire irons.  Their actions were beyond belief.  We were pulling a trailer loaded with a sizeable D6 bulldozer, so a fast getaway was not an option.  We were helpless.  Also, the women and children had already made themselves comfortable in the back of the pickup.

Thankfully, for Dennis' sake, thoughts and looks can't wound.  Don't get me wrong, I believe the Bible encourages us all to be "Good Samaritans" and to help the wounded by the wayside.  In this case, however, I was convinced they weren't the wounded; they were robbers!

When the men finished their destructive frenzy, they jumped on board, and we pulled back on the freeway with absolutely no idea what these hoods expected or where our end might be.  I’m sure the passing motorists were intrigued.  I mean, we were a sight for sore eyes.  We looked like a modern-day version of the Joad family from the “Grapes of Wrath."  It was July 1984.  Crammed into the cab of our airless 1969 service truck were my husband, me, our two small children, and our teenage foster daughter.  And the seven characters were situated in the truck bed behind us.

With my teeth clenched and an icy but low voice, not wanting our uninvited guests to hear me, I asked my husband, "Now, what are you going to do?"  He said, “I don’t know," words which were quite unnerving, especially from a man who was always solving problems.

Several miles down the road, we came to a toll booth.  The attendant took the money and asked Dennis if the people in the back of our truck bed were the same ones beating the “X*^”>?#@%X” out of their car a few miles back.  Dennis sheepishly nodded his head.  The men were within earshot, and he dared not say anything.  People who travel with wire cutters, hammers, tire irons, etc. likely have guns and knives as well, and we were in no position to defend ourselves.  So, he paid the toll and slowly began to pull through the toll gate.

Then, literally within seconds, seemingly out of nowhere, and from every direction came five or six squad cars with lights flashing and sirens screaming.  We were surrounded.  Police officers began jumping out of their squad cars with guns drawn and pointed toward our “male” riders.  They were yelling for them to get down off the truck bed.  Once off the truck, they made them raise their hands, spread their legs, and began frisking them.  Dennis opened the truck door to get out, but one of the officers screamed at him to get back in the truck and stay there.  And stay there we did, for what seemed like an eternity.  We watched in horror as the officers removed handguns and switchblades.  Then, the frightful encounter became a total embarrassment.  Stenciled on our side doors was "Northern Equipment Service LTD. Phillips WI" for all the world to see these ruffians spread eagle over our hood.  I felt like yelling to the passing motorist, "We are not the crooks."  Instead, I muttered angrily at my husband, and it wasn't "sweet nothings."

Finally, at my coaxing, Dennis asked one of the officers if he could talk to him.  After getting permission, Dennis walked over to one of the patrol cars.  Dennis explained our plight to him.  They believed our involvement in this situation was innocent and made the women and children get off the truck.  They permitted us to leave the scene only after reprimanding Dennis for subjecting his family to such danger.  We felt terrible for the three young children.  As they unloaded their gear, the children cried and begged Dennis not to leave them.  That was heartbreaking.  Even after all these years, I pray for those precious little ones.

We left the scene never to discover who these people were or what they were up to.  Had passing motorists not alerted the toll booth attendant and police, we might be pushing up daisies today.  However, I would like to note they did not have any shovels in their arsenal, and I doubt they would have had the ambition to bury us anyway.  They most likely would have just shot us and left our bones scattered, who knows where.

I wish I could say the rest of our trip home was uneventful, but the Dennis Onchuck family and EVENTS seem to go hand in hand.  After leaving the scene, we drove for a few hours, but it was so hot and humid, and everyone was so tired and crabby that we decided to stop in Waupaca for the night.

The next day began great, but by midafternoon everything changed.  When many men travel, it is "from this point to that point and nothing in between."  Not Dennis.  Always the lover of "big equipment," he contends no trip is ever complete unless he stops and drives through all farm and heavy equipment lots along the way.  This trip was no exception; unfortunately, he drove through one lot too many . He spotted some "yellow iron" that he wanted to check out, and after sizing it up, he drove through an adjacent car lot to get back onto the highway.  It was a narrow strip, and Dennis was carefully maneuvering his way through when I looked out my window, misjudged our distance from a culvert, and yelled, "watch out."  He, thinking he would hit something, jerked the wheel to the left, "Uh oh"…not good.  He had smashed the front end of a brand new Oldsmobile.  Oh boy; this time I received the "unholy look" and the less than "kind" remarks. Thankfully, Dennis doesn't swear, so I got off easier than many women would have.

For the second time in two days, we found ourselves conversing with the highway patrol.  The owner estimated damages to the tune of $700.00.  Ouch!  After we filled out the paperwork, the patrolman left the scene.  It was getting late in the day, so the business owner closed up shop, and all five of us piled back into the truck cab.  But, when Dennis turned the key, nothing happened - dead battery.

There were no homes or open businesses nearby, and this was years before cell phones.  So, we became the motley crew standing on the side of the road with our truck hood raised, hoping and praying that some "good Samaritan" would stop and rescue us.  We looked less threatening than the characters we had stopped to help the day before but discovered quickly that "good Samaritans" were in short supply.  Few motorists are willing to stop to help, which, after events we had experienced the day before, we could understand why.  Finally, though, a man stopped and gave us a jump, and we were on our way.

We were tired and hungry by this time, but Dennis was afraid to stop.  Poor little Andy was whining, "Papa, I 'hungy,' let’s stop at a 'restwant.'”  Dennis, trying to be funny, said, "We will; we'll stop at the Onchuck Restaurant."  That didn't go over very well with the kids or me.  Finally, as we neared home, Dennis did relent and stopped for us to eat but not before he saw a neighbor in a café parking lot and knew we would be able to get a jump from him.  Finally, "Home Sweet Home."

Reflecting on this incident from 40 years ago, I am reminded that no occurrence ever surprises our LORD.  Our lives often intersect with "ruffians," and we won't know until “eternity” why some people are spared from disaster and not others.  Despite my warnings, Dennis still stops to help stranded motorists.  Some things will never change!  That's what sets him apart from many others.  Dennis – the Good Samaritan.

This story can be shared on Facebook via this link.


.png   Christmas Contest.png (Size: 436.41 KB / Downloads: 1139)
Send your photos to contact@mypricecounty.com by December 12, 2023.  Get entered to win!]]> <![CDATA[PROVIDENTIAL DELAYS]]> https://www.mynorthernwisconsin.com/news/thread-372.html Wed, 23 Aug 2023 10:44:46 +0000 My Northern Wisconsin]]> https://www.mynorthernwisconsin.com/news/thread-372.html
[Image: sandyonchuck.jpg]
By:  Sandy Onchuck

We often see an accident that delays our travel plans as time lost, but it often becomes the circumstances for a "better life found."  Unexpected changes are the colored threads the Lord uses when weaving our life's tapestry.  The nine-day delay following Dennis’ accident in Alberta resulted in him crossing paths with numerous people traveling up the Alcan to Alaska.  One of those persons, Donna McConkey, (pictured below), would become Dennis' "matchmaker."  That thread would become the "multi-colored" strand that would forever change Dennis' life for the "BETTER" (my opinion, of course).

Dennis met Donna and her family about the second or third day after leaving the Reukerts in Beaver Lodge.  Donna and her family were headed to Alaska and were interested in homesteading.  The parties met in a small cafe on the Alcan and struck up a conversation.  Those who know Donna know she is as friendly as Dennis, and as they traveled up the highway, often stopping at the same campgrounds or to refuel, they forged a friendship that continues today.


.jpg   providentialdelays1.jpg (Size: 32.71 KB / Downloads: 972)
...Fast forward 14 months:  July 1974...

"Oh, Sandy, you've gotta meet Dennis Onchuck; you two would be perfect for each other," this was how Donna introduced me to the idea of meeting Dennis.  And, when you are a 27-year-old unclaimed blessing in a field of "culled" choices, your ears perk up.  Donna and her family had returned to South Carolina months earlier after their plans of settling in Alaska had fallen through.  I didn't have anything to lose, so I agreed.  Dennis wrote his first letter to me on July 12, 1974.  (No connection to my Dennis story, but July 12th commemorates the hanging of my great-great-great-grandmother, Frankie Silvers, the first woman legally hung in North Carolina in 1833 for murdering her husband).  Frankie's story has been shared in numerous books, such as The Ballad of Frankie Silvers by Sharyn McCrumb and The Untold Story of Frankie Silver by Perry Deane Young.  I didn't share this information with Dennis until we were blissfully married.  I also failed to mention that Frankie's daughter, Nancy, who was only 13 months old when Frankie killed her husband, “may” have murdered her second husband as well.  Curious about that story?  Then read A Life for Nancy by Riley Henry and Danita Stoudemire.  It is a historical fiction book but follows the storyline passed down by our grandparents.  They don't say in the book that Nancy murdered her second husband, but that is the general thought among some of her descendants.


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...Now, back to my Dennis story...

I visualized this muscular, handsome, kind he-man from Donna's description.  I imagined and expected he would send a picture flexing his muscles with perhaps Mt. McKinley or wildlife in the background.  But no, not Dennis; instead, he was standing before a crashed C-130 Hercules at Galbraith Lake, Alaska, where he worked on the trans-Alaska pipeline.  They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but the only words I could come up with were, “Donna, what part of, 'you two would be perfect for each other' was I missing?"

Yes, I know you can't judge a book by its cover, in this case, "its coveralls," greasy, dirty coveralls at that, but I admit, I was tempted to close the book on this relationship before it had even begun.  But he said he would ask his mother to send a better picture, so I decided to wait and see how well he cleaned up.  That was one of my better choices in life because the following pictures caused my heart to flutter.  Despite his "out of date" crew cut, I thought he was a hunk.


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...Fast forward to the present:  2023...

Forty-eight years and a few old Maytags later, I realize the initial introductory picture said it ALL.  So, what does this picture say?  First, he is the most unpretentious man you will ever find - what you see is what you get.  He isn't out to impress anyone.  Secondly, he's not afraid of hard work.  That answered my youthful prayers for a good, hard-working husband.  I must note that when the Bible says God "will do above and beyond all we ask or think," He does!  I expected a good "hard-working" husband, but a "workaholic" was the "above all we ask or think.”  Still, I would rather he be a workaholic than be a couch potato.

A thousand words can't even begin to describe the never-boring life I've "sometimes enjoyed and other times endured" with this fellow.  And his most notable attribute - he can fix almost anything.  The downside is that he finds it almost impossible to let things die.  So, for forty-eight years, I have been patching the patches on those old coveralls, and he has been resurrecting old Maytags to wash them in.  Folks, I have learned to choose my battles, so I wash our clothes in those slow, slow, slow agitating machines.  Still, unbeknownst to him, I often run the laundry through the wash and rinse cycle twice, but don't anyone reading this tell him.

Most importantly, the introductory picture didn't tell me how faithful he was/is to the Lord.  I would discover from Day One that he begins each day reading his Bible and ends the day writing in a daily journal.

...Now, about that journal thing...

He has recorded every disagreement we have ever had and all from his point of view.  I just hope that when my great-grandchildren read his accounts, they will not think, "Uh-huh, Frankie Silvers' blood ran through her veins.”

Yes, the accident that interrupted Dennis' long-ago journey was not an accident in the Lord's overall PLAN for Dennis and Sandy Onchuck.  Sometimes it seems like we have been "off the road" more than on.  Still, for the most part, those colored threads have brought more blessings than failures and more laughter than tears.


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You can share this on Facebook at this link.
]]>
[Image: sandyonchuck.jpg]
By:  Sandy Onchuck

We often see an accident that delays our travel plans as time lost, but it often becomes the circumstances for a "better life found."  Unexpected changes are the colored threads the Lord uses when weaving our life's tapestry.  The nine-day delay following Dennis’ accident in Alberta resulted in him crossing paths with numerous people traveling up the Alcan to Alaska.  One of those persons, Donna McConkey, (pictured below), would become Dennis' "matchmaker."  That thread would become the "multi-colored" strand that would forever change Dennis' life for the "BETTER" (my opinion, of course).

Dennis met Donna and her family about the second or third day after leaving the Reukerts in Beaver Lodge.  Donna and her family were headed to Alaska and were interested in homesteading.  The parties met in a small cafe on the Alcan and struck up a conversation.  Those who know Donna know she is as friendly as Dennis, and as they traveled up the highway, often stopping at the same campgrounds or to refuel, they forged a friendship that continues today.


.jpg   providentialdelays1.jpg (Size: 32.71 KB / Downloads: 972)
...Fast forward 14 months:  July 1974...

"Oh, Sandy, you've gotta meet Dennis Onchuck; you two would be perfect for each other," this was how Donna introduced me to the idea of meeting Dennis.  And, when you are a 27-year-old unclaimed blessing in a field of "culled" choices, your ears perk up.  Donna and her family had returned to South Carolina months earlier after their plans of settling in Alaska had fallen through.  I didn't have anything to lose, so I agreed.  Dennis wrote his first letter to me on July 12, 1974.  (No connection to my Dennis story, but July 12th commemorates the hanging of my great-great-great-grandmother, Frankie Silvers, the first woman legally hung in North Carolina in 1833 for murdering her husband).  Frankie's story has been shared in numerous books, such as The Ballad of Frankie Silvers by Sharyn McCrumb and The Untold Story of Frankie Silver by Perry Deane Young.  I didn't share this information with Dennis until we were blissfully married.  I also failed to mention that Frankie's daughter, Nancy, who was only 13 months old when Frankie killed her husband, “may” have murdered her second husband as well.  Curious about that story?  Then read A Life for Nancy by Riley Henry and Danita Stoudemire.  It is a historical fiction book but follows the storyline passed down by our grandparents.  They don't say in the book that Nancy murdered her second husband, but that is the general thought among some of her descendants.


.jpg   providentialdelays2.jpg (Size: 60.98 KB / Downloads: 1013)
...Now, back to my Dennis story...

I visualized this muscular, handsome, kind he-man from Donna's description.  I imagined and expected he would send a picture flexing his muscles with perhaps Mt. McKinley or wildlife in the background.  But no, not Dennis; instead, he was standing before a crashed C-130 Hercules at Galbraith Lake, Alaska, where he worked on the trans-Alaska pipeline.  They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but the only words I could come up with were, “Donna, what part of, 'you two would be perfect for each other' was I missing?"

Yes, I know you can't judge a book by its cover, in this case, "its coveralls," greasy, dirty coveralls at that, but I admit, I was tempted to close the book on this relationship before it had even begun.  But he said he would ask his mother to send a better picture, so I decided to wait and see how well he cleaned up.  That was one of my better choices in life because the following pictures caused my heart to flutter.  Despite his "out of date" crew cut, I thought he was a hunk.


.jpg   providentialdelays3.jpg (Size: 44.73 KB / Downloads: 990)
...Fast forward to the present:  2023...

Forty-eight years and a few old Maytags later, I realize the initial introductory picture said it ALL.  So, what does this picture say?  First, he is the most unpretentious man you will ever find - what you see is what you get.  He isn't out to impress anyone.  Secondly, he's not afraid of hard work.  That answered my youthful prayers for a good, hard-working husband.  I must note that when the Bible says God "will do above and beyond all we ask or think," He does!  I expected a good "hard-working" husband, but a "workaholic" was the "above all we ask or think.”  Still, I would rather he be a workaholic than be a couch potato.

A thousand words can't even begin to describe the never-boring life I've "sometimes enjoyed and other times endured" with this fellow.  And his most notable attribute - he can fix almost anything.  The downside is that he finds it almost impossible to let things die.  So, for forty-eight years, I have been patching the patches on those old coveralls, and he has been resurrecting old Maytags to wash them in.  Folks, I have learned to choose my battles, so I wash our clothes in those slow, slow, slow agitating machines.  Still, unbeknownst to him, I often run the laundry through the wash and rinse cycle twice, but don't anyone reading this tell him.

Most importantly, the introductory picture didn't tell me how faithful he was/is to the Lord.  I would discover from Day One that he begins each day reading his Bible and ends the day writing in a daily journal.

...Now, about that journal thing...

He has recorded every disagreement we have ever had and all from his point of view.  I just hope that when my great-grandchildren read his accounts, they will not think, "Uh-huh, Frankie Silvers' blood ran through her veins.”

Yes, the accident that interrupted Dennis' long-ago journey was not an accident in the Lord's overall PLAN for Dennis and Sandy Onchuck.  Sometimes it seems like we have been "off the road" more than on.  Still, for the most part, those colored threads have brought more blessings than failures and more laughter than tears.


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You can share this on Facebook at this link.
]]> <![CDATA[DENNIS' PIG LOT PURCHASE]]> https://www.mynorthernwisconsin.com/news/thread-356.html Mon, 24 Jul 2023 23:15:54 +0000 My Northern Wisconsin]]> https://www.mynorthernwisconsin.com/news/thread-356.html
Written by:  Sandy Onchuck

Unfortunately, the fellow that totaled out Dennis' car had no insurance, so he had no choice but to use some of the cash he had planned to homestead on to purchase another vehicle.  He could not afford the new or used car lot prices, so he went shopping in a “Pig Lot” (no autocorrect mistake here) - Yes, a pig lot!  (The pictures below show the old 1957 Chevy in the back of the lot before Dennis removed it).


.jpg   piglot1.jpg (Size: 63.75 KB / Downloads: 1103)

Some would say luckily, but I say providentially, Dewey and Jeannie remembered they had a neighbor, Tom Hatton, that had an old 1957 pickup he might be willing to sell to Dennis.  The problem, however, was that it had been abandoned in their old hog pen.  Yes, the rig was sitting in a foot of hog manure, and anyone familiar with hog manure knows the smell is quite the “SMELL.”

Tom was asking 200 American dollars for the truck, which fit Dennis' meager budget.  Most men would have walked away with a "no thanks."  They would have been either blinded by pride or defeated by fear.  Again - not Dennis.  Instead of focusing on the dirt and hard work, he saw the possibilities.  He envisioned turning the ole girl into a camper – perfect for batching it in Alaska.  The old ’57 had seen better days and required a lot of cleaning and some repairs, but Dennis, the ever-resourceful fellow that he was, got it cleaned up and roadworthy in record time.


.jpg   piglot2.jpg (Size: 43.1 KB / Downloads: 1088)

With Dewey and Jeannie Reuckert's help, he managed to jump through all the Wisconsin and Canadian hoops and get it legally licensed in the U.S.  So with his neck and bruises healed, he got back “On the Road Again” and headed for the land of the midnight sun.

The following year Dennis built a camper for the truck bed.  At that time, most of the Alcan was graveled, so to prevent dust from being sucked into the camper, he devised a way to pressurize it with filtered fresh air.  (See the below pictures)  He installed an engine air cleaner assembly on its right outside wall with a 12 volt, two-speed heater blower motor on the inside of the wall.  He had a two-speed switch mounted on the steering column, which he could control at will depending on the road conditions.  It was so effective that when he would hold a lighted match on the outside at any crack, it would be blown out.


.jpg   piglot3.jpg (Size: 54.04 KB / Downloads: 1116)

Years later I teasingly jested to him that it looked more like a doghouse than a camper, but, as they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and after all, it was the age of the hippies and the quest for all things simple.  While the ole girl may not have been a showroom beauty, she still served Dennis well for many years.

In 1983 when our children were still small, we became involved in the Christian Radio Ministry of VFCM headquartered in Nenana, Alaska.  We traveled up the Alcan in the ole girl pulling a travel trailer that we lived in for a month while Dennis helped with the construction of the studio building.  It was a great time, but we did experience one of those Dennis Onchuck "Off the Road" events.

As we were rolling into Ross, N.D. we smelled the odor of a hot lubricant.  We managed to coast down the hill right into the yard of an abandoned schoolhouse.  Unfazed by the seeming disaster, Dennis went to work jacking up the back end of the truck and replacing the pinion bearings and seals.  I gotta say, he may often end up off the road, but the good Lord has blessed him with a mechanical brain, so he manages to always get back on life's highway fairly quickly.  We were stranded in Ross for several days because the parts had to be ordered from a nearby town, but the breakdown turned out to be a wonderful time for the kids since the swings and playground equipment were still there in the schoolyard.


.jpg   piglot4.jpg (Size: 89.06 KB / Downloads: 1101)

The 1983 trip was just the beginning.  Dennis made numerous trips up the Alcan to Nenana with equipment and supplies for the radio station.  We still own the pickup, and I am confident some collector would gladly give us more than the original cost, but he isn’t ready to part with her yet, and I don’t think I am either.

Over the years I have crossed paths with several people that I thought were a lost cause just like the 1957 Chevy.  They were trapped in a pigpen of unwise choices, moral corruption, or substance abuse without worth or purpose.  But, just as Dennis rescued the old ’57, I was amazed when God delivered them from their hopeless existence as they turned to Him in faith…teaching me that no one is beyond the arm of the Lord.  It’s called Amazing Grace.

The next story will highlight Dennis meeting the matchmaker on the Alcan who will then introduce him to Sandy.]]>
Written by:  Sandy Onchuck

Unfortunately, the fellow that totaled out Dennis' car had no insurance, so he had no choice but to use some of the cash he had planned to homestead on to purchase another vehicle.  He could not afford the new or used car lot prices, so he went shopping in a “Pig Lot” (no autocorrect mistake here) - Yes, a pig lot!  (The pictures below show the old 1957 Chevy in the back of the lot before Dennis removed it).


.jpg   piglot1.jpg (Size: 63.75 KB / Downloads: 1103)

Some would say luckily, but I say providentially, Dewey and Jeannie remembered they had a neighbor, Tom Hatton, that had an old 1957 pickup he might be willing to sell to Dennis.  The problem, however, was that it had been abandoned in their old hog pen.  Yes, the rig was sitting in a foot of hog manure, and anyone familiar with hog manure knows the smell is quite the “SMELL.”

Tom was asking 200 American dollars for the truck, which fit Dennis' meager budget.  Most men would have walked away with a "no thanks."  They would have been either blinded by pride or defeated by fear.  Again - not Dennis.  Instead of focusing on the dirt and hard work, he saw the possibilities.  He envisioned turning the ole girl into a camper – perfect for batching it in Alaska.  The old ’57 had seen better days and required a lot of cleaning and some repairs, but Dennis, the ever-resourceful fellow that he was, got it cleaned up and roadworthy in record time.


.jpg   piglot2.jpg (Size: 43.1 KB / Downloads: 1088)

With Dewey and Jeannie Reuckert's help, he managed to jump through all the Wisconsin and Canadian hoops and get it legally licensed in the U.S.  So with his neck and bruises healed, he got back “On the Road Again” and headed for the land of the midnight sun.

The following year Dennis built a camper for the truck bed.  At that time, most of the Alcan was graveled, so to prevent dust from being sucked into the camper, he devised a way to pressurize it with filtered fresh air.  (See the below pictures)  He installed an engine air cleaner assembly on its right outside wall with a 12 volt, two-speed heater blower motor on the inside of the wall.  He had a two-speed switch mounted on the steering column, which he could control at will depending on the road conditions.  It was so effective that when he would hold a lighted match on the outside at any crack, it would be blown out.


.jpg   piglot3.jpg (Size: 54.04 KB / Downloads: 1116)

Years later I teasingly jested to him that it looked more like a doghouse than a camper, but, as they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and after all, it was the age of the hippies and the quest for all things simple.  While the ole girl may not have been a showroom beauty, she still served Dennis well for many years.

In 1983 when our children were still small, we became involved in the Christian Radio Ministry of VFCM headquartered in Nenana, Alaska.  We traveled up the Alcan in the ole girl pulling a travel trailer that we lived in for a month while Dennis helped with the construction of the studio building.  It was a great time, but we did experience one of those Dennis Onchuck "Off the Road" events.

As we were rolling into Ross, N.D. we smelled the odor of a hot lubricant.  We managed to coast down the hill right into the yard of an abandoned schoolhouse.  Unfazed by the seeming disaster, Dennis went to work jacking up the back end of the truck and replacing the pinion bearings and seals.  I gotta say, he may often end up off the road, but the good Lord has blessed him with a mechanical brain, so he manages to always get back on life's highway fairly quickly.  We were stranded in Ross for several days because the parts had to be ordered from a nearby town, but the breakdown turned out to be a wonderful time for the kids since the swings and playground equipment were still there in the schoolyard.


.jpg   piglot4.jpg (Size: 89.06 KB / Downloads: 1101)

The 1983 trip was just the beginning.  Dennis made numerous trips up the Alcan to Nenana with equipment and supplies for the radio station.  We still own the pickup, and I am confident some collector would gladly give us more than the original cost, but he isn’t ready to part with her yet, and I don’t think I am either.

Over the years I have crossed paths with several people that I thought were a lost cause just like the 1957 Chevy.  They were trapped in a pigpen of unwise choices, moral corruption, or substance abuse without worth or purpose.  But, just as Dennis rescued the old ’57, I was amazed when God delivered them from their hopeless existence as they turned to Him in faith…teaching me that no one is beyond the arm of the Lord.  It’s called Amazing Grace.

The next story will highlight Dennis meeting the matchmaker on the Alcan who will then introduce him to Sandy.]]> <![CDATA[THE JOURNEY INTERRUPTED]]> https://www.mynorthernwisconsin.com/news/thread-337.html Tue, 27 Jun 2023 07:49:21 +0000 My Northern Wisconsin]]> https://www.mynorthernwisconsin.com/news/thread-337.html
.jpg   DennisAndSandyOnchuck, Thumbnail.jpg (Size: 23.04 KB / Downloads: 1110)
Written by:  Sandy Onchuck

This is a continuation of the story, The Journey Begins.


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It was late morning on April 29, 1973.  The weather was perfect.  As Dennis was driving along enjoying the scenery and mulling over in his mind the adventure awaiting him, his world came to a crashing change.  He was just a few miles east of Grand Prairie, Alberta, Canada when suddenly he thought his vehicle was exploding.  Initially, he had no clue what had happened.  Even after he managed to kick the passenger door open and walk around the car he had no clue.


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Then suddenly, within a few seconds after exiting his vehicle, a car speeded up behind him, and the people excitedly jumped out yelling, "Are you okay?  Are you okay?”  They pointed back down the road.


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About half a mile away was a blue smashed-up vehicle they said had rear-ended him.  They had witnessed the whole crash.  They told Dennis the driver of the other car had passed them at an extremely high rate of speed before slamming into Dennis.  It had happened so fast that Dennis never saw the guy coming up behind him.  The above-left picture was taken from where Dennis’ Pontiac finally stopped.

Within a short time, ambulances came screaming to the scene to haul all the victims to the ER in Grand Prairie.  Dennis only had minor injuries, but the other fellows were not so lucky.  Dennis never did learn the extent of their injuries, only that they were critical.


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From the hospital ER in Grand Prairie, Dennis wrote these words in his journal, "It is 1:15 PM, April 29, 1973, and my trip and 1937 Pontiac has come to an end.  I was hit from behind so hard I thought my time had come."  He would later be told by RCMP that the guy was VERY drunk and driving around 100 MPH.

Most of us would have abandoned the dream right there and caught a bus for home.  NOT Dennis.  Some would say "coincidently," but I say "providentially," a former flight instructor, knowing Dennis would be traveling through Canada, had given him the name, address, and phone number of his relatives that lived in Beaver Lodge, Alberta.  HOW AMAZING is that?  A 3,200-mile journey and Dennis' accident was within 40 miles of Beaver Lodge.  He called these precious people, Jeannie and Dewey Reuckert, and they came and got him from the hospital.

They pulled his wrecked Pontiac back to their farm and graciously housed and took care of Dennis for a couple of weeks.  Dennis was never one to take advantage of anyone's hospitality, and having been raised on a farm was a big help to Dewey during this time.  Despite his bruises and neck brace, he picked rocks off the field, hauled grain to the elevator, and fixed fences.  The Reuckerts became lifelong friends with several visits back and forth through the years.


.jpg   Interrupted5.jpg (Size: 82.92 KB / Downloads: 1157)

This story can be shared on Facebook at this link.

Stay tuned for the next story, "Dennis’ Pig Lot Purchase," coming soon to Off the Road Again on My Price County / My Northern Wisconsin.]]>
.jpg   DennisAndSandyOnchuck, Thumbnail.jpg (Size: 23.04 KB / Downloads: 1110)
Written by:  Sandy Onchuck

This is a continuation of the story, The Journey Begins.


.jpg   Interrupted1.jpg (Size: 37.99 KB / Downloads: 1095)

It was late morning on April 29, 1973.  The weather was perfect.  As Dennis was driving along enjoying the scenery and mulling over in his mind the adventure awaiting him, his world came to a crashing change.  He was just a few miles east of Grand Prairie, Alberta, Canada when suddenly he thought his vehicle was exploding.  Initially, he had no clue what had happened.  Even after he managed to kick the passenger door open and walk around the car he had no clue.


.jpg   Interrupted2.jpg (Size: 68.11 KB / Downloads: 1139)

Then suddenly, within a few seconds after exiting his vehicle, a car speeded up behind him, and the people excitedly jumped out yelling, "Are you okay?  Are you okay?”  They pointed back down the road.


.jpg   Interrupted3.jpg (Size: 46.09 KB / Downloads: 1080)

About half a mile away was a blue smashed-up vehicle they said had rear-ended him.  They had witnessed the whole crash.  They told Dennis the driver of the other car had passed them at an extremely high rate of speed before slamming into Dennis.  It had happened so fast that Dennis never saw the guy coming up behind him.  The above-left picture was taken from where Dennis’ Pontiac finally stopped.

Within a short time, ambulances came screaming to the scene to haul all the victims to the ER in Grand Prairie.  Dennis only had minor injuries, but the other fellows were not so lucky.  Dennis never did learn the extent of their injuries, only that they were critical.


.jpg   Interrupted4.jpg (Size: 128.82 KB / Downloads: 1138)

From the hospital ER in Grand Prairie, Dennis wrote these words in his journal, "It is 1:15 PM, April 29, 1973, and my trip and 1937 Pontiac has come to an end.  I was hit from behind so hard I thought my time had come."  He would later be told by RCMP that the guy was VERY drunk and driving around 100 MPH.

Most of us would have abandoned the dream right there and caught a bus for home.  NOT Dennis.  Some would say "coincidently," but I say "providentially," a former flight instructor, knowing Dennis would be traveling through Canada, had given him the name, address, and phone number of his relatives that lived in Beaver Lodge, Alberta.  HOW AMAZING is that?  A 3,200-mile journey and Dennis' accident was within 40 miles of Beaver Lodge.  He called these precious people, Jeannie and Dewey Reuckert, and they came and got him from the hospital.

They pulled his wrecked Pontiac back to their farm and graciously housed and took care of Dennis for a couple of weeks.  Dennis was never one to take advantage of anyone's hospitality, and having been raised on a farm was a big help to Dewey during this time.  Despite his bruises and neck brace, he picked rocks off the field, hauled grain to the elevator, and fixed fences.  The Reuckerts became lifelong friends with several visits back and forth through the years.


.jpg   Interrupted5.jpg (Size: 82.92 KB / Downloads: 1157)

This story can be shared on Facebook at this link.

Stay tuned for the next story, "Dennis’ Pig Lot Purchase," coming soon to Off the Road Again on My Price County / My Northern Wisconsin.]]> <![CDATA[THE JOURNEY BEGINS]]> https://www.mynorthernwisconsin.com/news/thread-330.html Fri, 09 Jun 2023 07:03:17 +0000 My Northern Wisconsin]]> https://www.mynorthernwisconsin.com/news/thread-330.html Click here to read it first.


.jpg   DennisAndSandyOnchuck, Thumbnail.jpg (Size: 23.04 KB / Downloads: 945)
Written by:  Sandy Onchuck


.jpg   thejourneybegins.jpg (Size: 119.08 KB / Downloads: 944)

Shortly after the July ’72 flight to Alaska, Dennis was determined to return to the land he had fallen in love with and homestead there.  He spent months preparing for this adventure and was eager to see what awaited him in the last frontier.  He planned to drive his parents’ old 1937 Pontiac, which they had purchased in the late ’50s for $85.00.  Even the bravest of men might have rethought driving a vehicle that old on the Alcan Highway, but not Dennis.

He had the ole girl in tip-top shape, even replacing the fuel line hours before his departure.  He had initially put Plexiglas over the windshield but almost got seasick driving to town and back and decided that was not a “go.”  But he was prepared, from the screen bolted to the front bumper to protect the headlights and radiator to the homemade top carrier.

Once he decided to move he methodically began gathering equipment and gear that he would need to survive during his first year of the new life in the wilderness.  This included a one-man cross-cut saw, axes, an adze for hewing logs to build a cabin, a spade, a hoe for gardening, and smaller hand tools for construction and other miscellaneous needs.  Household items included cast iron frying pans and pots, a campfire stove, bed rolls, and kerosene lamps.  He took three rifles, ammunition, a fishing rod and reel, several traps, and snowshoes.

He hoped to get some property near Mt. McKinley and live in a 9 x 12 camping tent while he was erecting a small log cabin.  During the three months of Alaskan summer with all the daylight hours, he expected to accomplish a great deal; such as planting and harvesting a garden and building a cabin.  I think his expectations at 25 were unrealistic, but the one thing that sets him apart from others is the fact he has always dreamed big and has accomplished more than the average man.

Many of the youth in the 1970s were disillusioned with life and just wanted to get away from it all.  Dennis had no such thoughts.  He loved life, but like many outdoorsmen, he just wanted to experience the wilderness.  The trip to Alaska the previous year had sealed it for him, and the lure of the great outdoors was drawing him.

The last entry in his journal the night before he left Phillips read, ”Well, my friends, this is the last night I will be writing at the kitchen table until only the LORD knows.  May HE lead and guide me through all I must face in the times ahead.”

It had been five days since he had left home and several days since he had crossed the border into Canada.  He had enjoyed a brief visit in Minnesota with Charles and Juanita Peterson whom he had met the previous year when he and the guys had been stranded in Fort St. John.  He was enjoying every minute as he traveled along.  He was only a few miles east of Grand Prairie, Alberta when BOOM!!!  The old Pontiac lunged forward.  He frantically pumped the brake pedal but to no avail.  It took all his strength just to keep it on the road until it coasted to a stop, which took at least half a mile.  As he was struggling to keep it on the road his mechanic mind was trying to figure out what was going on.  He thought maybe his fuel tank exploded, but no, the car was not on fire.

When he finally came to a stop he realized he was trapped.  The driver’s side door was jammed and all the backseat contents were now scattered all over.  All the boxed-up gear was pushed forward trapping him inside.  It took a while but he finally managed to clear enough of the debris away from the passenger door and kick it open.  After he finally exited and walked around the vehicle he was totally baffled about what had just happened…

....The story is "to be continued" in the next publication.  Watch the Off the Road Again column for future stories.

You can share this on Facebook by clicking this link and clicking "Share."]]> Click here to read it first.


.jpg   DennisAndSandyOnchuck, Thumbnail.jpg (Size: 23.04 KB / Downloads: 945)
Written by:  Sandy Onchuck


.jpg   thejourneybegins.jpg (Size: 119.08 KB / Downloads: 944)

Shortly after the July ’72 flight to Alaska, Dennis was determined to return to the land he had fallen in love with and homestead there.  He spent months preparing for this adventure and was eager to see what awaited him in the last frontier.  He planned to drive his parents’ old 1937 Pontiac, which they had purchased in the late ’50s for $85.00.  Even the bravest of men might have rethought driving a vehicle that old on the Alcan Highway, but not Dennis.

He had the ole girl in tip-top shape, even replacing the fuel line hours before his departure.  He had initially put Plexiglas over the windshield but almost got seasick driving to town and back and decided that was not a “go.”  But he was prepared, from the screen bolted to the front bumper to protect the headlights and radiator to the homemade top carrier.

Once he decided to move he methodically began gathering equipment and gear that he would need to survive during his first year of the new life in the wilderness.  This included a one-man cross-cut saw, axes, an adze for hewing logs to build a cabin, a spade, a hoe for gardening, and smaller hand tools for construction and other miscellaneous needs.  Household items included cast iron frying pans and pots, a campfire stove, bed rolls, and kerosene lamps.  He took three rifles, ammunition, a fishing rod and reel, several traps, and snowshoes.

He hoped to get some property near Mt. McKinley and live in a 9 x 12 camping tent while he was erecting a small log cabin.  During the three months of Alaskan summer with all the daylight hours, he expected to accomplish a great deal; such as planting and harvesting a garden and building a cabin.  I think his expectations at 25 were unrealistic, but the one thing that sets him apart from others is the fact he has always dreamed big and has accomplished more than the average man.

Many of the youth in the 1970s were disillusioned with life and just wanted to get away from it all.  Dennis had no such thoughts.  He loved life, but like many outdoorsmen, he just wanted to experience the wilderness.  The trip to Alaska the previous year had sealed it for him, and the lure of the great outdoors was drawing him.

The last entry in his journal the night before he left Phillips read, ”Well, my friends, this is the last night I will be writing at the kitchen table until only the LORD knows.  May HE lead and guide me through all I must face in the times ahead.”

It had been five days since he had left home and several days since he had crossed the border into Canada.  He had enjoyed a brief visit in Minnesota with Charles and Juanita Peterson whom he had met the previous year when he and the guys had been stranded in Fort St. John.  He was enjoying every minute as he traveled along.  He was only a few miles east of Grand Prairie, Alberta when BOOM!!!  The old Pontiac lunged forward.  He frantically pumped the brake pedal but to no avail.  It took all his strength just to keep it on the road until it coasted to a stop, which took at least half a mile.  As he was struggling to keep it on the road his mechanic mind was trying to figure out what was going on.  He thought maybe his fuel tank exploded, but no, the car was not on fire.

When he finally came to a stop he realized he was trapped.  The driver’s side door was jammed and all the backseat contents were now scattered all over.  All the boxed-up gear was pushed forward trapping him inside.  It took a while but he finally managed to clear enough of the debris away from the passenger door and kick it open.  After he finally exited and walked around the vehicle he was totally baffled about what had just happened…

....The story is "to be continued" in the next publication.  Watch the Off the Road Again column for future stories.

You can share this on Facebook by clicking this link and clicking "Share."]]> <![CDATA[NORTH TO ALASKA]]> https://www.mynorthernwisconsin.com/news/thread-328.html Wed, 31 May 2023 10:12:07 +0000 My Northern Wisconsin]]> https://www.mynorthernwisconsin.com/news/thread-328.html
.jpg   DennisAndSandyOnchuck, Thumbnail.jpg (Size: 23.04 KB / Downloads: 1127)
Written by:  Sandy Onchuck


.jpg   NorthToAlaska1.jpg (Size: 128.5 KB / Downloads: 1173)

This was quite an undertaking for these young fellows.  The word got around about their departure plans, and they were surprised at the interest and the number of friends and family from Lugerville, Phillips, Park Falls, and even Ladysmith that came out to the airport to see them off.

While this adventurous trip has been long forgotten by the community, mainly because many of the family and friends involved have now passed on, still, I thought the readers of My Price County would enjoy this story from 50 years ago.

Jerry Niebauer, a Park Falls native and cousin to Dennis, was 26 at the time, and even though he had a history of motion sickness, he was gung-ho when Dennis approached him about this adventure.

The following paragraphs are his recollection of the trip:  Even before reaching Aberdeen, SD we were enveloped by massive, dark clouds and being tossed around like a feather in the wind.  Duane Grant and I were sitting in the back while Dave Tarcon was upfront in the right seat serving as the co-pilot/map reader.  I couldn’t hear anything over the plane engine, but could tell Dennis was praying out loud for safety.

One of the most unforgettable moments happened when we were flying into Edmonton, Alberta.  The Aberdeen airport was small with small airplanes.  This airport was large, and I was fascinated by the large planes.  I watched as Denny began the descent, and as we approached the landing strip, I could see something was wrong.  I could tell something was happening that was making Denny and Dave quite excited.  All along Denny was speaking with the tower as we were heading down for our landing, but again, because of engine noise, I couldn’t hear what messages were coming over the radio or Denny’s responses.  I vaguely remember that at some point before touching down I understood that we were in communication with the tower for another airport.  Yes, we were headed straight toward a landing strip at a major airport that wasn’t expecting us, and worse yet there was another airport somewhere in the city that had heard Denny announce that we were heading in for a landing, but we were nowhere in sight.  Thankfully, before the wheels touched the ground, Denny and Dave realized this strategic error and Denny abruptly pulled the nose of the plane up and veered off to the right…or...left.. I couldn’t tell you which way or what happened after that.


.jpg   NorthToAlaska2.jpg (Size: 47.08 KB / Downloads: 1115)

Our planned route was to follow the Alcan up to Fort St. John in British Columbia and then fly into Watson Lake in the Yukon Territory before flying on to Alaska.  We made it to Fort St. John before our *best-laid plan* hit a snag.  A weather system moved in and since we were relying on visibility and not equipped with radar, we were forced to hunker down - and for 3 days we did.  We spent long hours visiting with other stranded pilots, checking the weather, and playing cards.  We slept in our sleeping bags on the concrete floor in a large hangar.  I don't remember if we could buy meals from vending machines, but I do recall we shared a tea bag way too many times to really call it tea.

We, along with several other pilots, did attempt to leave Fort St. John and fly up a river valley beneath the clouds into Watson Lake.  We were able to fly quite a distance, but eventually, the valley wall got higher or the clouds came down farther, and we hit a wall of thick, white fluffy clouds.  This entailed a fast banking swoop to the left following the other 4 or 5 other planes.  It also entailed the pulling out of the long plastic bag.  I didn't have to use it, but I did feel green.

But that was when Denny and three other pilots decided to put together a plan to fly east around the weather system rather than following the Alcan.  The positive part of this plan was that we could fly east to Great Slave Lake and then follow the mighty Mackenzie River up to the Arctic Circle and Inuvik, Canada.


.jpg   NorthToAlaska3.jpg (Size: 74.63 KB / Downloads: 1132)

The sky was clear and the sun shined brightly as we flew east to Great Slave Lake.  From there we flew to Ft. Simpson.  I don't recall where the airport was located, but I remember that landing well.  We were the second of the four planes to attempt a landing.  As Denny tipped down and approached the runway, he animatedly called our attention to the airstrip.  It was not grass or hard-packed sand, but MUD, lots of it….Deep, soft, dangerous MUD.  Denny quickly had me and Duane pull out the sleeping bags behind us and place them between us and the front seat.  Obviously, Denny wasn’t sure how this landing was going to turn out.  The plane in front of us hit the mud, lost control, and spun off to the right.  We were next.  We made it and were safe, but the airplane did not fare as well.


.jpg   NorthToAlaska4.jpg (Size: 101.53 KB / Downloads: 1175)

* This is what Dennis recorded in his journal about this landing:  Thankfully, the Apache didn’t flip, but the nose gear retraction link was bent because of the mud.  From that point on there was a loud bang every time the landing gear was retracted.  Needless to say, the takeoff from there was one muddy mess.  He also noted that while the hold-up in Fort St. John and the messy landing at Fort Simpson were not fun, the friendships made there were wonderful.

Both Jerry and Dennis agree the rest of the northerly trip up the magnificent Mackenzie River to the small Eskimo village of Inuvik in the Northwest Territory, Canada was uneventful and the scenery was awesome.  They arrived around midnight in the land of the never-setting sun to find the whole village outside and wide awake.  The adults were congregating in groups talking, and the dogs and kids were running around playing games and making lots of noise like children do everywhere (just not at midnight).  They put up their tent and tried sleeping with the sun shining and zillions of mosquitoes buzzing around the tent door.

From the Inuvik, they flew diagonally to Fairbanks, then on to Talkeetna, Alaska.  Duane Grant was 16 at the time, and he recalls this being one of the highlights of the trip.  Someone drove them to a place on Fish Creek owned by a lady named Evil Alice (named such because she was a fighter against corruption in government).  The Salmon were running, a sight none of the fellows had ever witnessed.  They had a blast using landing nets to scoop up a ton of fish and the next morning they enjoyed a breakfast feast prepared by the owners of the Talkeetna Motel who graciously cooked up the catch from the day before.


.jpg   NorthToAlaska5.jpg (Size: 60.79 KB / Downloads: 1173)

Unbeknownst to the guys at the time, Dave’s parents had been notified in the middle of the night by an FAA official their plane had been reported as missing.  This was 1972, years before cell phones and the Internet, so the fellows had no communication with home until they arrived in Anchorage.  The call had come from a former Kennan native, Fran Balsis, who was an official of the FAA in Eau Claire.  He must have gotten on this immediately and tracked the guys down because neither Dave nor his sister, Cindy, remember their folks being traumatized.  Dennis remembers the error came because a Canadian air controller failed to cancel a changed flight plan.


.jpg   NorthToAlaska6.jpg (Size: 52.42 KB / Downloads: 1169)

A highlight for all of the guys was flying close to Mt. McKinley, presently known as Denali.  An incredible view few people will ever enjoy.

When I asked Dave Tarcon what he remembered about this trip he humorously wrote:  The trip was either too uneventful or too traumatic to think about.  I do remember meeting Tennessee Ernie Ford in the terminal restroom.  He was using the urinal next to me, and we discussed the fishing vacation he was on.  He was shorter than he looked on TV, but he was a real gentleman. *Only Dave!

He also wrote this:  FYI, the Piper Apache is unique in that it does not require a "key" to start the engines.  Unfortunately, we experienced this fact after we took off from Homer Airport with the "keys" hanging from the baggage door lock.  We enjoyed our second visit to Homer on the same day.

Another mishap occurred after one of their stops that was a little disconcerting.  They had no more than gotten airborne when the door flew open on the Apache because they failed to lock it on takeoff.  Dennis wrote in his journal that it was all they could do to manage to get it partially shut and keep the aircraft under control.  So he circled around, landed, shut the door, and took off again.

After visiting Dave’s relatives in Anchorage for a few days, they headed back to Phillips.  All in all it had been a great trip.  Despite the delays and mishaps, the guys had a great time, and several weeks after their return over 60 people gathered at the Lugerville School to watch their slides and hear all about their adventure.


.jpg   NorthToAlaska7.jpg (Size: 67.23 KB / Downloads: 1164)

This Alaskan adventure changed the direction of Dennis' life forever.  On March 30, 1973, he recorded these words in his journal:  Well, my friends, as I pen these words, I am no longer an employee of the Price County Highway Dept.  However, I feel that the good Lord is with me 100%, and I look forward to whatever befalls me with a courage that is great and strong, and I pray I will never falter.

He left for Alaska on April 24, 1973 to follow his heart.  He never looked back or regretted that decision.  I will be sharing more of his Off the Road Again stories in the Off the Road Again Column on My Price County.]]>
.jpg   DennisAndSandyOnchuck, Thumbnail.jpg (Size: 23.04 KB / Downloads: 1127)
Written by:  Sandy Onchuck


.jpg   NorthToAlaska1.jpg (Size: 128.5 KB / Downloads: 1173)

This was quite an undertaking for these young fellows.  The word got around about their departure plans, and they were surprised at the interest and the number of friends and family from Lugerville, Phillips, Park Falls, and even Ladysmith that came out to the airport to see them off.

While this adventurous trip has been long forgotten by the community, mainly because many of the family and friends involved have now passed on, still, I thought the readers of My Price County would enjoy this story from 50 years ago.

Jerry Niebauer, a Park Falls native and cousin to Dennis, was 26 at the time, and even though he had a history of motion sickness, he was gung-ho when Dennis approached him about this adventure.

The following paragraphs are his recollection of the trip:  Even before reaching Aberdeen, SD we were enveloped by massive, dark clouds and being tossed around like a feather in the wind.  Duane Grant and I were sitting in the back while Dave Tarcon was upfront in the right seat serving as the co-pilot/map reader.  I couldn’t hear anything over the plane engine, but could tell Dennis was praying out loud for safety.

One of the most unforgettable moments happened when we were flying into Edmonton, Alberta.  The Aberdeen airport was small with small airplanes.  This airport was large, and I was fascinated by the large planes.  I watched as Denny began the descent, and as we approached the landing strip, I could see something was wrong.  I could tell something was happening that was making Denny and Dave quite excited.  All along Denny was speaking with the tower as we were heading down for our landing, but again, because of engine noise, I couldn’t hear what messages were coming over the radio or Denny’s responses.  I vaguely remember that at some point before touching down I understood that we were in communication with the tower for another airport.  Yes, we were headed straight toward a landing strip at a major airport that wasn’t expecting us, and worse yet there was another airport somewhere in the city that had heard Denny announce that we were heading in for a landing, but we were nowhere in sight.  Thankfully, before the wheels touched the ground, Denny and Dave realized this strategic error and Denny abruptly pulled the nose of the plane up and veered off to the right…or...left.. I couldn’t tell you which way or what happened after that.


.jpg   NorthToAlaska2.jpg (Size: 47.08 KB / Downloads: 1115)

Our planned route was to follow the Alcan up to Fort St. John in British Columbia and then fly into Watson Lake in the Yukon Territory before flying on to Alaska.  We made it to Fort St. John before our *best-laid plan* hit a snag.  A weather system moved in and since we were relying on visibility and not equipped with radar, we were forced to hunker down - and for 3 days we did.  We spent long hours visiting with other stranded pilots, checking the weather, and playing cards.  We slept in our sleeping bags on the concrete floor in a large hangar.  I don't remember if we could buy meals from vending machines, but I do recall we shared a tea bag way too many times to really call it tea.

We, along with several other pilots, did attempt to leave Fort St. John and fly up a river valley beneath the clouds into Watson Lake.  We were able to fly quite a distance, but eventually, the valley wall got higher or the clouds came down farther, and we hit a wall of thick, white fluffy clouds.  This entailed a fast banking swoop to the left following the other 4 or 5 other planes.  It also entailed the pulling out of the long plastic bag.  I didn't have to use it, but I did feel green.

But that was when Denny and three other pilots decided to put together a plan to fly east around the weather system rather than following the Alcan.  The positive part of this plan was that we could fly east to Great Slave Lake and then follow the mighty Mackenzie River up to the Arctic Circle and Inuvik, Canada.


.jpg   NorthToAlaska3.jpg (Size: 74.63 KB / Downloads: 1132)

The sky was clear and the sun shined brightly as we flew east to Great Slave Lake.  From there we flew to Ft. Simpson.  I don't recall where the airport was located, but I remember that landing well.  We were the second of the four planes to attempt a landing.  As Denny tipped down and approached the runway, he animatedly called our attention to the airstrip.  It was not grass or hard-packed sand, but MUD, lots of it….Deep, soft, dangerous MUD.  Denny quickly had me and Duane pull out the sleeping bags behind us and place them between us and the front seat.  Obviously, Denny wasn’t sure how this landing was going to turn out.  The plane in front of us hit the mud, lost control, and spun off to the right.  We were next.  We made it and were safe, but the airplane did not fare as well.


.jpg   NorthToAlaska4.jpg (Size: 101.53 KB / Downloads: 1175)

* This is what Dennis recorded in his journal about this landing:  Thankfully, the Apache didn’t flip, but the nose gear retraction link was bent because of the mud.  From that point on there was a loud bang every time the landing gear was retracted.  Needless to say, the takeoff from there was one muddy mess.  He also noted that while the hold-up in Fort St. John and the messy landing at Fort Simpson were not fun, the friendships made there were wonderful.

Both Jerry and Dennis agree the rest of the northerly trip up the magnificent Mackenzie River to the small Eskimo village of Inuvik in the Northwest Territory, Canada was uneventful and the scenery was awesome.  They arrived around midnight in the land of the never-setting sun to find the whole village outside and wide awake.  The adults were congregating in groups talking, and the dogs and kids were running around playing games and making lots of noise like children do everywhere (just not at midnight).  They put up their tent and tried sleeping with the sun shining and zillions of mosquitoes buzzing around the tent door.

From the Inuvik, they flew diagonally to Fairbanks, then on to Talkeetna, Alaska.  Duane Grant was 16 at the time, and he recalls this being one of the highlights of the trip.  Someone drove them to a place on Fish Creek owned by a lady named Evil Alice (named such because she was a fighter against corruption in government).  The Salmon were running, a sight none of the fellows had ever witnessed.  They had a blast using landing nets to scoop up a ton of fish and the next morning they enjoyed a breakfast feast prepared by the owners of the Talkeetna Motel who graciously cooked up the catch from the day before.


.jpg   NorthToAlaska5.jpg (Size: 60.79 KB / Downloads: 1173)

Unbeknownst to the guys at the time, Dave’s parents had been notified in the middle of the night by an FAA official their plane had been reported as missing.  This was 1972, years before cell phones and the Internet, so the fellows had no communication with home until they arrived in Anchorage.  The call had come from a former Kennan native, Fran Balsis, who was an official of the FAA in Eau Claire.  He must have gotten on this immediately and tracked the guys down because neither Dave nor his sister, Cindy, remember their folks being traumatized.  Dennis remembers the error came because a Canadian air controller failed to cancel a changed flight plan.


.jpg   NorthToAlaska6.jpg (Size: 52.42 KB / Downloads: 1169)

A highlight for all of the guys was flying close to Mt. McKinley, presently known as Denali.  An incredible view few people will ever enjoy.

When I asked Dave Tarcon what he remembered about this trip he humorously wrote:  The trip was either too uneventful or too traumatic to think about.  I do remember meeting Tennessee Ernie Ford in the terminal restroom.  He was using the urinal next to me, and we discussed the fishing vacation he was on.  He was shorter than he looked on TV, but he was a real gentleman. *Only Dave!

He also wrote this:  FYI, the Piper Apache is unique in that it does not require a "key" to start the engines.  Unfortunately, we experienced this fact after we took off from Homer Airport with the "keys" hanging from the baggage door lock.  We enjoyed our second visit to Homer on the same day.

Another mishap occurred after one of their stops that was a little disconcerting.  They had no more than gotten airborne when the door flew open on the Apache because they failed to lock it on takeoff.  Dennis wrote in his journal that it was all they could do to manage to get it partially shut and keep the aircraft under control.  So he circled around, landed, shut the door, and took off again.

After visiting Dave’s relatives in Anchorage for a few days, they headed back to Phillips.  All in all it had been a great trip.  Despite the delays and mishaps, the guys had a great time, and several weeks after their return over 60 people gathered at the Lugerville School to watch their slides and hear all about their adventure.


.jpg   NorthToAlaska7.jpg (Size: 67.23 KB / Downloads: 1164)

This Alaskan adventure changed the direction of Dennis' life forever.  On March 30, 1973, he recorded these words in his journal:  Well, my friends, as I pen these words, I am no longer an employee of the Price County Highway Dept.  However, I feel that the good Lord is with me 100%, and I look forward to whatever befalls me with a courage that is great and strong, and I pray I will never falter.

He left for Alaska on April 24, 1973 to follow his heart.  He never looked back or regretted that decision.  I will be sharing more of his Off the Road Again stories in the Off the Road Again Column on My Price County.]]> <![CDATA[NEW COLUMN, OFF THE ROAD AGAIN, BY SANDY ONCHUCK, ON MY PRICE COUNTY]]> https://www.mynorthernwisconsin.com/news/thread-327.html Wed, 31 May 2023 10:10:57 +0000 My Northern Wisconsin]]> https://www.mynorthernwisconsin.com/news/thread-327.html
.jpg   DennisAndSandyOnchuck, New Column Introduced.jpg (Size: 49.04 KB / Downloads: 1326)

My Price County is pleased to announce a new column, Off the Road Again, (click the link to see all the stories and then click on the story you want to read), which will be written by Sandy Onchuck.  Much of Sandy’s column will describe the adventures of her husband, Dennis.

She said, “Our family often jests about how his travels put him ‘On the Road Again,’ but if his life were put to a song it would be titled, 'Off the Road Again.'  Dennis is a man’s man with deep faith.  Perhaps it’s this trust in his Creator, God, that gives him the courage try where others dare not go.  My goal is to share his real-life adventures and other family-related and inspirational stories that will bring smiles, and maybe even a few tears, but hopefully all will serve as an encouragement to the reader.”

We appreciate Sandy accepting our offer to publish her stories on My Price County and hope you all enjoy them as much as she enjoys writing them and Dennis enjoys sharing his life through her writing.

Read the stories in Sandy's column:

North to Alaska

The Journey Begins

The Journey Interrupted

Dennis' Pig Lot Purchase

Providential Delays

Dennis, The Good Samaritan

The Winter that Wasn't]]>
.jpg   DennisAndSandyOnchuck, New Column Introduced.jpg (Size: 49.04 KB / Downloads: 1326)

My Price County is pleased to announce a new column, Off the Road Again, (click the link to see all the stories and then click on the story you want to read), which will be written by Sandy Onchuck.  Much of Sandy’s column will describe the adventures of her husband, Dennis.

She said, “Our family often jests about how his travels put him ‘On the Road Again,’ but if his life were put to a song it would be titled, 'Off the Road Again.'  Dennis is a man’s man with deep faith.  Perhaps it’s this trust in his Creator, God, that gives him the courage try where others dare not go.  My goal is to share his real-life adventures and other family-related and inspirational stories that will bring smiles, and maybe even a few tears, but hopefully all will serve as an encouragement to the reader.”

We appreciate Sandy accepting our offer to publish her stories on My Price County and hope you all enjoy them as much as she enjoys writing them and Dennis enjoys sharing his life through her writing.

Read the stories in Sandy's column:

North to Alaska

The Journey Begins

The Journey Interrupted

Dennis' Pig Lot Purchase

Providential Delays

Dennis, The Good Samaritan

The Winter that Wasn't]]>