"Here's we go again, looking for more CD 151's. Again my wife is at my side as we walk along the tracks deep in the heart of the delta when we spot a suspect pole with the likes of the famed CD 151. With my field glasses in hand I brace myself on the shoulder of my wife and begin to focus in on one of the snowiest looking 151's I've ever seen. 

Unfortunately for us, it was atop a pretty tall pole by my standards, which by now my wife was having a fit over me climbing it at any time. Which by the way, is not a good idea, especially with a railroad security guard approaching us wanting to know what the two of us are doing out there anyway. He promptly urged us to leave the area at once, which we did, reluctantly. 

By the time we arrived back home I had concocted a plan that Brian, my son, and I would go back later that night and pick that jewel in the cloak of darkness. As evening slowly turned to dusk, we were both as anxious as a couple of trick-or-treators. So with my son in the truck we headed off to the heart of the delta once again, after almost an hour's drive one way we finally reached our destination, the forbidden pole, but this time with the cloak of darkness and a good flashlight.

Unbeknownst to us, the night watchman was rapidly closing in on us. "Who goes there", came a deep voice from the darkness behind another flashlight. I replied, "Who wants to know?" By then we were almost face to face. Admittedly I was a bit nervous about this confrontation when he asked what we were doing out there at night. I had no idea at the time what to say. But I sure wasn't going to tell him about any pole climbing activities we were about to embark upon, so I blurted out that we were scouting for bullfrogs in the delta. 

Well, that seemed to put the night watchman at ease. He proceeded to tell us in a lengthy conversation that he hadn't heard any out there and, as usual, urged us out of the area. 

By now I was, as you might imagine, fit to be tied, twice trying and with four hours of driving and still no insulator. As we drove off into the night, we both came up with a surefire plan to pick that jewel the following night.

Now this is where it gets nuts. But the tracks and poles were right beside a boat dock which would allow us to come in from the proverbial back door, behind the night watchman. Ahh, the plot thickens.

With a one-man rubber raft barely big enough for me, Brian and I headed back out the next night sure to rescue that insulator from eventual doom, or worse, from someone else's collection. 

After using the dock to shove off, I began to paddle myself in circle for a while until getting the hang of it. After about twenty minutes of a raft trip that should have taken five minutes, the slapstick raft ride finally came to rest where I had set out: behind the night watchman and twenty feet from the pole. 

And if that's not enough, I've still got to shinny up that pole in the dark. Well, I'm not in the best of physical shape, and climbing a pole like that was the last time for me. But patience and persistence, and a little moral support from my son, paid off. Proof that the "third time is a charm" is this insulator: