An Ode to Ginny Diegel

Recently we shared a fun snapshot of Virginia (Ginny) Denecke-Diegel during her first summer away from home in Yellowstone, and it prompted the Diegel Brothers to do a bit more of a full bio of her, because – like our dad – she led a fascinating life very much on her own terms, but unlike our dear old dad, Ginny is still around to fact-check our stuff to ensure its accuracy!  This is the first of likely several posts, cleverly designed to be posted around Mother’s Day!. 

Ginny was born in the humble town of Rock Island, Illinois on the banks of the mighty Mississippi into a family of pretty conservative parents and as the 10-year-younger sister of an overachiever brother (Arno, who later became an artillery officer in WW II, a lawyer, a judge, and the Chief Justice of the Oregon State Supreme Court before “retiring” into mediation for General Motors, among others).  Ginny was a bit of a wild child, emulating Huck Finn in gallivanting on the river, and the trips that she took with her family out west to the national parks and her rebellious nature made her determined to leave the flatlands and head for the mountains as soon as she could. 

As she was growing up, her family did a lot of road trips, a very different deal then with rough roads, flat tires, and slow cars. A trip to Rocky Mountain National Park when she was about 10 made a big impression on her. Coming from Illinois, she was taken by the 3 dimensional landscape of Colorado and all the outdoor recreation opportunities. Her mother didn’t share her excitement, adding to the tension between them. 

Ginny keen to rage around the park; Gertie not so much!

Going back to the flatlands limited her outdoor activities, although she did become a lifeguard and, with some high school friends, drove upstream a ways with canoes and spent several days floating back down the Mississippi to Rock Island. Visits to iconic American destinations like Washington DC and the Grand Canyon further whet her appetite for adventure.

During her freshman year in college, her father connected her with a friend who was recruiting summer workers for National Parks and, as soon as classes ended in the spring, she found herself on a train to Yellowstone.  Being on her own, waiting tables, exploring the park, hitchhiking to Jackson for excitement on days off, dating cowboys, and learning to toss rocks and bang pots at bears to clear a path home through the Old Faithful Village after the restaurants shut down at night rocked her world.

The waitressing job that she had at Yellowstone had an inauspicious end; some time after the lost cork incident she described in the recent blog post she was racing around the dining room trying to effectively service her customers, but one guy was determined to get her to address his needs by waving and snapping his fingers in her direction and incessantly hollering “Girlie!  Over here!  Girlie!”  She finally raged over to him, said “yes, sir, how can I help you?”  as she simultaneously poured hot coffee down the back of his neck!  Needless to say, this fiery young woman was transferred to a different job with reduced access to dangerous items shortly thereafter.

When her older brother got a faculty job at the University of Oregon, she wasted no time in packing her bags, transferring her Augustana College credits to the University of Oregon, and trading the Midwest for Eugene and the Cascade range. 

Heading for Oregon!

Taking a PE skiing class seemed like a good idea, and she quickly fell in love with skiing in the low elevation Cascades, truly an acquired taste. She was tall and athletic and pretty quickly fell in love with ski racing, not enough to make the big time but enough to still proudly introduce herself as a downhill racer. School inevitably came to an end and she found herself with an English Lit degree, sharing an apartment in Portland with several girlfriends from school, working a series of sales, teaching, and secretarial jobs, and spending her free time climbing (“I wasn’t all that keen on climbing but I made a lot of good friends and the guys were really cute”) and skiing (“I was a good skier; better than your dad, I think”).

That's a lot of ski underfoot! 

 She was active in the venerable Cascade Ski Club and in 1952 was named the Ski Princess of Oregon, entitling her to a hosted trip to Aspen to compete in the famous Winterskol competition: a week of wining, dining, skijoring, ski racing, and general partying in one of the ultimate winter party towns.  Not so fast, said her boss: you have important dictation to take and letters to type.  Sorry, no time off for you.

This cute young thing wasn't going to be told she couldn't got to Aspen!

 So the next week, freshly unemployed, she found herself in Aspen. The week-long festivities are still burned into her brain. She is still a little grumpy about not winning the Queen competition (“There was another girl who wasn’t a very good skier but was better looking and more popular.  It didn’t seem very fair”). 

At the end of the week, she realized she needed a plan for what to do next.  With no job waiting for her, she did what came naturally – she headed to Alta for a while, staying at the Peruvian Lodge (“Huh!  It hasn’t changed much since I was last here 56 years ago.”). She drifted West to Sun Valley, hung out and skied there until one day she bumped into a ski friend from Portland that was heading home in a few days and had an empty car seat. She created a bit of a stir among her friends and family when she got home - that was an era in which quitting your job to go on the road ski bumming was just not done, and certainly not by a woman.

Back in Portland, she found another job and continued hanging out with an enthusiastic outdoor-oriented group, staying busy backpacking, fishing, climbing, and skiing. This was shortly after the end of WW II, there weren’t a lot of people recreating in the mountains, and the equipment was pretty crude:” mostly WW II surplus. Trails were not well established, guidebooks didn’t exist, and access roads were rough. Subarus and Toyota Tacomas weren’t available and every weekend outing included some combination of putting chains on the Chevy sedan, getting stuck anyway, several flat tires, and the random failed fuel pump or ignition that needed impromptu fixing.  

Her outdoor tribe was a blissful and innocent group of men (war vets) and women who were not yet paired up, with rumored hot fishing lakes, new climbing routes, and rare windows of weather suitable for skiing the high NW volcanoes all prioritized higher than romance. Ginny mortified her friends and infuriated her family when she did a several week road trip back to the Midwest for some family business with Paul C  Diegel, one of the many handsome young guys she skied and climbed with. Two young single people of opposing genders just didn’t do that sort of thing back then. Introducing her dashing single older friend with his whiskey flask, cigarettes, Naval-office and Harvard-educated attitude, and flashy souped-up Lincoln convertible to her conservative Methodist parents after 2 weeks on the road together didn’t go well at all. Even her progressive big brother challenged her judgment.  She somehow assured everyone that this was not a big deal; that they were just friends who liked travelling together.

But of course, that didn’t last long.  One day, two other members of their tribe stunned the rest by announcing their engagement. A few quick rounds of musical chairs ensued and soon enough there were a lot of showers, weddings, and receptions to attend. Ginny had several promising candidates on her radar. When PC hesitated, she told him in no uncertain terms that she was now on a mission and he needed to decide whether he wanted to get married or not and do it quickly. His momma didn’t raise no fool and he quickly found himself a suit and boutonniere, she got her photo and announcement in the Rock Island Argus, and they were hitched, much to her parent’s lifelong dismay.  

With that stress behind them, the group of friends quickly went back into the mountains when they weren’t building careers.

Over the next 5 years, they stayed busy. Their climbing petered out after PC and a friend summited Mt Owen in an epic 24 hour push that featured being pinned down by ferocious lighting and rain. While the guys were on the peak, Ginny and her friend Jean hiked and fished near their base camp looking nervously at the peaks shrouded in clouds and were convinced that the climbers had been struck by lighting.  Not sure what to do, they fixed dinner as planned at 6 pm and kept PC and John’s dinner warm on the fire till the duo finally staggered back into camp at midnight. It isn’t clear if it was the summer hypothermia, the zinging of static electricity on ice axes, the lack of sleep, or coming back to a dinner that had been simmering for 6 hours, but the joy of climbing was gone for PC, and Ginny didn’t seem to miss it much, since there were plenty of other fun things to do in The West, and they continued to try to do them all.  

Of course, to be continued!