Dachelle and Dan Doyal were only together for a few years before Dan’s death in 2004.
They said his heart was two sizes too big. Or at least, that is the message that came to me, passed on from staff at the hospital to relatives and friends, being reinterpreted by each person. The bottom-line was that he had a near-death experience out on a boat on Silver Lake and had been transported to a hospital just across the Alpine County border for triple bypass surgery.
Dan Doyal made it that time. He was so close to passing. I asked him about being in that place where you can see what the “other side” looks like. Did it change how he thought about his life? “Nope,” Dan shrugged, “not at all.” The experience had no effect, for he was already completely comfortable with who he was and had no fear of moving from this world to the next.
His family built the Hope Valley Resort in 1957. Dan grew up there along with his two brothers. It was run by his parents before Luther Pass was even finished. Dan talked about the road being closed right at the resort in the winter. It was where he learned firsthand how to survive and thrive in real snow country. Dan was a mountain man, a rascal, and could fix or do just about anything.
He lived in Oregon for a period of time, but then bought himself a cabin in Hope Valley right across from Sorenson’s Resort on the river. The first time we visited him there, he gave us a tour. His most important possession was his coffee pot, which he had set up right next to his bed. “I just roll over and turn it on,” he smiled.
Dan was always holding a cup of coffee that had been doctored with four sugars and two big scoops of creamer. I heard people gave him a hard time about drinking so much caffeine. He would give them his characteristic sideways grin, look away, and not say a word. He lived the way he wanted and made no apologies.
Along with a co-owner, he ran a construction company for many years based in Gardnerville. He moved on from there to his main career as a dispatcher for the Alpine County Sheriff’s Office. Whenever anything happened, Dan was “the man.” He would not only take the call, but since he was the Alpine County Search and Rescue Coordinator, a Woodfords Volunteer Firefighter, and an Emergency Medical Technician, he would go out and take care of whatever the situation entailed.
As part of the Fire/Rescue Auxiliary, my sons and I provided support services on incidents, bringing sandwiches and supplies. We also spent a lot of time at the Fire Department helping set up for the Annual Fireman’s Ball, trainings, and meetings. We would help unpack and roll firehoses, put equipment away, and wash the engines until they shone. Because of this, we got to watch Dan in action all the time: putting out brush fires, clearing debris after flooding on his backhoe, and going out on calls at all hours of the day and night.
His demeanor said it all. Dan was the best role model you could ever hope for. He was my best friend, and I am deeply grateful, not only for the protection he offered to all the residents and visitors of Alpine, but to my family. He watched over us, crossing the highway by snowmobile in the deep white of our historic winters. He was an expert snowmobiler, riding it through some of the most treacherous mountain terrain on searches as if it was an extension of his body.
You couldn’t help but laugh seeing him on his golf cart, bouncing along the rutted dirt roads to come up and visit us in the summer. If it was something with an engine, he wanted one. Not only did he constantly have a muscle car project, but he would do all the detail work on rescue vehicles for the county, adding lights, sirens, and gun holders. He did whatever was needed, and always with the most benevolent attitude. Quite simply, he was a good man who had no desire for fanfare or recognition of the fact.
I never saw him get angry or out of sorts on any of these high-stress, high-drama situations. He had an even keel and natural balance. When someone was being particularly difficult or obnoxious in everyday situations, he would deal with them in the calmest way. When they left, he would take a sip of his coffee, and with a big smile say, “See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya,” drawling out the “be” in a sing-song fashion, and then move on to his next task.
In these great recent snows I have spent a lot of time with what I call “The Dan Doyal Memorial Snow Shovel.” He brought it to me when he was working at Kirkwood. When he discovered this particular shovel, he insisted it was the best, and bought it for us. It has served me well for over 25 years.
Even after all this time, Dan feels very present in my life. The images of his mannerisms and deeds remain alive and palpable. But it is in the quietness of the deep snow, where the silence around me slows time, and that shovel gathers and moves the shining crystals that I miss him the most.
He moved from Hope Valley to start building his dream home in Woodfords. It was across from his parents, and down the street from his older brother. It was here that he met his beautiful neighbor Dachelle, who turned out to be the love of his life. Theirs was a whirlwind romance, and spoke of his loyalty and steadfastness, both to her and her children, Julia and Brennan.
Dachelle instantly became another best friend. At her wedding shower, we played a game where famous couples who were examples of true love, were written on a piece of paper and pinned to everyone’s back. You had to guess, by asking people yes or no questions, who was on yours. Mine was “Romeo and Juliet,” which was easy, but it was truly emotional when Dachelle finally figured out hers. “Dan and Dachelle” were indeed the finest example we knew of true love.
Dan planted a lawn in the front and nurtured it carefully for months. They were married there on the most perfect day. When Dan came out, all of us looked in amazement. Along with Dachelle, he was barefoot. Dan, who was constantly in his turn-out boots, ready to respond. We turned to each other “Wow,” we all agreed, “he must really love her!”
Dachelle is an incredible artist, and around that time was making some innovative lamps out of antique funnels. She sparked the creativity in Dan. He built her a larger than life-size replica of the Tin Man from “The Wizard of Oz,” that is still in her front yard today. It is ironic because while the Tin Man wept for a heart, Dan was definitely “all heart.”
He already had children Cheryl and Michael who lived in Oregon from a previous marriage, and he immediately became the most patient and caring father to Dachelle’s daughter Julia and son Brennan. He used to drive up to the school bus shop in his backhoe to pick them up and carry them home in the bucket. There was never an evening that he did not tell them how much he loved them before they went to sleep.
He was 54 when he died of a heart attack at the house they shared. They only had three short years together. “It was not long enough,” says Dachelle.
I wore dark glasses to his memorial service at Turtle Rock Park, unable to contain my weeping or to say the things about Dan I would have liked to say. It has taken me 19 years to get the words out. A bagpiper played, and Careflight flew overhead in remembrance of all the hours he had donated setting up landing sites, treating, and loading people in for transport.
Dan Doyal’s destiny was fulfilled as a true high mountain hero. Though we know he can never return across the veil that separates us, the mark he left on these Alpine lands and people is indelible, and forever.
