Inevitably “tourists” arrived. This is a beautiful place and it’s game season. I knew there would be more action that usual. Even so, I’d underestimated the draw.
All morning, UTVs with 2 or 4 people each kept showing up. It was always the same, the first thing they’d do is run for the outhouse. Then they’d wander off at a much more relaxed pace. There are more UTVs out there than you’d think.
One notable group was a grandma/grandpa set in a shiny new UTV followed by a beaming kid on an archaic 3 wheeler (ATC). Don’t go all safety nerd on me, the kid was riding it just fine. And boy did he look happy!
A few people rolled by very slowly to peer at my tent (which is unusual in design). They did this while failing to address me, the dude sipping coffee right next to the object of interest, how gauche!
One lady emerged from the outhouse and then made a beeline to my camp to look at “the little hut”. She had a chicken and wondered if a tent like that would keep it warm. I suppose so, but it would be the most expensive chicken coop in creation. I offered that if it keeps me alive it’ll keep a chicken alive but for my chickens I just make sure I’ve got enough chickens that they can huddle together. Keeping one chicken warm is hard, keeping 6 or 12 is no problem at all. She ignored my practical idea, which sums up 2022 precisely. We talked about ice roads for a while and then she wandered off. Her chicken must be a hell of a pet.
One fellow stopped and gave me a thumbs up. He had a question; “Is that a Russian tent?”
“Yes it is.”
“Nice.” He enthused. Then he added one more thing. “Fuck politics, I like that Russian tent.” Almost like he was afraid he’d get caught having committed Crimespeak he immediately clammed up and rolled his UTV out of there. Poor guy.
Having encountered a guy afraid of the entire topic, I ponder the Russian angle to what should be peaceful camping equipment. I bought the tent for several irrational reasons; none of which were geopolitical. I don’t have anything against the people of Russia. I think they suffered enough within the Soviet Union; which is gone. It’s not 1962; Khrushchev, Castro, and Kennedy are all dead. I feel like nobody knows the USSR no longer exists and the the Russian Federation is a different thing.
Back on the topic of the tent, I shocked myself at my own commitment when I spent the money. It simply felt right and I did it. It was only a few months after the Afghanistan retreat and not 6 months before a new improved war popped up. There’s always a new improved war. Would sanctions have interfered with the purchase? No idea. Was the eternal calling my bluff? I don’t know that either. How would a man know that?
It’s clearly of Russian origin but it’s built to very high standards. It’s rare. It’s not something you’d find at Gander Mountain. I think that’s funny because a lot of the stuff at Gander Mountain is made in China. I don’t know if I only had one shot to own this tent. I know I’m glad I made the leap when it felt right.
I spent a scandalous length of time making an overly elaborate breakfast. This was a form of procrastination. I really am tired from “life”. I was just out of steam. I had brought my motorcycle (“Honey Badger”) and I’m equipped to take the little beast on trails looking for game birds. But there’s a time when the right thing to do is to percolate coffee and do nothing. It was a decision made as much by my body as my mind.
I began reading a tattered old paperback. Robinson Crusoe!
Soon a new kind of tourist began filtering in. Bird hunters started arriving. UTV’s with 2 or 4 orange clad, shotgun toting bird slayers made the same beeline to the same outhouse as the “tourists”; but they did it with more armaments. Pretty soon so many groups of UTVs had shown up that I couldn’t tell when one cluster left and the next arrived.
I’d only read the first chapter of Robinson Crusoe when the onslaught of people finally drove me into motion. With coffee perking lazily on the fire I was set to read all through a chilly but pretty day. I gave up when three UTV’s (some with four seats) showed up toting a grand total of 5 men, 2 women, and 2 dogs. How many birds are out there?
I rolled my motorcycle off the trailer and prepared to go… somewhere. Alas, I discovered an annoying maintenance issue. The chain was too slack. The proper solution is to jack it up on a bike stand (which I don’t own) so the rear tire is suspended. After it’s suspended loosen the rear axle and twist a couple of “snail brackets” to push the rear axle back a bit. It’s not complicated.
Last time I did this while camping I used an old tree stump to elevate the bike. It worked. This time there were no appropriate stumps. That made the simple task into a struggle.
I strove mightily, finally solving the situation by balancing the bike on front tire and kickstand while perilously leaning it over my hunched shoulders just enough to lift the rear tire off the ground. It was a dumb, dangerous, solution and hard work too. However, it got the job done. I lubed the (now tight) chain, checked the gas, loaded the usual survival equipment (I ride loaded for bear), and was ready to go.
Frankly I was pleased I’d solved the chain dilemma. “Nothing has worked out but everything has been more or less drama free” I thought. Everything could have been a disaster but I’d handled each new issue like I knew what I was doing. Nice.
Then I made a discovery that kyboshed everything.
The truck was on a flat! Not cool when you’re a million miles from nowhere! (As a practical matter a rear flat on a dually is something I could probably ignore it enough to limp to a garage. Not that there were any garages anywhere nearby.) I wanted to ignore it and simply ride away on Honey Badger; let “tomorrow Curmudgeon” deal with it.
But it was better to deal with the task at hand when many people were around. There were six people hanging around the outhouse. Including a sweet old retired couple cooking a picnic on a little BBQ. Something could go wrong. If that happened it would be advantageous to my safety. Also, what if I needed to haul the tire to a shop? My motorcycle can get me to civilization but it can’t haul a truck tire. There was a chance I’d need to beg a favor!
I lowered the spare, checked that it was holding pressure (it was, and frankly it’s nicer than my other tires), and started struggling with lug nuts. 8 lug nuts sounds cool until you have to do them by hand. I jacked up the truck, swapped the tires, re-installed the lugs, set her down, and retorqued the lug nuts. That doesn’t sound like much but it was quite a workout.
I’d started the weekend already tired. Then I’d done some light motorcycle fiddling. I’d followed up by swapping the rear tire on a truck that’s just about as big as consumer trucks get. I was out of steam!
I also noticed something, the instant my truck was in the air EVERYONE VANISHED. Literally dozens of people coming and going TURNED INTO NOBODY AT ALL. What’s up with that?
Well I’m used to working without a net so no big deal. I’d done all that grunting and lug nut torqueing without so much as a nod from any of the UTV people. There’s no mystery in that. The UTV people that might have been incoming seemed to know to go elsewhere. Now that’s a mystery.
More in the next post…