I got back to camp at an awkward time; too early to make dinner but too late to go gallivanting. The night before I’d used most of the firewood in the camp (it was pretty crappy anyway) so I decided to “test” my spare tire and my new (year old) electric chainsaw. I got the saw for camping and trails and stuff. It looks like a toy, but it’s a solid piece of kit! Every time I use the little beast I’m impressed.
I unhooked my old utility trailer and left that back at camp. (Along with my dirt bike Honey Badger. I swear it was moping at not being ridden.) I rolled my truck a few miles looking for either a gamebird or a nice dry (and small diameter!) log.
It’s a wet season and I was in a wet area so everything was pretty squishy. But you can hardly fail to find firewood if you’re in a forest. I eventually grabbed probably 10 times what I’d need for the evening. This “over gathering” was on purpose. I intended to “pay it forward” on the firewood I’d found in camp and used when I was up against the deadline of sunset. Indeed I left triple the wood that was present when I arrived.
I was rolling back to camp around sunset. Usually the area is deserted but in this season and at sunset every road had trucks & SUVs creeping along. They were looking for game birds by driving at like 5 MPH. I assume UTVs were doing the same thing on the UTV trails.
It was fun to watch. Having no idea of the “normal way of things” I’d discovered a form of hunting where burly SUVs with burly men roll along slowly while peering out of their vehicle’s open windows. (Note: I’ve taken my share of birds near roads. I’ve just never done it from a street legal vehicle while car pooling. I often walk down the road hoping for the best; with fairly unimpressive results. Other times I buzz around on my dirt bike looking for likely terrain and then hop off for short jaunts; which is a good way to wind up eating bratwurst for dinner instead of wild game. If I took my Dodge with 3 friends on board we’d probably get more birds. I just never thought of it. (Plus I camp solo.)
One vehicle that passed was a Suburban with three(!) rows of seats. Each row had two beefy men dressed in blaze orange. Presumably, if anyone saw a bird all six would pile out like a miniature Marine platoon! Lord help any bird near the road!
Then came the funniest one yet. An old guy with a decrepit sedan was inching along watching the ditches; and yes, he had a passenger and both were dressed in orange. The passenger saluted me with the car of beer he was drinking. God I love my country!
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, a good sized F-250 rolled by. All four windows were rolled down and an orange clad figure peered out of each one. In the driver’s side rear window I saw something that made my day. Michael Myers, the creepy murderer from the “Halloween” movies was looking right at me! I couldn’t believe it.
I salute you, freaky dude in truck! He must have thought “here’s a geezer with a chainsaw, I’ll put on my mask for when we roll by”. Of all the things I didn’t expect, I didn’t expect that the most!
I was delighted and surprised. I tried to wave so he could see I appreciated the mask but I might have been too slow. They were long gone before I thought to take a snapshot.
I wish there’d been an urbanite photographer to get the third party view. The photo could have been epic. “Here’s a horror movie death machine guy who’s road hunting while a dingy geezer with a chainsaw is waving at him like Forrest Gump. Don’t leave Boston… ever!”
Actually that’s a thought that stuck with me that evening. I feel like anti-hunters and gun control fans have no idea how many hunters walk among them. It was merely bird season and I was in the world’s most inconvenient location yet the roads were being patrolled strong enough to stop a tank division coming out of Canada! When political winds go gale force and people rant about things I think they have no idea what the real world looks like. I saw a zillion teams of hunter seeker bird assassins on just one late afternoon break of firewood gathering. It’s very much in everybody’s interest that those folks be left to happily chase the wildland equivalent of chicken nuggets. Don’t make them angry. You wouldn’t like them when they’re angry. Just look at the kind of logistics and firepower they deploy to catch a thing the size of a chicken! If I could give the whole world one piece of advice it would be this, leave people alone.
Back at camp I popped open my flask of whiskey and made a vastly more elaborate meal than usual. Why not? I had time to kill and lots of firewood.
The weather was not cheery. It was downright baleful. (I thought a long time to come up with that word and that’s the right word for the conditions; “Portending evil; ominous.” Yep, that’s the right word!)
The air was tense and chilly. It was deathly still. A front was scheduled to move in the following day. It would come with a heaping helping of windstorm. It felt like the existing air was just running out the clock. The dense cloud cover not only blocked the night stars but muffled sound itself. Nothing moved that night. No owls, no wolves, no rustling critters in the forest… nothing. Except me.
For some reason I was in a lighthearted mood. I built up a decent fire and baked bread. Yeah no shit, I made crude croissants out of refrigerated dough from a supermarket in an old cast iron pot. I’d brought some charcoal to do it right but I mis-timed and just used wood. I forgot to bring oil or butter. No matter, it worked ok.
I browned up some stew meat and onions to whip up a basic chili. It was delicious. I see people on YouTube do “fancy camping food” all the time. I’ve been in a rut of Mountain House because it’s handy for when weight or time matters. Now, it’s nice to expand into new ideas. Unfortunately, I made waaaay too much. Cooking for one is hard. The air was about the temperature of a refrigerator and there was no sign of a bear problem so I just sealed the pot and left it on the table.
Then I turned on my shortwave radio and strung an antenna into a nearby tree. What wisdom from the world at large would I find? Turns out, nothing deep. I wound up listening to Rob Zombie’s “Superbeast”. Deep? No. Fun? Yes!
If only I could bottle that moment in time. How would it feel to another; someone peering from a distance. See if you can imagine a deep dark forest completely bereft of humans… save one. Add in a half eaten pot of chili and a swig or two of whiskey and a nice little fire. Imagine the beaded woodsman dancing merrily to Rob Zombie. Imagine all this in the most foreboding weather imaginable. Imagine this happening on the hallowed ground of a church that outlasted the community that built it. Surrounded on three sides by nearly impassible lands and centered amid depopulated not-quite ghost-towns that have been empty for a century.
It was in this place that I had a great night’s sleep in a Russian tent purchased as a solid F.U. to a cratering society.
And I’m not done yet…