Adaptive Curmudgeon

My last camping trip ended with a wilted, singed, itchy Curmudgeon. I returned minimally hydrated and nursing a million mosquito bites.

I also had a huge smile that lasted days. Why the smile? Because, nature is good for the soul; even (especially?) when it’s a bitch. I don’t mind privation in nature nearly so much as the bob and weave of avoiding humanity’s shitshow. Barely evolved apes regressing into panicked herd animal morons vexes me. Individual effort builds character. Marching in lockstep formation amid identical thoughtless fools is the absence of character.

Shortly after I got home, I ordered a screen tent. My old method of adapting to mosquitoes was to either delay camping until autumn or look for ecosystems with less bugs. I’ll happily camp amid sidewinders and celebrate the absence of mosquitoes. However, there are only so many paths in life and the world changed to limit some of them.

Now I go camping when the spirit moves me and conditions be damned. With society entangled in it’s own ass, waiting for a more opportune time is unwise. “Do it now or you may not get the chance”. It’s always true. Are we not mortal? But it’s more relevant now than before fear of COVID (not COVID itself!) allowed a handful of people to deliberately infect most of the rest of society with their suicidal intellectual flaws.

At first I was mildly ashamed to admit I wanted a screen tent. Years of backpacking and canoeing trained me to think of a screen tent as hopelessly uncool; something one associates with a boring Dad at a State Park trying to shut up his complaining kids and wife. Alas, practicality outweighs romanticism. I’m not the guy I was 20 years ago and I’m not doing the shit I was doing 20 years ago. I’m not backpacking or canoeing. I have a Dodge that doesn’t care how much I carry. Why not bring every option I can muster? I’m gonna’ be in nature come hell or high water so I might as well gear up for comfort in sub-par conditions. To do less is to devolve to a “fair weather/no bugs” camper.

After overthinking a screen tent purchase like it was the fueling system on an interstellar rocket, I ordered a Gazelle G5 screen tent. I even sprung for the optional 3 pack of side panels. (It was financed, in part, by donations to this blog! And yes, the link to Amazon shoots me a minimal kickback if you use it.)

It arrived promptly via the monopolistic hand of Amazon. The speed of arrival was impressive, as were its origins. It might possibly have been made by Americans, in America, to serve American customers? Could that be? Who knew such things still exist? I’m not sure where Gazelle tents are bred/hatched/sewn but mine have high quality parts and construction.

With the screen tent added to my arsenal, I was anxious for another go at it. I returned to my boat (still on sawhorses all summer!) and prepared my sander. Time for minimal basic maintenance. I’d slap on a coat of paint and within a day or two camp on a beach. From there I’d sail to the horizon!

Almost like I’d been felled by lightning, I got sick. Despite sincere intent I didn’t refurbish a square inch of hull. I tried to shake off the bug but it was no good. I’d fallen into one of those ill defined maladies that strike all humans from time to time.

The clock ticked. A precious weekend passed. I was not completely immobilized but I was not firing on all cylinders.

I’ve been sick in a tent. It sucks. I wouldn’t risk it. Also, I was in no shape at all for the yoga-like stress test of sailing a tiny boat.

During that time I noticed something. Humans have been sick on and off throughout time immemorial but now there is only one possible illness in the human psyche.

“Do you have COVID?”

“I don’t think so. It’s probably hay fever or I ate a bad burrito.”

“The symptoms you describe could be COVID.”

“Or a bad burrito.”

“You should go to a Doctor in case it’s COVID.”

“Of the massive universe of options, what treatments will a Doctor offer a man like me with mild symptoms… even if I do have COVID?”

“Probably nothing but…”

“But what?!? If a Doctor can do nothing, or more specifically if the doctor will choose to do nothing, what’s the point?”

“To find out if you have COVID.”

Finally, I took a home COVID test, which came back negative (as I knew it would).

“The test came back negative. I’m going to lie down now. Rest and fluids will heal me. It’s the same approach humans have used for minor bugs since we were living in trees.”

“Maybe the test was wrong?”

I swear to God, people have: Just. Plain. Lost. It! They think everything from flat tires to inflation must be attributed to COVID. I see now that, collectively at least, we’re no wiser than our knuckle dragging predecessors from 50,000 years ago.

Theoretically we all have some basic understanding of the science of biology. Even a C- high school student knows what a virus is. In general, even the dumbest student knows they differ from food poisoning (bad burrito) or allergies. Despite that intellectual basis, humans make decisions utterly devoid of that knowledge. It’s not just flaking out over ineffective masks and sketchy “vaccines”; everyone forgot what grandma taught us. Sip some chicken soup, shut the fuck up, and sit on the couch or lie in bed. Let time pass and generally, our body can heal itself.

A standard issue iPhone clutching meat puppet is naught but a superstitious peasant from the Middle Ages… if that. All basic modern knowledge of anything (including their own experiences with the occasional cold) has been redacted from their mentality. They’ve become Neolithic cave dwellers shaking a colorful rattle at the universe; hoping their magic amulet will cast a spell against the COVIDIAN evil eye. They’re the pitchfork and torch crowd looking for a witch. They’re fools who blame the lousy turnip harvest on the Fauchian God of Turnip.

Anyone can be temporarily buffaloed, but there’s a line of intellectual self-delusion that was crossed two years ago. If you choose to persist in the drama, particularly in the presence of information to the contrary, you’re just having a tantrum. Wise people do not indulge in tantrums. Making a choice to elevate animal level thinking over your own mind is not brave, it’s not courageous, it’s not noble, and it doesn’t make you special. Nobody is morally elevated due to their own self-inflicted suffering.

Act stupid of your volition and you have become stupid.

As for me; I slept a lot, drank juice, and cooled my jets. My new screen tent sat in its box in the corner and I sat in a chair next to it. It sucked a while and then I was right as rain. Ironically, that same sentence could have been said if I really did have COVID.

The last RV rolled out while I brewed my morning coffee. I had the place to myself!

This time I remembered to lube the bike’s chain and top off the tank before departure. I’ll smarten up yet.

I set off adventuring in the blistering heat but I had to admit the heat and bugs had worn me down. I went about 10 miles before I was stopped by another fallen tree. This time the mosquitoes just EXPLODED when I stopped. It was the fiercest onslaught ever! I should have been able to shrug it off. I was in head to toe armor with full face helmet. Everything was sealed tight and treated with peremethryin but it wasn’t enough. The mosquitoes won! I’ve been in some crazy forests but that’s my life’s record for mosquito density.

I literally turned tail and fled! I’m tough but nobody’s that tough.

By then the temperature dial had gone to eleven and the air was deathly still. It was like being baked in an oven… with mosquitoes. I wandered back to camp and packed up. I’d had fun but that was enough fun. Plus I had to get to work the next day.

During the drive back I passed a hiking trail I’ve been meaning to try. It’s something of a botanical garden. I grabbed a water bottle, hiked a mile or so, and just cooked myself to the molecular level. On the maintained path there weren’t many bugs but I was already pretty hot and the steamy hike was a bad idea! I retreated to my truck, drove to the nearest fisherman’s bar and sat in the air conditioning drinking ice tea until my back teeth were floating. Then I headed home.

I didn’t see any Norse gods but I had fun and got slapped in the face with a fish. Ya’ win some, ya’ lose some. It’s still better than sitting on the couch being boring.

Epilogue: On the way home Mrs. Curmudgeon texted me a list of groceries to pick up. I stopped at the same store that had been gloriously stocked just a few days earlier. It looked like a bomb had hit it! Many shelves were bare.

I texted Mrs. Curmudgeon “What happened this time? Did we get involved in another stupid war or was there another economic collapse?” She texted back “Hard to tell these days, I haven’t listened to the news.”

Don’t laugh, it’s happened to me before. At the end of the G. W. Bush presidency I paddled my canoe away from a stable capitalist society. I returned a week later to find the New York Stock Exchange locked into “emergency shutdown”. A string of bankruptcies in corporations with names I’d never before heard caused worldwide panic and the government was bailing out everyone who was sufficiently connected. This led to a bank bailout so unpopular it created the short lived TEA Party. I was only gone a week!

As far as I can tell the grocery store sellout was nothing particular. I searched to see what had happened in my brief absence and it was amusing how mundane “various panics” have become: Just the usual collapses one would expect in 2022.

My informal list of “shit that happened” was this: British Prime Minister Boris Johnson resigned. Former Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe was assassinated. The Prime Minister of Estonian has resigned. The Prime Minister of Italy has also resigned. The President and Prime Minister of Sri Lanka fled while being pursued by starving peasants. Denmark had been in a state of protest and I think it continues but the press had its usual blackout on such things. Nor will the press mention Ukraine which seems to be swirling the drain as I’d expected. I think there’s been another shooting but a good guy whacked the bad guy before they could pin it on an ambulant sentient AR-15. Thus rendering it no good for the usual gun control narrative.

I was only gone a few days. By my counts that’s four Prime Ministers outed, one assassination, a protest and a war both under a press blackout, and a shooting. Does any of that sound like reasoned stable society under popular and respected governance?

That’s what I mean when I say change is in the air. I’ve no idea what specifically went down with the grocery store but it certainly didn’t stay the same. Also, it’s all happening above my pay grade. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

Better to focus on the wisdom imparted by nature: a kingfisher looks for a different fish than a man.

Happy camping y’all

A.C.

The next morning I woke thinking about motorcycle chains. I’d forgotten to check the tension. Chains stretch and the cheap OEM chain on the TW is notorious for stretching. I hadn’t noticed anything but I checked and it was loosey goosey. Yikes!

In order to adjust the chain you need two wrenches and the bike needs to be suspended. I rode around until I found a stump and high centered the bike on it’s aftermarket skidplate. This wasn’t quite high enough so I took some palette wood from my firewood trash can and wedged it higher. Surprisingly, that worked. I loosened the rear axle, adjusted the “snails” that tighten the chain, and tightened back up. I can’t believe that worked!

I’m a shitty mechanic and it’s a sign of the TW’s simple design that I accomplished this minor tweak without drama. Heck I did it in sweltering heat while in a mosquito cloud in a forest. I decided the wrenches that I needed for that operation should be on the bike at all times. I stashed them with my other “on board” gear.

Then I rode off, having completely forgotten to lube the chain. Oh well.

A couple hours later (while on the trail!) I remembered I’d forgotten to top off the tank. No worries, I carry a gallon of fuel and a gallon of water. (All hail Rotopax!) I think mosquitoes had shaved 20 points off my IQ by then.

It’s pretty cool to have all that gas and water to spare. It just makes things easier.

The road took a wooden bridge over a small stream. In the middle of the bridge the mosquitoes, still annoying, were reduced. I stopped there to go fishing.

I have this desire to ride my bike to some remote place, catch a fish, cook it, and ride home. Consider it a side quest in life. I’ve not yet accomplished this.

I have a cheap collapsible mini-fishing pole and a pill bottle filled with some minimal survival tackle. The mini-pole has not been a success. With a mini-pole, I catch mini-fish.

I wanted to try a simple baited hook and bobber but that didn’t work out. Every time I went into the woods to find a worm the mosquitoes attacked. So I tried a jig with no bait.

Nothing happened. I was about to give up when a kingfisher flew by. Nature was telling me fish were present. It’s not nature’s fault if I’m too dumb to catch one.

After a lot of work, I hooked a little chub. Actually I’ve got no idea what it was. It could have been a chub or maybe a shiner or who knows what? All I know for sure is that it wasn’t a trout. It was one of those generic fish that’s small by design. A perfectly legit adaptation to small streams but not a species that grows big enough to fill my frying pan. I hacked the little minnow sized fish into bait and jigged with that. Nothing happened. So I tossed the mangled fish in the grass and rode away. I hope the kingfisher found it.

A trail followed the creek so I took the trail. I tried jigging again but no luck.

Another bridge, no luck.

Yet another bridge. This time I scampered all over the bridge to find and stomp one grasshopper. Me versus the grasshopper was a heck of a battle I tell ya! I cast a hook and bobber with a battered dead grasshopper. CHOMP, the grasshopper was gone. WTF?

I was too roasted in the heat for another grasshopper rodeo so I dug into my trail mix and baited the hook with half a raisin. Fruit to catch fish? Does this make sense? No, it’s dumb. But I’d already eaten my beef jerky, the grasshopper had nearly run me ragged, and the mosquitoes made digging for worms insufferable.

The fish didn’t care. They bit at the raisin like it was steak. But they were small. More chubs/shiners/minnows/whatever. Finally I caught a 6” fish, which was probably the biggest thing there. I tried to take a photo but holding the camera and the fish and with the mosquitoes buzzing around it was chaos. The fish slipped out of my hands and it smacked my face in a moment that neither of us enjoyed. I scrambled on my hands and knees, grabbed him, and tossed him into the water. I got a blurry photo of a bearded madman that looks like he’s about to bite the fish Ozzy Osborne style.

Just then another kingfisher flew by. The bird had told me there were fish but it had been talking about kingfisher sized fish. A kingfisher wouldn’t care about something that would fill the pan of the sweating Homo Sapiens gallivanting about the bridge.

It a shame because it looked like prime trout habitat. It’s a very cold location. I formed a theory that the vicinity freezes near to the bottom some (all?) winters. Little chubs and shiners seem better adapted to find unfrozen holes than bigger fish. This stream is for kingfishers and not men.

Oh well, any time you’re fishing it’s a good thing.

That night I was fried and tired. I cooked something nondesript and ate it without thinking. I drank deeply of the still cool things I had in my ice chest.

The only notable thing I cooked over the fire was some charcloth to go with my flint and steel. I tried to get some water to put out the fire but that was a bust. The well’s hand pump just wasn’t working. This meant I had to stay out in the bugs a little longer than I wanted.

Screen tent. I need a screen tent.

It had been hot all day and I slept like a log as soon as it cooled down. During the day one of the RVs had disappeared. Now there were just two of us.

That night I dreamed of air conditioning and screen tents.

(To be continued.)

I’d been having fun but I’d been soaked in sweat literally all day. By sunset I’d had enough heat and bugs. I got back to camp with plenty of time but didn’t feel like cooking in a cloud of mosquitoes.

I think a screen tent is in my future.

A second camper had showed up. That meant there were a total of three campsites occupied. I was the only tent. Everyone was hiding from the bugs insider their RV trailers. I really need a screen tent.

In desperation, I unhitched my truck and took off. I set the AC to refrigerate and that improved my attitude. I drove a considerable distance and wound up eating a fine burger at a VFW in some small town. I spent more on the diesel to get there than the burger. The venue was hosting a wedding. No matter how bad things may seem, there are still weddings. Good to see it.

I wanted an ice cream for desert. Before leaving civilization, I pulled into a McDonalds. The place was in full meltdown. The drive through was blocked up for dozens of cars. I parked and discovered a long line inside too. There had been a car race somewhere because battered trucks with trailers that had even more battered race cars strapped down were everywhere. I waited patiently as the staff, which was inadequate, tried bravely to keep up. It was pandemonium. They were giving it a good try but they completely failed.

When someone ordered ice cream they said both ice cream and the shake machine were down. The place was so chaotic I’m surprised they managed to make fries. The people trying to operate the place were in hell. The thing about McDonalds is that a lot of things need to work in order for it to function. The power grid has to be up, there’s got to be enough domestic tranquility that the place isn’t robbed, food delivery trucks have to arrive, the staff has to show up and be wearing pants, etc… Never take for granted the miraculous society that can hand you a Big Mac in two minutes.

The shake machine is the first to go. It’s the indicator species of the fast food world. Its loss is the first sign of a deeper disaster. I walked out and felt I was doing them a favor. I’d reduced their huge throng of customers by one. They were doomed but I wish them well.

Back at camp it rained on and off. This was awesome because the temperature dropped closer to something tolerable. (I’d put on the tent’s rain fly that morning so the tent was fine.) Unfortunately, the mosquitoes were not dissuaded. At each break in the light rain they’d swarm. A breeze would have helped, but it was dead calm; humid to the point of a fine mist, hot, and buggy. I really need a screen tent. I thought about just sitting in my truck running the ac but that seemed dumb.

I wound up sitting in my lawnchair, inside my tent, reading. This wasn’t a bad way to relax. I had a battery operated lamp hanging from the tent ceiling. It’s got a mosquito zapper that isn’t magic but it definitely helps. String cheese was my alternative to the milkshake I couldn’t buy. It kept me happy. At times there would be a pleasant breeze through the screen windows. I also had a tiny battery operated fan. Combining a bunch of half assed solutions had reasonable comfort. I slept very well that night.

A solid wall of mosquitoes formed on the outside of the screen. They were more numerous than usual. I’d have preferred to be hassled by bears… or a velociraptor.

(To be continued.)

The next morning dawned warm, humid, and overcast. I wanted to sleep late but my tent turned into a sauna. Eventually I had the presence of mind to get up and about but I was pretty groggy. (It was slightly cooler outside.)

Breakfast was bacon and eggs (from my homestead) with a diced tomato from the happy grocery store. Delicious. Plus coffee! Never forget the coffee.

For this trip I’d bought a few little treats for myself; cheap waterproof containers for salt and pepper and a folding spatula. We all need a little present for ourselves once in a while.

I prepped the bike and lubed the living shit out of the chain. I’m always afraid I’ll neglect the chain. I don’t yet have parts and tools prepared in case I kill the chain on the trail! This worries me and it’s on my to-do list. (Every point of failure I haven’t yet addressed is something I hope to eventually mitigate.)

The plan for the day was to have no plan. I accomplished my goals!

I rode here and there. It was delightfully aimless. I met a group (herd?) of four UTVs and one ATV in convoy. I didn’t know at the time but they were the only people I would see the whole trip (aside from my neighbor).

About ten miles out of camp I encountered a tree fallen across the road. I stepped off the bike to assess the situation but the mosquitoes were too persistent. I could have gotten past the tree and I was sort of interested in the challenge but I couldn’t think with all the buzzing! It was a dead end road anyway. I shrugged and turned around. I’ll always wonder what was just past the tree. Probably more of the same but who knows?

A little bit further I saw a black bear cub. It was a healthy looking little critter. Very cute. I shut down the engine and watched. He stared at me. I stared at him. Mosquitoes bit us both.

Mom bear showed up, took one look at me, and noped out of there. You can always tell the difference between bears which have been hunted and “trash can bears”. These bears were as wild as any other animal. Good for them.

I rode on. A patch of the road was flooded. It wasn’t deep, less than a foot. There was a wheel rut on the left and one on the right. Theoretically the water would be shallowest in the middle? I rode through like a boss. This “center-line approach” only works if the road material is amenable. If you’re trying to ride high on a thin muddy ridge it’s easy to slip off. That leads to an uncontrolled moment (for a novice like me) where you wonder if you’re going to still be upright when the tires inevitably slide into the wheel rut. This road was pretty stout so I barely got my feet wet.

Later I bumped into “Mystery Road”. Mystery Road (not it’s true name) speaks to me. There’s a big chunk of nothing. It’s bisected by a road. I want to travel that road!

Satellite imagery shows the road to be large and well maintained. I’d considered running my Dodge up that road. The only reason I hadn’t is that it’s a long road going though the most nothing of nothing… remoteness in that kind of quantity has it’s own special quality. It makes sense to fully investigate before I put a behemoth on that path.

An old wooden sign said “Dogtown” was only 40 miles away. Dogtown is the other side. I’ve been to Dogtown. Perfect! An unexplored 40 miles of easy flat well maintained dirt with a bar and electricity and pavement on the other side! I wasn’t planning an 80 mile round trip but why the heck not? I might even get a cheeseburger in the middle of my trip!

Mystery Road goes through serious nowhere and I wanted to see the nowhere. I roared out with a smile on my face!

A mile later I saw a sign that said “gate closed”. There was a little flipping wood thing so it could say open/closed as they saw fit. Who’s they? No idea. What gate? No idea.

Five miles later I found the locked gate. Why was it locked? No idea. Is it always locked? No idea. Could I get around it on my bike? Easily. But then what?

I turned around. I’ll have to make some calls and find out if it’s closed for a reason of logistics “road washed out at mile marker 32” or some sort of regulation “closed during migration season of the rare and endangered North American slime-assed snail”. Further investigation is merited.

I’m glad I wasn’t trying to make the passage in the Dodge. I’d have had to back up at least a mile before there was space to turn around. Honey Badger can do a U-turn in a few feet so I zipped around and was back in business.

Update: I made some calls and found out the road was washed out this spring. It’s likely to be fixed around fall. (In general any road that’s still closed during big game season pisses people off.) The guy I talked to seemed like a genuine human being. He didn’t make a washed out road sound like the end of humanity. Refreshing in a government employee. The road was blocked mostly because they didn’t want someone getting in there with a huge RV and creating issues or getting themselves in trouble. Having to back an RV ten miles will mess up anyone. Rather than communicate all that with a poster or whatever, they just chained the road shut. It’s all very reasonable.)

On this trip I’d packed some new camping technology; dehydrated wipes (a.k.a. toilet paper, a.k.a. shit tickets). They’re pellets the size of a throat lozenge (bad analogy but I’ll leave it there… think of Menthos?). I can carry a dozen in a tube about twice the length and slightly larger diameter than AA batteries. They expand to the size of a decent washcloth. You can see how that would be handy!

I’m a cautious guy and also had regular t-paper just in case. Dehydrated is a strange phrase for wipes but they definitely only pop open if they get wet. I got them insufficiently wet and so they only expanded partly. Thus, they worked but not excellently. I’m still evaluating this technical marvel. I’ll report back when I know more.

I also forgot my folding shovel. Whoops. Meanwhile, every mosquito in the county took a tax in blood from me.

(To be continued.)

I’ve been camping repeatedly at generic park. This is lame and costs money. No regrets though. It worked to get the ball rolling. Reservations were convenient and the location was a known thing. I got me back into the groove of more camping. That’s good. Had the groove become a rut? I decided it’s time to return to my roots of “free” camping.

I had a place in mind. It has nothing but a few fire rings, a hand pump well, and an outhouse. No services. No reservations. No cost. No bullshit.

The problem was I’d only been there on Honey Badger. I’d “discovered” the place by gradually extending my explorations. To get there I’d zipped across hell itself without really noticing. Honey Badger can lead you astray. It goes wherever it fuckin’ wants. If you don’t think about it you might follow the same path with a normal car. The bike’s nimble feet will easily swish past stuff that will eat a brake line.

Judging from the map, road access should be fine. It’s just that I had not personally verified this. To lumber my Dodge (with Honey Badger on the trailer!) to the target location I entered a forest/wilderness-ish area from a different direction. This kept me on pavement a little longer but also had me traversing roads I’d never personally seen. (There was a third option on “Mystery Road” but I’ll mention that later.)

Everything worked out fine. The Dodge is not a pavement queen. I did need 4×4 but that’s why I have 4×4. I covered about 40 miles on road that was just the right level of “interesting”. I officially declared it “fine for this equipment (the Dodge), but very close to being not-fine”. Later on, from the camp itself, I figured out a different egress route. Instead of narrow twisty dirt I left via a big fat dirt road that’s probably maintained for heavy log trucks. Never stop scouting your terrain!

I pulled into camp a few hours before sunset. There was one camper there; a hard sided pop-up. (Filthie, is that you?) I felt bad ruining the guy’s solo location. Then again it wasn’t like I crowded him. It was just the two of us spread over a dozen or so acres.

It took me a bit to snake the truck into a likely spot. Informal camping is… ready for this… informal. I didn’t so much have a road to follow as there was grass and more or less cleared space between tree stumps and scattered tall pines (Looks like they had a blowdown several years ago.) So I drove off road until I saw a spot that was the best combination of flat enough to erect a tent and mostly shaded. I’d brought a folding workbench but there was a decrepit picnic table nearby. Nice!

I set to work popping up my tent but my “neighbor” showed up. The first rule of civilization is to always offer a cold beer if you’ve got one. He accepted and we sat around bullshitting for a while. I liked his hard sided pop up. His wife was there too he said. I never saw her leave the camper.

The bugs kinda sucked and soon my neighbor split. I planned on starting a fire with my flint and steel but while filling my campstove I spilled some white gas. Nobody sucks so bad they can’t start a fire under those conditions so I didn’t learn much.

I deployed two Thermacells and wore bug treated clothes… which helped a little. Dinner was a jalapeno cheese bratwurst cut up and cooked in an iron frying pan with a small can of beans. (I now have 3 other cans in my “bug out” box.)

Dinner was delicious but I didn’t get to relax as long as I’d like. Two more beers and a thousand mosquito bites later I retreated for my tent.

It was hot so I’d left the tent’s rain tarp off. It slowly cooled and I drifted off while watching the night sky.

(To be continued.)