I was in an ugly chunk of terrain and mightily overheated. I was rolling down an endless trail, counting out my 10 minutes, planning to stop at the first good shade or when my time ran up… at which time I’d guzzle water like my life depended on it.
I spied headlights ahead. Someone was driving a UTV down the narrow trail toward me. There was no way we could pass and the UTV would flounder in the swamp if pushed too far. So, I found an opening, rolled my bike into crotch deep weeds but kept the wheels on solid ground, and waited. I checked that my muffler wasn’t going to set any brush on fire but the muffler was well shielded. Silly me! I was frying like bacon but the little bike was in normal operating specs. Conditions beating me to death were “well within the bell curve” for my brick shithouse of a bike!
I was weary and sighed the frustrated and sweaty sigh of a man who’s had too much fun. My sense of adventure faded and I wished I was home and in air conditioning.
Then everything changed!
The UTV rolled up with three laughing women jammed side by side in the bench seat. They were joyously joking and smiling like a combination women’s book club and bar crawl had first gone mobile and then went ridiculously remote. They sure were having fun! If anyone might roll up in the middle of the forest to give Paul Bunyan himself a wedgie it was these three. They stopped next to me and said the most beautiful words in the English language.
“Want a beer?”
I almost fell off my still idling bike!
“Yes! Yes I do want a beer!”
I had my helmet off in a flash and practically fell over reaching for the can.
I had met what I call the “Beer Faeries”. It was a miracle and may God bless ‘em! This hard partying trio of ladies had left civilization some 85 miles ago (I was only half that far from my campsite). They were having all the fun a Polaris and two coolers can provide. They had matching shirts with some sort of dirty joke printed on them. They had spare fuel and all the gear they needed but without the uptight planning I’d been doing. They apparently do this sort of shit all the time.
I had to blink twice to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Here I was, roasting to death in literally in the exact definition of “middle of nowhere”… yet some woman was handing me an ice cold beer!
It was a shit brand of canned swill and I didn’t care. It was the best damned beer I’ve ever had!
They were telling me how last week they’d gotten lost and came home at 3:00 am… which was fine with them because that’s why they make headlights. I only heard half of it. I chugged the beer like an under-aged loser and wiped the can’s condensation on my forehead. I was instantly refreshed.
One of them was taking a piss on the other side of the UTV and I tried hard not to notice… though honestly that’s all me and had nothing to do with her. She might have peed on my boot just for fun.
The driver was standing there in flip flops which looked so much cooler than my sweltering motorcycle safety gear. The third one was lighting a smoke and insisted on pressing two more cans into my hands. I stowed them in my bike’s cooler… they were now the most precious things I owned.
They piled in their rig, stomped the gas, and they were gone. Like a switch being flipped, everything went pure nature again. The party on wheels had left and I was once again hearing only the sound of deerflies.
Did that really happen? I crushed the can and stowed it. Yep, it happened.
Life is grand!
Back on my motorcycle I quickly left the ATV area behind. I was now in a mix of swamp and working forest. Working forest is where tree harvest is a non-ironic genuine industrial activity. Most of the roads were in good condition though some ended at a logging landing. There were intermittent areas where roads were long neglected (passable but sketchy) or non-existent. In between there were occasional water infrastructure objects, ditches and irrigation gates and whatnot. Many of these would be a stone cold bitch to cross if you weren’t on a road or trail (or snowmobile). Further in I expected to find abandoned homesteads. Sure enough they appeared on cue. Mostly gone to brush a century ago and from there to forest again. How many Americans… let me rephrase that, how many north Americans or Europeans have seen places that once supported people and are now literally uninhabited. How different and more humble we would all be if we’d all seen such places. Confidence that “the arrow of history points to conclusion X” fades when you roll past an abandoned cemetary. A community was once there. People were born, grew up, and died in what was once a village, and then a ghost town, and is now nowhere. It’s a curiosity to ride by on a dirt bike and I thought of Ozymandias and folks freaking out in their efforts to slice 2021’s pie to their liking. Those old graves are a point of view most people haven’t had the privilege to experience.
Interspersed with all this were tall healthy tree plantations; more industrial forest. Works of the hand of man, good places to hunt big game. There were equally large patches of mature native generated forest. Just as industrial but not planted in rows and also just as pretty. There were also occasional burned areas; because fire is part of life.
One burned area was a bit larger than most and I crossed it slowly, getting lost in a maze of logging trails from the salvage cut. This is where the heat got to me once again. The air was dead calm and the burn had no canopy. No tree canopy meant no shade. I cooked out as little Honey Badger and I picked our way through the area. On the other side, I took a random turn and found myself on a long straightaway that went directly through a more or less impassible swamp. Weeds brushed me from all sides, no doubt giving my Peremethrin treated jeans a solid test.
I was panting and my mouth was dry. Not a good sign! At the next shaded spot I’d drink some water. I was feeling a little ill and didn’t relish the thought of stopping. When you’re thirsty but you’re not interested in water… you’re dehydrated. Yet, I was in no mood to stop in this swampy mess. I’d hold out for a shaded tree plantation but no more than 10 minutes. (I promised myself I’d stop in 10 minutes even if I was on a hornet’s nest. You need to put the logical brain in charge of the illogical during extreme conditions. Plus, I was alone. A certain extra caution behooves the solo adventurer.)
I finally got to the free primitive camping / ATV staging area I’d seen on a map. There were a few RVs. They had generators running and (presumably) people inside enjoying the AC. (I felt jealous.) Nearby were the horse people (including some horse trailers with living quarters… also with generators running).
There’s no conflict that I know of but horse and ATV people do tend to self segregate; maybe the ATVs freak out the horses? I dunno’. Judging from the distribution of horse crap and ATV tracks this was a long standing social order.
I reflected that people who piss and moan about racism or whatever other “ism” serves their needs should get outside more. The press is always angry that people to fail to mix in the perfectly diverse and therefore utterly uniform froth that Utopians demand, yet there are legitimate reasons people associate. The horse people hung out in one cluster. The ATV people in another. That doesn’t mean anyone is oppressing anyone. It probably has more to do with the axle position on a horse trailer versus an ATV trailer. Maybe the horses don’t like the smell of gas or the ATV people don’t like stepping in horseshit. Regardless, if they were forced to intermingle, it would suck for both.
A few RV’s didn’t seem to have ATV equipment (like an ATV trailer) or horse equipment. I gathered these were family units; grandma and grandpa snoozing in AC while their progeny, a generation or two distant, were out on Hondas and horses.
As for folks like me, it was too hot… there were no tents. Yet I was there and I could’ve put up a tent. I’d slept the night in a tent not 30 miles distant. That too doesn’t mean I was oppressed… just hot. I suspect the uses of this little area shift with the season. During big game season, hunters surely stampede the whole landscape (bringing their own ATVs and horses). There was a nearby sledding hill. After hunting season but before it’s the worst of blizzard season, kids are probably sledding up a storm. What a grand place to celebrate Christmas! Nearby snowmobile trails are impassible in summer (they can only be traversed when swamps are solid ice) yet they’re probably highways in January. They’d zip back and forth en masse yet scarcely know that ATVs and horses ruled the zone only a few months ago.
There was a winter warming hut, a hand pump for water, a smattering of fire rings, a few trash cans. All this was apparently maintained by what appeared to be volunteers in some sort of ad hoc randomness that made me love my people even more. It was clean but everything was well used and old. There weren’t a lot of government signs bitching about this thing or that. There was an array of recycling cans that would make an HOA Karen proud… all bear proof of course. The outhouses were good enough but more or less oven temperature inside.
I was, by then, utterly cooked in the sun.
I picked an empty campsite, dragged a picnic table into the shade, and sat down to write this post. I was carrying ice water (an unimaginable luxury in these conditions, traveling as I was) and drank greedily. It didn’t help. I’d gotten too hot to easily cool down. I had food but it was too hot to have an appetite. I stretched out on the picnic table to cool in the shade; maybe take a nap.
Nope. Too hot. Usually even the slightest breeze and a little shade will do the trick. One can cool slowly. Not in this weather. I just got hotter and hotter.
Think Curmudgeon, you’re an outdoors guy. How are you going to cool down?
I’d seen a lake about 8 miles back. I could jump in it? Meh… it was a swampy looking mess. I’d probably just wallow in warm mud and get eaten alive by leeches.
I wandered past the warming hut, assuming it was locked. Isn’t everything by the government locked? But it wasn’t! It was like the “before times” when the government served the people instead of the other way ‘round. Was the warming hut nice and cool? Nope! It was stuffy and sweltering.
Finally, I tried the hand pump. It had to be 100 years old but it was well maintained. A few cranks and out spilled cool clear water. I filled my hat and dumped the hat on my head. I almost had a stroke from the change in temperature. That water was cold! I shivered… which was ideal. I repeated the procedure a few more times. Thoroughly chilling myself.
I walked back toward my motorcycle but did a U-turn back to the pump and did it all over again. The second time was a charm. Now I could finally roll out.
Only as I left camp behind did I realize what I gem of an area I had found. The forest roads and various ATV trails (legal for motorcycles) spread out like spiderwebs! I had in mind to explore a designated ATV area about 20-ish miles away but I wasn’t particularly dedicated to the task. I didn’t head that way… I ambled. I took this forest road or that trail in no particular order. I’d see a cool stump or a neat grove of trees or a likely place for small game hunting in the fall and go check it out. I’d ping my SpotX occasionally but I was more or less lost. Not that I cared, the day was young and I was well prepared. The sun was brutal but also clearly visible. I kept an eye on it and managed to go in basically the correct direction.
I was “scouting” for future trips too. I found a few very nice dispersed camps (free!). I mildly regretted paying full scratch for a State Park just a few miles away. Then I remembered that nice cool shower. Luxuries are sometimes worth the expense.
The entire area was ideal. A perfect Curmudgeon playland! I made plans to come back for small game season. I’ve a mind to add hunting to my bike trips; carry a hunting firearm on the bike, ride to a nice hunting spot, whack a rabbit or a gamebird, and grill it right there in the forest. (At the moment, that’s not in the cards. Fire restrictions are in effect so grilling without returning to a metal ringed firepit is illegal. Also, it’s stupid. More importantly, it’s not the right hunting season. That’s OK. I’m patient and it’s an idea not a job.) I’ve experimented with motorcycle/fishing too. That was a different story that I never blogged but it hasn’t yet worked out. This area didn’t lend itself to fish dinner anyway. I didn’t find any secret fishing holes.
There’s a spectrum of “styles” for people playing in nature and I don’t sit at the middle of that bell curve. I’d shutdown my motorcycle and was sitting on a stump watching a goldfinch when I saw the first “other people”. It was an ATV “group” and it was my best guess as to “normal” for the area.
Four machines arrived in convoy and eight people piled out. A four seat UTV, complete with kids in the back wearing helmets. An older ATV driven by a bald guy (no helmet). A dirt bike operated by a guy that looked a bit like Shaggy from Scooby Doo. Also no helmet. Finally a skinny sunburnt woman on an old ATV. She wore a muscle shirt and was clutching a lit cigarette. Some poor bastard (husband?) was perched on the back and holding on for deal life. No helmet on those two either.
I mention the helmet thing because helmets on a UTV seem like overkill. Since they’ve got roll cages it’s more a lawyer thing than a logical need (unless, of course, you’re going nuts on technical obstacles). Yet, I notice that even the craziest rednecks will carefully truss up kids like the tykes are going to space. That says something about our society and it seems rather positive to me. The woman with the muscle shirt looked like she ate meth from the skulls of her enemies yet she helped the kids with the gentlest hand… while waving a lit cigarette in the middle of a parched forest with the other. They gave me a nod, as if assessing the threat profile of a bearded weirdo sitting in the brush stalking songbirds. I nodded back. Everyone was happy. The kids frolicked a bit and then everyone saddled up and roared out. I love Americans!
I thought that, as I approached the ATV “area” I might be overrun by the extras from Mad Max, The Road Warrior. It was nothing of the sort. I saw only one additional ATV group. Three gleaming new UTVs in convoy; looking for all the world like an organized and highly financed high tech military patrol. I sputtered by, feeling sheepish to be going so slow on my “grandpa bike” but also macho to be exploring alone.
That was it. Two ATV groups. That was “the crowded part” of my day.
[Forgive the navel gazing. I was thinking aloud and started typing.]
My motorcycle (like its rider) is an “odd duck”. Neither fish nor fowl, it seems to baffle everyone. In a parking lot, non-riders and kids smile appreciatively. Karens mentally assume I’m a domestic terrorist. Cruiser riders lean back as if they might catch something. Other motorcycle riders hope someday my finances improve so I can own a “real” motorcycle. I appreciate their sense of charity, never mentioning I’ve been ignoring a nice chromed cruiser in my garage.
At a trailhead, you’ll find there are almost no motorcycles off road anymore. ATVs nuked the dirtbike as thoroughly as the car nuked the horse. Yes there are still dual sports and dedicated dirtbikes out there. Also the Amish still plow with Percherons.
This is how it should be. ATVs may have begun as cantankerous three wheeled oddities but capitalist competition never sleeps. So long as customers had money (who knows how long that’ll last), each ATV was better, more sophisticated, and expensive than the last. ATVs are now shocklingly refined… powerful engines, good suspension, fine brakes, power steering is becoming common place… and they’re expensive. The cheapest new ATV out there will set you back $8K and $10K isn’t uncommon.
Yet these amazing creations, ATVs, are slowly losing the race. UTVs dispense with handlebars and instead come with two person bench seats, steering wheels, windshields, roll over cages, roofs, doors, cargo beds, you name it. They’re already the majority. These too are truly marvels of technology. They’re even more expensive. The expense does not seem to hinder their growth even a little bit.
Into this mechanical cold war I roll up with a bike that’s literally 1987 technology. Simple, cheap, crude, and small; it costs 1/2 to 1/3 of the cheapest ATVs and UTVs and I can tell where all that extra money goes when I ride in the midst of modern machines. Motorcycles take a lot more effort to handle than even the most fire breathing ATV. Dirtbikes get dumped all the time. In the first months I’d owned mine I’d sunk in a pond, crashed into a tree, and (more than once) landed on my side. You have to be plumb loco with an ATV to roll it. Yes, it can be done (I’ve done it), but for the most part ATV engineering does most of the work. Point the handlebar or steering wheel (!) at the general direction and everything from exceptional suspensions to limited slip differentials engage to handle whatever the surface offers. I struggle to do that manually on my dirt bike.
There’s a learning curve to two wheels on sand, rocks, or lose gravel. This means I’m using all my mind and body to toddle along at maybe 80% of the speed of a UTV driven by a fool who can barely understand what a steering wheel does.
Which brings me to a trail ride around Independence Day. I loaned a friend my old ATV and saddled up on my TW 200. Then we hit forestry roads for a fine afternoon. I had a grand time but there was no getting around it… I was slower than the ATV and worked harder at it. Getting from A to B, I had the inferior machine. I started to wonder if I’d made the wrong decision. I had fun… but felt like I was holding things up.
A month later I went on a ride alone. The story is going live in a series of posts right now. It was glorious! The heat was brutal. The conditions beautiful but exhausting… yet I didn’t care. I had soooooo much fun! I can’t even explain why, it was just super happy fun time.
I was idly listening to this review when he said something that clicked. The reviewer is far more experienced than I. He’s ridden more dirtbikes than I’ve ever seen, much of it in terrain that would kick my ass, and probably at speeds that would shake my nerve. Then, in a twist of events he wound up on a borrowed TW200… the odd duck. He soon understood that it’s a beast entirely unlike the other machines and it’s all about going slow and mellow. Ride like you’re there to enjoy nature (instead of tear through it) and the machine becomes perfect.
Around 9:30 he says “The TW is the perfect bike for the beginner or the individualist that just rides at their own pace.” That’s the thing I couldn’t explain before. Riding with my friend on my loaner ATV it felt slow. Riding alone a month later it moved at the perfect speed. An individualist at his own pace. Brilliant! If you’re wondering what I’m talking about, here’s the review.
While we’re at it, I’ll add the video from FortNine that didn’t just sell me on the bike but entranced me with it’s very idea. I’m not alone. Other TW buyers have referred to the same video.
“Did you see that thing about Canadian deserts?”
“Yep, bought mine six months later.”
Warning, if you buy one of these… you’ll have far more fun than you expect. Enjoy.
Update: FortNine, amid the romantic visuals, drops a big hint to anyone who buys such a machine. “On a bike that never falters, it’s easy to get caught way out there.” Very important statement there! Unless you’ve hiked through 30 miles of forest in the rain, you’ve no idea what can happen. “30 miles” is nothing until it’s everything. My bike is loaded with more survival gear than you’ll see on any “normal” ATV/UTV/dirtbike. It’s carefully tested and I’m constantly refining what I carry. I bring enough tools to fix anything I know how to fix and I take enough food and water that I’ll have time to do it.
This goes double if you’re solo. Nearly every ATV / UTV / dirtbike I’ve seen has traveled in packs. (Same with snowmobiles!) I ride alone and the TW is ideally suited for the loner. Take his (and my) warning to heart; if you go alone, cover your ass! (Also, you should occasionally go alone into the wild if you can. It’s good for you! What hollowness has taken root within the soul of mankind that people are universally afraid to be alone in nature?)
[Y’all may be forgiven for assuming I’ve been sitting on my ass. Is that not the blogger way? Doing little but whining about societal decline and mooning over butterflies? Nothing could be further from the truth! I’ve been outside playing in nature.
That means I’ve been off grid more than usual. Cool things pass by without finding note on my blog. This post, written on paper under smoky skies and in relentless heat, is my attempt to rectify things.
Also, I’m pretty proud of my clever choices for outdoor gear so I put links to certain products at the bottom. You don’t have to buy shit because I recommend it. I’m just offering the links because that’s the stuff I’ve tested and liked. I get a small kickback from the evil overlords at Amazon if you buy anything from a link but don’t feel pressure. Also, if you just loathe Amazon (who doesn’t?) you can always kick me a few bucks via the donation link to the right of this post.]
I’m outdoors right now. It’s hotter than hell. I found a shaded picnic table and I’m gonna stay here, drinking water, until the earth moves, the sun shifts, and the shade is gone.
All week the smoke of forest fires has annoyed me. I seem overly susceptible to bad air. What a wimp!
As a potential solution, I decided to head to the hills. There’s often a combination of prevailing winds, elevation, and terrain that is an improvement. Of course, nothing is sure during fire season. Also, when the weather is very hot, sometimes you’re just doomed. In extremes, nothing really “solves” heat. You do what you can but endurance becomes part of the equation. Either that or you give up and hide in the cold embrace of AC.
I wound up heading for a place I’ve never been before. Also, as required by tradition, all hell broke loose the week before my departure. It seems a simple thing; leisurely pack in advance of a trip, leave on time. Why does that never happen?
To start the trip, I relaxed in my Dodge; luxuriating in air-conditioning while the world around me wilted. I’d kicked my boat off my utility trailer and was towing it (the trailer, not the boat). Strapped on the trailer was Honey Badger, my little Yamaha TW 200 dirtbike. I intended the bike to ride in the truck bed (where there is ample space) but logistical details had derailed my plans. Better to carry Honey Badger on a rusty old trailer than whine that my plans had failed.
I’ve outfitted Honey Badger with interlocking Milwaukee Packout luggage. Mindful of heat inching past annoying into dangerous, I bought a Packout cooler. They’re spendy but high quality. More importantly I can “lock” it to the other Packout gear. If you’re going to do stupid shit in excessive heat, bring drinks.
I’d packed modestly, camping food would be MREs and Mountain House. I tossed a cheap family size cooler in the truck bed and filled it with frozen water bottles. That, and my wondrous tent / cot combination should be enough. I also loaded my trash can of prepped pallet wood and my little folding stove. I was good to go.
The drive was long and conditions keep getting hotter. At the last town I panicked. I wandered around a cool relaxing grocery store only to emerge with Gatorade, Coke, and 20 pounds of ice. Somehow bratwurst had jumped into the cart too. I threw everything into my cooler. I also had three “truck beers”. (Truck beers are the random few cans or bottles that are just sorta’ there… leftover from whatever other thing you’ve been doing. I tossed them in the cooler.) I’d buy more beer on the way.
Two hours later, with the sun setting, I arrived at camp. I hadn’t passed anywhere to buy beer! What godforsaken hellhole doesn’t at least have a six pack for sale at a bait shop?
I was at “Nondescript State Park” which is in “Random National Forest”. I pulled into a site I’d reserved just that morning. It was the first time I’d ever seen this place. It was brushy and had a little less shade than I’d like but it seemed OK.
It was hot. Forest fire smoke permeated everything. The good news was that I had driven hours with the radio on and during that whole time not one single asshole had told me that fires in the forest and heat in July are caused by Global Warming. Such an unexpected outbreak of rationality! There’s hope for humanity yet!
Setup of my tent, cot, mattress, sleeping bag, pillow, and sheet (sheets are nice for very hot conditions) took 11 minutes and 42 seconds. I wasn’t rushing. I can’t get over how happy I am with my combination of equipment. Fast setup and luxurious accommodations are such a far cry from my earlier days of lightweight gear and laying in the dirt. If you’ll be camping within sight of your vehicle, give yourself the option of ditching the tiny backpacking gear! My tent isn’t as nice as a hotel (with air conditioning) but it’s close. The cot/mattress is better than many regular household beds.
(A comfy camp setup in just over 10 minutes is the culmination of an idea I had two years ago. I called it “Operation Old Guy” and every part of that approach has been a happy success for me. I describe it here and here.)
In another 15 minutes I’d unloaded Honey Badger, unfolded my lawnchair, and was sipping my precious limited beer. I positioned my folding camp stove inside the campsite fire ring. It’s very dry and I was being extra careful. I left the tent’s rain fly off in hopes there would be a breeze (there wasn’t).
I was worried about running out of beer. I should conserve. But it was just so damn hot! I decided inadequate beer was a problem for Tomorrow’s Curmudgeon. This evening I would drink what I had. The universe would provide the answer.
Everything in my equipment was a home run. The folding firebox rocks! Pallet wood is perfect. Bratwurst are delicious. I ran a Thermocell but it scarcely seemed necessary. It was like the smoke and heat had killed all the bugs.
Dinner was fine (if a bit childishly planned). I watched the stove like a hawk but I didn’t really have to. Pallet wood burned under controlled conditions doesn’t throw many sparks. The sweltering heat ebbed. By 10 PM I was sacked out and sleeping like a baby.
The next day didn’t dawn cold but it wasn’t yet brutally hot. The best news was that the forest fire smoke had largely abated overnight! I breathed deeply like I hadn’t in days.
As always, the stove made wood fire almost as efficient as propane. I boiled water for Mountain House breakfast and quickly switched to percolating coffee in the same pot. While I waited, I read a paperback. It was the last few cool hours and I wanted to relax. I shared my camp with inquisitive rabbit. Several asshole chipmunks came by to see if they could scam up some food. (They couldn’t, I run a tight ship.) It was a good morning.
As the heat built, I left my comfy chair and started prepping my bike. The shade was gone and within minutes I was bathed in sweat. Two campers walked by saying something about showers. Turns out there were showers in the park!
After the world’s most appreciated cool shower, I pinged my SpotX “I’m leaving electronic breadcrumbs y’all, please keep me in mind” and rolled out. One advantage of a street legal machine is riding right out of a state park, onto a forest road, and thence to forever.
Stay tuned for part 2.
Camping gear of note can be found at these links:
TETON Sports Outfitter XXL Camp Cot (I first mentioned this two years ago; here and here. It’s not cheap but it’s a whole new dimension for car camping. There’s a reason an ad for one sits on my sidebar month after month… it’s that awesome.)
TETON Sports Outfitter XXL Camp Pad (Once you put this mattress on the appropriate cot, you will never sleep on the ground again!)
TETON Sports Celsius XL Sleeping Bag (An excellent bag but definitely excessive for hot summer camping.)
Gazelle Tent T4 (May be out of stock! Also, shop around for the best price.)
Milwaukee Packout Cooler (I bought the soft sided one locally. It’s a little larger than I wanted but then again it’s a lot hotter than I’d like. I may have gotten a better price at a brick and mortar store.)
Redcamp Wood Burning Folding Camp Stove (I first mentioned it here. I’ve used mine a lot since then and it’s just plain awesome. It’s cheap for what you get! Between that and pallet wood it’s like I’ve made a magic alternative to propane or whatnot.)
SpotX: SPotX is a special thing. It’s satellite communication safety gear. Safety gear is a big deal. (No, your damn cell phone ‘aint the same thing.) I didn’t just link to Amazon so you can buy it. I linked to a discussion where I evaluate the living heck out of the device and its use. Not everyone “needs” a SpotX, but I chose to get one and think it was wise. I appreciate living in a time when SpotX (and similar devices) exist. It’s a sound choice for a person like me or for anyone who does the sort of things that I do. If you need one, you probably already know it and just don’t want to deal with the hassle. Well you should. Quit dithering and buy the damn thing. Also, get in the habit of using it long before it matters!
I took over 30 photos of monarch #4 and virtually all of them were out of focus. Ah well… a GoPro ‘aint a short focal length device. (I like to use my old GoPro because it’s not a snitch machine like a cell phone. It’s just a damn camera. However, it’s not as good at stills as a cell.) Also the reason to do things is to do them… not to make the photo.
This particular monarch chose to build his chrysalis on the jar lid itself. So I screwed the lid off and propped it up on some scraps of pallet stock. (BTW: The pallet stock is for another campout / adventure. I mentioned the pallet approach here. It works incredibly well.)
See the wings sticking out?
Born on a truck tailgate. The most ‘Merican way to be!
He fluttered off to my old boat trailer but ran out of steam. He spent another 20 minutes getting up the gumption to finally head out.
And then he was gone.
Have a great day y’all.
A.C.
P.S. By the time you read this I’ll be off grid. Don’t fret if it takes a day or tow before your comments pop up.
Monarch #4 has a dark chrysalis and will almost certainly pop out as soon as the late morning sun has kicked in. I’m about to be an empty nester.
If you’re a regular reader you know that in 2020, year of the risk-averse Karenific shitstorm, I bought a little dirtbike. My first dirtbike. At an age when I might be thinking about grandkids and 401(k)s, I saddled up and rode off on a young man’s toy.
Being a novice, I promptly sunk it in a pond. Later I slipped on sand and crashed into a tree. I did that in the same year that vast swaths of humanity were afraid to leave their house. I laughed all the way, for what is life if not a challenge… accept it well, live to the fullest, and have the scars to prove it.
Is it any wonder that I never grokked a society that spent a whole year wailing over risk? Goddamn but what it was painful to watch. (Unlike hitting the tree, which was only painful for a second and probably hilarious to watch.)
Anyway, the Yamaha TW200 is more or less the perfect bike for me… but it needs some tweaking. For one thing, the footpegs are scaled for an elf.
I bought bigger footpegs. You can get cheap ones that are probably fine. I blew nearly $80 on Super Stock IMS. I figure I’m a lard ass and need lard ass tolerances in my motorcycle gear. Plus, how often do you say “I got the good stuff” when buying an $80 vehicle part? (By comparison, with my Mega-Dodge, $80 evaporates any time I drive the thing past a mechanic. If I stop at the mechanic’s shop, the specially programmed Chrysler CPU will hack into my wallet and spend next month’s mortgage payment.)
All hail Yamaha’s ultra cheap TW200!
One other observation, real dirt bike pros stand up on the pegs and use their legs like shock absorbers while they tear through the forest like a banshee. I’m old and mellow and have the same fucked up knees every old person has. I park my ass on the seat and just ride slower. It’s an option rarely considered. I ride alone, ride slow, and stop to smell the flowers. I got nuthin’ to prove to nobody. The machine is just a tool. It’s a horse that runs on gasoline and doesn’t eat hay all winter. You can (and should) use a machine (within its tolerances) in ways appropriate to your needs. Other people win races, I carry a fishing pole. I think I’ve chosen well.
Installation was ridiculously easy. Even a monkey like me could do it. It took a year to get around to it and 15 minutes to do the job. All you need is needle nosed plyers and a few minutes rolling in the dirt under your bike.
Yeah, you’ve guessed it. This means what you think it means. I’ve been running around the forest with my little Yamaha (affectionately named Honey Badger) far from the grid and happily so. So far I’ve had better luck that my rides in 2020. Thus there have been fewer interesting stories of me getting a gravitational beatdown in some random rockpile. Have no fear, I’ll eventually do something stupid. There’s plenty of time for me to make colorful mistakes (and when I do, I will duly report the situation).
A.C.
P.S. I’m looking into hunting and have experimented with fishing from the diminutive TW. So far all the rifle scabbard options have been pretty huge. They’ll work but the scale seems odd. Whatever I buy will have to be from the internet so there’s no “in person” options to see with my own eyes. I’ve had “issues” carrying fishing poles too so there’s a second challenge added to the mix. So far I haven’t committed to a particular solution. I’m leaning toward hard sided in case I crunch it in the dirt but who knows? (I’m not ruling out some redneck solution involving sewer pipe? Or “thinking outside the box” and trying to shoot Bambi with an easily carried pistol?) If y’all have clever ideas about carrying squirrel slayers and fish-o-matics on a tiny bike, please add them to the comments.
