Friday, January 23, 2009

Jobu, The Moldy.


Jobu...he's a prick. He is who we blame for all the bad stuff that happens when camping. As long as you feed him and give him a little beer or rum he is OK. Ignore him and he gets rowdy. Jobu has may tricks at his disposal. This is a tale of one of them.

We had evidently grown complacent in out treatment of Jobu, so he tried to drown us. We arrived to a beautiful October day. First camping ritual is to drink a beer when you arrive to your site of choice. This usually helps to ease the pain of setup. After a beer or two we set up camp.

When it comes to tent placement, you want to choose where you set your tent carefully. Flat open areas are usually ideal. Close to the fire is also another choice. Me, I like high and flat. Next, is your dining canopy. You want to put that close to the main gathering area which will be your fire pit. We had our camp site set up.

There were six of us on this trip, Jerry, Kevin, Pete, Carl, Doug and myself. We had a great time that Friday night. The details of which seem to escape my memories. But I'm very certain we had a good time by the painful reminder I had Saturday morning.

Saturday dawned cold and gray. We cooked breakfast and washed it down with a healthy portion of Miller Lite. We went down to Apple Valley and hiked down to the big waterfall. A drunken stagger to the waterfall has become a rite of passage in the LOD. It has affectionately become known as a "Death March." Good times as long as you don't bust your ass or more importantly spill your beer. As we made the journey back it started to sprinkle.

We arrived back at camp to a nice light but steady rain. We arranged coolers and all gathered as close to the center of the dining canopy as we possibly could. This was hampered a bit by the huge ancient spool that used to reside at out campsite. We had chosen to use it as a table and had placed it in the center of our old blue Wal-Mart canopy. We would later regret using this as a center support. The rain continued to come down. We heard thunder off in the distance but looking back I think it was Jobu laughing at what was to come.

As the rain came down we drank. Some of us took naps in between beers. I made spitballs from a news paper that someone brought up and fired them from the spud gun. Later as the rain continued to come down we learned that our center pole arrangement for the dining canopy encouraged the formation of pools of water at the dining canopy's corners. I discovered that if you gently nudged the corner pole when someone is walking under it it would dump 2 gallons of cold wather right on their unsuspecting heads. This kept me amused for hours.

The steady rain was taking a toll on our fire. At this point in our camping careers, we had yet to make a really huge fire. In an effort to protect our sacred camping flame we made a cover from an old truck fender. The truck parts had been laying there since Jobu struck the vehicle dead back in the early 20's. We arraigned the parts into a crude fireplace. But the rain was too steady and the wood to wet to light. So we turned a can of Coleman fuel on its side and put the spout through a crack in the fender. What was left of the fire was enough to warm the fuel and create a small gas flame to give us some heat.

The rain kept coming. Day turned to night.

We rallied our spirits. Jobu was not going to beat us. Not us! No Sir! We lit up our lanterns and surrounded ourselves in the warm glow and heat of white gas love. As our hats became soaked we dried them on top of the lanterns. If you should ever try this technique one word of advise. Let your cap cool before you put it on. I have a scar on the top of my head from the hot button in the middle.


Eventually we ran out of beer and staggered off to the tents. I discovered I had a leak in my tent. It had formed a small pool at one end. I carefully positioned my air mattress where it would not be under any drips and settled into my sleeping bag for a fitful nights sleep. I had placed my tent on high ground. It turned out that Jobu really didn't like this and he has reminded me of it on just about every camping trip since.

During the night the rain got harder. We woke to a pond were the fire pit had been. Bottles and cans were floating down a small stream that ran though the middle of our camp.

Kevin's tent had made an attempt to stop a newly formed feeder creek to Walnut Fork. He even built a small earthen dam around it. But the during the night the water breached it and came rushing in.

Pete had dreams of white water rafting. He woke up to find himself floating on his air mattress in 8 inches of water.

Doug and Carl did not sleep well either. Due to the placement of their tent and the force of the water running through it an eddie had formed. They spent the night in a swirling mass of unholy wrath.

As we emerged looking like shipwreck victims from out tents Jobu turned the water up from "Soak" to "Holy Hell! Turn off that f*****g fire hose you asshat!"

No one said a word to each other. We just started the trucks and cars and began shoving things in them. Wet tents went in coolers. 400 pound soaked sleeping bags were shoved in trunks. I wadded up the dining canopy and crammed it in the back of the Beast. Camp was broken down in record time. We all said "Bye," waved our extended middle fingers at the clouds, and began our trek home.


As soon as we were about an hour away from camp...the sky cleared. and right there in front of me was a big puffy white cloud that looked like an extended middle finger. Jobu didn't like us to much it seems.

After this trip I bought an new tent. I also bought a huge tarp it was always over my tent from then on. I also vowed never to have a fire drown from rain. And so far none have. We also began setting up our tents on high ground. Now the only thing that goes near the fire pit is the kitchen set up. And a pile of wood that would heat the average sized home through the worst winter ever.

Thanks for the lesson Jobu. You'll have to try better next time. You're still a prick though.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Learn By Doing


25 Things I've learned from camping.

1. A full beer bottle will explode if heated sufficiently.
2. Propane Cylinder + campfire = Bad idea.
3. Rancid dear meat may not kill you, but it will make you wish it did.
4. Hot Dogs should not be eaten consecutively for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
5. Always remove the trailer hitch from your truck before you go "wheelin."
6. Some Game Wardens do not have a sense of humor.
7. Some Game Warden do have a sense of humor.
8. The "poopie seat" location is visible from the road.
9. Assassin Bugs are really ugly.
10. Poo will burn.
11. Brake rotors will not burn in our campfires...yet.
12. Hippy College Kids are wasting their Mom and Dad's money.
13. Immovable objects like the school bus are in fact...Movable.
14. Too many hands in the pot will ruin the chili.
15. Drunk Shoes is a lot more fun with my Younger Brother playing.
16. My father has great friends.
17. You should never fry canned biscuits in rendered fat.
18. Watching your buddies puke is no longer funny when you join them.
19. When someone says "hit it like a man" look to see if they are hiding behind something first.
20. Eye brows grow back...ears don't.
21. Contrary to popular belief Jose Cuervo is not your friend.
22. Paint-balls hurt.
23. Potato Guns are fun, but a meat gun would be awesome.
24. A 1987 Dodge Ramcharger is an invitation for disaster. It is also a key to adventure.
25. Some of the best people I've ever known I camp with. A man could not ask for more.

Love In A Cardboard Tube.


I’m starting to get a little on the hungry side so I think I’ll talk about food for a bit. As a camper evolves, so does his ability to cook in the mountains.

In the beginning our meals consisted mainly of hotdogs cooked on a stick and prepackaged ready to eat foods. Specifically, Little Debbie Nutty Bars and Doritos.

Eventually we began to warm canned food. Beans for the most part. I can remember a can or two of stew as well.

Later we began to cook breakfast foods. Eggs and bacon. And then we tried biscuits.

Biscuits and camping may not sound like to things that work well together without bringing up an oven. Truthfully you really should have an oven present to cook biscuits. I imagine you could use your handy dandy cast iron Dutch oven. But for me that is inviting cinders to form.

One of our intrepid members found a “solution” to the biscuit dilemma. First you need to cook about 5 pounds of bacon. When you are done cooking the bacon you should have approximately 2.5 inches of bacon fat bubbling away in the bottom of your pan. Do not dispose of this fat. It is crucial to the next step.

Now when you were doing your grocery shopping you should have picked up enough canned biscuits to feed 16 folks of so. Open up your canned dough and plop those doughy little turds into your grease. Fry them until they turn an nice crispy golden brown on one side. Turn those little beasties.

When you are complete you should have a nice thin layer of bacon grease left in the pan. Just enough for a batch of eggs, but not enough to dump in the fire. Cook up your eggs.

Now it’s time to eat. Grab a plate and load up about 10 pieces of bacon, a big scoop of eggs and a biscuit or two.

We all should know what campfire eggs and bacon tastes like. But the biscuits are a completely different story.

When you pick up the biscuit the first thing you notice is that it is heavier than you thought it should be. The second thing you notice is that when you release it what ever you happen to grab next slips our of your grasp almost immediately. You chalk this up to all the beer you drank the night before.

After having found a nice chair to sit in out of the smoke from the early morning fire. You pick up your biscuit. A cool thought usually goes through you head at this point. “I’ve got bacon, eggs and a biscuit! Man we have arrived!”

Your joy is short lived however. You bite into your biscuit. Now you need to wipe your chin. “That’s odd” you think. “I didn’t butter my biscuit.” That’s not butter dripping off your chin. It’s bear cocaine. Bacon fat.

After eating one of these coronary sponges you are over come with the urge to vomit. But being a trooper you stick it out. Maybe pouring some beer on it will help to dissolve the fat. But that does not do the trick.

Your only recourse is to wait it out. The details of which you can only imagine.

The next morning you discover that cooking in the skillet is 20 pounds of pork sausage. Once again the biscuits come out. This time you are wiser. When the cook is not looking you toss your biscuit into the fire. Oily black smoke licks skyward as the biscuit is cremated. You look away and hear a “Whump!” as another biscuit burst into flame.

The next trip you discover that the biscuits have once again returned to the mountain. It’s time for a preemptive strike. Start out telling of the MythBusters episode where they cook off cans of instant biscuits in a hot car. Then suggest that they may explode in a fire.

The first can goes in. You hear a small pop. And the side of the can has popped open. “That one must have been a dud.” you say. “Try another.” Soon all the death sponges are consumed by flame.

And your colon thanks you.

As I typed this I realized that if you wrap a biscuit can in duct tape on the sides and secure the bottom you may be able to launch a few biscuits skyward. I think I may have a diversion when we once again assemble on the hill.

PBR's and Roast Beef on Wheat.


It was an overcast dreary sort of day. A day where all you really wanted to do is stay in bed. But you have things to do and places to be. You are going camping. So you go about getting ready for your trip. Bags are packed and your truck is loaded. Your trusty camper is hitched to the back. You get in and say your traditional silent prayer for an uneventful and safe trip. As you finish you hope God forgives you for all the stupid stuff you are about to do.

That was the start of Spring Fling 2008. It turned out to be more of a Spring Sog instead. Thursday Morning was overcast but warm. Dad followed me in his Jeep. I was driving "Jake" my 1999 Ford F150. When we arrived at the Clayton Wal-Mart Dad asked me to tap my brakes. Turns out I had no brake lights. Oh Joy. Jobu was back.

Jobu is the little Voodoo god from the Major League movies. Perdo Cerrano says at one point "F*&K YOU JOBU! I DO IT MYSELF" well...when ever something bad happens like Rain, Catastrophic Vehicle Failure, Angry Game Wardens or Loud Propane Explosions we blame Jobu. We actually say "F*&K YOU JOBU!" and shake our fists at the sky. In the past Jobu has tried to kill me on several occasions. But that is another story.

We arrive on our mountain side hide-a-way. Greg arrived at about the same time we did. I get the camper set up and drag out the coolers. Kevin arrives followed by Jerry. I believe Teddy was already up there. Or maybe he never left from the last trip. I never know about Teddy. He seems to pop out of nowhere sometimes.

Jerry, Kevin, and I all make our contributions to the bar and then I reveal my secret weapon in the war against sobriety. PBR's...cheap and tasty. Good stuff, or so I thought. I'm a little angry at my truck and the beer is cold so I knock back 8 or so.

The bad thing about being 38 is I still think I'm 18. The part of me that is "Bob" still thinks he can do anything and not suffer the consequences. But here of late the body that houses the "Inner Bob" seems to be at odds with the other.

Back to the story...I'm 8 beers into a case of PBR's. And then someone hands me a Jagerbomb. I drink it. Then a rum and coke pops out of nowhere, then a Jack and Coke, Vodka and Sprite, and then it all repeats. And then somewhere deep inside my Cerebral DJ spins up "Gone" by Montgomery Gentry. Bad news...When i start too hear that song in my head it usually mans I'm drunk beyond repair.

Kevin and I decide we need to go survey the rest of the campgrounds so we hop in my truck. Jake fires right up and we back out and put it in drive. All of the sudden there is a gradual brightening of the surrounding air and Poof! there is Teddy at the window. I think I heard that strange sound you hear on Star Trek whenever they use their transporters. He asks "Where you guys going?" we reply "Crapper". He asked "Are you OK to drive?" We slurred out "Yesh..I'm hardley drunked" He replied "Weeelll OK." and then he vanished again.

I drove to the main road and realized that I am indeed impaired and needed to return to camp. So we did. Thank heavens. We got out, locked the truck and gave our keys to my Father. And we decided that since we did something rational we needed another drink. That is about when we discovered that Jerry had disappeared.

He had decided to take a nap under the bar. At some point I though it might be nice to sit down. Next thing I know I wake up and I feel really bad. It's almost dark. I stagger to the nearest tree and promptly get rid of any remaining booze in my stomach. Then I stagger by Greg at his cooking station. He offered me a pork chop. It smelled delightful and from what I heard they tasted even better than they smelled. Greg is one hell of a cook. I politely declined and continued on my way to the camper. Where I slept like the dead.

Friday looked pretty much like Thursday. I drank a beer. And maybe one Rum and Coke. I think we played Horseshoes. Kevin was not feeling well. Jerry and I both felt green around the gills still. More people showed up and Friday turned into Saturday.

Saturday morning...lots of clouds. With breakfast in our bellies we greeted the rain as the fishermen headed out for an assault on the local trout population. Jerry, Kevin, and I head out to Wal-Mart to pick up some dinner. It starts pouring on the way down the mountain. We do our shopping and return to camp. It rained off and on all day. Jobu turned a great day into a soggy mess. Dinner was prepared and we stared drinking a bit. Kevin still felt like hell and the spirit of drunkenness had evidently left me Thursday. Try as I might i just couldn't drink to excess. Which is probably a good thing.

We sat around the campfire enjoying our drinks, smoking cigars while listening to Ron White and Larry The Cable Guy. All in all...Saturday turned out pretty good.

Sunday we packed up. And Jobu attacked my truck again. My four wheel drive would not engage. So with all the rain, I got my truck stuck. Dad pulled it out with his jeep. I said a few choice words to Jobu and headed home. Vowing not to get that plastered on a Thursday again.

But I forgot all about that when our Fall trip rolled around.