Back into the Woods

Following Trevor down the off-road path towards Bob's property. . .

Hi everybody.

Last year, as you'll recall, I went camping out in the woods with a few guys from high school.  No toilets, no showers, no naggy wives, no kids, but lots of fishing, lots of shooting, lots of drinking, and lots of swearing.  A great time that reminded me of my younger years in the wild.

Well, this year we did it again.

Home (for the first night, at least.)  I managed to bring tent poles this year.

It basically went down the same as last year, only the weather was definitely crappier this year.  The temperatures were waaay colder:  Sean, Trevor and I had suffered through one freezing night in our respective tents before realizing that Bob's hunting cabin - which had a box heater and multiple empty cots upstairs - was a far better option.  In addition, a huge storm was rolling through the area early Sunday morning, so sticking it out in the tents for a second night, only to wake up and deal with disassembling our camping gear in a downpour, didn't seem like the smartest course of action.

Weather aside, it was a good time.  Definitely looking forward to this being an annual thing.

Here we go. . .

First to set up my tent (later Sean and Trevor would set up theirs in the same area.)

A shame the weather prohibited me from staying a second night in my tent - this setup was pretty legit.

Establishing headquarters

Scrunge once again brought his super hammock.

Later that evening, getting ready for 'dinner.'

Meat over fire.  Sides are for women.

Scrunge and Trevor set to work on securing some tarps to block the cold wind that was roaring through the pines.  Saturday night we'd have to deal with not only wind, but rain as well - these tarps would be a Godsend.

We used one tarp last year, but this year folks were wise enough to bring more.

After barely surviving hypothermia the first night (and coyotes you could hear prowling in the distance), we woke up to a chilly morning and set about heating up some coffee. . .

I had remembered the coffee from last year, and this year packed one of those giant, industrial metal Thermos canisters from the '60s (thanks, Granny) filled to the brim with coffee brewed from home.  Scrunge drank about 64 oz of camp coffee anyway, I don't think anyone else had any.  Soon, we set about making breakfast, which consisted of bacon and eggs.  And nothing else.

Bacon done, cooking a dozen eggs in the bacon grease.  I don't want to know what this does to your cholesterol. . .

Bob's hunting cabin - where we'd end up passing our second night (a much smarter move on our part.)

Bob's property

Found this homeboy as I was walking back from the outhouse.  Whatever animal did this isn't something I'd like to come across in the middle of the night.

As people slowly got around for the day, like last year, people fell into two groups:  those who planned on fishing in the river, and those who planned on shooting guns on the range.

Sean, Scrunge and I preferred firearms over fishing poles, just like last year.

Setting up targets

Sean didn't bring his shotgun this year, just his .22

This year I brought my .22 as well, which, like Sean's, is a .22 10/22 carbine.  

Looking for a nail that was shot off the target.

Bob and the others ended up coming over to join us after an hour (I guess the fish weren't biting this year), so he brought along this toy for us to play around with.)

He also showed me how to sight in my rifle, which was helpful.  After he adjusted the scope I was able to put multiple shots in a quarter-sized area on a paper plate from the distance of the range.  Very accurate gun.

Scrunge takes a nap.

Comparing shots

Trevor had left early in the morning to attend his daughter's softball game, and he ended up coming back as we were shooting guns on the range, walking out of the treeline like a frickin' Sasquatch. . .

After a few hours of shooting various firearms, Sean decided to create a life-size, cardboard man to blow up with a canister of explosive tannerite that someone had brought up. Using cardboard tubes and zip-ties (and a Labatt's Blue box for a head), Sean began assembling his Frankenstein.

Scrunge slow-dances with a headless, cardboard mannequin

The finished product, which wasn't long for this world. . .

Bob, who was the best shot, was appointed the shooter to set off the tannerite.  We placed Mr. Cardboard in the middle of a field, against a post, and placed the explosives in his the box/head.

Took a few shots (gin and tonics don't help one's aim), but we got the result we were looking for.

Following all the gun play, some of us decided to try venturing out into the woods again with Scrunge's metal detector to see if we could find any buried treasure. . .

We were told that there was an old cabin, built on the side of a hill, somewhere on the property, but it wasn't as easy to find as the foundation we had quested after last year. . .

This year, Bob joined Sean, Scrunge and I.

One for the road

We didn't stop as often as last year - I think Scrunge had his fill of unearthing nails, spent shotgun cartridges, and bits of scrap metal last year.

Further into Bob's property. . .

Not being able to explore this rundown shack last year, I really pushed to check it out this year.  I almost convinced the others to go along with the idea, but as we were about to go, Bob's father in law - who used to own all the land and sold Bob his piece - drove up to see if we had found the old cabin yet, and also told me that the people who own the property are a bunch of drama-seeking assholes who would freak out if they caught us over there.  Despite the fact it's just an empty shack no one uses any more.  I was bummed, as I'm sure there's some cool shit to photograph in there.

Revising the old stone foundation of the cabin we had found last year

Break time

Bob's wife's family used to live here, about 100 years ago.  The cabin was as big as you can see here, but they had EIGHT kids living here.  I don't see how that shit's even possible.

All that remains of this cabin is the stone foundation

Back on the trail

That's Bob's father in law, to the right with the rifle

Ants score some egg

We never found the elusive buried cabin the woods, which was disappointing, but came upon a couple different old trash piles (broken glass, scraps of cans, etc.)

Random animal skull

We were told this spooky, old tree we came across used to serve a bizarre purpose:  back in the day (1940s, thereabouts), before there were humane societies to take care of stray animals, people used to chain dogs to this tree.  Folks used to use a dirt road that ran through the property quite regularly, before the major roads were established in the area, so this tree was well-known.  If you lost your dog, you checked the tree.  Dozens of dogs at a time would be chained to this tree, for days on end.  Kind of horrifying to think about.

Definitely a terrifying tree.  Even moreso, considering its dark history. . .

. . . so of course Sean had to climb it.

Back at camp, following our hours-long hike through the woods.  The previous night, Sean had dragged this deer target underneath Scrunge's hammock to prank him when he woke up in the morning.  It worked.

Settling in for another, cold, wet evening

A lot of meat on the menu for dinner.  Unsurprisingly.

Steaks, ribs, you name it.  Many animals died for our consumption.

Adding more tarps, in anticipation of approaching bad weather.  The rain was initially supposed to hold off until Sunday, but when we checked the weather again it showed that we were going to get hit hard later on in the evening.

Vegetables make a rare appearance on our 'grill.'

Just like they do it at hipster restaurants:  serving fire-charred meat on wooden boards.

We ate the holy hell out of this.  I haven't tasted meat this glorious in a long, long time.

Grazing

Even the plants got eaten, if you can believe that.

That night, the rain rolled in.  The winds picked up, and everyone sought shelter under the tarps.  Unfortunately, the fire - and the warmth - was too far away from the tarps to serve us much good, so we decided to build a second, auxiliary fire closer to the tarps. 

It ended up working really, really well, and allowed us to hang out in the crappy weather for several more hours.

The next morning, it was pouring rain.  Fortunately, I had broken down my tent and stowed all my camping gear in the van the night before, so all I had to do was help clean up some odds and ends around the campsite in the morning (empty beer cans, paper plates, etc.)  Which is obviously a hell of a lot better than trying to pack up a tent in the freezing rain.  We all parted ways around 10am, heading back to civilization a lot colder and smellier than we were when we last left it.

- Brian