All Hail Kromdor III

Hey kids.

As you know, I go on two camping trips a year with my old high school buddies, both up at Trevor's family's hunting property:  one in the winter, when we stay inside the hunting cabin, and one during the summer, when we camp outside down by the pond. The other guys had started this traditional around 2013 or so, while Yours Truly was down in Florida, but since I've been back up in Michigan I've met up with them whenever possible.

This year, our annual summer camping trip just so happened to fall on the same weekend that my borther Bryan and his wife, Chelsey, were flying up from Tennessee and staying up at Eight Point. What has always been a weekend camping trip was consequently shortened down to one night, as I was double-booked, so I planned on bowing out of Friday and Friday evening and just popping in Saturday, staying all day and night, then returning to Eight Point first thing Sunday morning.

Sean works on this year's Kromdor for annual sacrifice. . .

So, like all of 2024 thus far, this year's camping adventure in the woods was a much more timid affair. Didn't help much that when I arrived to their campsite Saturday morning, all the rest of the guys were in rough shape - apparently they had gone at it hard the night before, so morale was a bit low. Also didn't help much that it was pushing 90 degrees out with barely a cloud in the sky, and out in the woods we didn't really have a lake to swim in, or jet skis to ride on, or anything like that - we just had to retreat into the shade and sweat as little as possible.

All in all, though, it was still good seeing the old crew, and we still kept hold of the usual traditions - cooling off in the creek, hiking through the woods, singing karaoke, and - of course - constructing and sacrificing the annual Kromdor totem at the end of the night.

Here's this year's summer version of Clare High School's camping venture (toned down substantially from previous years, 'cause 2024 and all.) Enjoy. . .  

Sean had mapped out his cut lines on this log prior to bringing it up, then painted it partially red, then started to hack away at it with a chainsaw

His daughter, Grace, Matt Lee, and Scrunge's girlfriend sat by and watched the master at work.

When I first rolled in, this is what everyone was doing. Some folks had run into nearby Rosebush for supplies (ice, food, beer, etc.), and some folks were still sleeping it off. I set up my tent and put my crap away, then joined the others to watch Sean narrowly avoid cutting his fingers off.

Some of the tents, situated along one of the many paths that zig-zag through the 80 acres of woods on the property (mine's the little blue dude second from left.)

One of the kitchen pavilions. There were approx. 50 or so people camping up at the property this summer (a lot of Trevor and Sean's relatives come up to hang out, and most stay the night), so we had multiple kitchen setups.

Couldn't find any other knife laying around to slice limes for my Corona, so I had to adapt and overcome.

He was at this for a couple hours.

Sean decided that Kromdor needed some spider legs this year (last year the dude definitely got some impressive limbs.) He also gave it sideburns this year because, as the joke went, because I didn't come out the night before they were modeling Kromdor after Yours Truly. Nyuck nyuck.

Kromdor III

With Kromdor complete, we all ventured down to the nearby creek to cool off - by this point in time the sun was at its zenith and it was absolutely hot as hell outside.

Scrunge and Sean's cousin (always forget his name) cooling off in the creek.

This giant tree had collapsed into the creek over the last couple of months, falling directly onto what used to be called Seanlandia - a little 'sandbar' of peddles where you could set up camping chairs in the river. Not sure how Trevor's gonna go about fixing this disaster.

Sweaty (I had already showered that morning, and had zero product in my hair.)

Brutus - basically the size of a mastiff with the temperament of a pit bull - explored up and down the river, biting at the water.

Dogs are dumb as hell.

Grace, Scrunge and Sean, soaking their bums in the creek.

Getting that wet in dirty water and not being able to shower off did not sound fun to Trevor and I at all, we sat nearby on a log and drank beer.

After an hour or two down at the creek, folks began to get bored so we labored back up the steep embankment back towards the campsite. On the way, we passed by the hunting cabin and found this familiar animal skull still chilling on the back deck.

To the left there is the outhouse we built last summer on this very same camping trip. Wasn't nearly as hot out that year, that's for damn sure.

The rest of the crew finally joins up with me after making their way to the top of the embankment (I'm one of the only adults at these annual get-togethers that exercises regularly and doesn't smoke, so I'm arguably in better shape then them.)

While we had been down at the creek, Kromdor had patiently kept watch over our fire pit, awaiting his inevitable demise.

Scrunge's girlfriend, Sean, Scrunge, and Matt, trying to cool off in the shade of the trees.

As we drew closer to dinner time, Sean and Scrunge set about gathering firewood (once you get the fire going it just makes more sense to have enough wood on hand to keep it going until folks crash at the end of the night.)

The giant woodpile we use every year.

Trevor is convinced, and has stated repeatedly over the years, that it's totally possible for one to walk across the length of this gross-ass pond without going under water, it's that shallow. Seeing how disgusting that would be - I'm sure it's like six feet of filthy muck at the bottom - no one's every attempted it since I've been coming here.

Trevor cooks his family up some pork chops (or something, I don't know - I wasn't paying attention and all meat looks the same to me.)

Primed and ready to roll for later this evening.

People - myself included - were falling asleep in their chairs most of the evening as the weather cooled off. A combination of having beers in 90 degree weather - and for the rest of them, being hungover most of the day - meant the energy and vibe of the assembled was much more chill this year compared to previous years. It was a struggle to stay awake as we hung out around the fire, listening to music.

Like last year, Sean brought up all his karaoke equipment, along with the McNerney family (despite having to run back to Clare to get the correct cords to hookup their computer to the speakers.) 

I didn't get nearly as many pictures and video of this year's performances, despite having nearly 20 or 30 people perform (they were at it for hours.) Like I said, I was falling asleep in my chair most of the night, wasn't feeling it this year at all.

Good ol' Scrunge.

Around midnight, it was time to sacrifice Kromdor to our heathen gods. . .

Wrapping the totem in birch tree bark helped it explode into an absolute inferno. . .

About an hour into Kromdor's death, some folks ventured out for the annual 'midnight walk' through the trees (even though by this point it was closer to 1am. That's usually my favorite thing to do, stumbling through the woods in pitch black, with no lights for guidance, but I couldn't physically do it this year. Me, Trevor, Matt, and most of the others just stumbled back to our tents and crashed, totally wiped out from the day's oppressive heat. Maybe next year will be a return to form, and not so, you know, 2024 and everything. . .

- Brian