All Hail Kromdor IV

Hey kids.

The entrance to the McNerney family property.

As you guys know, me and my old high school buddies get together a couple times a year - once in the winter and once in the summer - to go camping out at Trevor's extended family's 80-acre hunting property, outside of Rosebush. 

The winter one didn't happen this year, and for most of the year I assumed the summer one wasn't happening either because I hadn't heard anything regarding it. Then, last month at Trevor's daughter's Graduation Open House, Sean informed me that it was happening in mid-July, and that Trevor was supposed to have passed along the information to me.

Way to go, Trevor.

Sean pre-constructed this year's Kromdor.

So this particular weekend in July that they had settled on just so happened to be the only weekend in July where Kris was out of town, on the annual Momcation downstate. This was problematic, because we couldn't really leave the girls alone on their own for two nights: while they're certainly old enough to be on their own, and responsible enough for sure, we didn't really trust it with boyfriends in the mix. 

Consequently, I decided to stay back on Friday night and make this summer camping trip with the ol' Clare High squad a one-night affair (like I did last year.) Mom offered to stay at our house on Saturday with the girls, which put everyone's mind at ease, and I was able to drive up in the late morning to meet up with everyone.

Kind of a laid-back vibe this year - no karaoke or any big projects (like building a new outhouse or whatever) - just a brief stint down at the stream, sitting around and talking, then building a fire towards the end of the night for the annual Kromdor sacrifice.

Good catching up with everyone, though, and at least it gave me an excuse to breaking out the camping equipment once this summer (again, like last year, the only time our tents saw any use whatsoever.)

So here you go, folks - this year's camping trip with Kromdor and the boys. 

Enjoy. . . 

When I got there, everyone was up and around already - I had missed the two-hour window where hungover folks are just sitting around in chairs, smoking cigarettes (which I was fine with.)

I set my tent up, strapped on a knife, and we prepared to head down towards the creek at the base of the ravine to chill out in the water for a bit.

The stream that runs through Trevor's property (usually lined with coyote traps during the wintertime.)

This big-ass tree fell across the stream a couple years ago. Not sure what the ol' McNerney clan is wanting to do with it.

Sean climbs up.

Two of CHS Class of '98's finest.

Sean's daughter, Gracie, brought her boyfriend (at right) with her this year.

Trevor and Scrunge.

The weather was great this year, fortunately not as hot as last year (which was miserable and sapped everyone's energy like crazy.)

After a couple hours down by the creek, we came back up to the site for some lunch.

(And of course Lucas and Scrunge brought all their dogs up.)

Scrunge and Sean got bored and decided to jerry-rig a kite together with sticks and a garbage bag (because they can't sit still long without undertaking some kind of creative project.)

Brutus was all worn out after chasing after running water (seriously.)

Sean's sisters came out after awhile, bringing along their husbands and families (Emily stayed the night, but Katie ended up taking off in the late evening once the fire started.)

I parked close to my car this year in order to make the set-up and tear-down process a lot easier (opposed to walking crap hundreds of meters to my car and back - definitely doing this again next year.)

Trevor and one of his girls fishing on the pond.

This pond is only like six feet deep at the most, but it's gotta have like twenty feet of stinking muck at the bottom. So frickin' gross.

The 'finished product.'

Nobody attempted to fly it, it basically got tossed in the trash right away. An exercise in futility.

Max and his mohawk.

Sean brought up a bunch of weird sunglasses with him this year (because it's Sean) and the Elvis pair - that came with matching sideburns - matched Grace's boyfriend almost too perfectly.

Sara and Yours Truly.

The Originals (missing Matt Lee, who wasn't flying in from San Francisco until later in the month.)

Again, going back to the arts and crafts thing mentioned earlier, Sean brought up a bunch of spray paint and some t-shirts he picked up at Goodwill or something so folks could do designing. I sprayed up a shirt at his insistence, but didn't bother taking it home with me. I don't trust running something like that through a washing machine and not ruining the rest of my clothes.

My tent set-up. Having it next to the pond gave me a great breeze at night, too (only downside was the loud-ass frogs nearby, but I brought noise-cancelling headphones and that took care of it.)

Some close-up shots of this year's Kromdor totem. . .

Everyone got an opportunity to graffiti it, too.

Antlers were added once Sean brought it up here - Scrunge insisted upon it.

Not sure what the story is with the abandoned paddleboat (at bottom left.)

A couple of worn-out dogs.

Post-dinner hangout at the site. A few more of Sean's older relatives swung out and visited for a couple hours.

Getting the fire started as the sun began to set.

Scrunge and I were on wood duty this year, and as he cut some big limbs off nearby trees (dead trees, of course), Yours Truly hauled them back down the two-track to the firepit.

View of the site from the woods.

The fire gets going.

Sean and Sara use some stencils to spray-paint the canopies.

While we were out collecting some birch bark (which helps fires get going faster 'cause it burns like crazy), we found an abandoned grill in the middle of the woods. Nothing weird about that.

Sean tends the fire.

Kromdor is sacrificed to the gods.

This year's Kromdor burned fast - usually it lasts a lot longer, but this year it flared up and died down in no time.

We sat around the fire for a couple hours, then did our traditional midnight walk down to the road in the dark (without lights, per the rule.) After that, folks turned in for the night - nobody was really in a 'rage 'til dawn' sorta mood this year.

Trevor, of course, fell asleep by like 9pm. He's always the first to fall asleep. I tried waking him up at one point but the shit wasn't happening. He's 44 going on 90.

- Brian