Back into the Woods

Trevor hooked me up with one of these upon my arrival.

Hey Internet.

So it had been a couple years since the last time my high school crew and I got together and camped out in the woods, and as such we decided it was high time for us to do so once again.  Being winter and all, none of us felt like tenting it out, so we opted instead to go up to Trevor's family cabin, out by Rosebush.  No running water and no electricity, but - like Rita's family cabin we stayed in a couple years ago - it ran on 'Amish Lighting,' powered via propane.  This meant it was nice and warm inside, and well-lit - all one really needs when roughing it out in the woods in the dead of winter.

I drove up after Abby's Girl Scout troop's World Thinking Day thing (I'll talk about that in a later post, I'm sure), so I didn't roll in until around 8pm or so Friday, and by that time the rest of the guys had established headquarters and were already starting on getting dinner together.  We stayed until late Sunday morning, and had a blast reverting to a bunch of stupid 16-year-olds for a couple days, with no wives, no kids, no responsibilities, and no connection to the outside world.

I could've definitely stayed longer, that's for damn sure.

Check it out, folks. . .

Trevor's family cabin in the woods.  Simple, rustic, and smells just as you'd imagine Trevor's cabin to smell.

Sean and his Dad, Tom, who came along for the weekend as well.

These propane lanterns do well in a pinch to create more light (and heat.)

Trying to figure out how to get the stove going so we can bake some potatoes and cook up the venison Trevor had brought up.

Scrunge tries out of the not-at-all-creepy hats that was hanging on the wall of the cabin. . .

Dinner time.

After dinner, we bundled up and trudged down a two-track path through the woods to a pond that was on the far side of Trevor's property, which had frozen over in the cold.  Scrunge set up a bunch of his lenses to take some pictures of the stars, which were ridiculously bright in the clear, cold air - we were far, far away from civilization, so there was next to nothing as far as light pollution goes.

Had to snap a picture of the crew to send out to all the other members of our high school squad that couldn't make it out this time. . .

Some late night snacking before bed (yes, that's a dog - Scrunge brought both of his up with him.)

The next morning, drinking some tar-ish coffee - boiling hot and bitter - before getting a start on the day.

Trevor's cabin.  After eating a hearty breakfast of bacon, tater tots, and eggs - courtesy of Tom - we suited up in winter clothes and prepared to explore the surrounding land.

This is what passes for a bathroom around these parts. . .

Smells like Sankpala, that's for damn sure.

The front porch (which was more or less a refrigerator this weekend - had to store the beer and food somewhere.)

I hadn't noticed it the night before (it was pitch black out by the time I rolled in), but the cabin sat atop a steep hill that overlooked a creek.

Sean decided to play with his shotgun for a bit - always a good time.

 

Scrunge's dogs were not big fans of this. . .

Down by the river, exploring an old sandbar that Sean had christened Seanlandia a couple years ago.  Of course.

This dead deer was located about 50 yards from the cabin, and was set there as bait for coyotes. . . which, I'm told, Trevor's cousins shoot from the comfort of the cabin's kitchen window.  We posed a couple pictures for the trail cams that were honed in on this location.

Returning to the frozen pond from the night before.

It was actually pretty warm out - mid-40s, thereabouts.

 

Can't take these guys anywhere. . .

Slainte.

Yes, Sean is always that guy.

Sean and his dad, walking the two-track back to the cabin.

Creating a fire pit for use later on in the night.

Too much damn walking for Scrunge. . .

What kinda Pet Cemetary bullshit is this???

This is some Injun spirit-conjuring nonsense, right here. . .

The back porch of the cabin, with the outhouse in the distance.

In the afternoon, a couple of the guys decided they were going to build themselves an igloo.

This is about as far as they got. . .

Evil spirits keep watch over the river.  Or so I assume.

Not entirely sure if this side porch here is up to code or not - I wouldn't trust it, that's for damn sure.

There was a dart board inside the cabin, but the darts were garbage.  Good thing Trevor had a blowgun lying around. . .

Scrunge has enough of Sean's lip at one point.  Hilarity ensues.

The evening's bonfire (my phone died for a few hours while we were walking about outdoors, so by the time I had an opportunity to plug it into my portable battery charger, it was already night.)

At the end of the night, exhausted from a merry time outdoors.  You can imagine how horrible we all smelled Sunday morning.

- Brian

Another Hipsterly Project

They should make a game where you shoot these.

I know I make fun of hipsters a lot, but I'd like to point out that the main reason I do so (besides them being absolutely ridiculous in all things) is because they frickin' copy and exploit ALL the crap I've been into for years.

Book enthusiast?   Check.
Music snob?   Check.
'70s/'80s electronics?  Check.
Vinyl record collecting?   Check.
Pipe-smoking?   Check.
Ukuleles?   Check.
Old man hats?   Check.
Beer?   Check.

And vintage bicycles?  Yeah, that too.

Damn you very much, Hipsters.

Anyway, the point of all this is that I want everyone out there in Cyberspace to know that Yours Truly proceeds hipsters in all things, including the acquisition and restoration of vintage bicycles.  I was doing it waaaay before it was cool, hipsters - so stop frickin' making me look bad.  It's annoying.

My restored Varsity.  Next up:  I'm going to replace the seat with a brown, leather Schwinn seat, and finish it off with a matching saddlebag briefcase/laptop/messenger bag that attaches to the rear rack.  Then I'll probably buy some matching brown, leather handlebar wrap (my old handlebar tape is starting to peel off.)

As I've mentioned before, I inherited my Dad's old '76 Schwinn Varsity back in 2005, and for the last couple of months have been busy restoring it to its former glory (as well as sprucing it up with some bitchin' new saddlebags and accessories - see pic above.)  It's been a lot of fun and has kept my mind off the never-ending and often-times depressing quest to find a full-time job up here in Michigan.  Well, recently, I acquired yet another addition to the Hough Family Fleet of Wheels.

How Clare folk roll in their natural environment.

During my last trip to Clare with the Fam - to hang out with Trevor and Sara McNerney, and to celebrate the combined birthdays of my nephews, Bradley and Jax - I accompanied my folks over the Cindy's parents' house to pick up a propane grill they were giving to us.  This was an incredibly generous gesture - not only did they give us a grill, but they also threw in three propane tanks, a cover, and a ton of grill tools on top of it.  Pretty awesome.

In addition - much to my wife's dismay at the time - they also gave me a vintage Huffy Escape.  They had wanted to get rid of it for quite some time, but when Dad saw it he told them how I had done such a great job cleaning up the old Varsity, Grandma Jones (Cindy's mom) gave it to me on the spot.  It's in worse condition than the Varsity was when I got it, but I have no doubt I'll be able to fix it back up with some effort.

Check it out:

 

 

 

 

- Brian