In Which Our Hero Overdoes It
Yay, it's springtime! The buzzards are chirping, the skeeters biting, and the sun blazes down on us at a scorching eighty-five degrees. But hey, it's a dry heat. Yeah, yeah, I know, my Phoenix peeps, that it's 107 in the shade back home in the Valley of the Sun today, but it was snowing here in Salt Lake last week, and I'm not acclimated to the heat anymore. I'm now a long-term Utard, and I like my weather just a wee bit nippy these days.
Nevertheless, I've been cooped up for many moons, and with the weather so bright and sunny I decided to brave the heat of the day and go have myself a little me-time at the nearest wildernessy area that the Salt Lake Valley has to offer, namely the Oquirrh Lake Park. I've got some campouts coming up next month and I decided to go see how I would fare hiking around with a loaded pack. I loaded up my Rush 24 pack with many of the essentials, including my Glock 26, BK-2, and Eskabar. My 17 was riding on my belt like it will be on a hike, and I had two bottles of water as well. I really need to get a Camelbak bladder for the Rush (the bottle got annoying after a while). A paperback, pad of paper, pens, and assorted this and thats went into the pack as well, until I had around 15 pounds loaded in there.
So, finally kitted out with everything I needed, I sallied forth into the (not so) wild with gun and camera.
But first, I needed breakfast/lunch. After reading Psyop's rooster snuffing thread this morning, I had the hankering for chicken, so off to the deli I went to grab a few pieces, along with some bread, cheese, and fruit. I cruised out to Oquirrh Lake and found me a picnic table to eat at.
My Eskabar makes a decent bread knife.
The chicken was a bit much. I should have stuck with bread, fruit, and cheese.
Hanging around a place with water and quiet was relaxing and peaceful. There were plenty of folks around walking the trails, but the nice thing about Utahns is that they are polite, and they don't make a lot of noise.
What you can't see in the pic was the swarm of gnats and skeeters I was standing in. Little bastards decided the insides of my shorts was where the party was happening. I got bites you don't wanna know about.
I watched the ducks for awhile, and then took their picture. They are vain creatures, and tough to work with. Their acting is wooden, and their performances are never as nuanced as you'd like.
Sitting down under a picnic shelter, I read for awhile (Woodcraft and Camping, by George Washington Sears, in preparation for next month) and then took out a pad of paper and sketched out the preliminary drawing of my Beckerhead logo.
The Clich props were a spontaneous bit of good fun. The logo needs some work, as well as some artistic type who can translate this to a digital format. Anybody know a good digital artist?
And yes, that's supposed to be a Ramora in the hatband, which gives me an idear. Hey Thrill, if I send you a Ramora, will you make me a kydex rig that'll tuck securely into a survival paracord hatband diagonally? Who needs a concho for a centerpiece?
Anywho, after drawing and reading I threw my pack on and proceeded to walk the up-and-down trails of the Park. Holy crap on an oatmeal cookie, am I out of shape! Note to self: a fat guy who's out of shape needs to work himself into backpacking graaaaduuallly, not by throwing a load of weight on his back and charging into clouds of mosquitos under the late afternoon sun. Dumbass.
And I forgot the freakin' sunscreen. Fifteen minutes in, and I'm already getting a little toasty.
I suddenly realized why I love spring. I lost count of how many pretty girls in tank tops and tiny shorts I saw riding, walking, jogging, and skateboarding by. Sorry, guys, no pics. Men taking pics of young ladies they don't know are frowned on in these parts.
By the time I got back to the car, I'd walked maybe three miles and was dehydrated and a little grouchy. I need to toughen up and drop some pounds. No more fried chicken, and a lot more exercise. I'm sore in places I forgot I had. Who was it that said, "Pain is just weakness leaving the body"? Screw you, Unknown Platitude Guy; I got structural damage going on here.
I guess the ducks liked having their pics taken, because when I got home, guess who was hanging out in the front yard?
Total camera whores. Now where's my crossbow? I can't have fried chicken, but roast duck sounds mighty tasty.
All-in-all, a good day of enjoyment and testing my weaknesses, which are many.
Too old to fight, too fat to run...