Redlight Antics

A few days ago I entered a pact with K8 the Gr8.  If one of us blogs, the other has to.  It has worked out great and finally got me off my arse and got my fingers on the keyboard where they belong.  I’m writing whatever comes to mind, ‘til I can sort out some short fiction that I’m working on.

This evening, I decided to go down to city centre to peruse the park and surroundings and hopefully get some pictures.  I got more than I bargained for, but I like surprises.  I was making my way through the exhaust fumes of the traffic, when out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of a redhead that that I know standing on the corner when I was about to turn.

I rolled down the window, leaned out, and said, “Hey Red, come here”.

 

She looked over while jabbering something inaudible on her mobile.  She came running over with those beaming green eyes and her infamous strawberry golden ringlets flailing in the summer zephyr.

“What are you doing down here?”  I asked whilst observing the man in a BMW convertible, grinning from ear to ear.

“I’m down here to meet some girlfriends for dinner”, she said whilst leaning into the truck.

“Can I come along?”  I asked while watching her look at herself in the side mirror.

The light is about to turn green by this point.

“No”, she exclaims.

“Get your cute butt in here and you can hang out with me ‘til they get here.”

She hopped in the other side and I looked over at the guy in the BMW.  He shook his head, and yelled, “Man, I ain’t never seen a white boy pick up a chick like that.  You sure you’re not part brother?”

“Hey, I’m everyone’s brother”, I said, as I laughingly pulled away.

She hung out with me while I took pictures and told me about every minute of everyday I had missed.  She talks 24/7!  Smile

The girls showed up and they went off to play.  I love her to bits, but my patience for her antics is finite these days.  Actually, she and Scarlet from a previous post are a lot alike.  That’s what scares me!  What can I say, I have a genetic predisposition for redheads.  Smile

 

Campin’

On the 13th of this month, Dr. Don, his three boys, and myself went on a camping trip up to the mountains.  I had promised them a camping trip several months back and the start of school was near.  So, we headed up the winding roads with camping gear and food.

I made the campsite arrangements over the phone.  I asked the kind lady to give us a riverside site close to the trail entrance.  I knew we’d be carrying a lot of gear up the rocky trail and wanted to make it as easy as possible on the lads. 

We arrived and geared up.  I carried 80lbs. worth of supplies in my backpack along with the tent and a lantern.  After going about a mile up the trail, we collapsed at the first bivouac.  It was number eight, so I left the kids and headed further up by myself to see what the next number was.  The next one was number nine.  I surmised that the lady put me at the other end of the trail which was another seven miles up a craggy path.

After talking to a few hikers, we decided to take number eight since no one was using it.  After all, I paid for a full size site, so it was not like I would be cheating the park service out of any money. 

The kids went fishing while I put up the tent.  Dr. Don’s only duty was to bring dry wood.  He brought WET wood.  It took us about half an hour to get the fire roaring.  He crashed in the tent, and I started unpacking supplies.  The boys returned with a bucket full of wee trout for eating.

I decided to return to the truck to get some fuel for the lantern.  I discovered the ranger looking at my truck, when I got to the parking lot.  He asked what site we were on and I explained our wee dilemma.  We went to the rangers station to see if anyone would be staying on #8 that night.  Unfortunately, someone was supposed to be on that site that evening, so he checked to see if anything close was available. 

Luckily, #9 was available, so I headed back up the trail with the bad news that we’d have to move.  I told the lads that there was a much better site on the other side of the ridge and proceeded to pack up the tent and supplies. 

campfire

Again, we headed up the rocky path to our new destination.  We arrived and unpacked yet again.  The youngsters played in the river, as I worked on yet another fire.  Dr. Don took another nap!  You would truly be amazed how quickly a fire can boost moral.

Dr. Don’s oldest son and myself worked on the fire for almost an hour before we got it roaring.  The lads wanted to cook their fish over the fire.  I laughed and told them how good they were going to taste when the guts exploded.  So, I taught the boys how to clean fish.  We cooked steaks, trout, and beans over the open flame.  Protein is a must when out in the wilderness. 

As darkness fell over the pine laden mountain range, the lads roasted marshmallows and told scary stories.  I sat back and inhaled the crisp mountain air.  There’s nothing better for what ails you than a bit of time with nature.  It helps us appreciate what we have. 

We all turned in quite early, exhausted from the trip.  But, about midnight nature called and I had to oblige its beckoning.  When I returned from the woodlands illuminated by a lantern, I discovered a figure sitting by the fire.  Dr. Don’s eldest was up as well.  He couldn’t sleep, so we decided to make a late night trip back to the truck to get more water for the morning. 

Only illumined by the wee lantern, we found the trail brimming with life.  We encountered field rats, eastern diamondback rattlesnakes, and king snakes.  We were very wary of the diamondbacks!  It would be unwise to leave one’s tent open at night.  They like warm places.

The next morning we got up and made a unanimous decision to hike up to Rainbow Falls which is only about three more miles up the trail.  However, it is one of the hardest trails to hike around due to the 2,000 foot ascent.

The boys were so excited and in such a hurry that we missed the turn off.  We continued on Jone’s Gap Trail ‘til we reached Jone’s Gap Falls.  We were content with that, so we settled down and let the boys play on the slippery rocks for about an hour.  They climbed the rocks and slid down to the collecting poll at the bottom of the falls.  I had a blast just watching them have so much fun.

Jones Gap Falls

We arrived back to our tent without any water.  I have excellent water purification skills but did not want to take a chance on the lads getting sick.  So, we packed up and headed home.  The lot of us went home exhausted yet happy.  The lads are still telling stories of our escapades in the woods, and I have a new appreciation for the loo!   :)

P.S.:  Like a true eejit, I left me camera at the door on my way out.  All photos were taken with my phone.  A bit crappy, but eh? 

Thanks Gramps

As the sound of splintering white oak limbs reverberated across the large ravine, I thought of my grandfather.  If it were not for him, I wouldn’t have known what to use to shelter myself from the horrendous rainstorm that blew out of nowhere deep in the wilderness trails of Caesar’s Head State Park.  I would not have known how to get safe drinking water, when my water reserves ran out.  And, I certainly would not know how to track, kill, and clean deer or bears, if such an extreme were necessary.

Saturday morning I decided to go hiking by me self.  It is irritating when someone offers to join me, yet he or she only has a two or three hour window in which to hike.  That is utterly useless.  When I go hiking, I hike for at least four hours.  I go on wild walkabouts simply for the journey.  The constantly changing elevation and terrain is better than any tread climber.  The scenery isn’t bad either. 

On a usual trip, I see snakes (this time too), wild boars, bears, wildflowers, and of course, huge squirrels.  It is indeed a treat to hike through the mountainous terrain that is my home. 

Grandfather and I spent every summer of my youth camping, fishing, and hiking.  He taught me everything I know about how to survive in the wild.  He spent ages teaching me which wild berries are edible along with how to clean animals.  I didn’t always enjoy it, but sitting here today, I am very grateful that he passed it on to me. 

His parents died in a car wreck, when he was seven.  His mothers family on the Cherokee reservation took him in and raised him ‘til he was thirteen.  The elders of the tribe treated him as one of their own, even though his father was ‘white’.  He was taught all of the traditions that were still being passed down through the generations at that time.  Sadly, most of these teachings are fading away with the memory of the trail of tears

Gramps was on his on from his teens until he met my grandmother at a dance in 1949.  They were head over heels for each other from that point forward and married in ‘50.  Both had jet black hair yet managed to have three blonde haired, blue-eyed children. 

Everyone called him Abe, because he was a spitting image of Abraham Lincoln.  I don’t know if he fashioned his beard like Lincoln’s on purpose, but he definitely got a kick out of the remarks.  At 6’5”, he had the stature of a giant and the posture of a titan.  Throughout his life, he had five heart attacks.  I never heard the man whine or whimper once in the seventeen years that I knew him. 

When I was a wee lad, he would take me bowling.  This happened quite frequently, since I was sick a lot and unable to go to school.  On one occasion, a drunk started mocking me because of the way I talked.  He made the mistake of calling me retarded.  Gramps hit him so hard and fast that the man slid halfway down the alley.

He taught me a lot about life, but the most important one of all was to keep going down that wacky, and sometimes wicked, trail we call life no matter how arduous it may become.  So, I kept going down that lengthy trail soaked from head to toe and already exhausted.  Five miles later, a few blisters and bruises, and wrecked knees I emerged victoriously.  Fifteen miles through some of the toughest mountainous terrain the Southern United States can provide. 

Survivor Tip:  If you are in need of water and it happens to be raining (lucky you/me), simply ring out your clothes.  I got enough water out of my t-shirt and a few leaves to almost fill up the water bottle.  I could have used water from the rivers and streams that surround the trails, but I would have had to set up camp, start a fire, and boil the water.  Because of pollution and disease, the water in the rivers and streams is not safe to drink unless boiled.  You’re not supposed to drink from rivers right after it rains anyway due to the animal faeces that washes off the banks. 

How ‘bout some pictures? 

wildflowers (by JeffersonDavis) Riverbed Crossing (by JeffersonDavis) Woodland Trail (by JeffersonDavis) thicket (by JeffersonDavis) Raven Descent (by JeffersonDavis) Craggy Falls (by JeffersonDavis) jittery Lensman (by JeffersonDavis) Foamy Pool (by JeffersonDavis)

“American”

Some of you may know that I am planning to leave for Dublin on September 5th.  I have diligently contacted over a dozen potential landlords and roommates over the last few weeks.  In these emails, I’ve honestly stated that I’m an American coming over for three months, possibly longer if all goes well.  Of these almost twenty personal emails, I’ve received zero replies.  So, this morning I started calling them via Skype.  One said that the slot was filled (Strange that it still says available on daft.ie..)and the other said they were looking for long term.  I respect that they want long term, but some do say short term, yet I have not been contacted.

Perhaps it is just my perception, but it’s like I automatically have a strike against me because I’m an “American”.  The American government has done a lot of bad things over the years, but so has Germany, Italy, Spain, Austria, Slovakia, and a number of other EU countries.  Yet, they are given a free pass.  Come on in, they say. 

I’m not asking for a red carpet welcome, just to be judged by my character not where I came from.  I’m not coming to leech off of the Irish Health Care System, nor am I coming to meddle in their business.  I’m hopefully coming because I love Ireland and Irish culture.  And, most importantly, I’m coming for illumination. 

Dublin Tourist

Those that know me, know that I’m a gentleman.  I’ve always thought of myself as a “Human Being”, not an American.  Perhaps this stems from a multi-religious upbringing.  I’m not ashamed of being American, but I’m not a believer in labels.  I absolutely hate labels.  Regardless of whether we like them or not, labels are an intricate part of society today.  We are labeled rich if in a certain tax bracket, poor if in another bracket, stupid if below a certain number on a test, or a genius if above another number. 

I’m not a logical person in the normal sense of the word.  I’m a spiritual person.  I reckon that has to do with going through deaths door more than once and being able to return.  In college, I took all of the regular Algebra, Statistical, and Calculus classes.  I made really good grades, but it really was not my cup of tea.  There are so many things in this world that will never be explained with equations.  We think we are so smart, yet we know so little. 

Back to the subject at hand:

So, yeah, I’m an American, so what? 

I had figured that the easiest thing to do would be getting a place to stay.  I’m not really keen to the idea of sleeping on a bench at Stephen’s Green.  If I don’t find something by the end of this week, my plans will be knocked out of whack. 

Saint Stephen's Green Duckies

So, I’m irritated.

I’m ill.

And, I’m downright pissed.

Excuse me, while I go for a walk to soothe my soul.