Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Grilled Cheese - To the toon of Smoke On The Water


When in town, I'm easily distracted. The results often prompt impromptu (slightly altered) excerpts  from  Smoke On the Water.

The lyrics are: Hiiiiigh burner cooOOOoking, a fyre in the kitchen.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

We Have Ignition

DANNER Boots Update: 10/24/14 
I had the heel lowered (twice) to make them serviceable. I've had to replace a couple of eyelets and the stitching between the upper and the lower had to be renewed, but now, after two and a half years, I'll buy Danner again....or maybe Wesco.

After summering in the Yukon t'other day, I 'cided ah cud do with some REAL boots. I'd burned through several pairs over the prev 18 months and couldn't find a good used pair anywhere. The Redwing 899s I bought in 1976 had dry-rotted tuh death a few years back, but they'd served well so I bought another. Wouldn't yuh know it? I got the one in 10,000 that had too much dye. After a mild day of traipsing, muh feet'd be as yaller as an ole dawg an' smelt lak carrion.

Even sleepin' by muh lonesum ah had tuh warsh muh feets. Hit took 'bout uh year tuh decide hit whar the boots, not me. By that time the warranty had xpired. The regional supervisor stepped in tuh make hit right, but hit took dang near an act o' Congers tuh git his attenshun. Thet wuz the incentive tuh try Danner.

Ah found uh pair uv Fireline 18000 (now called Flashpoint II, I think) at Kaufman's, a trusted Albuquerque supplier to police, fire-persons and similars. I paid $260.00. Hit's only been a month, but so far hain't no trace of dye nor stink. When I went to the Danner website to see what they charge I discovered a whole wide world of shooz unimaginable. Check out STUMPTOWN...hit's uh trip.

The plan is to leave in the next couple of days (5/23) for the Tetons. Ah'm headin' fur the West side, East of Ashton, Idaho. Judging from the map, there may be enough elbow-room to hang out for a while. Then, as summer ripens, I'll segue into The Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness in central Idaho.

I'm coming full circle. In teen years I'd winter over in a city, save my pennies & pine for Spring. I read about Sylvan Hart in a magazine and set out to find him. I wandered the hills near Burgdorf and Warren, Idaho in the then Salmon River Primitive Area. I suspect I never got anywhere near Mr. Hart, but the trout were excellent! And judging from the photos, Burgdorf hasn't changed much.

It’s been eight months in Albuquerque. My neck and back are still sore from the accident, but I can’t stand being in town any longer. The barking dogs, motorcycles, reek of asphalt have reached critical mass.

Here's Eggbert near Duncan in SE Arizona. (I'd read Duncan is/was a thriving art colony and went to see.) As you may note, the passenger seat is missing; the tan lump in front of the dashboard is my pillow. The edge of my sleeping bag is hanging out the door. To the right of the clear jug is my one-gallon propane tank. It'll go two weeks of cooking and heating bath water. The stacked boxes are food, pots and pans & assorted kitchen ware.