The Hoofist

Hikerrata

2012-02-01T13:20:00.000-08:00

Even the dull and ignorant have boring stories.

Go placidly to the trailhead, and do not fart in the car, no matter what you had for breakfast. Remember what peace there may be in fresh air, and that you are with others.

As far as possible be on good terms with all persons even if they do not hold it in, but take a window seat just to be safe.

Remember to pack the night before, and to use your checklist, for you are a child of the universe and are getting forgetful. Many errors are born of fatigue and carelessness, and stupidity also, so that's why you have a checklist, Dork Brain. Use it.

Do not expect others to loan you things on the trail, like food.

Or a sleeping bag.

Beyond this wholesome discipline, feel free to be a slob, and remain as much as possible to the downwind side.

And when on the trail do not whine. Whining is what you do at work. Remember that we have sticks.

Avoid being a loud and aggressive jerk. Loud and aggressive jerks are vexations to the spirit, especially if they whine, and they get whacked with sticks.

Overall, hike your own hike. Don't follow too closely. Bring your own toilet paper.

Let your achievements speak for themselves, and not the other way around, lest you wake some morning to find yourself all alone in a deserted camp with no map, and that we have left for parts unknown without you.

In other words, be yourself unless you are obnoxious - then be someone else. Seriously. You can learn to fake it.

But do not let all this blind you to what virtue there is in hiking with others. Many persons strive for high mileage, and everywhere trails are full of power-hikers and competitive buttheads with two-ounce packs and $300 sunglasses proclaiming themselves to be heroes. And though they may have their place, such as up against the wall, facing the firing squad, we prefer aimless wandering and mindless sloth.

Have a nap in the sun every now and then.

Ignore the bugs, for no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should, and you may only be here to provide them with essential nutrients.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune, such as explaining WTF to someone who sees you back in town six days before your trip is due to end. But do not distress yourself with imaginings - lying is a craft that you too can learn, and there is nothing so truthful as a really good lie, and there are books that can teach you how.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, for eventually we all get old and ugly, but the young are clueless, and deviousness always wins. So cheat. Know your territory and every shortcut therein. Practice guilelessness. Never share your secrets.

And every now and then you will meet a lovely willowy young thing who is attracted to mysterious geezers, even if only temporarily. Never miss an opportunity for it may be your last.

Therefore be at peace with God or Ray Jardine, whichever is more frightening, and no matter what kind of crap goes down on the trail remember this: With all the dust and dirt and hail storms and nasty food and bug bites and blisters and ripped tents it is still better than the cubicle back home.

Even if it pays so much less.

Though you are less likely to be eaten in your cubicle.

More:

Desiderata

Deteriorata

Deteriorata Text

It Was One Of Those Days

2012-01-30T17:45:00.000-08:00

Guaranteed clear, with widely-scattered slots.

Clear Slot: A local region of clearing skies or reduced cloud cover, indicating an intrusion of drier air. Often appears as a bright area with higher cloud bases on the west or southwest side of a wall cloud. Believed to be a visual indication of a rear flank downdraft.

More:

List of cloud types

Rear flank downdraft

Wall cloud

Foliage Abuse

2012-01-27T15:20:00.000-08:00

When you just can't leaf well enough alone.

Bushwack: To travel off the main trail.

Bushwhack: Hiking where there is no trail, or no marked trail.

Bushwhack: Off-trail hiking originally where the going was difficult, but now meaning any off-trail travel regardless of whether the going is difficult.

Bushwhack: Off-trail travel through brush or where no cleared path exists and hikers have to force their way.

Bushwhacking: Going off the trail to take a shortcut, create a trail, or to look for something.

Bushwhacking: Leaving the established trail to hike or explore without becoming a victim.

Bushwhacking: Traveling through forest or woods without an established trail or possibly any markings, by dead reckoning or by following by using a compass and topographic map.

Etc. Bushwhacker

Hey, Look What I Got!

2012-01-25T14:20:00.000-08:00

When life exceeds capacity.

I knew this ultralight stuff wasn't going to work out. I just knew it.

I don't know how I could have been so stupid, but here I am. It's at least 10 miles back to the car, wherever that is, and these lightweight so-called hiking shoes I have won't boot up. I've tried everything and I can't get them to respond.

The battery check is good. Full charge. The diagnostics all come up positive. Still, no go.

When I try to fire up the built-in GPS to get my bearings, all I get is a screen full of error messages. I can't even tell how many, they just scroll off the bottom and keep going until I flip the switch back to "off".

Now I'm looking at a long hike in some random direction without being able to talk to my shoes. The voice input seems to be working, sort of -- at least I can see the LCD VU meter responding when I talk into the mic, but no rational response. And the left shoe seems to be off somewhere in la-la land. It's reporting a totally different frequency range than my actual voice carries, not to mention a bunch of noise showing up on the dynamic range function.

So where do I go? I've got these $800 shoes and all they are now is things that go on my feet. Even the heater quit working. How can anyone hike in shoes with no electric heater? I mean, get real here.

I'm at a junction of three trails. Sure, I just pick one and hike, right? But which one? I have a 66.7% chance of going in the wrong direction. How can that be good?

I need my shoes to give me some intelligence.

Things might be a little different if I'd been carrying one of those old-fashioned paper maps, if I could read one. I paid lots of attention coming in, but who needs to look where they're going any more? Isn't it enough to admire the scenery? Isn't this what it's all about? Why should I have to think? This is 2012.

Well, now I have to think. I'm not used to this. I paid good money so I wouldn't have to. Now I have to.

If I'd stuck with my old gear I'd be carrying a whole lot more weight but there's nothing like redundancy. I'd have GPS in my camera, cell phone, radio, and e-reader. They wouldn't all fail at once.

Now I'm stuck with a pair of shoes that won't quit beeping at me. Even the interactive map function is hosed. It keeps showing me the best route through Las Vegas.

If only.

The good news is that I brought an extra day's worth of food, weight be damned, so I can eat. For a while.

And my knife is working. Bless you, little Victorinox.

To save weight I did get the entry-level model with the small screen and no GPS. I can cut stuff with it, but that's really primitive. Who cuts anymore?

I don't have anything to cut anyway. All my food is powdered and freeze-dried. About all I can do besides walk is sit down every now and then and play a few minutes of Angry Bugs on my knife.

But that is a real life saver.

I'd for sure go nuts without the knife.

Surrounded by these trees and rocks, and nothing else. It's pretty creepy out here, all green and gray and brown and black, and barely 3-D, and that's only the old kind you have to see with your own eyes, like the dinosaurs did.

I'll have to go easy on the knife. Be careful not to run the battery down. If I lose that connection to reality I'm gone for sure.

More:

Technology marches on: Victorinox squeezes 1TB of high-speed storage into a Swiss Army Knife

Boiler In A Bottle

2012-01-23T12:54:00.000-08:00

Shiny, contains fire, makes hotness.

Kelly Kettle: An upright portable boiler fired by twigs. They have a water jacket wrapped around a fire chamber. This creates a strong updraft and rapid boiling in even windy weather. First produced in Ireland in the early 20th century.

Also known as...Benghazi boiler, Storm Kettle, Thermette, Volcano Kettle.

More:

How To Use The Kelly Kettle. But what is it, really?

I Only Have Strands For You

2012-01-20T15:21:00.000-08:00

Cheerfully wrapped in stickiness and dead bugs.

Webface: What the first person on the trail each morning gets as they clear away spider webs across the trail. (Also known as "web face".)

Web Master: The first person on the trail each morning. The one who catches the spider webs.

Web-Walking: Being the first hiker on the trail in the morning, meaning that person will be the one whose face clears spider webs from across the trail.

Elusive Rogue Glacier Threatens Northwest

2012-01-18T17:18:00.000-08:00

"It just vanished!"

By Barry Dinkhorn, Port Angeles, WA, for Borderline Security News

Olympic National Park's GICE (Glacial Ice Containment Enforcement) Office announced today that there may be a rogue glacier loose somewhere in the Park.

Although there is little chance of an encounter between those enjoying backcountry recreation and the missing Ferry Glacier, visitors are urged to use extreme caution. No one should approach, attempt to feed, or worst of all, tease any frozen feature they find, especially if it is extremely large and moving toward them, no matter how slowly.

Glaciers are generally regarded as sluggish and may seem docile, even dim-witted, but they have enough strength to reshape entire landscapes, tearing at mountains, rerouting rivers, even creating whole new valleys where none existed before, so they are nothing to fool with.

Ferry Glacier was one of the largest glaciers in the entire Park but for some unknown reason has abandoned its rocky lair in the Bailey Range.

This may sound surprising but glaciers, while kept under close surveillance, measured, and mapped regularly, have normally been visited only infrequently since they are both solitary and highly territorial.

Up to now at least, all have remained solidly anchored well within narrowly circumscribed areas. Most have in fact, over the last few decades, been retreating to the highest reaches of their home ranges and avoiding almost all contact with humans.

And underfunding, with resultant staff shortages the last few years, has reduced the frequency of glacial observation team visits even more.

Bert Gleason, Chief of GICE for the last 17 years, said of Ferry, "The first time I passed it, I didn't know it was even supposed to be a glacier. It was raining heavily, and I couldn't see exactly where I was. That was my first ever experience with a glacier, and now somehow it's gone," he said.

Several years after that first meeting, while on a routine check-up trip around the Park, Gleason saw the glacier again, but it seemed to be much smaller than it appeared on maps. "That should have been our wake-up call," he said. "The last time I got out there, just last week, there was nothing more than a lake and a bit of snow," he said. "We have no idea where the glacier might be by now, although it probably hasn't gotten far," he continued.

"We're warning everyone to be on the lookout just in case," he said. "This is something the size and mass of 20 trillion ice cubes, so it can't stay out of sight forever. Right now were focusing mainly on roads traversing the Park and on nearby highways. If you're a trucker or motorist passing through, we urge you not to pick up hitchhikers, especially if they are bright white, shedding tons of boulders and gravel everywhere, and cover several square miles. That could be trouble. And that goes double for night-time travel," he noted.

Even as rangers and GICE SWAT teams scour the Park for clues to the whereabouts of Ferry Glacier, there have been numerous reports in the last few hours of massive snowstorms covering the entire region. This has some wondering if Ferry Glacier hasn't already made it past Park boundaries and perhaps has decided to split up and try as many escape routes as possible.

There's even been a report in the last few minutes of a truck rollover on I-90 which has blocked the highway and left it covered in frozen tomato paste.

Area residents are urged to stay home and venture forth only cautiously until this situation has been resolved.

Cliff Mass weather blog: Wednesday Snow Storm

News: Olympic National Park glaciers continue to shrink, most recent study finds

ONP: Glaciers and Climate Change

Photos: Glaciers Of Olympic National Park

Peck This

2012-01-16T12:15:00.000-08:00

Hike your own hike. Peck your own rainbow.

Bluebird of Happiness: The creation of Maurice Maeterlinck, a Belgian playwright and poet who won the Nobel prize for literature in 1911. One of his plays was the Blue Bird, written in 1908. The Blue Bird is a fairy tale in which Mytyl and Tyltyl, the children of a woodcutter fall asleep after a disappointing Christmas and dream that a fairy sends them to find the bird that is blue. They have various adventures but return home without fulfilling their quest, though they do loan their pet dove (which they suddenly notice is blue) to a sick neighbor child, who then recovers. The moral of the story is that true happiness is found close to home, and is a result of making the journey, not from reaching the destination, and from selflessness. This has nothing to do with hiking or backpacking, usually, though you never know.

More: Bluebird of Happiness defined some more.

An Uprooting Phenomenon

2012-01-13T16:37:00.000-08:00

Oh, snap!

Windthrow: A phenomenon of gale or hurricane force winds that blow down acres of trees in uncut stands and along cut boundaries and roads. Windsnap. Windthrown timber can create a fire hazard and can produce habitat for harmful insect pests.

Windthrow: One or more trees felled by wind, common with shallow-rooted species and in areas where cutting has reduced density.

Windthrow: Trees uprooted by wind, or from some other cause. This often breaks the tree trunks as well, which is called windsnap.

Windthrow: When trees are uprooted by wind. This is a concern in recently thinned timber stands. Shallow rooted trees are more affected.

More: Windthrow >

The Special D Diet

2012-01-11T14:37:00.000-08:00

Tasty drink and rodenticide - all in one can!

The Central Asian Connecton

It is said that the foods of Central Asia fall into three categories:

The nomadic diet, such as that of the Kruzbyz peoples (boiled meat, steamed meat, fried meat, fermented milk, bugs, bread sticks)
The farmer's diet (vegetables, roots, grains mixed with sand, noodles mixed with dust, bread sticks, grubs, dried rodents)
Foreign dishes (bottled and canned foods from lands such as Jamaica, Burkina Faso, and California, plus chocolate-covered bugs)

The most traditional of these is of course the nomadic diet, based as it is on tradition, and nomads, many of whom are still wandering around outdoors, and are slow to learn.

But perhaps the most interesting is a combination of all three categories. This would be mice fermented in Mountain Dew.

The Backpacking Connecton

Interestingly, this exotic dish also has a use in backpacking.

As any backpacker knows, mice can be a bitch. They get into your food, gnaw through packs, and every now and then you'll wake up from a perfectly good dream about Angelina Jolie, or Tom Cruise (depending of course on your personal tastes) to find a mouse running across your face.

Or worse, lots of mice.

Or worse yet, lots of mice trying to tunnel up your nostrils to get at boogers.

Now people often react to this. Some go straight home and lobby to outlaw backpacking for everyone.

Some are emotionally scarred for life, or until years later, when they start forgetting pretty much everything anyway.

Others you meet during job interviews, and only find out the truth later, after you've accepted the job, moved across the country, put your kids into school, and are then introduced to your new boss.

Science!

But science marches on. Science and diet. Food science and pest control. Whatever you want to call it.

See, the trick is that, when you cross the border into mouse country, take Mountain Dew. Take plenty. It's cheap. Sure, heavy to carry but really good at killing vermin, and makes them edible too. So think of Mountain Dew as an addition to your tool kit, and a possible culinary weapon.

How?

Here's how.

In the evening, just pop open a Dew, pour it into an open container, and slither down into your bag. You'll sleep OK.

Any critters that come along will jump right into The Dew, drown, and by morning they'll not only be way dead, but almost fully digested. You can swallow them whole for breakfast, washed down by your morning coffee, hang the remains in a mesh bag on the back of your pack until they get dry and crunchy, or just toss them into the bushes.

It all works.

Burial is not necessary in case you choose the final option, so don't get fussy.

Why? Do we want to know?

But why? How?

Mountain Dew contains citric acid, a substance naturally found in citrus fruits and Mafia body-disposal vats. Now it also comes in 12-ounce cans.

Neon green drinks like The Dew use citric acid for that characteristic tooth-enamel-stripping "tangy bite". Contrarian drinks like Coca Cola and Pepsi use phosphoric acid, but the result is the same. Because of their acid content, all these concoctions have a pH of around 3, which in science lingo is "very acidic".

Think serious rodent killers.

Safe to swallow? Not to worry. Your stomach and intestines are built to withstand a variety of acidic digestive juices and industrial chemicals. For a hungry backpacker with a healthy digestive tract an occasional Mountain Dew with its corrosive acid load is probably not an issue.

Especially if the stuff you swallow contains a partially-gelled mouse carcass, which acts as a natural buffering agent. The residual, undissolved fur may even help clean your teeth.

Remember, "It'll tickle yore innards" is not just idle advertising drivel, which so many had assumed up to now.

What else could possibly be true?

How Long Do Mafia Victims Take to Dissolve In Acid? >

Can Mountain Dew Really Dissolve a Mouse Carcass? >

Got Milk?

2012-01-09T15:54:00.000-08:00

Got cookies? Got ham sandwich? Anything?

Yogi-ing: Asking other hikers for food.

Yogi-ing: Hikers "yogi" when they cajole a non-hiker out of something they need or want without actually asking for it. Named after Yogi Bear of cartoon fame because of his habit of making off with people's picnic baskets.

Yogi-ing: Mooching food, a ride, or something else from locals or day hikers. To Yogi one looks pathetic enough so people will want to help. If you ask, it is begging and not yogi-ing. Also defined as the "innocent" or "accidental" theft of another hiker's food, snacks, or rare treats, especially while on tight rations due to the thief's poor planning. Sometimes the logic used is "you just left it there", or "I didn't think you wanted it", or "I thought you were done with it".

Yogi-ing: The art of "letting" food be offered cheerfully by strangers without actually asking them directly.

Yogi-ing: The art of getting other hikers, picnickers, or others to offer you food, drink or rides. It requires the hiker to communicate a need without actually asking for something. Limping, wistfully staring, or similar hints are allowed, but actually asking, begging, or stealing is not.

Yogi Bear >

Ignore The Fuzz

2012-01-06T14:10:00.000-08:00

Just keep your eyes on the tail.

Animal Trail: A trail created as animals travel (usually large grazing animals such as deer, elk, and moose).

These trails often intersect with or spur off of other trails or roads because animals will frequently use these as part of their transportation system. Animal trails generally lead to food or water and tend to not go very far in any one direction.

These are also called "game trails".

Einar Alderin And SnowShoeGear

2012-01-04T16:51:00.000-08:00

Cottage-Manufacturer Interviews #37

This week, in tune with the season, we'll switch from packs and tarps to something just as important, footwear. And not any ordinary footwear, but something designed specifically for winter hiking and backpacking.

Our guest this time is Einar Alderin, founder of SnowShoeGear.

Hoofist: Hello, Einar. Can you tell us how you got the idea for your company, SnowShoeGear?

Einar Alderin: Oh, sure. I was out to the barn one day when this here big blizzard come along. It took me right by surprise, that one did, and there I was, stranded. I could a froze to death out there you know. It happens around here.

Hoofist: So you were in your barn in a blizzard? And how did you get from there to SnowShoeGear?

Einar Alderin: Well, it took a while, that's for sure. I was sitting there in the barn about to freeze most a my tender parts off and who knows what. Because you know, around here, you don't take it too light whenever a blizzard comes along, you know. They got that phrase there, the quick and the dead, and if a blizzard decides to run you down, you find you ain't so quick as you think, and probably you will end up dead to boot. So I took to sitting so I could think through my options once. Does that make sense?

Hoofist: Sure does. I can relate. And then SnowShoeGear?

Einar Alderin: Well, that took a while. That was way later. I ain't all that bright, but good enough for farm work. Most days. Slow but steady brings in the wheat. Kinda like that. But that's how you got to be around here. We all are, mostly. No fancy stuff for us. It's the ones with all the fancy ideas that go bust the fastest. I seen some a them come and go, and the ones that are left after all the fuss are the straight shooters that work steady and don't get too big for their britches. Which is why I sat down in the barn and kinda decided to think about things around that time.

Hoofist: And the barn is your workshop?

Einar Alderin: Well, it is now, since the wife kicked me out of the kitchen. I used to work in there but the wife she didn't take to that much. Said I got on her nerves. And made too much of a mess and all, so I had to find another place to work. Well, there ain't too many places around here. You can't go out in the fields or nothin', you know, not when it's cold and all, so the barn was about it, so that's where I ended up.

I made a little place there, with a light bulb hanging from a wire, and that works pretty good. I don't need too much. One thing you don't want to do is get a unhappy wife. No telling what a woman might to when she gets in one a her moods, so I had to back off, if you know what I mean.

Hoofist: So where did the idea of SnowShoeGear come from?

Einar Alderin: Well that one I don't know, you know. Ideas. What's an idea? They come, they go. That's a tough one, but as I was sitting there in that blizzard waiting to figure something out or freeze dead I had a couple ideas come to me. You know, around here we don't get much rain. Mostly in June and July. Starts in the middle a May, pretty regular, then through June, and then it kinda tapers off through July. And that's about it.

Then again, in the winter, it's snow, which is what you'd expect when the temperature is fifteen, twenty, twenty-five below. Or colder, which happens more often than you'd think if you weren't from around here. But it don't really snow all that much really, just stays all winter and blows around. That's how we get snirt. And then every few years we get a real blizzard where you gotta stay inside for a few days. If you don't it'll just grab you by the collar and take you off somewheres and they don't find the body until sometime in spring, if ever.

In the old days lotta folks got lost just between the house and the barn. You can't see nothin' but you got to go out and check on the livestock, and then you don't come back, and then when spring comes around, maybe they find the body. Happened a lot in the old days. The wind blows so hard and there's all that snow in the air, you can't see a damn thing. Some people took to stringing a rope from the house to the barn so they could be sure where they were going and how to get back, but we don't have enough blizzards for that. Lately anyhow.

Maybe it was different in the old days. Well anyway, I was in the barn and I was busy and all and didn't mind the wind and then I looked out and it was all white out there. So I thought, hey. If you can get lost from the house to the barn, maybe it works the other way too, so I sat down there for a while and had a think. Damn it was cold out there. The barn is pretty drafty, you know. This was way before I had a workshop out there or nothin'. It was just a barn then. Drafty as hell.

Hoofist: And then you came up with the idea for SnowShoeGear, to get you safely back home?

Einar Alderin: No, not quite yet. It took a while yet.

Hoofist: So what happened next?

Einar Alderin: Well, I sat there a long time.

Hoofist: But you got back to the house, and you came up with the idea of SnowShoeGear. So how did that happen?

Einar Alderin: Well, I didn't know what in the hell I was gonna do. Sometimes it gets like that, you know? Cripes, I thought I was about done for. I started walking around the barn to keep warm and looking in boxes and stuff because it was still daylight, and that was about all I had to do, walking around and such. I figured maybe something would come to me so I nosed around in a bunch of old boxes out there. And dang, don't ya know, there was one a them boxes I hadn't never looked in. It was some a my grandfather's stuff.

He didn't have much, you know. He got a jackknife for his fourteenth birthday but before that he didn't have nothin', and that's about the last thing he did get too, so he had to make do with that. Out here on the plains we don't have no wood or nothin', neither, so he wanted to take up carving but didn't have no wood, so he took to horse apples and carved around on them. So that's what I found in the box. He had little soldiers and cowboys and stuff like that, all carved out of horse apples. That's what he played with when he was a kid, and he must a put it all in this box one day for safe keeping and there it was, still in the barn, all forgot about. His name was Stone. Stone Alderin, my grandfather.

He was a tough old guy. All hide and hair. He could work for a week straight and never have to take a rest or nothin'. He was still pitching hay and shoveling manure into his eighties. Well, once I saw his old railroad train set carved out of horse apples, I figured if he could make something out of nothin' then I could too. And that there was about the time I heard my wife.

It was all dark by then and when I looked out the barn door I could just barely see a light from the kitchen. The wife was over there, with her head out the back door and yelling for me to come and eat once or I'd have hell to pay if it got cold. She had dinner all set and there I was, somewhere all hell and gone goofing off again as far as she was concerned and she never took to that, so she had her head out the door, hollering for me, so that was how I got back to the house. It was either get back for dinner or I knew she would come out hunting for me.

Freezing to death in the yard wouldn't a been a way out. You don't get away from her, not that woman, so I made a run for the light. I hear that happens sometimes. They call it a near death experience. If you met my wife you'd get the picture. And then there I was, just like nothin' happened. Back in the world of the living, and supper still warm too.

Hoofist: So, one thing. What are "horse apples"?

Einar Alderin: Oh. That would be the part of the horse that comes out the back end. So maybe being from the city and all, maybe you never seen them, but out in the country it's different.

Hoofist: And your grandfather carved on this?

Einar Alderin: Sure. He didn't have nothin' else, like I said. It wasn't that bad. They dry out pretty fast in the summer, and in the winter they are all froze solid anyway, and no flies then neither. Better than wood in a way. No slivers, you know. But that was the deal right there. Once I found Granddad's toys I started to do some thinking and began some foolin' around with stuff, and pretty soon I had my prototype footwear.

Hoofist: And this was the inspiration for SnowShoeGear?

Einar Alderin: Yep. A course I use snow, not manure. Some people, you know. I have to say it right out, because they don't get it. But if Stone Alderin could make his own toys out of horse droppings, then Einar Alderin his grandson can damn well make winter-time footwear out of snow. So that's about it. It took some tinkering and such, but you know, they ain't all that fancy. And some people really like what I make. "Biodegradable", they say. They like that stuff nowadays, so that's how I advertise. "No cleaning or repairs needed, ever." I say that too.

And then I have to pick the right customers. And it's really just a winter business, but guys in Michigan like them OK. Minnesota too. Montana. So on. Some clown in Florida kept emailing me. Got pretty nasty after I told him like four or five times I couldn't fill his order. I returned his money and all but that wasn't near good enough for him. Got real ornery, that guy. Well, let him come by in person. See how he handles thirty below in a twenty mile an hour wind. Freeze his god damn Mr. Bojangles right off. Then he'll have something to think about besides some damn snow boots in Florida. But most people are pretty good.

I use top quality snow and I got molds for all size feet, so most are happy with the fit. Got a bunch of lasts cheap from a guy who used to have a hunting boot factory in the family from back in the old days, and they work real good. So mostly people are happy. Right now I'm working on colors. White is all I got for now but not everybody likes that. I do have a hell of a time some years. Not every year is good for snow you know, so I got to do a bit of careful scraping at times, but so far I get by OK. Keeps me busy between deer season and spring planting so I guess it's OK there.

Hoofist: And how should people take care of their SnowShoeGear footwear? How many miles do your customers get on a pair, for example?

Einar Alderin: Well, don't try wearing them in the house. That would be the first thing I guess. Keep them out back if you can, on the north side a the house, or in the mud porch. This is if you can be sure the weather is staying good and cold, otherwise keep them in the freezer and don't wear them in the car. I can't tell you how many people forget and get into the car with their snow boots on and crank up the heat.

Well, that's about all she wrote right there. Don't take more than a minute, tops, and your snow boots are ruined, so keep that in mind. A foam cooler is fine. Put them in there and put that in the trunk of your car or in the pickup and all is well. Socks too. At least two pairs, wool, good and thick. That way your feet stay warm and the boots don't melt out. Some people go all winter. It ain't like summer hiking anyways.

People go out every month or two at most, and pretty soon it's spring and that's it, so mileage ain't a big deal. You know. Kind of a specialty item. It don't take much to make these here boots. It's mostly plain snow and I use a putty knife and a couple a scrapers and I have the lasts, so I ain't sure why nobody else hasn't got into the business. I think maybe somebody tried, but I'm still the only one that has made it so far as I know. Could be the snirt. You don't see that anywhere else.

Hoofist: Snirt? What's that?

Einar Alderin: Kind of my secret ingredient I guess. Leastways I can't think of anything else. This here is something like our secret sauce, kinda what makes North Dakota the place it is. See, there's lots a farm land here, and lots a it is laying fallow, and after harvest you also got all that land that got plowed up in the spring and grew crops and it's still exposed, so the dust don't stop blowing around just because a winter.

You get snow, you get dirt, and pretty soon they are all mixed up together and what you got is snirt. We're known for it, leastways locally. I think that's what holds my snow boots together. Nobody else has made it work and I think it's the snirt. Could be. I don't worry a bunch. The business ain't like my real job anyways you know. Just something I do in the winter. I'm happy.

Hoofist: Well thank you for sharing your experiences with us. We really appreciated it.

Einar Alderin: Well sure. Come by some day and I'll whip up a pair a snow boots for you and we can hike out and have a look at the horizon for a while. It's real pretty some days. The wife won't leave the house all winter and it can get so I'm afraid to come back in so it would be nice to see a new face and all. Just give me a call a couple of hours ahead and we'll be square. Any time. I'm free for about four months now. How about next week?

Hoofist: Well, I'll let you know next time I'm in the state.

Einar Alderin: OK. Or any friends a yours. They're welcome too. We don't see too many outsiders here. Not too much a anybody. Just send them right straight up here, OK?

Hoofist: Thanks again. I'll do that.

Einar Alderin: Or you could send me their names and addresses. I can write to them. Anybody you know. Just about any time. Don't be shy. It would do us good to see some new faces. Lots a them.

Hoofist: Once again, thanks. Oops. Looks like my internet connection just went down. I guess I'll have to post what I have. Our guest this time has been the cottage ultralight manufacturer Einar Alderin, founder of SnowShoeGear in Beulah, North Dakota, near the shores of the lovely Lake Sakakawea reservoir, where you can find the best snirt on earth. Thanks, Einar.

Aiming Off

2012-01-02T14:57:00.001-08:00

We knew you were off. Now you know too.

Aiming Off: Purposefully erring to one side when following a compass bearing toward your destination. Example: Say your tent is near a stream at a bearing of 120 degrees from where you are. Instead of following that bearing the whole way, aim off to one side on purpose. Then you know exactly which way to turn when you hit the stream. After that it's only a matter of going right until you find your tent. (1) (2)

Aiming Off: In orienteering, to deliberately aim to one side of a feature so that you definitely know which way to turn when you get near it. (3)

Aiming Off: Purposefully erring to one side when following a compass bearing, preferably always going around obstacles to one side. When you arrive at a landmark you know which direction to go to find your destination. (4)

Synonyms: Deliberate Error. Intentional Offset. Lost.

Footnotes.

(1) You have to put up the tent before you go out for a day hike.

(2) If you get wet, it's because you forgot to stop at the stream. Practice makes perfect.

(3) Assuming you've been paying attention.

(4) If you keep finding more and more of your own footprints, you are (a) in good company, (b) hallucinating, (c) going to die no matter what, (d) both "b" and "c".

Blanket Bog

2011-12-30T13:19:00.000-08:00

When "fen" just won't cover it.

This is a British term for a bog covering undulating semi-uplands, such as bogs of cool temperate regions formed under a maritime rainfall at lower elevations, or bogs on hills developed under high rainfall and low temperatures as in southeastern Alaska.

Alternate names: Fen, Mire.

Mire is a nice word. It can't be mistaken for anything else. And there's only the one syllable to remember as you sink.

Hiking With The ATDOT

2011-12-28T18:14:00.000-08:00

Pacemakers for the rest of us.

Backpacking is getting more popular all the time.

With the rising cost of living on top of a crashed economy and widespread job loss, more annoying people than ever are taking to the trails. And most are even more ignorant than the average backpacker.

This is easy to see on the Appalachian National Scenic Trail, for decades one of the most heavily traveled trails in the country. And it's getting worse.

The AT as it's called is 2181 miles (3510 km) long, and passes through Georgia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Virginia, West Virginia, North Virginia, Northwest Virginia, North-northwest Virginia, Far North Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and several Yankee states.

"So what?" you say. "I done that there a few years back. Let's have some more ribs and beer."

Sure, you can say that.

You think, maybe, this summer, you'll go on out there and do a tad bit more a that there trompin', iffn' you has the itch.

Maybe not, Scooter. Pretty soon you will need a license.

All those new people? Causing problems.

Problems beyond even the normal stray garbage, flies, human droppings, random gunfire, and mentally defective animals attracted by armpit smell.

There's new stuff now. Congestion. Weekend and holiday pileups are common.

Rush-hours, pranged trekking poles, dented backpacks, scuffed Gore-Tex, trail rage. Now it's all yokels, all over, all the time, and they're killing the trail.

Managers have a multi-year plan for improvements, beginning soon, with an end to construction in 2020.

Old timers, especially the slow ones, will say the trail is good enough. Wide enough. Smooth enough for two people to walk side by side while having a friendly chat.

Nope. Not any more. That will soon be illegal.

The old single dirt track will soon be four lanes, two north, two south, separated by a median, paved and striped. Professionals and competitive hikers with commercial sponsors will be free to use the inside (fast) lanes. Average, unlicensed, unpaid amateurs and wandering Sunday strollers will have to stick to the slow lanes or get ticketed, maybe jailed for obstruction.

Soon you'll see multi-level trails with ramps, passing lanes, and 24-hour rest areas.

But until then, starting in June, watch for uniformed "Pace Patrols" marching two abreast, directing traffic, answering questions, and writing the occasional warning citation.

Enjoy the experience of rolling speed harmonization as you follow the Pace Patrols' bright flashing lights and flow along with them at a steady 2.5 mph (4 kph), no more, no less. Right away you'll notice improved safety, smoother traffic, and fewer fistfights, especially around parks and beer kegs.

They kinda do it in Colorado...CDOT Tests I-70 Pace Cars With Ski Traffic Sunday.

Zombie Zone

2011-12-26T12:41:00.000-08:00

A world where brains are lunch.

How you hike when your mind is somewhere else than your body, which is hiking without you.

Footnote: Or vice versa. You never can quite tell.

Beginner Trail

2011-12-23T11:53:00.000-08:00

This route for sale.

Beginner Trail: A Well-maintained, safe trail with a good walking surface. The route is well defined and probably signed.

Footnote: Trails signed by Elvis go for a premium.

Me and Poly Down by the Beach

2011-12-21T14:02:00.002-08:00

Can a weird loner guy have fun in the dark with a piece of plastic?

Smaller is lighter. Lighter is usually better.

It was a dark and stormy night. There I was on the ground in the dark, under a transparent sheet of plastic, wrapped in a home-made backpacking quilt, all alone at Christmas, in a hail storm.

Perfect. I am nuts and this is my story.

I used to visit the beaches of Olympic National Park at Thanksgiving, when I had four days free of work, when it was just the tides, the storms, the birds and me. And maybe some dead things on the beach.

X is for Xmas.

One year I tried Christmas instead, and pushed the limits a little by taking my first shot at tarp camping. Ray Jardine's "Beyond Backpacking" (now out of print) covered the subject pretty well, but he had a newer book available, just about tarps, and I bought it. It inspired wild thoughts.

I pitched an 8 X 10 foot (244 by 305 cm) piece of 3-mil (0.076 mm) transparent polyethylene, with another 40-inch by 7-foot (102 by 213 cm) sheet to go under me as a combination floor and ground sheet. Cost: about $3.50. And though crazy I'm not stupid, at least not in public if I can avoid it, so I took another shelter as a backup.

This tarp setup was a bit heavy at 25 ounces (709 g), but much lighter than even my single-lonely-guy's lightweight tent, and nearly as light as my Hennessy Adventure-Racer hammock. What was missing was netting to keep out teeny creeping critters or biting flying nighttime nippers, and any ability to zip it shut and make the world go away.

Howdy, world.

What I gained was a full-sky view of the world through a transparent roof, and 360-degree ventilation.

First-night's impressions: Drafty. The temperature was barely above freezing, the walls ended a hand's width above the ground, and the air was unsettled all night, changing direction frequently and finding all my unprotected spots.

Take two.

I lowered the sides to the ground for night two and stuffed my open umbrella into the drafty end. There was only a lick of condensation right above my blow hole. How about rain? Yes, it rained. And sleeted. And hailed, for hours on end. Lightning and thunder too.

Second-night's impression: Not too bad. Because of the weather it was a whole lot like sleeping inside a snare drum during a parade, but the tarp held.

No wet, no splashing, plenty of room to move around. Lots of room to wave my arms and swear, to curse various things, and wonder if I'd ever make it home again. But camped back in the forest as I was, away from the open beach, there was no wind, only a steady gentle draft that kept condensation at bay.

Teeth and claws.

Critters? Everything with wings and blood lust was already dead for the season, so mosquito netting was irrelevant.

I had a bigger worry though -- what if one of the larger, more clever locals felt like having a midnight snack, felt like moseying on over to eat my face, for example?

My first two backpacking nights in 1980 had been inside a plastic tube tent where I kept panicking all night, dreaming I'd wake to find my scalp full of teeth and my face full of claws, hearing a distressing munching sound. Ray Jardine insisted that was safe to sleep wide open. So, I figured, it must be, and went for it.

But I had an idea. As a test I tried leaving three peanuts on the ground near my head before saying my prayers.

The next morning in their place was half a cheese doodle with tooth marks on it. Hmmm.

Second night: I left a couple of raisins and a pretzel. Got back half a stick of chewing gum and six sesame seeds.

So, OK.

Then, third night, I laid out a broken wristwatch and a $10 bill. On the final morning I got the watch back, in perfect working order, 43 cents in change and a receipt from Mikey's Fixit Shop saying that it was a pleasure doing business with me, signed with a minuscule paw print.

Hey. I'm cool. You?

So, no complaints on this score, either. All mellow.

Now let's review. The plastic tarp was heavier and noisier than a silnylon one would have been, but much lighter than a tent, and is an easy way to try this way of camping. Hey, anything is noisy in hail. Besides, I could see the stars through my roof, and make a decision about the new day as morning approached without having to leave my nest.

Pitched low, the tarp was a awkward to enter and leave from the narrow end, but cleaning the floor was easy -- just sweep things off the ground sheet. I stowed my footwear inside without making a mess, because my shoes were out on the ground, but still protected from rain.

Ventilation? Great. I guessed that this setup would be much more comfortable in warm weather though. But in warm weather there would be bugs, so I couldn't complain.

Easy to set up and easy to repack. Cheap. Lo-tech. I was sold on the experiment. Pretty soon I ordered a bunch of fabric and designed a smaller, lighter and much more expensive tarp that ultimately worked out pretty well.

So this trip was fun for me, but I'm kinda weird anyway, so use your own judgment. Mikey was sure nice, though. Gotta say that. I'd like to meet him some day.

The Ray-Way Tarp Book Essential, by Ray Jardine

Not Sleeping In The Air, 4

2011-12-15T18:39:00.000-08:00

Morning. Warm. Calm. Bright

This was way back in June already. I haven't done much at all this year, but it was fun, if not the sleeping on the ground part. I missed my hammock.

Castle Peak up north. A bit colder.

But it was dandy getting up to sunshine. The first day had been dense with fog. The second, still gray. And there was snow all over. Didn't like that much, not at the end of June.

I don't know if these were cut before or after the eruption.

There are lots of stumps in some areas, lots of dead standing trees in others, and downed trees everywhere. Most are getting soft and crumbly 30 years after the eruption.

Divide between two canyons. More photos below.

So there I was, having wanted to descend west into Castle Lake but meeting deep snow, turning back and then wondering. Might as well trudge up the side of the mountain to where the shoulder meets the cinder cone.

Same area later, looking a little cheerier.

I'll probably never get back here, so this was a good time to go see it. I headed for the divide between two canyons.

Heading off, still early, to visit the mountain.

From below it looked easy. A short stroll up a shallow slope. Go there, touch the side of the mountain, and turn left, and hit the trail out. Right?

Melted-out elk tracks.

Maybe not. The 20 to 30 minute hop up the mountain took well over an hour. Surprise! It's hard walking uphill. Steeper than it looks. Lumpier. Unreasonable even.

Cheery little blossom people hiding out.

Snow here. Snow there. Small ravines. Logs. Elk poo. And always uphill, with no break, in the soft, sandy soil.

High up the divide, looking into the south-side chasm.

Eventually I got to within a couple hundred meters of the actual mountain, and then...and then all my short hairs began standing up, getting ready to run for their lives. Things got scary.

Same place, showing both slopes.

Because, right up near the top, where it looks really interesting, it is. Too interesting. Interesting on the right, and interesting on the left, in a dropoff, sudden death sort of way. Left, to the north, it would be a nasty tumble into the ravine, but right, to the south, it would be a sliding tumble followed by a screaming drop followed by more screaming and falling, followed by an unfortunately and all too sudden stop on the rocks far below. Maybe 500 feet (150 m). Not fun. Not at all.

Panorama from the divide's high point, looking west.

Sure, it's all soft and pliable, and you could (maybe) continue up a goodly distance. But maybe not. The land on this mountain has a way of deciding on its own to relocate, for no particular reason. So I stopped short. And turned around, and played with the camera, getting a pretty decent panorama that unfortunately makes it all look flat. But there were some odd clouds there too.

Clouds with tails hanging down. Hard to photograph but maybe you can get a sense of them.

Clouds with hanging tails.

And then, looking north, there is the immense Rainier peeking over the ridge, offhandedly, slightly amuse, watching the way it does.

Looking north toward Mt Rainier.

Hike out here, at this season, and though there is snow everywhere, there is no flowing water until late in the day.

Alder blossoms, I think.

The native plants know how to get down to what they need, but for us up on the surface it's surprisingly dry. Water gurgles all night in little streams and then by morning it's all gone away again. Still, it's nice to see fresh young greens here and there.

Ditto.

And another thing. Even though there wasn't much water available most of the day, the soil was decently moist. This makes a huge difference.

Castle Creek, Studebaker Creek flats.

The reason is that there is no soil in the normal sense. It's all sand and dust and assorted knobby stones. Later in the year parts of the landscape almost explode when gravity overcomes friction. I've seen enough of it to be wary, which is why I didn't get as high up the mountain as I wanted. Too unpredictable.

South-side "trail" above Castle Creek.

There is a broad, flat valley between the drainages of Studebaker Creek and Castle Creek. There is what looks like a trail going up the southern side, but it's an illusion. Even ten years ago the trails here were good, but now they have either been washed away or have withered into faint traces. Which is a bunch of fun when you are halfway up a slope and there is no footing, only a steep drop into a world of pain.

Closeup. The "trail" is only hypothetical.

But, having experienced this place for over 15 years, I've figured out when not to hike, where not to, and how to bypass most of the rest.

Heading north. More clouds with tails.

Back farther north things level out somewhat. There is a nice but short stretch of rolling hills at the northwest shoulder of the mountain before the trail declines back to the confused mess of the sandy pumice plain under the mountain's mouth.

A few lingering flattened trees.

There are long-dead trees here, showing without a doubt which way the wind blew that day 30 years ago.

Across the pumice plain NE to Spirit Lake.

And then there is the long vista over the flats to Spirit Lake.

The trail that goes there.

This always looks nice, but the reality of covering the distance is other than a stroll. The whole landscape is a series of ravines and gullies that are in the process of growing up to be canyons and death traps.

Trail detail.

But hey. If you grew up in open country you kind of feel at home.

A bit of green in the barren sand.

Everything here is loose, and on a windy day, which can be a hugely windy day, it's all dust, all the time.

Pattern in a boulder's side along the way.

And then, every so often, you see a bit of green, or a field of flowers at the right time of year, or you're crossing a seep and see frogs. Or the ravens are out, doing barrel rolls and croaking. It's a place.

Along the trail, looking toward the waterfalls...

There used to be a trail on the pumice plain, and cairns, and somehow some of that remains but mostly you have to go over it a few times and learn which major landmarks to aim for and forget about trails and markers. Because mostly there aren't any. Anymore.

...which are pretty gnarly. This is hundreds of vertical feet.

But in a way the area right below the drooling mouth of the mountain gets more interesting. Places where a stream crossing used to be a matter of a couple steps down, a couple of steps across, and a couple of steps up are now more like short courses in mountain climbing. Sometimes there is an easy way down into a stream's course, but then you can't find a way out the other side.

Much later, higher up, evening, looking south.

Partly it's the depth, partly the sand, but you just keep going. At least, as on trips like this, there is the higher country on the way out, where a person can gain a bit of altitude again, turn, and have a good look at it all.

A peek into the pit.

I've got a few views here of parts of the mountain that are normally not too visible.

Panoramic, only partly worked out. (enlarge)

That's the good news. The bad news is that I've never before tried panoramas using a long focal length. These two photos didn't turn out quite right, but since they let a person get right up into the crater, I decided to include them.

Panoramic, only partly worked out. (enlarge)

If you look closely you can see some huge crevasses in the crater. On the last panorama I also notice two bright specks toward the lower left, visible on maximum enlargement. They look like geophysical stations. You see these here and there. Self-contained, solar powered, bristling with wires and antennas. And now I think I've seen two in the crater itself.

The final morning, on the way out.

And then the last night, camped, let us say, less than legally, I spent a quiet night, though damp, with the earth's exhalations that seem to come forth only at night.

Downstream watercourses in morning light.

But the final morning was fine. A bit of early fog blew through far below, ruffling the landscape, and the sun was fresh but not too bright, and no one was on the trails yet.

Loowit Creek well downstream from the crater.

So the result is that you get more views into the watercourses flowing out from the mountain, places which look fine and smooth from a distance, so fine and smooth and clean that you ache to go there, but which are, if they get you to come in, to fall for the trap, the worst hell holes imaginable, with vertical sides, landslides, clouds of dust, and ground so uneven and choked with stones that walking is nearly impossible. And I always want to go back.

The mountain from the air, as seen at Garrett Murray's Maniacal Rage.

Wheedle Music

2011-12-07T23:16:00.001-08:00

Dear Tifany:

I hope this helps clear things up. I mean now that I got acquitted and all. The judge was really a pretty nice guy and all, but he scared me. I got scared a lot while all this was going on. You get scared in court. I never been to court before. It aint like the TV shows. I didn't know. I guess you know that, since you was there too some a the time.

I really miss you. I hope we can talk sometime. After a while. I won't come around no more, for a while, I guess. I better not. I mean just so you know. Sure, there's that restraining order you got and all, I know that, I aint that dumb no matter what people say, and I respect you. You need your space. You always did, but I still want to come by some time. After this all settles down, maybe, and you take down the electrical fence.

I guess I'm lucky I know Chris. He's a pretty good lawyer for around here. I guess it pays to keep your high school friends after high school and all, and he aint chargin much. I'm gonna fix his car and do some carpentry and stuff, and we'll see. Which is pretty good for a verdict of Not Guilty Of Burglary, which I truly believe, I know you think otherwise.

I just got excited is all, comin back from my trip. I wish you'd a been there like the old days but I guess that it may be some things don't always work out the way you want. Even without the police keeping a eye on me so I stay away from your place I spose you wouldn't go backpacking with a guy who got drunk and wrecked his car so much but you know all about that I guess.

Without the car and all it makes it hard to go out backpacking, which is funny when you think of it, havin to walk to the trail, and then go backpacking, and then when that's over, you have to walk back to town from the trail and all, but I wanted to surprise you, because that's how I found the mink, walking home. He was kind of flat from the log truck and all but in real good shape overall, with some shampoo and a little water and some care is all it needed, it would of made a nice fur for you, though I thought it was a marten I guess I was wrong there, huh?

I know how you like your furs.

So sure I knew we wernt together anymore but I got excited, I forgot, and the papers your lawyer filed and all that stuff, I forgot that too, I was just excited, I didn't mean no harm when I come over to your place with the mink. Though I thought it was a marten, which would of been a real prize, as you know. I know you got one already, now you'd have another even if I did find it out on 101 in the rain, it was still lookin pretty good despite all that and just a couple of tread marks which you could a smoothed out pretty easy I think.

And there was this guy at your place. I just wanted to drop off the mink or marten and you know how to skin it and all, I know, and I thought you'd take it the right way and I would go back home and everything would be fine, but there was this strange guy at your place, see? I didn't break in or nothin I just asked if you was home and this guy gets all gnarly on me, he started it, asks me what the hell I'm doing there, and with a dead weasel besides.

Boy, what a dope, you can do better Tifany, I have to say, I know I aint the right one for you though, probly, but if you'd reconsider I think we could do better next time if we give it another try. That guy though, I don't know. Some thing wrong with him, for sure.

Gets all in my face right away. Weasel this, weasel that, I thought I had a high class marten and I wanted you to have it and he's in my face wavin his arms, and why are you carrying a weasel, dope? He says this. To me. And I'm just tryin to calm the waters and do you a favor, bring you a present and I guess I lost it about then, sure may be I was jealous, you know me, but I aint that bad. Not like him.

I just kinda tossed the mink. I didn't hit him, not with my fists, hardly, he coulda took it like a man anyway, you would think.

Guys like that, dumb as a block of wood but mean, they don't feel much of any thing, and I hope you have moved on since then, but as you know I am unaware of how you are living your life on account of this other court order and all, and to tell the truth I'm just glad I'm not in jail, and it wasn't no burglary I just got a little upset seeing that Derek guy there gettin all disrespectful so I tossed him the mink (which I thought was a marten, as noted) and meanwhile kind of hung on to the tail while doing that, and so it was the mink that hit him not me. Twice, if I counted right.

But I guess that's all over now. I just wanted you to know.

I really miss you and I will always love you, your the only one for me, Tifany and I hope some day, sooner rather than later we can get back together again even if you don't think so now.

I'll be down at the lunchette most every noon for the special and as soon as I get another car I'll be doing some more real backpacking again, may be some down by Oregon, and will quit drinking if at all possible and may go into taxidermy or something that pays good because I need to get things in my life worked out once and for all, as you are aware, but I'm working at it, so here's all my love though I know you don't want it too much, but at least all this weasel business is behind us now.

Love As Always, Jobie J.

More:

Jury acquitts Hoquiam man.

Weasel Assault

419 Xmas

2011-11-30T20:20:00.001-08:00

Shop our holiday cattalog.

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Send name, etc. etc., for proper identification and quickmail delivery upon wining and pretty soon you can have new sandals to hikeing in (free!)and still also be feature with honour in my distertation too as I mention previous.

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No More Crystal-I, Bub

2011-11-23T16:42:00.001-08:00

Feds smell something old. Might be him.

Soon after the recent destruction of eighty-eight year old retired metallurgist Bob Wallace's business, the Feds have decided to get tough on anyone old and harmless, especially if they could be hikers.

Wallace, and his main squeeze (and reputed moll) Marjorie Ottenberg (85), have been packaging and selling crystalline iodine for 30 years, touting it as a drinking water disinfectant for hikers and backpackers.

They call it "Polar Pure".

The authorities beg to differ, having heard a rumor someone passed on that this stuff might possibly be used by methamphetamine lab operators, somehow or other, every now and then. To maybe do some kind of stuff.

That was good enough.

Although Wallace and Ottenberg (a chemist by trade) have repeatedly eluded authorities by the fiendishly devious ruse of staying home and minding their own business (which is manufacturing Polar Pure), the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency finally caught up with them last week, after looking up Wallace's name in the phone book and driving over to his house.

Once there the Feds were at first flummoxed by Wallace's security system -- his dog Buddy asleep on the front porch. But, faithful to their oath to "Look Real Busy!", the Feds eventually overcame their fear and sidled around to the garage where they nabbed Wallace, busily filling orders for his customers.

Wallace, a Stanford University-educated engineer, greeted the Men in Blue with a cheery "This old couple, barely surviving old farts, and we're supposed to be meth dealers? This is just plain stupid," before he was stuffed into a gunny sack and beaten with rubber hoses to relieve boredom for the agents, who also needed to work up an appetite for their mid-morning donut break.

DEA spokeswoman Bethany-Anne Cramphole said later, primarily through hand gestures and grimaces in addition to a few rudimentary grunts, that if Mr. Wallace hadn't wanted to get hurt then he shouldn't have been standing around looking old.

Special Agent Tracy Dickhead, a Narcotics Special Task Force Commandante-Enforcer, said he was currently on the lookout for "Beavis and Butt-Head" types, the kind of people who might just go off into the mountains and do unsupervised things out there.

"Cops are the most humorless knotheads on the planet," Wallace said, after which they surrounded him and pulled out all his nose hairs to prove it wasn't so.

After taking out Wallace and Ottenberg, the DEA agents swarmed the Gentle Acres Home for the Aged, and confiscated anything that looked suspicious.

Since they didn't understand what was going on out there, they took everything.

Federal agents say 88-year-old Saratoga man's invention is being used by meth labs.

Nibbly Bits To Be A Hit

2011-11-16T16:55:00.001-08:00

Whether you want them to be or not.

Because resources are becoming scarcer, along with fresh clean water, and breathable air, we've decided to make the best of a bad situation.

Starting this week, in selected stores nationwide, we will be selling a new kind of backpacking snack food. We're calling it HikrNibbles.

What's in it?

Well, good stuff. It's all good. But mostly fish lips.

Decades of research into pet food has taught us a thing or two about what we can sell, and this is no exception. Design a colorful box, come up with a marketing plan, add salt, grease, assorted artificial flavors, and you have a winner.

Right now we're test-marketing fish lips to hikers, but this could go huge.

Right, you say to yourself, that's sounds pretty good, but I've never had fish lips and I'm not sure I want some, thank you for asking. But you would be missing the point.

This isn't about what you want, it's about what we can sell you. And how much we can charge. Fish lips are an untapped resource, up to now used only in low-end pet foods, and school lunch programs, and as fertilizer.

We think we can do better, and you can help.

Just try a few cases and see.

We're betting that before long you'll discover you can't get through even one day without having a box of our new HikrNibbles snack product within reach. That's due to our extensive market research, and a few "special" ingredients, which are all perfectly legal in some countries.

Enjoy the the mild smoky flavor, the salty tang, the way our fishy nuggets just seem to slide down your gullet. You'll keep coming back for more. And due to our "special" ingredients, we think you'll do that whether or not you want to.

Worried about sustainability? Don't be.

HikrNibbles aren't made from salmon, or tuna, or any of those other fish you've heard of. You know, the ones that are getting scarce.

Nope. We deal strictly in what the industry calls "by-catch".

By-catch or by-golly, there is more of this stuff than we know what to do with, and now you can eat it for us.

Whether you know what's in it or not, we are confident that our brilliant marketing research minds, honed to a sharp edge by years of selling to discerning pet owners from every level of society, have found a product that will keep your feet a-trompin' down that trail.

Just remember to carry an ample supply of HikrNibbles with you at all times to avoid any of those nasty "withdrawal symptoms", which are so easily avoidable. Just munch a bunch of nibbly bits.

Fido loves 'em too! $10 per 4-oz. pack. Practically no bitter aftertaste.

From In-Continent Foods.

More: Saving Salmon by Eating Them

Hazbro EZ-Bake UL

2011-11-09T15:13:00.000-08:00

A new trail boy toy.

You aren't a girly man - you're smart!

When it crashed onto the scene in 2004 the TurboBoil Mach4 CookSystem looked majorly major.

Fuel-efficient, wind-resistant, trendy, costing less than a pair of snow tires, it took every backpacker's attention off that nasty hiking stuff and kept it stuck on salesroom shelves.

The TurboBoil Mach4 was a huge step toward hot soup anywhere. Before that, too many hikers wasted precious hours hacking at beer cans only to get feeble alcohol stoves that could barely warm up a dish of cat food.

But all too soon the TurboBoil Mach4 itself became dated. There was that whole retro "fossil fuel", 20th-century aspect. And all those half-empty fuel canisters in the closet. And so on.

Well, backpacking stoves have now hit the bigtime.

Ta Da!

Today Hazbro, maker of the revolutionary EZ-Bake Oven, has entered the backpacking stove market. You heard it right, folks. As of today, Hazbro is on our side, with a new backcountry cooker.

Now you can look anyone in the eye and say with pride, "I hike like a girl." Because you can have tasty hot meals wherever, whenever, without burning lunch, your beard, or anything else. And how many of your friends can say that with a straight face?

The EZ-Bake goes anywhere a TurboBoil, SnowPoke, or SRM WhiskerLite can go. And because it's all electric you don't need old-style fuel. Of any kind!

Fumble-fingered? No problemo. Without flames you have zero chance of setting even one national park on fire.

Can't cook? Another non-issue. Just take along a supply of HikrChow PreMix Food-Paks, add water, heat, and swallow. As often as you want.

Practically completely bug-free!

Each PreMix Food-Pak is safely sealed off from air, sunlight, bugs, rats, mice, toads, bush weasels, flies, and basically anything with an appetite. Except you! And your friends!

And if you're shy about carrying bags of batteries, just pony up a few extra bucks for a couple of ChargeMor Batry Paks. Fit one Batry Pak on each knee and store up those kilozots as you hike. When you're set to cook, simply plug one into your EZ-Bake and have at it.

OK, you're more traditional? Bring a few EZ-Cellz Baker Batrys, alkaline or lithium. Your choice. They work just fine.

Wet it! Heat it! Eat it!

Want toast? Use the optional EZ-Broylr attachment.

Bowl of hot soup? Use the optional LektriKoyl heating unit up top. Hot drinks are ready almost as fast as you can pour water.

And though the standard EZ-Bake is only cupcake-sized, it is quick. Really quick. Especially with Hazbro's HikrChow PreMix Food-Paks. Wet it, heat it, eat it. That's what we say.

You can have a whole basket of baked goodies before you know it. Great for entertaining.

Colors? The EZ-Bake Oven comes in SnowWhite, PrettyPink, or AmmoKammo, with or without sparkles.

Technical details:

Size: 4x4x6 inches / 10x10x15 cm
Weight: 6 oz. / 170 g (without batteries)
Suggested retail: $19.95
ChargeMor Batry Pak (each): 7 lb / 3.18 kg, 9x11.5x4 in / 23x29x10cm, 75.32 volts, 10 amps, $187.59
EZ-Cellz Baker Batrys (each): 12 lb / 5.5 kg, 75.32 volts, 10 amps, $71.64
EZ-Broylr: 4 lb / 1.8 kg, $187.43
LektriKoyl: 1.5 lb / 0.7 kg, $93.26

HikrChow PreMix Food-Paks

Fudgie ChocoLike Chip Cookie Circles
SuprSugry ChocoLike Brownie Puddles
Hot-N-Sweet Sugry Pretzl Chews
GoopyChoco Snackie Pies
Mak-N-Cheez-N-Syrup (Maypl, RazlBerry, Proon)
FishyChips (with PynAppl chunks) *
Sausage-N-Spuds (with RazlBerry topping) *
CowMeat-N-Cabbage (with ChocoLike FlavrSprinklz) *
GeneriChow (misc. animal parts and animal part byproducts with SparklSprinklz) *

* (Makes its own gravy!)

Great for slumber parties too! You'll never be a "has-been" with Hazbro.

Backpacking: In Or Out?

2011-11-02T16:24:00.000-07:00

Six simple questions for your mind.

Let's talk concepts

Backpackers aren't the world's dumbest people.

No really, think about it.

If you are truly dumb, are you going to put some stuff into a bag and go out hiking in the rain? I mean, you can't call that exactly dumb. Can you?

The word dumb has only four letters. This is actually too small to capture a big idea. Like whether hiking is dumb, or hiking in the rain is dumb, even.

You need at least five letters for a big idea. Take death, for example. Get my drift? Much bigger territory already, and only one more letter.

As words go, dumb is not that useful, and if you are a backpacker traveling light, maybe you don't even have it with you. True, dumb has only the one syllable, but on the other hand...

It's. Uh. Forgot where I was going with that.

So ideas. Can be tough, right? Let's talk about something else.

Hey! What's in and what's out this year?

1 - Dirty Underwear

A perennial topic. If you wear it, it will get dirty. But if you don't wear it, it can't! So, in or out?

2 - Toilet Paper

Another favorite. I bet you've seen this stuff at home, but did you use it? And if you did, did you wash it and use it again, or just toss it after the first time? I bet I know the answer!

But say you're backpacking, what then? A little tougher, isn't it? I mean, you've already got stuff to bury, but do you want even more stuff to bury?

Depends on how you feel about moss, leaves, and pine cones. So, in or out?

3 - Eating Other People's Food

Call it unguarded or call it temporarily available, it's still food, it's there, and you're always hungry.

Can you blame the missing food on chipmunks? Bobcats? Alligators? It depends on what's out in the bushes. And how fast you can eat. And if you are good at stories. So, in or out?

4 - Washing Your Butt In The Creek

OK, we all know the rules, but some rules are more equal than others. Like they say cleanliness is next to godliness. Want to argue that one, Buster?

Sure, it makes a difference whose butt is being washed.

And whether your drinking water comes from upstream or downstream. And which end of this butt you are on.

And if anyone is around to see you. So, in or out?

5 - Lying About Your Mileage

Maybe you're thinking that lying is always bad. If so, when bedtime comes, think about standing up all night.

See?

And if you "slip up" and "accidentally" switch to kilometers you can multiply your miles by two and round up, and sound extra gnarly. Who said the metric system was no good? Some dope, right?

You're a hiker after all, and you're damn tired and you can't always remember how to carry the semicolon or whatever the hell they use in that metric stuff anyway, and who cares? So, in or out?

6 - Sleeping 10 In A Motel Room

This is for long distance hikers and party animals.

Generally, long distance hikers (or thru-hikers) are just about the most tedious, boring, dead-headed, dull-witted, ho-hum, irksome, slow, uninteresting, wearying, and least fun people in the world.

But cheap. So they often try this.

Does that justify splitting the cost of a $75 motel room 10 ways? Or would you rather party with some actual humans who scratch less and don't snore? Just sayin. So, in or out?

The Case Of The Foamy Bats

2011-10-26T15:05:00.000-07:00

Call me. I'm under "A. Dick For Hire".

It was a dark and stormy night when I got the call.

I had just finished retrieving a pair of conjoined Siamese cats who had somehow gotten separated from each other and then from their owner.

That owner was an elderly collector of rare books and odd cats. He never went out himself and had no idea how his cats had come apart or where they'd gone afterward. Once free of each other the cats hightailed it off in opposite directions.

Cats. You know the story.

All I had to do was drag a sardine around the neighborhood on a string and after a couple of minutes I had more cats than I could count.

I picked the two best looking ones and delivered them to my antiquarian friend. He looked happy. I must have guessed right. Or he was ready for new cats.

Either way it was all over pretty fast, so I didn't bother charging him. I just shook his hand, wished him a more interesting life, and headed back to the office after brushing the fur off my tie.

When I got to the office the phone was ringing off the hook. I answered it. On the other end of the line was a woman. I could tell by the voice.

Her name was Craft, Jo-Ann Craft. She ran a shop. A fabric shop. One that also sold hobby supplies. The kinds of hobby supplies that appeal to people. The kind of people who buy zippers and buttons.

Jo-Ann had problems.

She had bats.

Rabid bats.

Dead rabid bats.

Bats had been turning up in her shop lately and she wanted to know where they came from. And how to get rid of them. She asked if I could investigate.

I said sure, that's what I do.

I'm Richard A. Dick, but I go by my middle initial: "A. Dick For Hire". It's on my business card.

Shortly after entering Jo-Ann's fabric shop I noticed something odd. Dusty tracks on the linoleum.

The tracks led straight to the bins of ripstop nylon, and then they looped around to the thread department, ending with a flyby of the cash register after skimming the Halloween display.

I asked Jo-Ann if she'd seen any odd customers lately. She said they were all odd, so I asked about any odd customers that were new.

She remembered one. A guy. He had lots of hair, all over, and had a thing for the outdoor fabrics. And he was dusty.

I had a hunch so I decided to wait, and see this guy.

Before long there he was. You couldn't miss him. I was pretty sure I was on to something.

I went over to talk.

When I introduced myself he said his name was Maggot, Dirty Maggot. That was his trail name. His real name was Joe Periwinkle, but on the trail he was Dirty Maggot. He was what they call a "thru-hiker".

He looked the part. Whatever that was.

He looked like he hadn't had a bath in years, or changed his clothes either. And had no idea what a fixed address was.

While I stood there and shot the breeze, trying to get a fix on his m.o., I noticed something. Right away I saw a couple of spiders jump ship and scuttle off. They went straight for the lace trimmings and burrowed in.

Then there was a small avalanche of dust. Several of them. I was afraid that if all the dust fell off this guy, he'd be standing there naked.

And that was one sightseeing tour I didn't want to be on.

So I told him that the owner, Jo-Ann Craft, had been having a few odd problems over by the Halloween supplies.

Then I popped the question.

How about him?

Ever been over there?

Sure, he said. He was thinking of decorating the tent for his girlfriend, Snake. But he hadn't decided anything for sure, so he cruised by there every time he was in the store.

Despite all this he seemed like a decent enough guy.

We strolled over and stood in front of the cotton ball spiders and cardboard ghouls. Just as we turned away again I saw something move. In his hair.

It was a bat.

It fluttered out of his dreadlocks and attacked some crepe paper bats hanging from the ceiling. Tore them up pretty bad too. Then it fell down the wall behind the display. After that everything was quiet except for a few flecks of foam drifting in the air.

I was sure I had my man.

"Buddy," I said, "Here's my advice. Hiking season is over. Get a haircut. Take a bath. Lose the bats."

After he left the store I talked to Jo-Ann again.

I said if she locked the door when she saw him coming she'd be done with the rabid bats.

She seemed grateful to have the mystery solved, but then she did a funny thing.

She went and stood by the door, and watched Mr. Maggot hike back down the road.

Well, that seemed to be the end of the story. Another case solved and I even managed to make a profit. Rabid bats are bad for business, so Jo-Ann was glad to toss a few bills my way.

I didn't see her again after that, until one day.

I was in the neighborhood.

So I dropped in.

Guess what?

No, not more bats. The bats were gone. For good.

But I was met by a pleasant young gentleman who seemed to recognize me. "Joe," he said, "I'm Joe. You probably don't recognize me."

He was right. I didn't.

I've see a lot of guys named Joe in my time but this appeared to be a new one.

Cleaned up, he had no resemblance to the former Mr. Dirty Maggot. Dirty Maggot was now Joe Periwinkle, and he was working at the store. He and Jo-Ann had fallen in love too.

His former girlfriend Snake had slithered back to college when he got tidied up. Something about selling out, I guess. He said she's working on Wall Street now.

Joe has a new life too.

He and Jo-Ann are planning to go backpacking soon. She got him interested in business and he got her interested in dirt.

Another match made in heaven.

And free of bats.

Just one of those stories you run into.

If you're a Dick like me. Give me a call. Just check the phone book for "A. Dick For Hire".

More...

Camping Made Easy

2011-10-19T20:04:00.000-07:00

Do you know how????

Number One: Where to camp?

Though it can be exotic and fun, most of us are not quite sure about the whole "camping" idea.

Say you drive to a forest camp ground. OK so far, but what then?

You may expect to find an expanse of clean pavement and modern facilities, but few so-called camp grounds are this well equipped, even in today's world, and expect you to put your tent somewhere in the dirt.

Try to adjust by slowly easing off the pavement. Allow plenty of time to avoid vertigo or panic episodes. Eventually you will overcome your revulsion.

Now once you are past the "yuck" factor and are ready to put up your tent on dirt, things get easier. (True!)

One step that "pros" use is locating a "Park Ranger", a kind of hired help. These are the ones wearing uniforms. Your "Park Ranger" will gladly offer you a selection of camp sites for perusal. Take your time and don't be shy about asking for an upgrade. Rangers are there to serve you.

Once you have your site you are ready to start camping, like in olden times.

What to look out for.

Forest water is not house-broken. It can be unreliable. Rain even in faraway mountains can make the water near you rise up and do strange things. Stay well back from it. Do not touch anything but bottled water.

Dead things may be present. Like trees and stuff. They are also known to fall on people, especially while changing clothes in their tents, for some reason. If you smell a bad thing, it may also be dead. If you have had a pet, you probably know about this. So if you find a dead thing, even a bush, ask your Ranger to tend to it immediately.

Wandering hungry animals are a sign that lazy camp ground staff did not feed them properly. Well-fed animals won't come and bother you. Your Ranger can verify that all animals will be back in their cages by nightfall.

Putting up your tent.

Some use the location of the latrine as a factor in siting a tent. Since this is not a topic we like to think about, we will avoid it.

Preferably you will be in a nice meadow with soft grass. If the grass is too high you have a problem so trample it flat, then start a big fire.

The fire will be cheery and show which way the wind is blowing because things "down wind" will start burning from the sparks. Put your tent on the other side.

Ideally you should have practiced putting up your tent at home, but this is not practical in most apartments, so leave yourself plenty of time. Pound those big nail things into the ground and then put the rod things inside the special things sewn into the tent and pretty soon you are done. It couldn't be easier, really.

Finally, just to be safe in case some of the animals forgot to go back in their cages, start another fire, but far away from your tent. This is where you will cook to "throw them off the scent". (Animals are dumb.)

Cooking is easier than at home because camping food comes in colorful pouches. After supper throw a rope over a tree and "hang" your food and dirty dishes to keep other campers from being tempted.

Relax and enjoy the wilderness.

It's probably getting dark by now, so put on your gortecks camping sweater and break out the booze.

Ingredients for Camping Drinks:

Alcohol - Tequila, Vodka, or Gin
Juice - Lime Juice, Orange Juice, Coca-Cola, or Kool-Aid
Syrup - Maple Syrup is traditional for campers, but Karo or Mrs. Butterworth's is OK, or some Jam
Salt - (In case you sweated too much while getting your tent to work.)

Combine the ingredients and drink.

Traditionally, camping drinks are stirred with a stick of jerky. If this does not soften the jerky enough so you can eat it, try relieving the boredom by using it to stage sword fights. This is handy because if the alcohol and altitude go to your head, it is much harder to kill or maim any of your friends with jerky sticks than real swords (speaking from experience).

When the booze runs out it's time for bed. Luckily you drove here, so you can crawl into the back of your SUV, roll out your sleeping bag, and have a cozy night safe from all the kooks out there in the woods. Keep a loaded gun under your pillow, of course.

Two Old Guys Lost On The Knob

2011-10-12T12:53:00.000-07:00

Doing what they do best.

Shortly after the rescue...

Jim: Well, what the damn hell. I don't know how we ended up lost.

John: I believe it was when you decided to go left. That was the point right there, you ask me. I told you "Don't go left." Did you listen to me? No.

Jim: You old coot! I been hiking that mountain for 30, 40 years, and I don't make wrong turns. There ain't no turn up there I ain't been over a hundred times. Put on your glasses, man.

John: Where's the map? Let's have a looksee. Let me get my glasses on and I'll show you. Hey now look at this here. There it is, right there. See the junction? See one trail goes left and one goes right? If you'd a listened to me we would a been home yesterday for supper.

Jim: You can't prove nothin if you're flat out wrong, no matter how hard you talk it. Every time I look, there you are fumbling with those damn glasses and a map. That's probly what did it. You got us turned around.

John: Now here on the map it says on the left, here, right here it says this trail leads to Gobblers Knob and you said don't pay no nevermind to the map because you knew it was the way to Noble Knob. That's what you said, and look what happened. I almost froze my butt off last night because of that.

Jim: You know it didn't happen that way. You can't fool me. You had that map upside down again. I learned the difference between Gobblers Knob and Noble Nob while you were still pooping in your diapers. You went and got me confused. All that fussing around and stopping to take pictures and all, rattling that damn map of yours you keep pulling out every two minutes.

John: Now I distinctly remember you said go left. Insisted, you did. And that was it. I had the map out right in front of your nose, and my compass too, but no you was too smart for that. You didn't need no map you said. You didn't need no map because you been coming up here all your life. So there we was then, lost, and it's getting dark. Now that was a pisser.

Jim: Well I brought the whiskey, didn't I? We couldn't a made it without that. I pretty near saved your cussed fuzzy old tail, I guess, and now what? You act like this?

John: Damn right straight, you old fool. Whiskey or no, you would a froze up solid if I hadn't a had my emergency blanket with me. I should a let you go wander off and then you would a seen. Don't think I had a whole bunch a fun wrapped up with you in that thing all night, listening to you snore. I didn't even get a wink of sleep.

Jim: What the hell? I didn't sleep a full minute all night. I just dozed off now and then from boredom sitting there next you mumbling about stuff, all wrapped up in that crinkly damn thing. All that whining you got into about how you missed your wife and wishing you'd a stayed home and all. Maybe I should a kept walking. We could a got home sooner, dark or no.

John: Sure. Right. In the dark. You make enough wrong turns in broad daylight for a whole troop of boy scouts. I'd like to see you find your way to the end of your own driveway after dark. And without my helpful map skills. And I had the flashlight too.

Jim: Piss.

John: Here, have another donut you old fart. Earl here brought enough so's even you can't eat em all.

Jim: I got a little taste of whiskey left. Want some?

John: You held out on me? We could a died without enough whiskey for warmth. What kind of friend are you?

Jim: Well, if it came to that, I wanted us to go out in style, so I saved a bit. Where's your cup then?

John: Right here. Don't short me this time, you old cuss.

Jim: Piss.

More: Missing Hikers Found Safe Near Rainier

Frikinzero

2011-10-10T06:00:00.000-07:00

Frikinzero: Outdoor cartoons by Doug.

I sign my work "Frikinzero". I am a freelance artist. Go >

More:

Frikoutdoors complete set on Webshots

Frikinzero's Channel - YouTube

FRIKINZERO art at Facebook

What Now?

2011-10-04T19:01:00.000-07:00

Meat training for winter strength.

And so begins the season of our discontent.

The sky grays, leaves fall, and the cold hand of winter advances toward our throats.

This is the off-season, the doorway to months of inaction. Though some make up for the lack of trail tromping by skiing or snowshoeing, it is not the same as actual, real, true backpacking.

Muscle tone fades, and joints lose their hard-won toughness. Bellies soften and enlarge.

What to do?

Well, how about strength training?

With simple equipment you can make at home, it's easy to overcome winter's assault on your strength. If this sounds interesting, then here's how:

Prepare your equipment.

Ingredients:

1 sheep stomach, liver, heart, and tongue
1/2 pound minced suet (227 g)
3 medium onions, minced
1/2 pound dry oats, toasted (227 g)
1 teaspoon salt (5 ml)
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper (2.5 ml)
1 teaspoon dried ground herbs (5 ml)

After soaking the sheep stomach overnight in salted water, boil the other sheep parts and mince them.

In a bowl, mix in the other ingredients, stuff the stomach with the mix, and tie it off.

If you are a cautious sort, puncture the stomach with a fork. This will prevent an explosion during cooking.

Place the stuffed stomach into a pot and boil for three hours, then remove it and allow it to cool and air dry.

Now you have a solid, thoroughly cooked, dry, and pleasantly rubbery Exercise Haggis, or Exer-Haggis as the strength training professionals call it.

Face it, you can walk all year, even if it's not really hiking. Your greatest problem in the off-season is loss of upper-body strength. Exer-Haggis is ideal for combating this.

Upward sausage press.

If you've properly prepared your Exer-Haggis, it should be as long as your arm, which makes it easy to hold.

Lie flat and face-up. Use a bench or the floor. Either works.

Start with your Exer-Haggis resting lightly on your forehead.

At this point some dripping can show up if you chose the puncturing option, but keeping an Exer-Haggis refrigerated a few days before use ought to coagulate it and forestall problems.

Firmly but gently grasping your Exer-Haggis, push it upward until your arms are fully extended.

Then slowly lower the Exer-Haggis until it again rests on your forehead.

Repeat until exhausted. If possible, do not drool. (I know, hard not to!)

Horsie goes a-prancing.

Start on the floor, face-down, with your Exer-Haggis resting in the small of your back, like a small cowboy on a friendly horse. (You.)

Push against floor with the flats of your hands until your body is raised and your arms are extended.

Slowly lower yourself back to the floor without letting your Exer-Haggis buddy fall off. The larger and heavier your Exer-Haggis, the more exercise you get.

Repeat until you can't stand it any more.

Around-town carry.

Put on your coat, and, while carrying your Exer-Haggis comfortably in the crook of your arm, walk around town, frequently shifting it from one arm to the other.

Do your shopping, go out for coffee, or visit friends. It's all good exercise.

This, of course, will tire you, which is fine. That is the point. It means that you needed a workout, and got one.

An especially nice thing about having an Exer-Haggis with you is that it is naturally curved like a meat-filled travel pillow.

If tired, find any convenient chair and recline with the Exer-Haggis behind your neck. After a few minutes of comfy power-napping you will be fully recharged and ready to continue your carry.

What's next?

Sadly, no Exer-Haggis lasts forever. Yours will finally wear out, and begin leaking. If you are lucky, or if you planned ahead, you have a pet, or children, and they aren't fussy about what they eat, especially if you lock them in a room for a day or two.

Just slice up your worn out Exer-Haggis and dish it out. Before very long you'll have space in your fridge for a new one.

And since the Exer-Haggis is made from things other people never eat, it's really cheap to make. Go ahead, make two while you're at it!

No pets? No children? No problem!

Relax. Here's what you do.

Just toss each worn out Exer-Haggis into the freezer. By the the time the freezer is full, backpacking season has almost returned again. And that means it's time for some leg work.

Empty the freezer, and hitch all your used (and still solidly frozen) Exer-Haggis to a line tied around your waist.

Then start walking. All that weight dragging behind you will give your legs a stiff workout. You'll be way ahead of your friends on your first backpacking trip.

When your collection of Exer-Haggis thaws or you become tired of all the dragging, cut them loose and leave them for forest critters. They need to eat too, so it's OK. Bio-degradable and all.

And then?

If you really get into it there is always Haggis hurling. And no, this is not part of the dining experience.

You throw haggis.

Or, if that part is not for you, you can be an official such as a Hagrarian, Clerk of the Heather, Peater, Barrel Master, Haggis Hooter, or Distance Referee.

You might even be so enchanted after a season with your Exer-Haggis that you give up backpacking and begin hurling full time.

It can happen.

More:

Haggis Hurling, The Revival of a Traditional Scottish Sport

Glen Haggis

Lorne is haggis world record-breaker

Haggis gets a bashing from fakes

Address to a Haggis

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread,
Clap in his sturdy fist a blade,
He'll make it whistle;
And legs and arms, and heads will cut,
Like tops of thistle.
You Pow'rs, that make mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill of fare,
Old Scotland wants no watery ware
That slops in bowls:
But, if You wish her grateful prayer,
Give her a Haggis!

Not Sleeping In The Air, 3

2011-09-28T14:38:00.000-07:00

The rest of day two at St Helens, hammockless.

From the ridge above Castle Lake.

So this was a lot snowier than I'd expected. Even for a bad year. I spent weeks waiting for the images from the Volcanocam to start looking right. But when you actually get there you have to deal with the truth.

Yep. It's still this bare, after 31 years.

There was lots and lots of snow. Since this place is bare in long stretches, they melt out early, but that leaves the rest. Ravines, canyons, anywhere with vegetation. And the higher reaches. I was up here last year and wanted to get back and visit a waterfall I heard last year but couldn't see. Last year, also, had blustery weather on the day I got there, so I couldn't camp. Plus many other excuses.

Castle Lake, far below to the west.

So I was back this year. Same but different. The weather looks nasty in the photos but it was pretty nice. A bit misty now and then but not we enough to notice. There wasn't any waterfall. Little springs on one side of the upper basin were pooling in a mucky low area, and from there the water ran over the edge of the basin, all hidden from view - nothing really worth investigating after all. I would have camped there but given all the water there wasn't any there that I wanted to drink. Lots of elk poo all over, and though the water was technically flowing, it really wasn't.

Looking back southwest, toward the mountain.

So shucks. I turned back east and descended. There were a couple of nice streams running down the eastern side of the ridge encircling Castle Lake's basin. Nice enough to drink from. At least the place was empty. I like that. Wind, grass, air, sky, and no people.

Looks like someone flew in from the coast, and left again.

Someone who grows up on the plains never feels quite so comfortable as when he can stand on shortgrass and see the horizon in every direction. Not that I'd like to go back and live there, but being in the middle of a few dozen square miles of empty space gives a person a kind of privacy unavailable any other way. If anyone comes by, you see them at least an hour before they're close enough to talk to. Gives a person time to make the appropriate attitude adjustments. Tie the shoelaces. Comb the hair. All of that.

But I did have guests.

Yes, friends, I was under observation after all. The barking was my first clue. If you haven't been around country full of elk, country that elk know and use as their own, free from humans, then maybe you have seen some now and then but haven't heard them bark. A real extra-special thrill is to wake up around 2 a.m. with something barking at you seemingly within arm's reach, at 160 decibels. Wakes you right up. Clears the sinuses. Fills your diaper.

Camp.

These guys were indignant. I never did find the first one. It was behind some bushes and just simply would not stop barking at me. I stood there and looked like crazy but never did see a thing. Considering that the available shrubs were only big enough to cover two people at a time, and elk are a bunch bigger than that, I ought to at least have seen an ear twitch but I'm obviously not that good. Looking the other way, though, I caught sight of two of the rascals out in the open. One of them was barking and the other was more or less just along for the show.

Ditto.

If you play dumb and pretend you don't know you're supposed to politely leave, elk finally get frustrated and wander off. These did too. For anyone interested in elk encounters, this is a great place. I've had some wonderful ones on the other side of the mountain while exploring trailless forested canyons there in years past. Once while sitting at lunch by a stream a group of half a dozen elk came down to drink from the other side.

They eventually became aware of me but slowly enough so they just doubled back on themselves and walked away. Later the same day I stopped by the same stream, wondering where I should cross, and when I looked up, there was a cow elk and her elkling on the other side, looking at me. They were downstream maybe 40 feet (10-15m). I stood still. We all looked at each other for some time, and then the two elk crossed the stream to my side and vanished into the willows without a sound. I get full points on that one for being able to look harmless.

I don't know, but it's rubbery, green, and seems happy with life.

I've seen people hunting here, and they're all clueless, stomping around on hiking trails like bulldozers. Even I can hear them half a mile away. It's different when you're not hunting. No deadlines, no goals, no need to perform. You relax and simply wait. Open up to the land while being still and things always come to you. Chase around and you'll never see anything.

So overall I'd rather be a backpacker. I shot a deer once, and since I was young and it was my first, my father showed me how to gut it. I never want back. Any day of any month of any year I'd rather be eating instant goop out of a plastic bag and sipping tea brewed over an alcohol stove, watching things come and go quietly than pulling bloody guts from a carcass. But maybe that's just me. Is OK.

The same two suspects after they calmed down.

Well, anyway, this was not a bad trip. Later in the year you can't stand to be out in the open because of wind and dust, not to mention constant sun. But at least half the area near St Helens is wide open, so if you're there, you're there, and there isn't much you can do about it other than hiking a few miles farther to get to water and cover. I'll take mostly calm, cool, and even slightly damp weather over howling wind or death waves of heat.

Camp, right rear.

Then, later in the evening the sun began to peek out from time to time. This was due about 12 hours earlier, but I hadn't missed it. Other than getting uncomfortably wet feet from hiking in and out of snow all day I had nothing to complain about. A little bit of evening sun here and there added a little color and showed that the weather might be getting warmer and sunnier rather than going in the opposite direction. My campsite looks bleak in the photos, but as I said, I'm from grassland, and this was reminiscent of that. Homey. Vacant, empty, and bleak. Cozy. Providing plenty of elbow room. I liked it.

Evening sun on the stumps. What more could you ask?

The temperatures held in the 50s and 60s, F (10-15 C), while there was an occasional puff of breeze as the sky darkened, and this is how it stayed overnight. All quiet. Every elk in the neighborhood had been alerted and gave me a wide berth, so there were no midnight surprises in the form of outraged, honking quadrupeds. My only problem was sleeping on the ground, which is a huge pain these days. But hey. Part of the deal. You can hammock in this general area but it's hard to find trees that are willing to cooperate.

A last kiss of sun on the cinder cone.

Partly, the end of the day was time spent waiting for it to end. Nothing much to do. Noodle around, look for photos, dither, listen, wait some more. Finally it got late enough and dark enough to dive into bed. Which was late, since the next day was the summer solstice, and this far north the dusk seems to smear itself across the landscape and simply continue getting dimmer until finally you notice that it's too dark to see anymore. When you get tired of sitting and blinking in the dark you go to bed. Life can be worse.

Vally of the North Fork, Toutle River to the north, just before sunset.

More.

Volcanocam

Not Sleeping In The Air

Not Sleeping In The Air, 2

2011-09-22T20:15:00.000-07:00

Notes from spring at St Helens.

Morning on day two. Still foggy.

Right. Another long, bad year for backpacking. At least I got out toward the end of June when the weather looked ugly but was nice. Knowing that this area was shy of good trees, I left my hammock at home and slept on the ground.

Leaving the valley of the shadow of sleep.

Officially, I spent the first night out of bounds, or in bounds, depending on how you see it, but there was no one backpacking anywhere on my side of the mountain, so hey. Just one guy sleeping in the dirt. No one around to give me a citation.

Stream violets, if I'm not mistaken. Optimistic little cheery things.

The weather was just about the right temperature. Damp but not wet, cool but not cold, warm enough to be comfy but without the sunlight that would have made it hot.

The view after climbing out of the valley.

Overall, too much snow for good hiking, but since this mountain is mostly bare on its west side, and I brought a pair of portable crampon-like thingies, it wasn't that bad.

Somewhat later I met some shrubs calling for help.

The terrain is torn up, but not too badly on the north and northwest sides of the mountain. At least when the soil is damp. Later in the year some of the ravines would have been all but impassable.

Valley of the Toutle River, squeezed by the arms of the mountain.

I know. I've been out there early, late, and in between. At the height of summer the soil turns explosive. Just look at it hard and it crumbles, slides, sheds clouds of dust, sucks at your angles. Starts avalanches.

Panorama looking southwest. Just before the drop to the valley.

Get down in a ravine, if you can, and you won't get out. Not anymore. The trails used to be good, as trails go. Still dusty and rocky, but well graded and easily hiked.

A closer look at the reality of it all.

Years of neglect and heavy winter rains scoured out all the ravines. Some became suicide slots. Others only became dangerous. A couple merely tedious and nasty. But things have changed radically in the last 15 years.

With your back against the drop, you get this panoramic view northeast.

The roads too. When I first hiked at St Helens in 1996 the roads were like an indoor running track: clean, smooth, black, unblemished. And they stayed that way for a while. It was tasty. Close enough to drive to, noodle around for a day, and drive home again, and the roads were all perfect.

Wild strawberry?

Eventually the weather began working at things. The roads got lumpy in spots. Or began to crumble. The trails began to wash away.

Slightly distorted panorama of Toutle River valley

The Toutle River was once the most benign crossing on the mountain and is now the biggest obstacle. Or at least it was about three or four years ago, the last time I walked around the mountain. Coming from the north, you descend in a long, long switchback, puffing up clouds of dust no matter how carefully you walk, and drop 500 feet (150 m) down to the river.

Trail descending to the Toutle River.

Once at the bottom you hit a bench. The last 10 feet (3 m) down were also easy. Then you stepped across the river on stones, and that was it. After the rains a few years ago, I came to this spot and it all seemed the same (from the top). But once down to that last bench, instead of a short trail down a few feet there was a deep trench. It looked as though it was cut by machines. The sides were absolutely vertical and parallel to each other, and the drop was now at least 50 feet (15 m). Crazy. No way across anymore. You have to make a huge detour through a scrubby forest of trees growing so thickly they hardle let air through.

Looking down-valley.

The first time through after this damage, I was able to find a way down, partly by climbing back up a little, and partly by hanging from a couple of saplings, and partly fall-jumping a bit (stupid). Subsequent stormy years have made this route completely impassable.

A bit of the less-rugged part of the valley looking deceptively mild.

It's hard to believe that in 2002 I hiked around the mountain in one day, twice, once in July and once in Otober. It used to be a pleasant, slow three-day backpacking trip, but if I had a hankering to ever do it again I'd plan on at least a week.

Another panorama, up and to the west, where I was going.

And I've been around it at least six times, so I know the way. But I probably wouldn't want to try it again. It simply isn't worth it. Mt Rainier is bigger and better. Mt Adams is amazing, strange, gentle, and crazy wild too. Maybe I'll be able to post pictures of those trips before long. We'll see.

Another glimpse of Toutle Valley from higher up and farther west.

For this trip there was fog and damp and snow. Which was enough. Enough to pretty well screw up my plans. I'll have more photos in a couple of days.

Previously: "Not Sleeping In The Air."

If Moose Could Fly

2011-09-14T19:16:00.000-07:00

They wouldn't need to drink.

Moose.

Animal type: Mammalian quadruped.

Scientific name: Alces alces. (With seven subspecies.)

Size and weight: Adults are 1.8–2.1 m (6–7 feet) high at the shoulder. Males weigh 380–720 kg (850–1580 pounds), and females weigh 270–360 kg (600–800 pounds).

Geographical distribution: Northern North America and northern Eurasia.

Diet: Plants.

Habitat: Arboreal.

Disposition: Moose-like. Reacts poorly to nose jokes. When harassed or startled by people, moose may charge irresponsibly, which is why they are no longer issued credit cards.

Drug of choice: Alcohol, in naturally fermented fruit.

Favorite animal pals: Flying squirrels.

Favorite hobbies: Getting drunk while perched, napping.

Least likely to succeed at: Being a cavalry mount, which was tried in Sweden, the land of dark mystery. And there are not many things more intimidating than a moose with a heavily-armed Swede on top. But there were problems, like getting into the saddle without a stepladder. And moose were said to get frequently stuck in bogs, and fall over when drunk, so that didn't work.

Second least likely occupation: Delivering mail. Also in Sweden. Moose tended to eat mail rather than deliver it, and spend down time licking stamps and trying to hang by their tongues from trees. How do you get a drunk moose out of a tree when its tongue is like super-glued to the bark?

Scientific questions remaining: What is it about Swedes and moose anyway?

More:

Drunken moose ends up stuck in Swedish apple tree.

Bush Menace

2011-09-10T00:21:00.000-07:00

Keep one eye on your nuts.

Something tugged at my shorts.

I looked down.

It was a marmot.

He had a gun.

And a glint in his eye. A mean one.

Then he spoke.

"I'm workin' wit' Offshore Flo," he said. "An dis here place is ours, see? You wanta plant youse butt here, you gotta pay."

I looked at him. Other than his gun, he looked like a marmot.

Then I took another look at the gun. It was aimed at my crotch, so I knew he meant business.

This was not a marmot to mess with.

"So, I was just passing through. I only stopped for a sip of water," I said, looking into his one good eye. It was beady. And bloodshot. The way marmot eyes are.

"I was just about to leave."

The eye didn't blink, the way marmot eyes don't.

"An' what's dat dere ting den, youse umbrella?" He tilted his head toward my tent. His fur ruffled in a menacing way, giving off a thin puff of dust. "Ha?"

"Ahhh, my tent," I said. He was no dummy.

And there was that gun pointed at my future.

"My tent... It's new... I thought I'd put it up while I cooled off in the shade here... To see if it worked OK..."

I lied.

He coult tell.

"Ha! You take me for some nitwit woodrat or sumpin', buddy? I been around longern dat. I got fleas smarter dan dat. Youse gonna camp here, right? Witout no permission or nuttin'? Dis here's my territory, an' I say who camps and who don't, see?"

He had me. By the short hairs. Of his trigger finger.

"Now I ain't a real hard guy, but I don't take no screwin' around. You know what I mean?"

No, I didn't, so I nodded. I hoped to look dim. And reasonable. And cuddly.

The muzzle of his gun remained on target.

"OK den," he grunted. "Let me make you a offer den. I'm kinda peckish at da moment and den I feels like takin' a nap. I don't want no fuss right now. I got work to do later. Tell you what."

"What?," I offered.

"Shut up," he suggested.

"You lemme go tru youse food dere an' pick out a coupla tings, an' we call it a deal, 'K?"

I looked into his eye and nodded, hoping it was the good eye. So he could see me being agreeable.

"You wanna camp tonight, OK. I can check back in da mornin' and have a bite a breakfast whitchu, or you can move on now, whatever. You don't cause no trouble, I don't stick dis gun up your butt. So. What's it gonna be?"

"Sure," I said, trying to sound like his pal. He knew better.

I could tell. His ears were good. And he had two of them.

"Help yourself, sure. Take what you want. I have plenty," I said. "And since I don't want to give you any trouble, maybe I'll just move along. Will that work? Take my peanuts."

He farted.

Twice.

And smiled.

The way only a one-eyed marmot with a gun can smile. When he has plans for your nuts.

Then he looked at my pack and back at me. "Lay it out an' I'll have a look-see," he said.

Marmots are not that big.

They have four legs.

And use all of them just to stand up.

But this guy.

Somehow he rummaged through my gear, and rounded up what he wanted, and carried it off.

While keeping his gun trained on my soft spot. This was one capable shrub bear.

"Tanks. Youse a stand-up guy. Come back again real soon," he chuckled, munching as he waddled off.

"An' if you wants some real good campin' jus' go over dat ridge dere. Nobodys will bodder you dere. Have a nice day, my fren. Hahahaha."

Then he was gone.

I felt weak.

I may have wet myself.

I collected my things, what little food was left, and resumed hiking.

I went up the trail. Might as well see what was over the ridge, I thought. Was headed there anyway. Anywhere but here.

After trudging for I don't know how long I came to the crest of the ridge. It looked goo.

No marmots. No guns. All quiet.

I began descending, beginning to relax.

Then I saw the goat. In front of me. His horns were pointed at my crotch.

He grinned.

"Marmot said you'd be along soon," he said.

"Let's talk."

More:

Ranger kills persistent mountain goat in Olympic National Park

New Sections Of CDT To Open Soon

2011-09-06T19:27:00.000-07:00

Today the wrinkles, tomorrow the flies.

The Continental Divide Trail (CDT) is the longest of the three north-south trails, and the least used, but nevertheless is beginning to show signs of wear.

Just days before completion crews tied huge cables to each end of the trail and with giant machines they pulled the entire thing taut.

Now, many years later, that same trail is sagging like a worn out T-shirt. Any more pulling would only increase the sagging.

What to do?

There are three possible solutions, all potentially crazy.

(1) Drop anchors into the trail and use bulldozers to drag long sections of it east or west into a mileage-eating zigzag pattern. But this could also scrape away many trailside towns and ranches, and because it's a lot like pulling a string along a carpet, it might attract cats as well.

(2) Send in parties of trail tailors to use up excess mileage by converting it to decorative loops, figure eights, and curlicues. Skeptics wonder if those crews could actually work on such a large project without "getting all foofy on us".

(3) Running a distant, currently impractical third, but also most promising, is shrinkage. Basically you douse the entire trail with really hot water so it shrinks up.

Getting the hot water, dumping it on cue, and controlling the shrinkage are three key problems.

Overdo it and you suddenly yank Canada and Mexico together with a thump. And the trail might pucker something fierce, making it even lumpier.

Following months of high-level meetings, National Park Service bureaucrats, adventurers, slackers, trail bums, concessionaires, and hangers-on finally decided to try option two.

So they signed a trial contract with the CDT Alliance Of Trail Tailors to complete a pilot project.

After months of feverish alterations, hopeful officials last week dedicated a new 1-mile section of the CDT named the Button Connector. It joins the Pocket Treadway to the important but previously little-used route over the top of Jack's Flap.

Now, because of the new Button Connector, hikers will have an easy time getting from the Flap to the Pocket, a sheltered, cozy area with plenty of good camping.

This is only a first step, and work continues. There is lots more to do.

No telling what could happen next.

New section of Continental Divide Trail open at RMNP

God Set To Punish Pacific Northwest

2011-09-03T07:00:00.000-07:00

Weekend to be warm, sunny. Temps in the 70s and 80s. No relief in sight.

Disheartening forecast

Cliff Mass, a professor of atmospheric sciences at the University of Washington was quoted today as saying "It's going to be great."

Dr. Mass, it should be noted, works in an air conditioned bunker, well shielded from direct sunlight by that structure's thick, opaque walls.

"Oh and with all the talk of hurricanes on the East Coast, what about West Coast hurricanes? We get 'em," he continued. But not this weekend, ladies and gentlemen.

We will be nowhere near so lucky.

No.

This weekend temperatures will soar into the danger zone, hitting the 70s (70s Fahrenheit / 20s Celsius).

And that is only the beginning.

No relief in sight

"Computer models show it will climb back into the mid-80s through next week into the following weekend," said Dr. Mass, safe in his cool dim retreat.

Widespread panic is projected throughout the region.

Hordes of locals will stampede into the mountains, flooding trails and campgrounds in a desperate attempt to escape the region's cities, which will all become virtual death traps.

A few still cling to hope. They hope to remain alive and repopulate the area after this holocaust, but most have resigned themselves to their fate.

Mass death almost certain

"Expect these morning clouds to clear out and to have a sweltering long weekend - and through the next week as well."

These are clearly not words to live by.

God, once believed to be responsible for everything, even the bad stuff, could not be reached for comment.

There are rumors afoot that the Deity is at work on entirely new and more robust critters, whole new species capable of withstanding extended exposure to temperatures above 60 degrees F.

Biologists only raise their eyebrows at this, regarding the idea as raving lunacy at best. No known lifeforms can currently exist at such temperatures, and that capability is almost inconceivable, given our currentunderstanding of biology.

Yes, there may be a slim possibility of life continuing on earth, but it likely will not be us.

So good luck there.

The full report.

Audio file mp3.

Regional weather map.

Video: How Cliff Mass forecasts the weather.

.

Yellowstone Fish Safe To Eat

2011-08-31T16:55:00.000-07:00

Most likely -- testing to continue, just in case.

Yellowstone Fish Safe, But Some Oil Found, read the headline after the Mega-Omni Corp., Inc. crude oil spill.

"No oil was found in meat from dozens of fish taken to our laboratory for testing," said R. J. Suit, spokesman for Mega-Omni Corp., Inc. "Yes, small amounts of crude oil were detected in the livers and gonads of some of the fish," but who eats those anyway?" he continued.

"In summary," Mr. Suit said, "we believe the evidence is clear that any so-called 'contamination' could theoretically harm the health of fish if they insist on staying in the river, but people who catch and eat these fish will be perfectly safe as far as we are concerned. And we prefer to avoid saying 'crude oil'. Let's agree to call it 'Job Creating Free Enterprise Fuel and Lubrication Substances', shall we?"

"We will continue testing fish from the Yellowstone River to be absolutely sure that all is well," he said before returning to the company bunker.

HI Dave,

My name is P Vini Drivik and I am a recruiting specialist with Mega-Omni Corp., Inc. Testing Labs.

We have several job opportunities with Mega-Omni Corp., Inc. Please let me know if you are interested.

Work Location: Montana, on the banks of the exciting Yellowstone River.

Job Description: Fish Gonad and Internal Organ Taster (temporary).

Are you passionate about tasting fish?
Do you wish to preserve Montana fishing and fish gonad eating for those who come after you?
Do you pride yourself as being somebody who can chew and swallow?
Do phrases like "fish livers" and "fish gonads" excite you?
Do you like eating smallmouth bass, rainbow trout, and long-nose suckers?
Are you a supporter of Job Creating Free Enterprise Fuel and Lubrication Substances?

We are one of the largest multi-national producers of Job Creating Free Enterprise Fuel and Lubrication Substances, and have several (temporary) openings for energetic self-starters who are free to travel, enjoy a fast-paced work environment, need money, and have no next of kin.

Basic Qualifications

Must be able to pass a 7 year criminal background check.
Must be substance-free at the start of the assignment (including petroleum and petroleum byproducts).
Must provide proof of a voting record supporting Job Creating Free Enterprise Fuel and Lubrication Substances.
Bachelor's Degree in Biology, Geology, Product Testing/Development, Mechanical Engineering, Auto Repair, Art History, related field, or high school diploma, or evidence that you can recognize a school if you see one.
1+ years professional experience in fish tasting. (Note 1: Requirement waived on proving you can taste food. Note 2: This requirement can be met during your interview.)
Proficiency in at least one language. (Recognizable hand gestures qualify!)
Ability to backpack in to work locations, camp, and remain awake during business hours (4 a.m. through 10 p.m., Monday thru Sunday) while chewing and swallowing.
A pulse for the duration of the work assignment.

If you are interested (And we think you should be!), please email your resume to: P VINI DRIVIK PRADEEP, Lubrication Tasting Recruitment Specialist, at the Mega-Omni Corp., Inc. Testing Labs.

Special Additional Requirement

At the end of your work assignment you must be willing to participate in an employer-sponsored autopsy, after which your body will be cremated. Sure, sounds extreme, but this is almost like free medical care, and you are eligible for bonus pay too. Plus, you get the whole day off!

More: Yellowstone Fish Safe, But Some Oil Found

Scientists Discover Comic Rays

2011-08-28T05:35:00.000-07:00

May help explain human stupidity.

By Bengt B. Bjornsson, Reporting for Stand-Up News

An experiment at CERN, Europe's high-energy physics laboratory near Geneva, Switzerland, is finding evidence for a new type of ray from outer space.

You may remember, if you paid attention in high school physics (if you were smart enough to be there), or in college physics (if you were smart enough to be in college), that there are things called "cosmic rays".

These mysterious particles come crashing to earth from deep space at super-high energies, and are responsible for poor TV reception, genetic mutations, and scaring cats.

Stranger than truth.

Well, even stranger rays have now been discovered. These are "comic rays". (Which researchers sometimes refer to as "funny bunnies" or "chuckle zaps" in unguarded moments).

Comic rays are stoking a long-running argument over the role of radiation from distant stars in altering the mental climate here on earth.

For over a century scientists have known that particles from space constantly bombard Earth. This is true.

This is true, but boring. Unless you are standing where you can get hit.

These "cosmic rays" have some role in cloud formation, causing ball point pens to leak, and making your boss irritable.

No news there, but still none too good.

A different sort of beast.

Comic rays, however, are different.

When even scientists, who should know better, are saying odd things in public, then something is going on. And the evidence seems to be all around us.

For instance, remember Donald Trump's Presidential campaign? Yep. This can be explained by comic rays.

Kim Kardashian's sudden huge rise in popularity? The same. Comic rays at work.

Lady Gaga, the daily news, the price of gas, and pretty generally everything you can lump under the heading of "WTF is it with life these days?" is due, at least in part, to the effects of comic rays.

What's the outdoor angle? How about the seemingly irrational urge for some people to strap packs on themselves and go out hiking in the woods for days, weeks, maybe even months on end.

Some skepticism remains.

Of course all this is still a bit tentative.

"At the moment, the new theory actually says nothing about a possible comic-ray effect on clouds and climate, but it's a very important first step," says Dr. Runti Pundit, a researcher investigating the phenomenon at the Second City National Laboratory near Chicago.

And of course there are those who will never become believers, like Mush Rumble, noted conservative commentator and drug addict, who refuses to even believe in gravity until he can see it moving around with his remaining good eye.

So the jury is still out (said to be recovering from a night of carousing, no less -- which might just be further evidence that comic rays actually do exist).

"At the end of it, we want to settle it one way or the other," mused Dr. Pundit, easing himself back down onto his familiar embroidered whoopee cushion at the end of his routine.

(For the record, it should be noted that Dr. Pundit, to his credit, has never been backpacking.)

.

Truant Grizzlies Find Employment

2011-08-25T09:50:00.000-07:00

Dateline Yellowstone National Park.

Life on the dole. Due to plenty of handouts and a too-easy life on the government dole, the number of grizzly bears in Yellowstone National Park has tripled since they were placed on the endangered species list in the mid-1970s.

Stray bears with nothing useful to do have increasingly been getting into trouble, roaming in packs, staying out carousing until all hours, turning over cars and breaking into facilities.

Meanwhile, park officials, facing deeper and deeper budget cuts have had a hard time maintaining order.

Turning over a new leaf. Now a new program aims to employ those very same grizzlies by putting them into uniforms, giving them some training, and sending them back out onto the trails as employees.

"They work pretty much for peanuts," said Berry Dingle, Park Superintendent. "Or rather, they get by living off anything they can confiscate and eat. It's great. Our payroll costs have dropped significantly, and we no longer have to worry about pensions or paying for health care."

This is perhaps the logical outcome of budget cuts combined with recent experience employing caged grizzlies in testing supposed bear-proof products.

What's ahead? So far no one is talking, but there are widespread rumors that other parks may try this: alligators at Everglades National Park in Florida, for instance.

Some cities are possibly even considering using packs of rats to replace expensive human garbage collection crews.

More information from NPR: Grizzlies Test Products To Keep Out The Average Bear

My Early Years As A Geezer

2011-08-23T20:04:00.000-07:00

Backpacking while young.

Standing in glacier breath, 1980

While cleaning things out I came across a few color slides I'd set aside when I threw out decades of photos a few weeks ago. Today I almost thossed them without remembering that I'd wanted to hang on a bit.

Some others saved today were the only existing photos of my mother, who died in 1998. They have to go to my sister. If I can remember not to discard them without thinking.

So, the first photo here is from one of my earliest trips. You parked on a gravel road, trudged up a trail for a while, then got to an overlook on the south end of a lake. If ambitious, as I was back then, you hiked down to the lake and then around one side of it and got to a flat.

If you were still ambitious you could hike up a slope and eventually stand right on the snout of Columbia Glacier, which I did.

It's surprising and always disheartening how dirty glaciers are, which I discovered that day.

But worse than that, it was freezing. There was a howling wind coming down off the glacier, so, while there was plenty of clean water coming from under it, and plenty of room to camp (and even grass) it was simply too cold to try.

Before descending back to the lake I stood on a rock and used the camera's timer to grab a shot of myself. Cotton flannel shirt, jeans, oiled leather boots. The hair is flapping and so are the pants legs.

Sunburn, July 1981

By the next summer I was fully experienced. A veteran. The long July 4th weekend was warm and sunny. I went out, and up. I hit snow at 5000 feet (1525 m). The sunlight bouncing off it was blinding, but I had sunglasses. And it was calm, and hot carrying a five-pound (2.5 kg) pack (empty weight) of 4000 cubic inches' (66 L) volume, stuffed to the gills with all sorts of essentials.

So of course I took my shirt off. But was OK. I had lots of sunscreen.

Funny though. It didn't seem to work.

I got a sunburn that was especially intense on the chest-side of my shoulder straps. So intense that it took a full year for the marks to fade.

When I got home I stood inside the back door of the little house I was living in and made a couple of shots. For the second one (shown), I pressed my fingers into my belly to leave an image.

This is what I normally do to gauge degree of doneness, since my color vision isn't good. The longer the prints stay, the redder I know the skin is. Judge for yourself. I scanned the slide today and can't vouch for color accuracy. Even so, I can tell how bad the sunburn was, even 30 years later.

And I kinda still remember how it felt, too.

The other thing is, I always thought I was seriously ugly. But it wan't nothin' compared to now, judging by these.

The older you get, the more you know, and somehow knowledge has a way of making you uglier.

Least that's how it worked at my house.

.

Mini G Stove

2011-08-17T07:24:00.001-07:00

Scott Henderson's Mini G Stove

Note from editor: I originally got interested in making my own stoves after reading Scott Henderson's instructions, first published in 2001.

In the years since then, those instructions have gone away, along with the site where they were published. But, I did manage to piece together the originals a couple of years back.

The rest is the original, except that the formatting is different, and I've removed dead links.

If anyone owns this information and objects to it being published here, let me know. Otherwise share and enjoy.

These instructions are abbreviated. They are meant to be used in combination with the detailed instructions for the Pepsi-G Stove. Differences between the stoves are noted below.

Please use the images there as guides.

Stove Parts

Aluminum cans in mint condition (no dents), two from among the following:

8.3 oz (250 ml) Red Bull Energy Drink can, or
5.5 oz juice can (V-8, Welch’s, TreeTop, etc.)

Note: The cans listed above have the same diameter, so you can mix and match if you want. However, an 8.3 oz Red Bull can is preferred for the top section of the stove because it mates best with the 12 oz can used to make the simmer ring.

Parts For Optional Simmer Ring

Aluminum can, one of:

12 oz can made by Ball Corporation. Look for a parabolic oval shaped indentation in the top of the can. The Ball logo may or may not be on the can.

Note: A 12 oz Ball Corp. can is preferred for the simmer ring because the pop top opens a wide mouth hole and the indented parabolic oval on the top of the can is a nice guide for enlarging the hole.

For metric / imperial converstions, see the BackpackGearTest.org Conversion Utility.

Step 1. Make The Burner Holes

The top section of the stove is constructed in STEPS 1-3 from an 8.3 oz Red Bull can (preferred) or a 5.5 oz juice can. In STEP 1 a sewing needle with a shaft diameter of 0.6 mm (0.024 in) is used to make a circular ring of 24 evenly spaced holes outside and concentric with the circular ridge on the bottom of the can.

Step 2. Form The Large Central Hole

Concentric with the circle of burner holes you made in STEP 1 is a raised circular ridge. Inside this ridge is a bowl-shaped area about 40 mm (1 9/16 in) in diameter. Cut out the bowl at the base of the circular ridge, but leave the circular ridge and its sides intact. Round the rough edge of the hole with a half round file and smooth it with fine sand paper.

Step 3. Cut Out The Top Section

Cut out the top section of the stove with a utility knife blade or a pair of scissors so that the finished height is 20.5 mm (13/16 in).

The height of the top section is not that critical, although the suggested range is 19-22 mm (3/4-7/8 in). Use fine sand paper to prepare the interior surface of the sidewall for epoxy. Clean with warm water. Cut 8 evenly spaced vertical slits in the sidewall to a depth of 3 mm (1/8 in) from the shoulder of the can. Burnish the slits.

Step 4. Cut Out The Bottom Section

The bottom section of the stove is made from a 5.5 oz juice can or an 8.3 oz energy drink can. Cut the bottom section 32 mm (1 1/4 in) in height. The height of the bottom section is important. It should be within the range of 30.5 to 33.5 mm (1 3/16 to 1 5/16 in) around the entire circumference. Use fine sand paper to prepare the upper third of the sidewall exterior surface for epoxy. Clean with warm water.

Step 5. Make The Inner Wall Of The Stove

From the remainder of the can used for the bottom section or from a spare generic can, fabricate a rectangular band 38 mm (1 1/2 in) wide and 162 mm (6 3/8 in) long.

The width of the rectangular band is important. The acceptable range is 37-38 mm (1 15/32-1 17/32 in). Form 3 gaps along one of the long edges, each 5 mm (3/16 in) deep.

The center gap is at the midpoint of the edge and the other two gaps are 46 mm (1 13/16 in) from it. Opposing slits, 140 mm (5 1/2 in) apart, are optional and are explained in the Note at the end of STEP 5 in the Pepsi-G Instructions.

Overlap the short sides of the rectangle to form a cylinder that fits snugly into the circular groove of the top section. Use tape and/or Krazy glue on the outside surface to temporarily bond the cylinder together. Follow with a thin bead of J-B Weld over the external tag end of the band to permanently cement the cylinder.

Step 6. Assemble The Stove

Fit the gapless edge of the inner wall into the circular groove of the top section. Slide the bottom section inside the top section. When the bottom section barely fits inside the top section, apply a thick bead of J-B Weld around the entire circumference of the bottom section just below the edge of the top section.

Compress the sections together until the inner wall is tightly trapped between the top and bottom sections. Wipe off the excess epoxy. Install rubber bands around the sidewall of the stove to compress the slit sides. Invert the stove and put a weight on top. Cure for at least 5 hr.

Step 7. Seal The Top Section

Use J-B Weld to seal the three potential sites for flame leaks: 1) the junction of the top edge of the inner wall and the circular groove, 2) under the circular edge of the top section on the sidewall of the stove, and 3) the 8 vertical slits in the top section. Skip #1 if the inner wall fits snugly in the groove of the top section and you are not a perfectionist. Skip #2 if the top and bottom sections are undented and generously bonded with J-B Weld. The slits (#3) must be sealed with a thin bead of J-B Weld.

Step 8. Test The Stove

Test the stove for proper operation and flame leaks. Seal any leaks with J-B Weld.

Step 9 (Optional). Finishing Touches

Some artisans may want to befuddle their buddies and beautify their burner by disguising the graphics and junction of the top and bottom sections with 1 in wide heat resistant tape.

Step 10 (Optional). Make A Simmer Ring

The simmer ring is made from the top of a 12 oz Ball Corporation can. Enlarge the pop top hole with a half round or round file by about 50% and smooth the edge with fine sandpaper. Tear the sidewall of the can away from the top. That’s all for the simmer ring. You do not have to pound or press down the flat inner surface as you do for the Pepsi-G stove.

Step 11. Make A Pot Stand And Windscreen

Instructions for pot stands and windscreens are already well described on the internet. Below is a suggested link.

Version Two

2011-08-10T11:41:00.001-07:00

Scott Henderson's Pepsi-G Stove

Note from editor: I originally got interested in making my own stoves after reading Scott Henderson's instructions, first published in 2001.

In the years since then, those instructions have gone away, along with the site where they were published. But, I did manage to piece together the originals a couple of years back.

My comments are denoted by "Note from editor". The rest is the original, except that the formatting is different, and I've removed dead links.

If anyone owns this information and objects to it being published here, let me know. Otherwise share and enjoy.

STOVE PARTS

Aluminum cans in mint condition (no dents), one each of:

12 oz PepsiCo (Budweiser, Lipton's Ice Tea, Mountain Dew, Mug Root Beer, Pepsi, Sierra Mist, or Slice).
14.9 oz Guinness Draught, Caffrey's Irish Ale, or Murphy's Irish Stout.
If you use a Murphy's can see Notes in STEP 5 for special instructions.
If you substitute a 12 oz can (PepsiCo or other) for the 14.9 oz Irish beer can, see Notes in STEPS 3, 5, and 7 for special instructions.

Note: If you can't obtain the specific cans listed above don't worry. The stove may be made from just about any two 12 oz aluminum cans.

However, there are advantages to the suggested cans. A 12 oz PepsiCo can is preferred for the top section because the circular ridge on the bottom of a PepsiCo can is narrower than that of other brands and forms a circular groove on the inner surface that holds the inner wall of the stove snugly. [Note from editor: I've never seen this. All 12-ounce (355 ml) aluminum drink cans are the same as far as I can tell.]

The 14.9 oz Irish beer cans listed above are favored for the bottom section of the stove because the diameter of these cans is slightly smaller than the diameter of a 12 oz can which fits snugly over a 14.9 oz can without having to cut slits, crease, or otherwise weaken either can. If a 12 oz can is used for the bottom section the stove will be slightly more difficult to make and will have a less finished look from the vertical beads of epoxy on it's exterior (see Fig. 17), but the stove will function just as well.

OPTIONAL SIMMER RING

Aluminum can, one of:

24 oz Miller beer.

Note: The inner diameter of the raised rim on the top of a 24 oz Miller beer can is 62 mm (2 7/16 in). Other large cans with a top rim diameter of 58 to 62 mm (2 5/16 to 2 7/16 in) may perform as well, but all large cans do not have the same size top.

For metric / imperial converstions, see the BackpackGearTest.org Conversion Utility.

STEP 1. MAKE THE BURNER HOLES

Summary. The top section of the stove is constructed in STEPS 1-3 from a 12 oz PepsiCo can. In STEP 1 a sewing needle with a shaft diameter of 0.6 mm (0.024 in) is used to make a circular ring of 32 evenly spaced holes outside and concentric with the circular ridge on the bottom of the PepsiCo can.

Figure 1

Details. Remove the pop-top tab from the top of the can and set the can upside down on a hard, flat surface such as a work bench or a cutting board placed on a table top.

Tip. To achieve evenly spaced burner holes, mark their location with a marking pen before punching the holes (Fig. 2).

Using a hose clamp, fasten the sewing needle to a rod with a diameter of about 13 mm (1/2 in) and a length of about 70 mm (2 3/4 in). The needle should be parallel to the long axis of the rod (i.e., straight, not crooked) with only 4 mm (3/16 in) of the needle extending past the end of the rod (Fig. 3). This lessens the likelihood that the needle will bend and break off. For the same reason, the edge of the hose clamp should be nearly flush with the end of the rod.

Figure 2

Note: The rod and hose clamp are not required, they just make the job easier. Two optional methods of making holes with a needle are described. Option 1, pierce a cork stopper with a needle so that the pointed end extends about 3 mm (1/8 in) beyond the cork. Position the needle where you want a hole and tap on the blunt end of the needle with a hammer. The cork prevents bending of the needle. To further prevent bending, you can trim the blunt end of the needle with wire cutters to within about 6 mm (1/4 in) of the cork. Option 2, simply grip the needle near the point with vice grips or needle nose pliers, position the needle where you want a hole, and pierce the aluminum can with hand pressure..

Tip. Use one or two new needles for each stove. New needles are sharp and pierce the aluminum better than dull, used needles.

Cautionary Note: Protect your eyes with safety glasses or goggles when making the burner holes.

Figure 3

Position the point of the needle where you want a hole, adjust the rod so that the needle is perpendicular to the surface at the hole, and rap gently on the end of the rod with a hammer or simply push the needle into the can with hand pressure. After the 32 holes are punched with the 4 mm (3/16 in) offset needle, go back over the holes with a needle offset 9 mm (3/8 in) past the end of the rod. Push the needle in for most, if not all, of its exposed length. If the needle shaft feels rough at any time during this process, smooth it with fine sandpaper (400 grit). The goal is for each hole to have the same diameter so that the flame will be uniform.

Tip. The burner holes are more easily made with a push pin than a sewing needle. For that reason and for safety, a push pin and a small hammer are the preferred tools of young hands. However, push pins shafts are thicker than needles, typically 1 mm (0.040 in) in diameter, thus they make a larger hole and the fuel doesn't burn as cleanly. If you use a push pin make 24 holes instead of 32.

STEP 2. FORM THE LARGE CENTRAL HOLE (Fig. 4)

Figure 4

Summary. Concentric with the circle of burner holes you made in STEP 1 is a raised circular ridge. Inside the ridge is a bowl-shaped area about 45 mm (1 3/4 in) in diameter. Use a utility knife to cut out the bowl at the base of the circular ridge, but leave the circular ridge and its sides intact. Round the rough edge of the hole with a half round file and smooth it with fine sand paper.

Details. To cut the large central hole with a utility knife, arm the utility knife with a keen (not dull) sharp point (not round point) blade. A dull blade may damage this section of the stove. Hold the can firmly, bottom side up on a hard, flat surface. Score the aluminum can at the base of the circular ridge all the way around its circumference (Fig. 5). On the first pass use very light pressure to obtain a smooth circle. After the first complete turn, continue the process 3-6 more times with light to moderate pressure (never heavy pressure) until the bowl-shaped area of the can pops out.

Figure 5

Tip. With a sharp blade and good technique there is no need to push the blade through the aluminum. Nevertheless, in difficult cases you may find it advantageous to push through the well scored circle with the tip of the blade making a 3 mm (1/8 in) long slit, or if necessary, several consecutive slits to form a longer slit. While making the last slit (the first could be the last), the bowl-shaped section will pop out or drop down with a tearing sound. If it drops down but doesn't pop out, rap in the center of the circle with the base of the utility knife handle, but don't rap so hard that you bend the can.

Shape the large central hole to the base of the circular ridge with a half round file (smooth cut). Smooth the edge of the hole with 320 to 500 grit sand paper.

Tip. Place the can bottom side up on a hard, flat surface and file vertically. Remove material right up to the base of the ridge. Then, use your fingers to gently bend the remaining thin aluminum edge up into the large central hole so that it can be filed off in the opposite direction (i.e., reverse the file).

Tip. When cutting, filing or sanding, hold the can high at the end to avoid putting a permanent dent in the weak side walls of the can particularly within 25 mm (1 in) of the burner holes. Exert downward pressure toward the opposite end, not inward pressure toward the center.

Tip. Save the cut out aluminum "bowl" for mixing epoxy.

STEP 3. CUT OUT THE TOP SECTION (Fig. 6)

Figure 6

Summary. Cut out the top section of the stove with a utility knife blade or scissors so that the finished height is 22 mm (7/8 in). The height of the top section is not as critical as the bottom section and inner wall. The suggested range is 20-24 mm (13/16-15/16 in). Use fine sand paper to prepare the interior surface of the sidewall for epoxy. Clean with warm water. If and only if the bottom section of the stove will be made from a 12 oz can, cut 8 vertical evenly spaced slits in the side wall to a depth of 3 mm (1/8 in) from the shoulder of the can. Burnish the slits.

Details. Two methods are given for cutting the aluminum can. Each works well, but practice on spare cans before cutting the real stove top.

Figure 7

To make an even cut with a sharp point utility knife blade, hold the blade horizontal and steady 22 mm (7/8 in) in height above a flat surface, such as a table top. The blade can be trapped in a hard cover book (Fig. 7) or fixed to a block of wood. A blade with a hole in the middle is easy to secure to the top of a block of wood with a screw and a brad or two. To hold the blade in a book, tape the blade to a stiff piece of paper or thin cardboard, insert the cardboard between the pages of the book, and close the cover. When scoring the can, push down firmly on the book with even pressure to lock the blade in space.

Figure 8

By block or by book, the point of the blade extends about 10 mm (3/8 in) past the edge. Place the PepsiCo can bottom down on a hard, flat surface. Bring the point of the blade in contact with the can and the side of the can in contact with the block or book. Rotate the cutting tool (wood block method) or rotate the can (book method) so that the blade scores the can (Fig. 7). Repeat for about 3 to 5 complete rotations until the can is well scored. Apply gently pressure to the side of the can so that you don't put a permanent crease in the can or pierce through the can with the blade.

When the can is well scored, take the utility knife and cut through the side of the can all the way around its circumference far enough above the score line that you don't dent the can below the score. A couple of centimeters (1 in) above the score line is usually sufficient. From the edge of the new cut, use scissors or a utility knife to cut toward the score at a 45 degree angle until within about 3 mm (1/8 in) of the score. Grab a corner where the last cut was started and tear the aluminum along the score all the way around the can. Tear the aluminum by pulling outward, i.e., away from the center of the can.

Alternatively, cut the can with strong scissors. First draw a line around the entire circumference of the can with a marking pen (Fig. 8). Keep the marker stationary while you rotate the can about its long axis with its bottom on a flat surface. To keep the marker stationary, use a piece of cardboard with a hole punched in it to insert the marker tip. Actually the cardboard should have two holes, one 22 mm (7/8 in) from a straight edge and one 28.5 mm (1 1/8 in) from a straight edge for the top and bottom sections, respectively.

Take the utility knife (including the handle) and cut through the side of the can all the way around its circumference far enough above the marked line that you don't dent the can below it. A couple of centimeters (1 in) above the line is usually sufficient. From the edge of the new cut, use scissors to cut toward the line at a low (acute) angle. Approach the line slowly. It may take 5 or more complete revolutions to finish the cut and the last revolutions may trim off 1 mm at a time.

Tip. The stove looks best if the height is consistent around the entire circumference. To check the height, place the stove top upside down on a flat surface and hold a ruler vertically next to the can. Rotate the can and check the height of the cut edge against the ruler.

Figure 9

Lightly sand the interior of the side wall of the top section with 320 to 500 grit sandpaper. This prepares the surface for J-B Weld (see STEP 6). You can also sand the cut edge of the top section, but if you care about stove cosmetics and you aren't going to cover the stove exterior with tape (see STEP 9) then don't sand the outer surface.

Clean metal particles and dried soda from the top section, especially that in the groove, with warm water from a faucet. A bottle brush or old toothbrush is helpful.

If you plan to use a 12 oz can for the bottom section instead of a 14.9 oz Irish beer can, cut vertical slits in the sides of the top section of the stove with scissors. The slits start from the cut edge of the top section and end 3 mm (1/8 in) from the shoulder (rounded edge) (Fig. 9). Make 8 slits evenly spaced around the circumference of the can. Burnish the slits with a hard, rounded object such as an old spoon, a coin, or the handle of a felt-tipped pen to close up the slit and smooth it. This is done by holding the top section sideways on a hard, flat surface so that the length of a slit contacts the flat surface, and rubbing the slit on the inside of the top section.

STEP 4. CUT OUT THE BOTTOM SECTION (Fig. 10)

Figure 10

Summary. The bottom section of the stove is made from a 14.9 oz can of Guinness Draught, Caffrey's Irish Ale, or Murphy's Irish Stout. Cut the bottom section 28.5 mm (1 1/8 in) in height. The height of the bottom section is important. It should be within the range of 27 to 30 mm (1 1/16 to 1 3/16 in) around the entire circumference. Use fine sand paper to prepare the upper third of the side wall exterior surface for epoxy. Clean with warm water.

Note: A 12 oz can (preferably one that matches the top section) may substitute for the 14.9 oz Irish beer can, but you must cut slits in the top section as described in the last paragraph of STEP 3.

Details. Cut the bottom section following either the utility knife blade or the scissors procedure of STEP 3 and the tips below.

Tip. Check the height with a ruler. Place the stove bottom right side up on a flat surface and hold a ruler vertically next to the can. Rotate the can and check the height of the cut edge against the ruler. Actually, I make my 14.9 oz Irish beer stove bottoms 30 mm (1 3/16 in) and my 12 oz stove bottoms 27 mm (1 1/16 in) tall.

Tip. If you are careful not to dent the unused portion of the aluminum can, you may use it to make the inner wall of the stove (STEP 5). Otherwise you will need an extra undented, generic aluminum can.

Lightly sand the cut edge of the bottom section and the upper 1/3 of the exterior surface of the side wall with 320 to 500 grit sandpaper. This facilitates stove assembly and bonding of J-B Weld, respectively. Clean the bottom section with warm water.

STEP 5. MAKE THE INNER WALL OF THE STOVE (Fig. 11)

Figure 11

Summary. From the remainder of the Irish beer can (or a spare 12 oz can) fabricate a rectangular band 35 mm (1 3/8 in) wide and 180 mm (7 in) long (Fig. 12). The width of the rectangular band is important. The acceptable range is 34-36 mm (1 11/32-1 13/32 in). The length is less important. It can be 170-180 mm (6 11/16 to 7 1/16 in). Form 3 gaps along one of the long edges, each 2.5 mm (3/32 in) deep. The center gap is at the midpoint of the edge and the other two gaps are 50 mm (2 in) from it. Opposing slits, 150 mm apart, are optional and are explained in the Note at the end of STEP 5.

Note: If you use a 14.9 oz Murphy's Irish Stout can or any 12 oz can for the bottom section (STEP 4), make the rectangle 38 mm (1 1/2 in) wide and the 3 gaps 5 mm (3/16 in) deep.

Overlap the short sides of the rectangular band to form a cylinder that fits snugly into the circular groove of the top section. Use tape and/or Krazy glue on the outside surface to temporarily bond the cylinder together. Follow with a thin bead of J-B Weld over the external tag end of the band to permanently cement the cylinder.

Details. Use a utility knife to cut off the remaining end (the top) of the Irish beer can, or the top and bottom of a generic can, about 2.5 cm (1 in) from the end(s) so that you have a cylinder with ragged edges. With scissors, cut vertically straight across the cylinder to form a ragged rectangle. Lay the aluminum down on a cutting board and place a straightedge on top parallel to a long side. Trim off one ragged long side with the utility knife using the straightedge as a guide.

Figure 12

Tip. When cutting the aluminum with the straightedge and utility knife, score the aluminum lightly and repeat several times. Hold the straightedge firmly in place and bend the aluminum at the score upright 60 to 90 degrees and then back down. Repeat this bending process until the aluminum breaks off evenly at the score

Measure 35 mm (1 3/8 in) from the new smooth edge and repeat the cut to form the opposite long side. The long sides should be as parallel as possible. You now have a long rectangle. Call it a band. Trim one of the short sides of the band perpendicular to the long sides. Cut the other short side 180 mm (7 in) from its opposing side.

Figure 13

To allow the alcohol fuel to flow from the middle of the stove to the space between the walls, make three gaps along one of the long edges of the band. One gap is at the midpoint of a long edge and the other two gaps are 50 mm (2 in) out from the midpoint. Mark their location with a marking pen. Form arch-shaped gaps by using a hole punch set in from the edge about 40% of its diameter or 2.5 mm (3/32 in) deep.

Alternatively, if you don't have a hole punch, make the gaps with scissors or a utility knife. To form a rectangular gap, cut two slits perpendicular to the long edge of the aluminum band 2-3 mm deep and 3 mm apart. Bend the aluminum between the slits flat against the painted side of the band.

Figure 14

Wipe the surface of all three stove parts with tissue paper soaked in denatured alcohol. Denatured alcohol removes marking pen ink as well as cleans the surface for bonding of J-B Weld.

Convert the inner wall band into a cylinder as follows. Pull off a 2 cm (3/4 in) piece of masking tape and set it aside. Place the top section of the stove upside down on a flat surface. Overlap the ends of the band about 30 mm (1 3/16 in) to form a cylinder. Seat the cylinder into the circular groove of the top section. Tighten the cylinder, making sure it remains fully seated in the groove. Holding the area where the ends of the cylinder overlap, carefully remove the cylinder without changing its diameter. Make sure the overlapped edges of the cylinder are even and place the piece of masking tape on the outside of the cylinder across the tag (free) end (Fig. 13).

Check the diameter of the cylinder as follows. Reinsert the cylinder, overlapped area first, into the circular groove. The cylinder should fit snugly in the groove but not tightly. In other words, it should take a little force, say 0.5-1 kg (1-2 lb), to push the cylinder into the groove but it should not take so much force that the cylinder goes out of round. Adjust the diameter of the cylinder until it is correct. If the cylinder is close to the right diameter, small adjustments of 0.5-1 mm make a difference. A snug cylinder makes stove assembly (STEP 6) easier and properly directs vaporized fuel out the burner holes. A cylinder that is too tight may buckle during stove assembly. When you are satisfied with the cylinder size, glue down the tag end on the outside of the cylinder with a drop or two of Krazy glue.

Tip. Place two small pieces of masking tape across the top and bottom edges of the cylinder in the middle of the overlap. Remove the original piece of tape from the tag end on the outside surface of the cylinder and apply Krazy glue under the tag end.

After the Krazy glue bonds (10-15 sec), remove the tape. To prepare the surface for J-B Weld, lightly sand the tag end on the outside of the cylinder and a few mm on either side of it. Retest the cylinder diameter by fitting it into the circular groove of the stove top so that the edge WITHOUT the gaps is in the groove. If it fits snugly, leave it in the groove. If the cylinder fits loosely see STEP 7 for how to correct a loose fit. If the fit is too tight break the Krazy glue bond with heat and readjust the cylinder diameter, or make a new cylinder.

Use a wooden match stick or toothpick to apply a thin bead of J-B Weld about 3 mm (1/8 in) wide covering the edge of the tag end on the outside surface of the cylinder. Allow the J-B Weld 5 hr or more to partially cure before proceeding with stove assembly (STEP 6), or immediately proceed with stove assembly being careful not to touch the uncured epoxy.

Note. J-B Weld is necessary because the heat produced during stove operation loosens the Krazy glue bond and the cylinder would otherwise unravel. If you choose to let the epoxy cure before proceeding you might as well apply the epoxy with the cylinder unattached to the top section. It's easier that way.

Note. In the first version of the Pepsi Stove instructions, the cylinder was held together with two interlocking slits rather than J-B Weld. This design is stronger than the one above, though more difficult to execute because precise slit distance is critical to obtain a snug fit. [See STEP 7 for how to seal a loose fit.] Slit instructions are repeated here for those that prefer them. Measure 15 mm (5/8 in) in from one of the short sides of the rectangle and cut a slit into one of the long sides of the rectangle. Slit depth is slightly more than half the length of a short side, or 18 mm (3/4 in) for a 35 mm (1 3/8 in) wide band. Make the slit as perpendicular to the long sides as possible.

Measure 150 mm (5 29/32 in) parallel to the long sides and make the second slit in the edge of the opposite long side. Interlock the two slits of the long rectangle to make a cylinder so that the tag ends are outside the cylinder (Fig. 14). Tape down one of the tag ends with a small piece of masking tape, making sure the edges of the tag end are even with the edges of the cylinder. Glue the untaped tag end to the outside of the cylinder with a drop or two of Krazy glue, making sure the edges of this tag end are even with the edges of the cylinder. Remove the tape and glue down the free tag end. Seal the interlocking slit and affix the two tag ends with three parallel thin beads of J-B Weld on the outside surface of the cylinder. Allow the J-B Weld 5 hr or more to partially cure before proceeding with stove assembly (STEP 6), or immediately proceed with stove assembly being careful not to touch the uncured epoxy.

STEP 6. ASSEMBLE THE STOVE (Fig. 15)

Figure 15

Summary. Fit the gapless edge of the inner wall into the circular groove of the top section. Slide the bottom section inside the top section. When the bottom section barely fits inside the top section, apply a thick bead of J-B Weld around the entire circumference of the bottom section just below the edge of the top section. Compress the sections together until the inner wall is tightly trapped between the top and bottom sections. Wipe off the excess epoxy. If the top section has slits, install rubber bands to compress the slit sides. Invert the stove and put a weight on top. Cure for at least 5 hr.

Details. Before assembling the stove, make a rectangular shim from aluminum can scraps to help ease the top section over the bottom section. From the side of an aluminum can cut out a rectangle about 25 x 65 mm (1 x 2 1/2 in). Round off the corners of the rectangle and lightly sand the edges. The shim should be smooth and undented particularly along its edges. Save the shim for ensuing stoves.

Figure 16A

If you haven't done so already, insert the cylindrical inner wall into the circular groove of the stove top so that the edge without the gaps is in the groove.

Place the top section (with the inner wall held in its groove with friction) over the bottom section and angle the top section so that one part of its edge overlaps the edge of the bottom section by about 3 mm (1/8 in). Fix the two sections together at that point with a short piece of tape, about 40 mm (1 1/2 in) long (Fig. 16A). On the side of the stove opposite the tape insert the shim between the edges of the top and bottom sections (Fig. 16B). Move the shim along the junction of the edges right to left (or left to right) as needed to ease the top section over the bottom section.

Figure 16B

When the edge of the top section barely overlaps the edge of the bottom section around the entire circumference, remove the shim and the tape and press the two sections together slightly so that they overlap by 6 mm (1/4 in) or less. Apply a thick, continuous bead of J-B Weld about 10 mm (3/8 in) wide around the entire circumference of the bottom section just below the edge of the top section. Press the top and bottom sections together slowly until the inner cylinder is held firmly between the top and bottom sections.

During this compression process, make sure the cylindrical inner wall is seated in the circular groove of the top section and keep the straight side walls of the two sections as parallel as possible. As long as you do, the stove should easily withstand 2-4 kg (5-10 lb) of vertical force. When the inner wall is flush against the bottom of the bottom section and the stove does not compress any further with moderate pressure, stop. Don't compress the stove with so much force that you bend the inner wall. The stove should be 40 mm (1 9/16 in) in height.

Note. The circular groove on the bottom of a Guinness or Caffrey's can has a larger diameter than the circular groove of a PepsiCo can, thus the cylindrical inner wall won't fit into the groove of a Caffrey's or Guinness bottom stove section. This is not a problem. Ignore it. On the other hand, the circular groove of the Murphy's can is approximately the same diameter as the PepsiCo can, thus the cylindrical inner wall fits into the circular groove of the Murphy's can.

Thoroughly wipe off the excess epoxy with paper towels, facial tissue, or toilet paper. Keep the epoxy off your fingers so that you don't transfer it to the burner holes.

Note: If the top section has slits be careful not to bend them when wiping off the epoxy. Once the excess epoxy is cleaned up, put several rubber bands around the stove to clamp the slit sides of the top section against the outside of the bottom section.

Invert the stove, put a weight on top (e.g., can of soup) and let the epoxy cure for at least 5 hr before proceeding to STEP 7 or at least 15 hr before proceeding to STEP 8.

STEP 7. SEAL THE TOP SECTION (Fig. 17)

Figure 17

Summary. Use J-B Weld to seal the three potential sites for flame leaks: 1) the junction of the top edge of the inner wall and the circular groove, 2) under the circular edge of the top section on the side wall of the stove, and 3) the 8 vertical slits in the top section. Skip STEP 7 if the inner wall fits snugly in the groove of the top section and you are not a perfectionist, if the top and bottom sections are undented and generously bonded with J-B Weld, and if the top section does not have slits.

Details. If the inner wall fit loosely in the circular groove of the top section or you are inescapably meticulous, seal the gap between the top of the inner wall and the circular groove. Use a wooden match stick or toothpick to scrape J-B Weld into the space between the top of the inner cylinder and the lip of the circular groove. Use Q-tips to force the J-B Weld into the gap, smooth out the epoxy, and remove most of the excess epoxy. Use paper towels, facial tissue, or toilet paper to thoroughly wipe off excess J-B Weld from the inner cylinder. If further sealing is planned, immediately proceed to the next paragraph. Otherwise, let the epoxy cure for at least 15 hr before using the stove.

If the top and bottom sections are dented and/or J-B Weld was used sparingly to bond these two sections together, then there may be an air gap for a flame leak. Put a bead of J-B Weld over the circular edge of the top section on the side wall of the stove, and try to force epoxy under the edge with a Q-tip. Wipe off the excess epoxy. Immediately proceed to the next paragraph if your stove has slits in the top section. Otherwise, let the epoxy cure for at least 15 hr before using the stove.

If you cut slits in the top section of the stove, seal each slit with a thin bead of J-B Weld about 2 mm (3/32 in) wide. Use a wooden match stick or toothpick to apply the epoxy. Let the epoxy cure for at least 15 hr before using the stove.

STEP 8. TEST THE STOVE (Fig. 18)

Figure 18

Summary. Test the stove for proper operation and flame leaks.

Cautionary Note: Perform this test is subdued light. An alcohol flame is nearly invisible in bright light. When the flame burns out, let the stove cool for a couple of minutes before touching it with bare fingers.

Details. Put 250 ml (1 cup) of water in a cooking pot and set it aside. Set the stove on a heat resistant surface such as a dinner plate or pie tin. Pour about 15 ml (1 T or 0.5 fl oz) of denatured alcohol or methanol down the large central hole of the stove and light it. It takes about a minute for this volume of room temperature alcohol to heat up, vaporize, and achieve an even burn out the burner holes. Hold the pot about 2.5 cm (1 in) above the flame. You should observe an even, circular pattern of (mostly) blue flame coming out of the small burner holes.

If the flame doesn't come out of the burner holes you likely have a problem with the inner wall. Either it is too loose or the gaps are blocked off. If the inner wall is too loose seal it at the top with J-B Weld (see STEP 7). If you can't rotate the inner wall with your fingers it is not too loose. If the gaps are blocked off, punch or cut holes at the base of the inner wall. If you can see the gaps they aren't blocked off. A predominantly orange flame indicates poor fuel quality or poor oxygenation of vaporized fuel.

Note: Without a pot over the stove, it appears to the novice that the flame burns excessively high. Further, it may appear that the flame comes largely out of the central hole, but that is an optical illusion unless it happens with the pot test.

Put the pot down and check for flame leaks at the junction between the top and bottom sections of the stove and at the slits in the top section (if there are any). Rotate the plate to check the entire circumference of the stove. If there is a flame leak seal it with J-B Weld. Let the epoxy cure for at least 15 hours before retesting the stove.

STEP 9 (Extremely Optional). FINISHING TOUCHES (Fig. 19)

Figure 19

Summary. Some artisans may want to befuddle their buddies and beautify their burner by disguising the graphics and junction of the top and bottom sections with heat resistant tape.

Details. Pull 30 cm (12 in) of 3M High Temperature Flue Tape off the roll and cut the 1 1/2 in wide tape in half lengthwise. This produces two pieces of tape about 20 x 300 mm (3/4 x 12 in), which is enough for two stoves. Trim a couple of centimeters (1 in) from each end to have a clean, wrinkle-free piece. Center the tape on the side wall of the stove and tape over the junction of the top and bottom sections. As you install the tape, burnish it by rubbing with your thumb, but don't push too hard and put a dent in the stove. The tape can be removed at any time with no damage to the stove and the tape residue cleaned off with denatured alcohol or acetone.

Alternatively, install heat resistant, self-adhering silicone tape. One brand is Tommy Tape. It comes in a variety of widths, but be aware that Tommy Tape should be stretched during installation so it becomes 25% narrower than it is on the roll. Consequently 3/4 in wide tape becomes 9/16 in wide installed and 1 in wide tape becomes 3/4 in wide installed. Tommy Tape comes in a variety of thicknesses and two cross-section shapes. I recommend the 20 mil thickness and rectangular cross-section. The regular colors are dull but vibrant colors will soon be offered. If you are lucky you can find the tape in a local retail store. If not, order it from tommytape.com.

If you are hesitant to take the plunge for a 10 or 36 ft roll, they offer a 3 ft evaluation roll for $1.95 (including shipping), but be warned, the tape is tricky to work with because it is self-adhering and you may waste 3 ft just learning how to handle it. One downside of this tape is that dirt and sand tend to stick to the tape like they do to a silnylon tarp. Cut 30 cm (12 in) off the roll, which should be enough for 2+ turns around the stove. Trim the corners off both ends. Center the starting end on the side wall of the stove and hold it there tightly as you stretch and wrap the tape around the stove. The tape sticks to itself but it doesn't stick to the stove, thus you can roll the tape off if you want to remove it.

STEP 10 (Optional). MAKE A SIMMER RING (Fig. 20)

Figure 20

Summary. The simmer ring is made from the top of a 24 oz Miller beer can. Enlarge the pop top hole with a file. Tear the side wall of the can away from the top. Press (or hammer) the top surface of the can top downward against a flat surface to form a cake pan shaped simmer ring.

Details. Wiggle the pop top back and forth until it falls off. Enlarge the hole with a half round and/or a round file, and smooth the edge of the hole with fine sandpape.

Note: You may find with experience that you want a larger opening than the pop top makes. The prospective simmer ring pictured in Fig. 20 has a slightly enlarged hole. It is easier to enlarge the opening before releasing the top from the can.

Release the flat can top from the rest of the can by cutting the side wall of the can all the way around the perimeter about 2-3 cm from the top. From the cut edge of the side wall, cut a slit down to within a few mm of the flat can top. Tear the side wall away from the top, which resembles a miniature pie plate. If the flap that covered the hole is still attached to the back, pull it off. Do not bend the top while removing the side wall material.

Place the can top right side up (rim up) on a flat, hard surface. Pound down, or better, press down the horizontal portion of the can top until it is flat against the flat, hard surface. Do not bend the circular rim portion of the can top or its short horizontal sides. That's all. You now have a simmer ring.

Tip. A solid cylinder (metal, plastic, or wood) with parallel faces helps in this procedure, especially if the diameter of this cylindrical tool is slightly smaller than the diameter of the can top rim so that the cylinder fits snugly inside the can top.

The simmer ring is typically used after the dinner has come to a boil. Place the simmer ring upside down on top of the large central hole of the stove. The outside edge (or rim) of the ring should cover the burner holes which forces the alcohol flame to come out the hole of the simmer ring. It takes a minute or so for the flame to come to a new low flame equilibrium. If you want to switch back to high heat, then simply remove the simmer ring. If you want to extinguish the flame, it is easier to blow out if the stove with the simmer ring in place. Let the stove cool and pour any remaining fuel back into the fuel bottle.

Be careful. The simmer ring gets too hot to touch with bare fingers. You can place or remove the simmer ring with multi-tool pliers, alligator clips, a spork, or a stick. Alternatively, you can install a mini handle made out of lightweight material attached with J-B Weld or a rivet.

Note: Set up the stove in an area protected from the wind and use a windscreen. This is especially important for this simmer ring design.

STEP 11. MAKE A POT STAND AND WINDSCREEN

Instructions for pot stands and windscreens are already well described on the internet: Roy Robinson's Cat Stove.

The Original

2011-08-03T13:32:00.000-07:00

Scott Henderson's Pepsi Can Stove

Note from editor: I originally got interested in making my own stoves after reading Scott Henderson's instructions, first published in 2001.

In the years since then, those instructions have gone away, along with the site where they were published. But, I did manage to piece together the originals a couple of years back.

My comments are denoted by "Note from editor". The rest is the original, except that the formatting is different, and I've removed dead links.

If anyone owns this information and objects to it being published here, let me know. Otherwise share and enjoy.

The Pepsi Can stove is composed of four parts: three pieces made from soda cans and some foil tape.

Two soda can bottoms are the exterior pieces.
The upper can is turned upside down and fits over the lower can.
The center "bowl" of the upper can is cut out making a large hole for easy fuel filling and lighting.
Small burner holes are made around the perimeter of the top section.
A cylinder made from the wall of a third soda can serves as an interior wall to the stove, thus the stove has a hollow double wall construction like the Trangia.
Heat resistant foil tape holds the two exterior pieces together and prevents flame leaks.

Pepsi-Cola Company cans (Pepsi, Mountain Dew, Lipton ice tea, Slice, and Mug root beer) function best for the upper and low sections, although other brands of soda can be used. Why Pepsi? The circular ridge on the bottom of a Pepsi can is narrower than other brands and holds the interior cylinder tightly. The silver colored Pepsi One cans look best because they match the foil tape. [Note from editor: I've never seen this. All 12-ounce (355 ml) aluminum drink cans are the same as far as I can tell.]

The design is largely influenced by the scout soda can stove described by LaMar Kirby and by the Shane Graber stove. These and other homemade stoves are linked at Ron "Fallingwater" Moak's site. [Note from editor: The fallingwater site is now defunct.]

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

Stove weight is 10 g (0.35 oz). Pot stand and windscreeen weight are extra. A volume of 30 ml (1 fl oz or 2 Tb) of denatured alcohol will bring 2 cups of water to a rolling boil in about 5 1/2 min and will burn for about 9 min.

ITEMS NEEDED: Parts List

3 Soda cans, 12 fl oz.
3M High Temperature Flue Tape (1.5 in x 5 yd), part #2113NA. Available at hardware and plumbing supply stores for $6 per roll. One roll is enough for 15 stoves, 30 if you conserve tape. [Note from editor: I never did find this stuff. I used some aluminized dryer vent tape - seems to work OK - mostly cosmetic anyway.]
Denatured alcohol.

Parts List (optional)

Glue (Krazy or other quick drying).
Tape (masking or Scotch).

Tools

Push pin or small drill bit, 1 mm (0.04 in) or smaller.
Marking pen, such as Sharpie fine point.
Piece of cardboard with straight edges, about 100 mm x 100 mm (4 x 4 in).
Large drill bit, 5 or 6 mm (7/32 or 1/4).
Metal file, half round.
Strong, sharp scissors for cutting aluminum cans (kitchen scissors).
Ruler, 300 mm (12 in).
Utility knife (the kind with a strong razor blade).

Tools (optional)

Hammer.
Large drill bit, 5 or 6 mm (7/32 or 1/4).
Drill.
Diagonal wire cutters (the kind with a pointed jaw).
Sand paper, 150-300 grit.
Hole punch.
Thin slotted screwdriver.

PEPSI CAN STOVE INSTRUCTIONS

STEP 1. MAKE THE BURNER HOLES.

Figure 1

With the push pin (or small drill bit) make a circular ring of 24 to 32 evenly spaced holes OUTSIDE and concentric with the circular ridge on the bottom of the soda can (Figure 1).

The location of the holes can be marked with a marking pen before making the holes. A hammer can be used to tap on the push pin. The hammer will save wear and tear on your thumb and will provide more penetration control. Smaller holes are made if the push pin is not allowed to penetrate its full length.

STEP 2. FORM THE LARGE CENTRAL HOLE.

The large central hole in the top stove section can be formed with or without a drill. The drill-based method is described in detail first.

The central bowl-shaped section of the bottom of the soda can is about 45 mm in diameter (1 3/4 in). To cut it out, make another circular ring of about 16 evenly spaced holes with the push pin, but this time make the holes INSIDE and concentric with the circular ridge (Figure 2A). These holes are pilot holes for the large drill bit and should be positioned inside the base of the ridge slightly more than the radius of your drill bit so that you don't drill out any of the ridge material.

Figure 2A

Drill out the pilot holes (Figure 2B). Drill vertically so as not to drill through the side wall or your hand.

Figure 2B

Depending on the size of the drill bit, there will be some aluminum between the holes. Cut through this aluminum webbing with the diagonal cutters (or scissors) to form a large hole with a jagged perimeter (Figure 2C). Warning: If you try to tear out the center piece with needle nose pliers you may bend the rim of the can.

Figure 2C

Alan Crabtree suggests an alternative way to make the large central hole. He writes, "After making several of them I decided that, at least for me, it is much easier to cut out the center of the can with a utility knife rather than making a number of drilled holes. Holding the can firmly, I lightly score along the inside rim while turning the can until I get a pretty smooth circle. You can keep scoring with a little more pressure until the bottom pops out. There is no need to actually push the knife all the way through. You get a much cleaner cut and you don't need a drill."

No matter how you cut out the large central hole, smooth the hole with a half round file. Remove material right up to the base of the ridge (Figure 2D). To remove material quickly, place the can on its side on a flat surface and move the file horizontally. For more fine work, place the can on its end and move the file vertically. Try not to bend the walls of the can when filing, particularly at the end with the burner holes. Smooth any sharp edges inside the large hole with the file and sand paper after you cut the top section to size in Step 3. At that time, make sure the circular groove (i.e., the inner surface of the circular ridge) is free of metal particles.

Figure 2D

STEP 3. CUT OUT THE TOP AND BOTTOM SECTIONS.

Figure 3

Cut the top can section 20 mm (3/4 in) in height (Figure 3).

Use a second soda can for the base section. Cut the base section 25 mm (1 in) in height. A good cut will vary by a millimeter or less in height around the entire circumference. The precision of the cut is more important for the bottom section than the top.

To make an even cut, draw a circle around the entire circumference of the can with a marking pen. Keep the marker stationary while you rotate the soda can about its long axis with its bottom on a flat surface. To keep the marker stationary, use a piece of cardboard with a hole cut in it to insert the marker tip. Actually the cardboard should have two holes, one 20 mm (3/4 in) from a straight edge and one 25 mm (1 in) from a straight edge for the top and bottom section, respectively.

STEP 4. MAKE THE INNER WALL OF THE STOVE.

From the walls of a third soda can, cut out a rectangle 35 mm (1 3/8 in) wide and 190 mm (7 1/2 in) long (Figure 4A). To do this is to use scissors to horizontally cut off the top and bottom of the soda can close to the ends so that you have a cylinder with ragged edges. Cut vertically straight across the cylinder to form a long rectangle with ragged long sides. Lay the aluminum down on a cutting board and place a ruler on top parallel to a long side. Trim off one ragged long side with the utility knife using the ruler as a guide. Measure 35 mm (1 3/8 in) from the new clean edge and repeat the cut on the opposite long side. The long sides of the rectangle should be as parallel as possible. Trim the ends so that the rectangle is 190 mm (7 1/2 in) long.

Figure 4A

When cutting the aluminum with the ruler and utility knife, score the aluminum and repeat several times. Then bend the aluminum over at the score once or twice and it will break right off.

Cut a slit into each of the long sides of the rectangle (Figure 4A). The two slits should be 150 to 152 mm apart (5 15/16 to 6 in) and each long side of the rectangle should have only one slit. Slit depth (or length) should be slightly more than half the length of a short side, or about 20 mm (3/4 in). Make the slits as perpendicular to the long sides as you can. Center the slits, that is, if your rectangle is 190 mm (7 1/2 in) long the slits should be about 20 mm (3/4 in) from each end.

To allow alcohol to flow from the middle of the stove to the perimeter, make three gaps along one of the long edges of the rectangle (Figure 4A). Measuring from one of the slits, mark the location of the gaps with a marking pen at 25 mm (1 in), 75 mm (3 in), and 125 mm (5 in). Form the gaps by using a common hole punch set in from the edge about 90% of its diameter or 6 to 7 mm (1/4 in) deep. An alternative way to make a gap is to cut 2 parallel slits about 6 to 7 mm (1/4 in) deep and about 3 mm (1/8 in) apart into the edge of the band. Fold the tab 180 degrees up against the painted side of the rectangle or bend the tab back and forth to break it off. Figure 4A shows 3 different gaps. The 5 mm gap will work but the other two are preferable.

Interlock the two slits of the long rectangle to make a circular band (Figure 4B). It is possible to interlock the slits so that the ends of the band are on the inside or the outside of the formed cylinder. If you interlock the slits so that the ends of the band are outside the cylinder then glue them down with Krazy glue (Figure 4B). This helps position the band into the grooves of the stove bottom and top. A small piece of Scotch tape can be used instead of glue. If you interlock the slits so that the ends of the band are inside the cylinder you won't have to glue or tape them down, but the final product doesn't look quite as good.

Figure 4B

STEP 5. MAKE SLITS IN THE TOP SECTION.

Figure 5

With scissors, cut vertical slits in the vertical sides of the top soda can section. The slits start from the cut edge of the can section and should end 2 mm from the shoulder (rounded edge) of the can (Figure 5). If you cut the slits too deeply flames may leak out at that point. Make eight slits evenly spaced around the circumference of the can.

STEP 6. ASSEMBLE THE STOVE.

Figure 6A

Insert the cylindrical band into the circular groove of the stove bottom so that the edge with the gaps is down. The circumference of the band should be the same as the circumference of the circular groove. If the band fits too loosely or too tightly, make a new one. A band that is slightly smaller than the groove and fits snugly with gentle pushing is acceptable if not preferable. The top of the band should extend 8 to 10 mm (5/16 to 3/8 in) higher than the top of the bottom section. This ensures that the top soda can will rest against the band and not the bottom section.

When fitting the top and bottom soda can sections together make sure the top can with the slits fits over the OUTSIDE of the bottom can. You will need a thin screw driver (or a feeler gauge or a small flat piece of soda can) to help ease the slit tabs of the top section over the bottom section. Don't put a permanent bend in either section. This process is made easier if you fit one side of the top section 5 mm (3/8 in) over the bottom section and then tape the two sections together at that point with masking tape. Then use the thin screw driver to ease the other tabs over the bottom section.

Figure 6B

When all the tabs are over the bottom section remove the masking tape and gently press the two sections together. At the same time manipulate the inner wall into the grooves of the top and bottom sections. When the band is positioned correctly, press the two sections together tightly. If you made your band correctly the upper and lower sections and the stove ends should be perfectly parallel.

Pull 300 mm (12 in) of High Temperature Flue Tape off the roll and cut it in half lengthwise giving you two pieces of tape 3/4 x 12 in, which is enough for two stoves. Trim an inch off each end to have a clean, wrinkle-free piece. Tape over the slits and the junction of the top and bottom sections. The straightest edge of the tape should be the upper edge and should be placed right at the shoulder (rounded edge) of the section with the burner holes. As you install the tape, burnish it by rubbing with your thumb, but don't push too hard and put a dent in the stove. Congratulations, you now have a completed a Pepsi Can Stove (Figure 6)!

Pepsi One cans are silver and blend in well with the foil tape. However, if you want total coverage of the paint on the sides of the stove, then measure the width of the flat side of your stove (should be about 20-22 mm) and cut the tape exactly to that width.

STEP 7. LIGHT MY FIRE!

Add denatured alcohol to the center of the stove and light it. The stove lights promptly so be careful, you won't see an alcohol flame in daylight. It takes about a minute for the alcohol to heat up and achieve an even burn out the burner holes. Once the stove get going wind will not blow out the stove and neither can you. If you must extinguish the stove immediately, douse it with water.

My pot is about 25 mm (1 in) from the flame. I currently use 3 light weight tent stakes which serve double duty as tarp stakes. A foil windscreen with a circumference slightly larger than the circumference of the pot is routinely used for fuel efficiency. Fire protection under the stove is a good idea if cooking on forest duff.

NOTES.

Thanks to Daryl "FurTrappers" Lucas for the drill method of making the central hole. FurTrappers also said he made the burner holes with a heavy duty sewing needle and a drill.

Tape alternative -- Muffler tape was suggested but I haven't tried it.

Stove dimensions -- For a larger stove make the top section 25 mm (1 in) high, the bottom section 35 mm (1 3/8 in) high, and the inner cylinder 45 mm (1 3/4 in) high. For a smaller stove make the top section 20 mm (3/4 in) high, the bottom section 25 mm (1 in) high, and the inner cylinder 35 mm (1 3/8 in) high.

Insulation -- I've not tried it, but the space between the inner and outer walls could be filled with fiberglass insulation or Perlite. It may improve the efficiency of the stove, or it may just add weight.

Multi-fuel -- You can cut out a circular (45 mm diameter) piece of wire mesh (1/4 in stainless mesh works well) and install into the bottom of the stove. That way the stove can be turned over and an Esbit tablet placed on the wire mesh and ignited. To make a wood cook fire, remove the soda can unit and use only the tent stakes and foil windscreen as per Bob Giddings.

Occasional Definitions: UFO-Duction

2011-07-27T15:02:00.000-07:00

Aliens! We got 'em!

UFO-Duction: Fear of being abducted by aliens while hiking. This is also called xenophobia, astrophobia, or the Supreme Suction of Zeta Reticuli Abduction Attraction.

Here are some signs that you may be about to be an abductee (or already are one and were dropped back into your cage as a reject).

You can't account for lost time. Face it, you're a thru-hiker. How many thru-hikers carry a watch? Think about it.
Odd marks on your body. Scars, bug bites, singe spots. Any scabs you are unable to explain. Probably you can't even remember where you got them.
Hearing spooky noises in the dark. Little scratching sounds. Sniffing noises. Sure, it could be woodrats, but... Indeed.
A feeling of being watched. Reported most often during deer hunting season. Is this you? Even when you're inside your tent?
Disorientation. You get up in the middle of the night to take a whiz and fall over some damn branch or other on the ground. How did that get there? Was it there when you went to bed?

Really? Don't remember that! Not even a little.

OK then, so now it's morning, the sun is coming up, and you roll out of bed. Do you recognize the place? Do you get the feeling that you're always moving, never spending two nights in the same spot?

Does every place look indistinct because you're never really sure where you are?
You saw something moving in the bushes and it either had tentacles, or legs, or claws, and it was gray or brown or some other color, and then it was gone. You went over there and couldn't find any tracks, but there was a strangely shaped turd on the ground. Sound familiar?
You have a compulsion to walk to another location, possibly one that is several hundred or even a thousand miles away, or more, and you can't explain this in a way that everyday people understand. And when you get to your "destination", although you think you're finished, you begin daydreaming about doing it again. It proves impossible to scrub all the dirt out of your skin.
You have inexplicable medical issues. Bloating. Constant farting. Rampant nose hairs. Blisters on all toes. Your feet hurt. Your knees hurt. You stink. You are always hungry. You attract flies.
You have trouble sleeping. Either you have leg cramps, or nightmares about UFOs or about being devoured by animals with large black eyes who cannot speak your language.

Or you have to get up six times to bleed your lizard and suspect that it was that quart of water you had just before bedtime, but you honestly can't remember if that was bedtime today or bedtime yesterday, or ever, and anyway you have to stop lying there thinking about it and get up and pee again. And then you hear those scratching sounds out in the darkness.

Or are they sniffing sounds? You reach for your teddy bear and it's not there. You begin to fear that you are surrounded by ravenous mice. Then one runs across your foot. You go back to bed where you can't sleep because you are thinking about this.

Something with bad breath licks your face.

From a new project. Should be online before too long.

Until then: Fire In Your Hand About ultralight backpacking stoves and crazy stuff. (print)

PDF: Fire In Your Hand (The same, but now paper-free, in case you always remember to bring your own.)

.

The Year Of No Summer

2011-07-20T19:19:00.001-07:00

2011 St. Helens, Part 1

Well, I had to go somewhere, sometime.

First we have a wet winter. Fair amount of cold, lots of rain, a few snow days here in the lowlands, but low snow levels overall.

Along Johnston Ridge, early afternoon. No one hiking.

Then around March the convoy arrived. The weather got marginally warmer here, but not drier, and in the mountains the snow hit with fury. We ended with snow levels two to three times normal.

I stopped to talk to a tree, but it was too depressed.

Gradually the weather warmed, but too gradually. Ultimately it took until the third week of June before there were any warm and dry stretches of sunny weather. I couldn't get out anywhere else, so decided to go and take a look at a place I'd checked out last spring, also a bad year.

A lonely trail marker was happy to see someone, even me.

This is in an area on the far western side of the St Helens National Volcanic Monument, out where no one ever goes. And with good reason, now. The trails are all shot.

Two ridges over, there's another one, all alone, very faint.

In 15 years of exploring this area I've never seen a trail crew. Back in 1996 the trails were great. About 2002 I even hiked around the mountain in one day (twice). Roughly 33 miles (53 km). Not easy. Not hard. Mostly long. Somewhat lumpy but not too hard, other than being a long day.

Snow all over, patchy here, heavier elsewhere.

Then there was a wet winter. One that took out six highway bridges in the general area. Things got worse.

Mt Rainier got hit during another wet winter

A steady rain began falling around 1 p.m. on Sunday, November 5 and continued through mid-afternoon on Tuesday, November 7, 2006. Varying amounts of precipitation reached the ground throughout the park from Carbon River to Ohanapecosh. Nearly 18 of rain inches was recorded at Paradise. As the ground was already saturated from a week of drizzle, rain and snow, most of the water flowed over roadways and across the landscape into the rivers.

The trail down to the plains below the volcano.

St Helens got hit just as hard but no one lives there, and hardly anyone hikes there, comparatively speaking. I've backpacked around the mountain a couple of times since, but ultimately decided that it isn't worth it any more.

Mid-June and the trees were just starting to leaf out.

Many sections of several trails were wiped away. Near June Lake, on the southeast side, where a small trickle of a stream goes under a road, the flood simply punched through the road and left a rubble-filled trench behind.

Many of the ravines that the Loowit Trail crosses (this is the trail that goes around the mountain) suddenly got much deeper, much steeper, and in at least two locations, impassable.

Makes for interesting photos though.

And it's gotten worse since. Part of the problem isn't just the erosion but the quality of the land. Literally.

The soil is a mix of boulders, cobbles, pebbles, gravel, sand, and powder. When damp it's fine. As in "so fine". It makes a good tread, is clean, and never gummy.

Down lower, after 3 p.m., things began to clear some.

But later in the season it dries. Flat portions of trail don't change much, other than becoming dusty.

Inclined portions of trail don't change much either.

Where the trail switches back and forth into and out of ravines (now become canyons), everything changes.

Spirit Lake at far left, clouds ahead.

There, the whole landscape becomes a thought experiment. Parts of it are always letting go and sliding, dropping, falling away, shooting up huge clouds of dust.

Put your foot down and you never know how much of the mountainside might suddenly decide to change its address.

Across the shore of Spirit Lake, toward Windy Ridge.

Things become hypothetical wherever the trail has to be redefined each year by the feet of hikers. Like going across ravines. The soil is so dry and there is so little holding it in place that it's easy to get trapped in a place that only slides away when you step on it.

This used to clear by mid-May. April 30 some years.

Or if someone else is there with you, triggering a slide becomes a communal experience.

And now the whole mountain is so chewed up that a person can't really go much of anywhere. You can hike out and back to some spots but anyone trying to go around the mountain on what used to be the trail needs to have scrambling skills.

And not the learn-as-you-go kind that I have.

Heading toward the mountain, the falls reveal themselves.

Which is OK in its own way.

Because if you are a loony galoot like me you enjoy being all alone in quiet places.

You see more elk this way, or coyotes, or big cat prints.

Loowit Falls, the older but smaller one.

And fewer people, though generally people you meet a few miles from the nearest trailhead are pretty nice.

Surprise! A happy little frog sat for a portrait.

So anyway, this was worth a shot. I'd been out to the eastern side of the mountain last spring, trying out my home-made hammock, and there was enough snow to be a little problem, but mainly then it was wind.

So I got to the ridge overlooking Castle Lake then and heard a waterfall off to the south, and thought this year I'd go back prepared to sleep on the ground and see where that waterfall was and explore the basin around the lake for a couple of days, and generally take it easy.

Loowit Falls and its nameless sibling.

The weather didn't help a bunch. The fog at first was fun. It didn't clear. It was supposed to. The weather was supposed to be clear for at least four days, but the first day stayed dark gray trending toward lighter gray later on, and then dark gray again in the evening.

Overnight, though there was still no rain, the fog came back, wet this time.

Closer view of the right hand falls.

Inside my little plastic experimental tent it wasn't so bad. Condensation everywhere. On the inside of the tent. On the outside of the tent. On the ground inside the tent. On the ground outside the tent.

All over. But I put out enough heat to stay dry. Getting up during the night I almost got knocked over by the weight of the damp fog drifting along, and picked up a layer of wetness, but overall it wasn't bad.

The westward end of the Pumice Plain.

The second day things were a little brighter but not much. I hiked over to what used to be a fun part of the trail, where it goes switching back and forth down a long, long way to the north fork of the Toutle River.

There it used to be about a 10-foot (3 m) drop to the river bed, then a step down, and across.

Looking back east. Mine were the only footprints.

When the 2006 rains came through they scoured out this place. The 10-foot drop became at least 50 feet (15 m), and it was spooky.

The sides were vertical. It looked like someone had worked over the winter to cut a precise trench through the area. You came to the edge and then it was all air. A straight drop to the bottom.

Literally straight, not kind-of, not almost, not sort-of, not really steep. Vertical. Like it was cut.

Evening begins arriving.

So that's still there. You can get around it but you have to spend several hours detouring through brush, vines, thorns, midget trees, and all sorts of other fun.

But it's interesting to look at, especially if you know what it used to be like, and you're not going into it.

Nearly sunset. Time to find a camp.

And then, that second day, I went up to the lake, which we'll get to later.

Mt Rainier November 2006 Flooding

Previously: "Not Sleeping In The Air "

Olympic Snowpack is 39,100 Percent of Normal!

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2010 Pasayten, Part 6

2011-07-13T18:23:00.000-07:00

The run for home.

Morning on the wrong trail.

So it seemed like a good morning. After camping in a small spot right by the bridge (see last post) and not being eaten by anything, I set off for a nice walk down the ridge above Canyon Creek.

Backtracking after near-death fun.

The morning was cool but nice.

After a bit, there was the spur trail to the left, going up and eventually dead-ending somewhere after the dashed lines on the map gave up trying.

North side of Canyon Creek.

So I stayed on course. The trail descended at a shallow angle and all was fine with the world and everything.

The feared rain didn't come.

Then there were a few lumps, and the trail narrowed some, and seemed to have a thicker covering of twigs and detritus than it should. But it was the right place.

Because there was no other trail.

Nope. All dry here too.

And then after some more walking the trail got really lumpy, but what can you say? The rocks were part of the mountain, and the trail was on the mountain, so it had to be lumpy sometimes.

All was well.

OK, so what? Nothing here but the sign.

And then there was no more trail. Not the no-more-trail where it evaporates, or splits into 10 trail-lets, or goes under the snow. Nope.

In this case part of the mountainside was gone. Not too much, only about 30 feet (10m). It was a chute, cleaned down to mineral soil, right down the side of the mountain, ending in the rocks below, at the edge of the creek.

Shucks. Sometimes it's like that.

Plan B: Turn around and retrace the route for the last three days.

Plan A: Cross blank, empty space and pick up the trail on the other side without dying (which would muss up the entire experience).

I'm guessing this was Crater Mountain.

So, after crossing this 45-degree chute that was barely yielding enough to allow minuscule footholds after long and careful kicking, doing that with a full pack, sweating droplets of blood, and reaching the other side trembling with fear, and...

After not having lost footing, slid 300 feet (90m) or more downslope, under a log (maybe, or maybe getting decapitated instead), and crashing on the pointy rocks, well guess what?

Fooled ya!

No trail there either.

OK, here's the junction. Main trip almost done.

Across on the other side of that bald chute there was a knob big enough for three or four people to sit on, and around beyond that was vertical cliffs.

I still do not know where the trail might once have been, but there I was, all smarty-pants and brave, and screwed. Because I had to go back.

Not too bad, eh? Just retrace a few feet and get the eff out of there, but no.

Crossing that smooth, bare, almost rock-hard soil going back was also going upslope a bit. Just enough. Just enough to make it almost impossible.

Then my camera fell off.

Day hikers love stuff like this.

Yeah, right. Fell off. Bloop.

One end of the strap came out of the plastic buckle and while I was standing there supported by my toes, which were stuck into the only soft soil this side of death, shaking with fear, my camera fell off. And just sat there. And did not roll crazily down the side of the mountain.

"Jeez," I was thinking, "that was lucky. But on the other hand, maybe that's also the last of my luck."

So I had to let go with both hands and reattach the camera and tie a knot in the strap and sweat more blood for a while, and then failed twice in finding a reasonable way out of there.

You know (maybe), getting halfway out there and realizing it's no good? And then going backwards, squeaking with fear?

For a while it seemed like the only way not to die was to go down to the creek and hike out along that, miserably, forever, and maybe break one or two legs doing it, but even though the slope was covered with trees it was almost a vertical drop to the creek.

There were a couple of bushes in the chute, and I finally managed to make my way back by skirting just beneath them (holding two trekking poles in one hand -- hey, don't forget that) and grabbed at them a few times as I went by.

You know the kind of deal where one slip is your last? This was it.

Good places to immortalize yourself.

Super crapola.

That lumpy, dirty, unmaintained trail seemed really nice when I got back to it. I almost kissed it and bought it a beer.

I looked and looked and even went downslope a little, in case there was a switchback that had gotten overgrown or covered with duff, but there was nothing there. No trail.

I have no clue what happened to the original trail. It just got erased somehow. Still a giant mystery in my tiny mind.

Flats where Granite and Canyon creeks become Ruby Creek.

And yet.

You know how you find really strange things in strange places? Well there was one of those too.

While I'd been on the wrong side of the intersection so to speak, perched on the side of that little knob that had some soft soil on it, and had been looking around to the other side of it I saw footprints.

This is true.

Going right over the top of it. Or rather coming over it, from the side with the cliffs to the side with the smooth chute and what was left of the trail.

And the bridge. Nothing fancy but keeps your feets dry.

There were three or four prints. Boot prints. Tromp, tromp, tromp, angling down across the mossy top of this knob, and that was it. Pretty fresh too.

There is a saying for this: WTF?

Someone smarter and braver and way more accomplished than I had come through there, from the other direction, had crossed this knob, and then had gone off into empty space, in a straight line.

Or maybe he had been a bigger loser and the ravens were down there at the bottom pecking his rotting eyeballs out at that very moment.

First you overshoot, then backtrack down the highway.

I won't ever know because obviously that was not the right place for me, so after escaping I clomped back up the trail to the last turn, stuck my nose into the map for a few minutes, and took what obviously was the wrong turn.

Heh.

After five minutes or so of going upslope the "wrong" trail curved right, to the west, and a bit later there was a faint trail to the left, going upslope. It was the real "dotted-line" trail. I let it run off wherever it went and stayed with the one I was on.

After a bit more forest hiking it's back to the first campsite.

The day turned warm.

Everything was cozy.

The trail was clean and smooth and wide and I was not lying on some rocks whimpering, and dying from the destruction of way too many important internal organs than would have been good for my digestion.

The trail sloped down gently, toward the west.

Looks ratty, bad photos, but you get some feel of the place.

So I'm a dope.

But a live one.

So I'm still here annoying people.

Too bad, eh?

Devils club. Spiky stems, umbrella-like leaves

Down low, where things get seriously flat, the two upstream creeks meet. Canyon Creek and Granite Creek end and Ruby Creek takes over. Shortly beyond, it flows into Ross Lake.

On the flats, in the shade, I had lunch and admired the non-homicidal landscape. A real treat.

Still dim during the morning inside the canyon.

All too soon came the end of the trail, and then it was back onto the highway to backtrack around half a mile (0.8 km) to the trail along Panther Creek. A few miles along it, a turn to the west, and you're back at a big campground with lots of parking.

Panther Creek in the morning gloom.

But first, one last night. Back at the place where I'd been the first night.

One of the fun parts of hammock camping is that you can stay places no one else can. This was well above the trail, and not visible from it, and just about perfect for a hammock.

Just so you know. (Campsite in next image.)

There was no brush. It was dry. There were mosquitoes but they were everywhere. Since this spot was a good 100 feet (30 m) above the water, it was much warmer there, and quieter.

Hammock camping lets you avoid obvious places like this.

The next day I passed one of three official campsites along this trail, glad that I didn't have to stay in places like that.

One of the other ones was midway along this trail, at a place called "Fourth of July Camp", but there is no water there at all, and it's still out in the open, though it is high up.

One of the peaks of North Cascades National Park.

A third place is on the south side, where Thunder Creek flows toward Colonial Creek campground, where the world turns back into pavement.

More of the same, slightly to the west.

So there I was, after having planned a long trip, gotten wetted out the first day, sprinkled on the second, seen clouds come in the third, having woken up the fourth day to see fog and mistaking it for more rain, and then having hiked out, and then the weather was clear, hot and dry for a week.

Hey. I am a dope.

Google's idea of the landscape.

Earlier:

Part 5

Part 4

Parts 1 - 3

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2010 Pasayten, Part 5

2011-07-06T17:44:00.000-07:00

Doofus bails.

Morning at Sky Pilot Pass.

It seems completely irrational now, but after three nights, some rain showers, and waking up to fog, I somehow decided to bag most of the hike I had planned and turn back.

Someone got up early.

I was in a really delicious little spot I'd camped at twice before, below the trail, with good hammocking trees, a tipped over tree good for hanging food, and a little creek splashing downhill.

Looking south along "hard-to-follow" (Trail 754).

But somehow I got spooked. One of those things. So I turned around and spent a half hour or so on day four trudging back up to the top of Sky Pilot Pass, and then turned left, to the south, and started heading back. This was a different trail, though.

Looking back at dreariness.

There was no sign there but it was obviously the right trail because it was the only one, and well worn. And right exactly where it should have been. The weather did not look good even though it was a bright morning, because everything was in deep fog, and it was chilly.

After a couple of hours the day became un-dismal.

After a mile or so of walking along the ridge-top the fog lifted and I was on a long stretch of what in the Southeast they call a bald. Which was nice. Still foggy all around and below, but clear and sunny on top, with a good trail.

Ditto, with pointy things.

Then the trail disappeared. Just like that. Right out in the open. After maybe a half hour of backtracking, looking all over, checking the map several times, and trying several different directions, I decided on doing the only logical thing left.

This must be Jack Mountain, to the west.

Which was to descend along the western slope of the ridge. If there was a trail it had to be there, and my course would have to intercept it. This was from the high point of the ridge, called Center Mountain, so there was no other way to go but down, if I could find it.

Much, much later. Cascade Creek.

About a hundred feet down (30 m) I saw the trail coming over to me from the right, and after that it was a mostly easy hike down 2000 feet (610 m) through quiet woods, though the trail obviously had not been maintained in years. Every now and then I just guessed which way to go and always ended up back on the trail.

Ever wonder what the trees think about?

The trail wasn't washed out or covered in piles of logs, but was sprinkled with years of dropped branches and constricted every now and then by scratchy shrubs.

The forest provided warmth at first, and then after the day heated, it supplied shade. Though the whole trail (#754) was only seven miles (11 km) the last third was all overgrown, switchbacks descending steeply.

Finally, a sign, saying nothing I need to know.

Eventually there was a stream on the right or west side. This was Cascade Creek.

Shortly before getting to it there is an opening right above it, which provided a view down to the creek, but at "grade", where there probably was once a bridge, there wasn't.

An easy crossing, but for a half mile or so (0.8 km) below the ford the landscape is all toppled trees jumbled with rocks and the leftovers from a couple of slumps that may have been caused by flooding.

You have to just keep heading downstream, and eventually the trail reappears.

And then there's this.

Finally I saw a sign, which didn't help too much because it's hard to tell what trails it refers to, but the trail flattens right out and widens into what was obviously once a road. And it's always downstream, so no matter what, you follow the water.

Along here I saw a small wagon with a pair of boots in the back and the remains of a few tools. I couldn't figure out who would leave boots uncovered out in the open, but then I don't get paid to think, so hey.

Which turns out to be (guess).

And then there was a dumpy little cabin, marking a mining claim. It may be left over from a much earlier claim because it obviously was not built recently. Sort of strange, because no one was around, though I went over for a peek and a couple of photos.

Which is not all that romantic, or inspiring.

The cabin was dark inside and the second floor is not really there any more. Going around to the back I saw that the building is all open on top on that side, so maybe it's more of a shed than a place to stay. Vaguely quaint though.

But has a good bridge to help tired hikers along.

Eventually there is a nice bridge to the other side of the stream, which at this point has become Canyon Creek and is headed in the direction of State Highway 20. Another half hour or so later there is a more traditional wood-and-rock hiker-type bridge.

Later comes a more typical hiker's bridge.

It was getting late enough that I stopped there, washed up, ate, and ended up hanging my hammock near the ramp to this bridge.

This bridge is old style but newly built. The remains of the old bridge are right beside it, and there is a small flat spot just big enough to camp, but it was noisy and humid there, and I was skittish about sleeping so close to the trail.

Which I camped near and left the next morning.

You never know what might be walking by overnight, and I had to hang my food fairly close by, and low, too, but aside from the sound of the stream rushing by the night was quiet.

From that crossing the trail climbs steeply and runs along the side of the canyon high above the stream, continuing to follow it toward Ross Lake.

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Occasional Definitions: Daisy Chain

2011-06-29T18:06:00.000-07:00

Daisy Chain: A run of webbing loops used for lashing extra gear to the outside of a pack.

Daisy Chain: Arcane and highly intricate sexual practice of wood nymphs, seldom witnessed and far too stimulating to talk about here.

From: Fire In Your Hand About ultralight backpacking stoves. (print)

PDF: Fire In Your Hand (The same, but now paper-free.)

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Not Sleeping In The Air

2011-06-23T20:06:00.000-07:00

Trying it the old way.

First morning. Gray and damp.

I just completed a four day backpacking trip to Mt St Helens. I wanted to go have another look at a place I got to last year. Which I did, sort of, but with snow pack at two to three times normal, the end of June this year is not a third of the way through backpacking season, but pre-season.

A few years back, I drove in on April 30 and went hiking anywhere I wanted. The only snow then was up where only climbers would go, not anywhere that sane hikers would have trouble with it.

And so it was for the first several years that I spent exploring the area.

No longer. This is the fourth year running that heavy snow has pushed the hiking season out toward autumn. It looks like the window for real backpacking will again be only two or three weeks long.

Lumpy and snowy and foggy.

Bummer.

But it wasn't all bad this trip because I was expecting to deal with snow. Not so much, but some.

I also knew that where I'd be going I'd have no chance to use my hammock.

In places there are trees tall enough and thick enough to support a hammock, but those trees grow in only a few spaces. They are bushy, hard to hang from. And their trunks are covered with blisters that pop open under pressure and ooze a thick, sticky sap that smells like turpentine.

Transparent. Nice in the moonlight. A real dew-catcher.

The smell is fine. It's a strong, clean smell, but the stickiness isn't.

Get this stuff on your hands and it won't come off. Get it on the suspension of your hammock and it's worse. It hardens and though alcohol will remove it from hands, and spots of it from clothing, if your hammock suspension gets saturated with it, you have to let it harden and just live with it.

So anyway, I had a piece of plastic I wanted to play with. I used it once as an 8x10 tarp, then cut it down to make a sort of tent-like shelter. I took that.

As a backup I took my home-made Brawny Shelter, a.k.a. Dancing Light Gear Tacoma.

Seemed to keep the werewolves away too.

The short of it: I missed the hammock. A lot.

I'm way past the days when I can sleep on the ground comfortably. A couple of years ago I talked to Ron Moak of Six Moon Designs, who said that he doesn't even use a sleeping pad. Apparently just a waterproof sheet beneath him, and he gets by OK.

Could have been pitched better though.

Go, Ron.

I have enough wrong with my back, plus a heap of years piled on top that I can't sleep more than two hours on the ground without awakening from the pain. In a hammock I can just snore my way through the whole night.

Night two. Slight clearing.

But hammocks aren't perfect either.

A big hammock tarp will catch the wind. A smaller tarp catches less wind but gives less protection from both wind and rain. Being above ground level you're up higher where there is more wind. This is is colder, and hammock insulation is tricky.

You are also tree-dependent. You need the right size and type of trees, and need two that are just far enough apart, and oriented right so you can protect yourself from wind and weather.

Hammocks are places to sleep, not homes. You can't wait out a day-long storm in a hammock. You can't really change clothes in one, and can't spread out your gear for convenience or for anything else. You also have more limited sleeping positions. No sleeping on your stomach, and though sleeping on your side is possible it isn't that convenient.

Not as lumpy. Almost grassy.

But there are huge positives too.

A hammock is independent of the ground. You can sleep over rocks, mud, logs, or trickles of water. You are above the night-dampness. In tree country you have many more potential camp sites, even on severe slopes, and you stay well above critters like ants, spiders, centipedes, mice, wood rats, ground squirrels, snakes, and skunks.

Setup is simple. As is takedown.

I have a fabric tube (which Tom Hennessy calls "snakeskins") that I carry the hammock in. After stringing it up, I slide this off the hammock, and unfurl the tarp. Takedown goes the other way -- I just slip this back over the hammock and tarp, and I have all the loose ends magically contained in a long, loosely packed bundle that's easy to arrange in the pack.

You can't be this messy with a hammock.

Using single-wall tents the last few days I had a chance to refresh myself on dealing with them.

Setup is annoyingly complicated. If I had to use a tent all the time I'd get a freestanding tent or design one. Fumbling with stakes and line three nights running made me crazy. Keeping track of the pieces too. It's really easy to lose one or more stakes any time. The lines always get tangled.

Finding a place to pitch a shelter is insane. The ground is either lumpy or at too great a slope or both, and if you find a place that works, it may be too exposed to weather or too crowded by trees and shrubs, or you have to orient the shelter facing the wind rather than away from it. You usually end up sleeping on some odd slope, either sliding downhill in your sleep or rolling downhill.

Tent on lonesome flat, at top right.

Critters can just walk right in.

And it's damp. I had extremely heavy condensation all three nights. The ground was damp, the air cool and damp, dew collected on everything, and I was right in the middle of it. Ventilation was no help.

In the morning I had a dripping, slimy, grit-covered shelter dangling stray lines to fold and pack away. By the next evening I had a still-dripping, slimy, grit-covered shelter to set up again, except that all the lines had gotten tangled.

For those who like sleeping on the ground, though, a carefully-chosen shelter can be the lightest way to go by far. You don't depend on finding the right trees in the right area. You have a wider variety of shelters to choose from, and you can get one at almost zero cost if using plastic sheeting.

Slight clearing that later became more mist.

Tent-like shelters are easier to understand, and more familiar, and can sleep two, or three, or four at a time. They are also easier to repair, and to work around in case there is some kind of catastrophic failure. Rip the bottom of your hammock and you're screwed. Rip your tent and you can at least use the remaining part as a waterproof blanket.

Ultimately it comes down to what a person likes and can deal with.

I've done both. I'm glad I've had the experience of using a hammock and look forward to getting back to it on the next trip.

That's me. Other people like other things and that's fine too. I'm glad we have choices.

More:

If you make your own:

TentPole Technologies

Fibraplex/Raptor Resins

Qwik-E-Tent

Trailquest

Pasayten 2010, Part 4

2011-06-15T13:33:00.000-07:00

Entering rougher country.

After crossing the gravelly dip, descending in the cold shade, and climbing out the other side, you can look northwest across the valley of Devil's Creek to a couple of unnamed peaks on the other side of this long, deep valley.

At its western end it dumps into Ross Lake, the long and narrow (and deep, and still) body of water backed up behind (appropriately enough) Ross Dam.

Out of sight to the left in this first photo is Devil's Dome at 6982 feet (2128 m). The right peak of the two shown is 6262 (1909 m).

Looking to the right (east), you can see the landscape along the top end of Devil's Creek, and the ridge above it, where the trail lies, under treeline.

Devil's Pass is in the low saddle at top left, just before another unnamed peak in the background. This one is 7203 feet (2195 m).

From Devil's Pass, the main trail angles off to the northeast, while the other trail goes left, west, to Ross Lake. I haven't been on that trail. Maybe later this year.

But before all that you have to descend, radically, and then climb again, radically, before reaching level trail again.

The trail drops from about 6200 feet to 4400, and then back to 6200 in the space of about a mile (1890 m to 1341 m to 1890 m in 1.6 km).

In 2004, my first time, the downhill part of this was heavily overgrown. I kept clacking my trekking poles together to alert any big critters of my presence.

It can feel sketchy being out alone, in thickets of annuals as high as your head, and knowing that occasional grizzly bears pass through.

A few days later, on that first trip, I unexpectedly came across a huge brown bear that ran up the mountain as soon as I alerted it, and I thought for years that it was a grizzly, but a closer look at the photos showed that it was really a black bear.

But you don't want to be rude, so you try to let everyone know you're coming.

This is a good spot for lunch. At the bottom. There is a small creek there (Devil's Creek!), and enough flat spots to make it reasonable.

Then you climb out the other side.

The views are great, both descending and climbing out again, but by the third time you wish there was another route to take.

In 2004, earlier in the season, I didn't see anyone else for two and a half days. There was only one set of footprints on the trail, but I didn't see those except occasionally.

This year was pretty quiet too, but obviously someone had a birthday, and someone else knew.

And if you travel quietly enough, and act respectful, you see critters here and there.

Whatever it is, if it has eyes it has probably seen you before you see it.

Looking back you get a better idea of the real geography you've just skirted. The snowy peak is also nameless on my map, though there is a number with it. It's 7350 feet (2240 m).

The cliff between the camera and that peak is above the trail where it dips through the narrow basin where Devil's Creek begins.

And if your camera has enough reach, you can see what the rock is really like.

A little farther on, going north, the trail is out in the open for a while, which makes you easy to be see.

But then it's also easy to greet anyone who lives here as you walk by.

Which is a pleasant way to pass a few minutes.

Farther on, you eventually reach the saddle that defines Devil's Pass.

Looking east toward Deception Pass and Sky Pilot Pass you see a few ponds that contribute to the North Fork of Canyon Creek. The trail lies along the left (north) side of this valley.

It looks pleasant, though on the trail you see only trees.

But before heading out that way you can turn to your right, look at the south side of this valley, and catch some bare rock watching over it all.

This last shot is from Devil's Pass itself, to the east and southeast, giving you an idea of the surrounding landscape, though it is more rugged while you're walking it than it seems from above.

More.

Parts 1, 2, and 3 of this trip.

Also: Sam at Devil's Park.

Qwik-E-Tent

2011-06-08T16:06:00.000-07:00

These first three photos are of a model I made from a sheet of paper.

For me, that's a good way to play with ideas.

So here's the deal, in two parts.

Part one is that I want to go do a part of Mt St Helens overlooking Castle Lake to the northwest of the mountain. I went there early last year but the weather was pretty crapola, and even after 30 years, the trees aren't big and strong enough to hold a hammock.

I did find a spot but it was breezy, and my new, roughly 8x10 (244x305 cm) custom-home-made hammock tarp caught a lot of wind. So I stayed only one night.

Time to try again, and though it hurts me all over all night long, I'm going to sleep on the ground, which brings us to part two.

Which is that, once upon a time I tried a suggestion in "Beyond Backpacking" and slept under a tarp made of 3mil polyethylene sheeting. This is also generically known as "poly film", and among construction-worker types as "Visqueen", which is actually a brand name for the stuff.

This worked well enough. I cut out an 8x10 piece, and used another swath as a ground cloth. The downside was that it was awkward to pitch and drafty. And I had to crawl in from one end.

But there was plenty of room inside.

So, a pretty huge, pretty cheap shelter that weighed 25 ounces (700 g) in all, and seemed tough enough, but was hard to pitch and impossible to rearrange whenever the wind changed.

I put an umbrella into the foot end to block the wind but it still wasn't great. For several years now I've been stumbling over the wadded up sheet of plastic and thought maybe it would be fun to try again, but modified.

After playing with a sheet of paper I found that I could cut off a bunch, pitch it carefully, and have a small, even lighter shelter with a high entry and lots of headroom inside. It's also roomy enough to sleep in, and could even serve for two.

And I really like the clear plastic. Not great on a sunny day, but really fun at night. All you have to do to check on the weather is to open your eyes. If you see stars it's clear. If not, it's cloudy. Sit up after daylight and just look around. You can see everything.

I also have another shelter similar to this that I'll take as a backup. This is smaller and lighter and even a bit harder to pitch, but it could also double as an extra layer of rain wear on the way out, if things get really nasty.

The design for that came from Carol "Brawny" Wellman when she was still making and selling gear. I looked at the pictures on her web site and finally figured out the design, and then just sewed one up.

The interesting part about her design is that it has no seams. It's only a piece of coated fabric 5x9 feet (152x274 cm). See the Mountain Laurel Designs' "Monk Tarp" for something similar but pitched another way.

For my version of the "Brawny Shelter", I added a beak, since in any real rain (with any kind of breeze at all), you'd get rain inside, and the single width of fabric (60 to 66 inches is what you get) isn't quite wide enough to make a deep enough shelter.

But pitched cleverly you angle in the two ends to form a sort of doorway (unlike the Monk Tarp at MLD). Around here though the big opening is just too big.

Which is what looks interesting with this tarp I got of of my poly film scrap.

It pitches high (or can pitch high), and if you do that then you can pull in the two sides to make a sort of doorway.

I haven't tried it outdoors yet, just rigging it over the carpet using big safety pins for stakes, but if the weather isn't too bad it could be fun.

Then again there's the unpredictability of St Helens and its weather. Today is supposed to be sunny. Here is how that actually worked out:

When I go I'll get some real photos of this in action.

More:

BackpackGearTest.org Conversion Utility

Mountain Laurel Designs

Volcanocam-St Helens

Later version of the Brawny Shelter:

Kahtoola Micro Spikes

2011-06-01T12:54:00.000-07:00

I gotta problem.

Snow. We have lots. Want some?

There's plenty to go around. Two thirds of the way through winter the snow pack was half of normal. Heh.

Didn't stay that way, did it?

Nope.

Something happened. Snow.

Lots.

Now the snow pack is double normal and has been for a while, and will stay that way.

Because it isn't melting enough to matter

One thing I learned shortly after giving up my leather boots and beginning a career of hiking in trail running shoes was that the shoes sucked. On ice. On snow.

Everywhere else? Superb.

Even go near hard, late-season snow, just look at it almost, and you start sliding around.

So I'm thinking "Do something, butthead."

This ought to work.

People who use these things seem to like them. A lot.

They are hefty. (Sorry, I haven't weighed them, but one reviewer provided a listed weight of 11.4 oz/313 g and a measured weight of 11 oz/312 g.)

But they have big teeth.

Last year there was heavy snow on mid-elevation trails through the end of July. I didn't get into any really high country, but still found patches of snow around 6000 feet/2000 m at the end of August.

This year will be worse.

It is cloudy every day here in the coastal lowlands. Cloudy and cool. There is no end in sight.

East of the mountains, in semi-desert where all the fruit and vegetables and peppers grow, the spring cherry crop is a month late. They are still have freezing nights. The land is waiting for something that may be coming, if at all, only by accident this year.

So snow. It will be with us all summer long.

Now I have some teeth for my feet. They look good. Let's see what happens with them.

(Note: I normally wear much lighter shoes than shown, but this is all I could get on closeout last time, and I have two pair, so I'll have to use them. They are big. But even though these spikey things had to stretch to get on the shoes, they seem fine once in place.)

More:

BackpackGearTest.org Kahtoola Micro Spikes Test Report by Gail Staisil

BackpackGearTest.org Kahtoola Micro Spikes Test Report by Arnold Peterson

BackpackGearTest.org Kahtoola Micro Spikes Owner Review by Mark Thompson

BackpackGearTest.org Kahtoola Micro Spikes Owner Review by Kathleen Waters

GEAR Kahtoola Microspikes -- BackpackingLight.com Forums

Kahtoola

I have no idea why a packet of silica gel came in the box.

I mean, hey. What?

Maybe I should try eating it.

Occasional Definitions: Breakfast

2011-05-25T20:11:00.000-07:00

Breakfast: First meal of the day.

Breakfast: Act of pulling down your shelter and packing things to make a fast getaway. Sometimes done in the presence of bears, mice or mosquitoes, for instance. In those cases, it is broken into two words, "break fast," for easier carrying.

From: Fire In Your Hand About ultralight backpacking stoves. (print)

PDF: Fire In Your Hand (The same, but now paper-free.)

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