Stake Um

Carl here.  You can stake a claim, you can stake tomatoes, but always remember to stake down your tent.  Otherwise, a big gust of wind may come along and blow your tent up in the air, twirl it around and around, all while your screaming “Auntie Em, Auntie Em, Help me Auntie Em.”  Then, you end up in Munchkin Land and have to sing ♪♫ “Follow the yellow brick road, follow the yellow brick road, follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the yellow brick road” ♪♫…… for the rest of your life.  You get the point, stake down your tent!

Tent stakes have funny names associated with them; you can buy Snow Tent Stakes, Ground Hog Stakes, and Blizzard Stakes.  Ground Hog Stakes….. really!  What exactly happens?  You pound the stake in the ground and kill a poor ground hog who was just minding his own business.  That might be alright if you’re a Beverly Hillbilly.  I’m sure Granny can cook up a nice Ground Hog stew.  But really!  And what about the Blizzard Stakes…….if you like camping during snow blizzards, maybe you should be wearing a straight jacket, and sleep in padded tent.

Tent stakes can be made of aluminum, titanium, steel or plastic.  Titanium, talk about high tech.  There must be some comfort in-knowing that the stakes that hold down your tent are made from the same material used in artificial knee joints.   “Yeah Barney, those there ti -tanium tent stakes will never, ever, corrode, and neither will my knee.”

I never had good luck with the plastic stakes.  Once you hit a few rocks, the tip of the stake starts bending…… and once that happens, you can never drive them straight in.  “A real man has to be able to drive his stakes in der straight; otherwise he ain’t no real man.  Right, Barney! “  

I prefer the old style wooden stakes, just in case there happens to be any Vampires lurking around.  Of course, I wouldn’t mind a few bites from Elvira.  Even if she is getting a little old…wait, vampires don’t age………she still has her original fangs, right…….?

Oh, I forgot to mention my favorite stake, a nice juicy T-Bone.  Bonnie, start the grill!  Ok, I’ll start the grill.

Camping fun with Carl, signing off.

Pop This!

My wife Bonnie asks the question, “Does anyone want popcorn.”  That’s a no brainer question, of course we do!  Then she pulls out a contraption to make popcorn over a campfire.  It looks like the pizza pocket maker but with a bigger box on the end.  The lid of the box has holes in it so you can see the popcorn popping.  Just put some butter on the bottom of the cast iron box, add the popcorn and hold it over the fire. It’s that simple.

 My kids love hearing popcorn pop.  Pop…………….pop………….pop…..........pop………… pop…….pop  pop  pop……..pop pop pop pop pop pop pop ….pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop………pop pop……..pop………………….pop.  You get the point, or the “Pop.”

My kids also enjoy eating popcorn.  The more butter and salt, the more they enjoy it.  I know what you’re thinking, bad parents.  But what do they really have to worry about; by the time they’re my age, there will be a cure for hypertension and obesity anyway.  Let them indulge.

I also love the taste of popcorn.  It’s the eating part I don’t like.  It’s one of those foods you end up paying a price for, not money wise, torment wise.  You know what I’m talking about, those tiny cellulose kernel fibers getting stuck in-between your teeth.  You twist and curl your tongue trying to extricate the kernel.  The edge of the kernel then cuts into your tongue with vengeance for daring to dislodge it without its permission.  The tongue finally says enough, as you use your fingers, tooth picks and dental floss to disentangle the obstinate intruder. Finally, it releases from its lodged position and finds its second new home to hide; under your tongue. 

Once again your tongue is waged in vicious battle as the kernel cuts into the underside of its flesh.  Your tongue surrenders for a second time as you jab your fingers into the soft flesh hiding space, trying desperately to remove the invader once and for all.  As a last ditch effort, you summon all the salvia you can muster and try to wash the stubborn kernel from under its hiding place.  It somehow works, as the kernel is swept into its third resting place, the back of your throat.  Now it’s your throats turn to react violently as the tenacious invader now irritates its soft lining.  You try coughing it out, gagging it out, flushing it out, nothing seems to work. Then in an single instant, it is gone, never to inflict torment on you again. It found its final resting place, in your stomach. 

Do you dare bite into another handful of popcorn, sure!  There is an unknown ingredient in popcorn that affects your short term memory. The second you’re done choking on that kernel, your mind erases it from your memory and you’re ready for the next handful.  It’s the way it has to be, for popcorn to survive all these years. Mother Nature always protects all its siblings!

Camping fun with Carl, signing off.

Happy New Year !

Carl here.  I just wanted to say "Happy New Year" to all my camping buddies out there.

And to all my Russian followers "S Novin Godomr."

And last but not least, "Ein Gutes Neues Jahr" to all my German followers.

I made it easier to post comments on my blog.  I would really love to read your comments from all over the globe.

Camping fun with Carl, signing off.

Pumping Iron

Sleep In A Bag?

Carl here.  Let’s talk sleeping bags.  You need some sort of sleeping bag when you go tent camping.  Unless of course you’re Lucas McCain (“The Rifleman”), and you sleep on the hard ground with only a moth eaten thin blanket protecting you from the harsh elements; only to let a cold little rattle snake crawl under your blanket and onto your nice warm chest, and then must stay completely still for over 12 hours, while you wait for your son Mark, Marshal Micah Torrance and one ornery bushwhacker to figure out a way to save you from a one bite horrific death.  I love “The Rifleman.” …..not him....the show!  Anyway, back to sleeping bags.

You have three choices here: new, used and borrowed.  You could buy a sleeping bag at a garage sale…. but buying a sleeping bag at a garage sale just isn’t a good idea. You never know what took place in that sleeping bag besides sleeping. Do bodily fluids come to mind? I can think of five types without even referencing a CSI episode. No amount of washing will ever get those nasty bodily fluids out of that sleeping bag……. or your mind for that matter! 

You could borrow a sleeping bag, but who would lend you one.  Sleeping bags are like underwear, they aren’t meant to be shared…..that bodily fluid thing again.
                                                                                                                                                                                  

So your best bet is to spend some money and go shopping for a new sleeping bag.  How difficult could that be you say?  I figured they would make two types, a pink one for girls and a blue one for boys.  I never realized how hard it would be to select just the right one.  Sleeping bags have degrees associated with them.  Not college degrees, but degrees Fahrenheit.  They are rated anywhere between +40 degrees down to -40 degrees.  This is called the temperature comfort zone.  Comfort zone, at -40 degrees, maybe for an Eskimo Pie.  You would think the lower the temperature rating the better the bag would be, not true.  Using a -40 degree bag on an 80 degree day will make you wish you were that Eskimo Pie.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

Ever see those sleeping bags that look like a cross between King Tut’s coffin and the Michelin Tire Man, they’re called mummy sleeping bags.  I know I’m not planning on sleeping that long.  How would you like to go to sleep in one of those bags and wake up 2000 years later in some museum display, not me!
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

You would think a sleeping bag would be made out of some kind of natural fiber like cotton.  NOT… that’s old and cheapskate school.  Let’s go high tech… how about a Polarguard Continuous Filament within a Super Wicking Polyester Liner, complemented with a sleeping pad made from .25” polyethylene laminated to convoluted what-cha-ma-call-it foam.  Now if George Washington would have had these high tech sleeping bags for all his men, maybe that “Crossing the Delaware” thing wouldn't be such a big deal.

If you’re like me, forget all the mumbo gumbo and buy the cheapest one on sale.  One old school cotton sleeping bag to go, please!

Camping fun with Carl signing out.

   

Prayer Time

The Campfire

           Carl here. This is the part of camping everyone looks forward to, the campfire.  Everyone is sitting around the campfire, drinking their favorite non alcohol base beverage, toasting marshmallows, talking about non combative issues and singing songs from “Peter Paul and Mary” greatest hit album; just basically having a great time.  Wait, I’m sorry, that’s a “Brady Bunch” episode, lets get back to reality.  Everyone is sitting around the campfire, drinking beers to intoxication, talking dirty, talking politics, talking dirty politics, telling jokes, telling dirty jokes, singing obnoxiously loud to Bob Segar on the boom box and peeing in the woods.   Wait, I'm sorry again, that’s my wife’s family…… anyway, you know what I'm trying to say here, you just want to have a good time at the campfire.

 There is something hypnotic about watching a campfire.  It’s an ever changing visual and audio work of art, that keeps drawing you’re attention toward its center.  Your eyes are constantly being driven to the base of the fire where the glimmering hot embers display their vibrant ever-changing hues of orange, yellow and red.  Embers so intensely hot you wonder how they even exist at such temperatures. Crackles and pops feed your hungry ears as the scorching heat torments the wooden timbers. If you reposition those timbers just right, the fire seems to come alive again as the surrounding air is sucked into its belly. The oxygen from the air feeds the fires hungry thirst for survival as violent vortexes of hot gases dancing and twirling, try to escape its fiery pit.  Flames break out, thrashing and stinging the night air almost as a punishment for its own existence.  The intense heat keeps your body in check as you try to get a closer and closer look at one of natures greatest achievements .......... wooh......... I'm going to need a water break after all of that.  

Camping with Carl, signing out!