As the times and my tastes have changed, I’ve had a few different lives, each of them symbolised by a ‘trademark’ item. Some people I know well from office life have never seen me not wearing my trademark old school pinstripe suits, that bushcraft knife was witness to many a boyhood adventure in the wilds. The rogue floppy shows great promise as a trademark of adventures yet to come.
Luke Skywalker had his Light Sabre, Mors Kochanski has his Mora, and Ray Mears has his Woodlore. If there’s one thing I’ll always associate with BoB (or inspector gadget as he was known in the day) it’s the Trangia field cooker.
It’s a sigil for the man himself - you can get something that’s a little bit shinier, more fashionable, one that maybe boils a little faster, a little lighter, more ‘technical’ even. But when you want one that ‘is what it is’ and will never ever let you down the Trangia is yer man.
For 75 years the Swedish company has been making these simple pressed aluminum and brass field cookers. Cheap to keep, utterly dependable, and with a zero failure rate. BoB and the Trangia are a reflection of each other.
For about 20 of those years BoB has been carting them into some of the most inhospitable places this planet has to offer to heat some of the worst grub served by mortal man. As our mum said “ I have two sons, one eats to live, the other lives to eat”
With that in mind I’m starting a series of posts about trail food too go to feed to a dog.
Thanks for reading
Bushwacker.
Picture credit and stove review
5 comments:
Trail food, eh? I typically look all around me for mine. Ever hear of Euell Gibbons? Crazy old coot who managed to seduce me into the foraging life. Now I am incapable of wandering in the woods without automatically thinking, "Oooh! Wild sorrel! Tangy..." or "Awesome! Paw Paws!" or some such. This has been one of the most useful skills I've learned, and I have to thank an old man who ate a tree for it.
What sort of forest goodies live in England?
'What sort of forest goodies live in England?'
All kinds of things, so far I've been pretty lackluster in my foraging, but inspired (in part by your good self)it's something I'll be exploring over the coming months.
SBW
I might tease BoB about his eating habits (I'm his big brother its in the job description) but he's been highly successful as a forager in his adopted home of New Zealand, eating greenlip mussels (i love 'em - he only eats them under duress)digging up sweet potatoes from the roadside, and diving for Abalone and lobster.
Again things he eats reluctantly. There's no justice - It must be something i did in another life!
Dear SBW, I am begining to wonder who this BoB person is? Is it the BoB who tears off hunks of freshly caught crayfish (lobster) cooked on the BBQ and washes it down with local ale? Perhaps he is the BoB who makes thin, light and crispy pizza bases in the Australian outback followed by an exquisite chocolate cake for 20 ravenous climbers (with his MSR dragonfly). He couldn't possibly be the be the BoB who climbed for a month in Patagonia (where the altitude renders a Trangia usless) and came up with 20 different ways to cook rice, that kept a French gourmand happy that happened to be climbing with them. No I can't possibly think who the person you are talking about could be. Perhaps the slightly dim, plodding individual that you describe is the BoB that "got away" Perhaps we should invite him to the next family gathering and have him chop wood?
Much Love, Mrs BoB
Mrs BoB.
I have my BoB, you have your BoB, and we may also share a BoB
My eulogy is to my BoB, so I recognise him.
SBW
PS More sentimentality to come, stay tuned.
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