BER-DOING!!!! Pt2 The Re-Write Of Spring

Fish eggs, fallen from the sky, a pair of them on the roof of a car,

at a wedding, in suburban Leeds no less.

I always wondered how lonely Tarns in the highland hills got to have fish in them. Well now I know, sometimes things just fall from the sky, in that way that leaves me wondering about the elusive pattern that we call serendipity, where one random impulsive act can change the course of events, give us a new lease on life, and even provide a doorway back to when we we're young and weren't so stupid as to believe we've seen it all before. Last night I was suddenly and without warning 15 years old again - felt better the second time around.

SBW

Pig Dog Slut

If I may be permitted to explain, this is not a slur on the eating habits, character or lifestyle choices of the good citizens of Leeds. It's a history lesson.

The first recorded use of a tracking animal other than a dog in the UK was 'Slut' a pig owned and trained by A baronet from hampshire called Sir Henry Mildmay. His pal Charles Darwin said "Sluts sent was exceedingly good, and she was more useful than a dog"

OK more trivia than history. The book this fact is taken from looks a lot of fun 'The Keen Shots Miscellany' by Peter Holt 

All papers sat and passed. Off back down south.

Your pal

SBW

Due South

As my time here in the north draws to a close and I start to think about the next adventure I was delighted to see on this mornings news that the Scott Polar Research Institute has digitized its catalogue of photographs of Arctic and Antarctic exploration. Wow are we in for a treat!

The Scott Polar Research Institute in the University of Cambridge holds a world-class collection of photographic negatives illustrating polar exploration from the nineteenth century onwards. Freeze Frame is the result of a two-year digitisation project that brings together photographs from both Arctic and Antarctic expeditions. Here you can discover the polar regions through the eyes of those explorers and scientists who dared to go into the last great wildernesses on earth.
Detailed catalogue entries are provided for each image. All image captions are taken from original sources, where known. In digitising this resource the Scott Polar Research Institute has enabled Browsing through the collection by date, expedition or photographer, or searching the content directly.

It's all Here

Hope your as exited as I am

Your pal

The Bushwacker

A Shortish Walk In The Yorkshire Peaks

As the sky looked so majestic, and Saturday school was over for the day. TNM changed into his alter ego BONGO MAN and after: surgically removing Junior Geordie Monkey (TNM's son) from the computer, and rescuing Lennox the black lab puppy from the emasculating love of 'Grandma Yorkshire' (TNM's mum)  we finally set off for a bracing walk in the country. By the time we were actually got out of the door it was getting dark as so we changed destination and headed for Ribblehead. The night was foggy to say the least and as we drove away from Leeds and onto the moors we could only see three road markings ahead.

When we arrived we were delighted by our own powers of organization, we had allowed time for a small libation at the local hostelry - the splendid Station Inn.  

Readers with prolonged exposure to the 'corporate nightmare' public houses that have proliferated in the last twenty years may wish to either; Turn away now (bad thing jealousy) or Set off immediately ( good old-school pub t' station). Through visiting the bar a couple of times (as your representative and strictly in the interests of research) I was able to assemble a northern food parcel to send to the Bushwacker Jnr and The Littlest Bushwacker- Pork scratchings (a tooth cracking snakfood made of salt and pork rinds fried to a rock hard crunch and a bar of Romney's Kendal mint cake - a food synonymous with mountaineering, and fell walking. The packet even records its role in the first successful assent of Everest.
“'We sat on the snow and looked at the country far below us … we nibbled Kendal Mint Cake.' A member of the successful Everest expedition wrote – 'It was easily the most popular item on our high altitude ration – our only criticism was that we did not have enough of it.'"
We feasted on fine, fine pork pies that were kept stacked on the bar, made from gloucestershire old spot pork, sourced within five miles of the Station's kitchen.

As the night wore on we bedded down in the Bongo: northern monkeys and the dog on the fold down seats and your pal the bushwacker in the fold out crows nest. I went to sleep to the sound of a lad of fifteen whingeing indignantly  'but you still haven't made my bed' and TNM laughing heartlessly from the depths of his sleeping bag, a venue which I can vouch, once he has retired to, he is extremely unlikely to leave.

In the morning clouds rolled by lower than the hill tops, a burn tinkled as it disappeared into a pothole, the hills were rolling majestically, the camera spluttered an died.

Sunday morning had dawned bright and fresh, so after breakfasting on beans and eggs a la Bongo we set off up Ingleborough, second highest hill in the Yorkshire dales.

I don't know if you were reading back in the days of my long abandoned training regime, but yes 'Sofa- King-Whacked' just about summed up my journey to the summit. At least this time i wasn't mocked by the drinking pubic, it was the faux concern of JGM. 'are you going to die?' Fortunately he also kept up a running commentary on the state of Lennox's bowl movements  so at least the walk didn't pass without entertainment. 

As usual the 'great british countryside' is covered in crap (with only a small percentage laid by the dog) I fished a full size waste bag out of a stream and soon had it half filled with sweet wrappers, drink cans and other assorted food packaging. All left by people out for the day to enjoy the 'unspoiled' views. And they had the temerity to look at ME as though I'm mad. Go figure?

Your Pal

The Bushwacker

S'now Its time For Archery

Snow had closed my course down for two days. so we had an afternoon free. we put the time to good use. Archery! Posture,upper body strength, breathing, aim, release and the bow all need some work.

The Northern Monkey had scouted out some land and on the walk in we found a dumped black plastic air vent. Target!

TNM shot ever tighter groups, while I couldn't even manage a loose association.
Luckily a sudden fart of wind was sent by the coyote god, and one of my arrows smashed the target!

TNM retorted with a 'tree splitter'.But still NIL POINT!

Showing another great example of th sheer dumb luck that has sustained me so far, another field point juddered home. Here you see me explaining to The Northern Monkey the traditional 'salute' used to remind the french that our archery skills are superior to theirs.

The bow is way too big for me,[I cant remember my draw from my days at the archery class'].

It's much more TNM's size so I shan't morn leaving it with him. After all, he needs the practice!!

Keep Warm
SBW

It's A Different World Up Here

Our Friend's In The North

A great picture by James of me sitting at the bench - Rangetastic!
Have all the 'crack shot' jokes been made already?

With the new year begining; the economy sliding, Google soaking up all the advertising budgets, loafer wearing smart arses not being in demand the way we once were, and me and the gorgeous Mrs SBW no longer an item, I've decided give myself a kick up the arse and to go to school.

Psychology and Law both sounded like tempting vocations, but the whole 'poor student' thing just isn't practical. So I'm going to save the world - one house at a time.

As a culture we're at the crossroads where the 'Big Brains and Opposable Thumbs' experiment is about to be tested, possibly to destruction. A deregulated derivatives market has just been tested to destruction and even some of the less imaginative voices are starting to talk about peak oil either having already happened or being more than a 'penciled' appointment. While MCP and quite a few of my off-grid chums see only doom and gloom, I see a massive opportunity. One where we'll re-float the financial system and free ourselves from fossil fuels; by a massive swing to locally generated energy and the responsible/ingenious deployment of the resources we have. I'm prepared to bet the next ten years of my life on it. So its off to trade school in the frozen north, (or "Leeds" as the locals pronounce it) to brush up on my plumbing and electrical skills. While I'm there I plan to get time for some outdoor adventures with TNM. The beautiful county of Yorkshire (Englands Texas) offers plenty of chances for us to get up close and personal with our dinner. Although Ferret Legging isn't and wont be on the agenda.

In honor of my new workplace, under a kitchen sink rather than behind a desk, here's my favorite builders joke - The Intellectual Building Site

There's an English guy living in Eire, has no money, so he thinks 'I'd better get a job' so he goes to a nearby building site to ask the foreman if they have anything for him.

Foreman: "Well thanks for coming down and askin'. I'd like to give you a shout, I really would, because i like to think of myself as a fair man. And that's the reason I'd only be fair if i gave you a warning first. This IS the intellectual building site, and although I'm sure you're a nice fella and all, it'd be only fair if i warned you, I've not been a fan of the education system in your country since they phased out the eleven plus. This is the intellectual building site, we start with the crossword in the London Times with our breakfast, at the first break we do the crossword from the Irish Times and by lunchtime my nephew has faxed us the New York Times crossword. So if you don't get in you mustn't be too hard on yourself, its no reflection on you as a person, it might be that you just weren't smart enough or your education just wasn't good enough. Remember this is the intellectual building site."

English guy: "Sounds fair whats the question?"

Foreman: "What's the difference between a girder and a joist?"

English guy: "That's easy Goethe wrote Faust and Joyce wrote Ulysses!"

A VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL

Your pal
The bushwacker.
PS Just think how much weight I've lost to have my pants hang down like that!