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!

Bushwacker Edu. - A Knotty Problem

As James pointed out the other day, unless you come from a family who hunt or live in a small community where everyone knows everyone else, your chances of getting involved in hunting in the UK are relatively slim. The net result is that there are a few holes in my education.

John: Hey, Jeremy, what do you know about holes?
Jeremy Hillary Boob, PhD.: There are simply no holes in my education.
Paul: You mean you haven't composed a "hole" book?
The Beatles - The Yellow Submarine

James has invited me to go Ferreting in a couple of weekends time. As you can imagine I’m fairly excitable at the best of times, so he’d no sooner invited me than I was starting my preparations.
“Apart from my hat & coat what will I need to bring?”
“We’ll need some Purse Nets”
“Where do I buy them?
“Your making them – a kit’s in the post”
“ How difficult is it?”
“ Just one Knot, tied lots of times!”

So I’m about to start making some purse nets that we’ll stretch over the exits to the rabbits warren, before sending in his business of ferrets to flush the bunnies out.

Wish me luck - thanks for reading
SBW

Really Actually Tasty?

Much to my surprise the office has yielded a lesson in preparedness and survival this week.

Due to the early January lull when the rest of the world seems to still be on holiday. Last weeks office life was at a much slower pace than could be productive. The morning football conversation extended beyond its mandatory 20 minutes and peaked on Friday at an hour and a half.
Work, as it was, centered around half-hearted researching, most of the day went on teasing each other and reading stuff out from the internet.
One viral email caught everyone’s attention and made me think about the nature of our dinner and our expectations of it.

LOOKS GOOD

EASY TO COOK

PLENTY OF THEM ABOUT TOO!!


As we watched to squeals of horror, the question everyone was asking, well more shrieking than asking, was ‘Would you? – Could you!”.
Mr. Bojangles (the resident song and dance man) has lived in Senegal for ten years so he speaks with an authority the others cant muster.
“In lots of the parts of the world people eat all kinds of stuff”
Would you? Have you? You didn’t!
“I wouldn’t be surprised if I had, in a lot of places people just need to eat, you never know what you’re being served ”

In the Southern US and much of eastern europe squirrels are well known as good eating, a few people shoot them to eat here, and a couple of the more adventurous London restaurants have them on the menu.

Well they call squirrels ‘tree rats’, maybe these fellas should be re-branded as ‘ground squirrels’. Hmmmm?

Thanks for reading
Bushwacker.

I Want One - A Not So Occasional Series Pt2

I keep having a fantasy where there's erhm 'less of me to love' and as the weather warms up I'm thinking a bike ride to and from the office would be a step in the right direction. i could fix up my forgotten bike from the back of the shed, but it needs a lot of new parts, or i could use the inspiration of a gleaming new machine as impetus.
Or i could keep it legal by putting the money towards paying my tax bill...... Ho Hum

Whatever you decide to do with the new year, i hope it works out better than you intended. Or as the heyoka's heyoka once said
"May you live in interesting times - and get to be a part of them"
SBW
CHARGE a very cool bike co.

Mother! Behave Yourself!!

Just in case you didn’t believe me when I told you about the foraging septuagenarian matriarchs!
As I was taking this picture I got into conversation with one of the park guys who told me he blamed the current crop of wildfood TV show’s.
“They only show cooking, people don’t know when they’re ripe and they just try and pull ‘em down. It’s a problem for us”.
Keep ‘em peeled
Bushwacker

Shh Keep 'em Under Your Hat

They've arrived! Ripe and ready to gather!
I picked (picked up?) this crop yesterday.
Had a few for tea, after last nights running club.
More details and Recipes in my next post
(I didn’t have a camera with me and there’s something in the park I want to show you)
Bushwacker

Those New Chestnuts

Like the our pal the American Bushman I’m noticing the shift in the seasons; London was decidedly nippy today, and the prelude to last nights fitness training was a drum roll of chattering teeth as we gathered at the park gate.
I’m not sure where it went (I’ve even been having salad for breakfast!) but I’d certainly let things slide in the last week. The regime of running, sit ups, burpees, star jumps and press ups seemed almost as tortuous as the first time I attended. I sweated like a carthorse and my legs felt like I had tree trunks tied to them. Having struggled and slithered across the wet grass praying for the strength to continue or at least a merciful end to the torment.

Having survived I started to think of myself as a rather heroic figure. Back at home; as I lay panting and moaning on the front room floor, I was quickly disabused of even this crumb of comfort. Mrs SBW delivered a ‘motivational’ lecture about the ads she seen on TV where tubby fellas of a certain age are putting their health at risk by eating and drinking to their harts content. She succinctly pointed out that it was my harts (fat) content that means it’s not a choice. I will be going back, rain or shine, like it or not.
As Carl the PTI keeps pointing out “there’s plenty of time to think about it later, just do it”.

The park is the site of an ancient hunting ground and although we’re denied the chance to shoot (or even trap) the squirrels or stalk the deer there are still some foraging opportunities to be had. I’ve only ever had chestnuts and puffball mushrooms, but my foraging days have only just begun there must be more edible species for a re-wilded bushwacker to find. The chestnuts are getting a little riper but the first sightings of the granny migration that signals their ripeness are still a little way off.
It would seem I’m not the only person visiting the park hoping to invoke the aid of the gods, I saw this offing left at the foot of one of the bigger chestnuts trees.

The history of the site as a place of worship is at least as old as the roman invasion/settlement of Brittan. Discovered in 1902 the park has the remains of the mosaic floor of a roman shrine, supposedly dedicated to Diana the Huntress an imported deity the Romans took to their harts.

The area is steeped in history; first as a hunting ground and later as a pleasure park for the royals. Just as the invasion/settlement of Virginia was getting under way Le Notre (the gardener to Louis XIV) was commissioned by king Charles II to design the layout of the park we see today. The avenues of Sweet Chestnuts were planted from Spanish seed and some of them are now 400 years old.

I was more than a little off in my tree-size-estimate this fella is 24.5 feet around the trunk!
More trunk reduction for the bushwacker to follow – thanks for reading everbody
Bushwacker

Running, Eggs, And Posts I Re-Read

Last night I had a glimpse of the future, a bit like Scrooge seeing the Ghost of Running Club yet To Be….. And re-read some of my favorite blog posts

This morning I’ve just had the perfect poached egg for my breakfast, it smiled at me from the plate, sitting next to some toast and a pile of smoked salmon – a boy needs his Omega 3’s!

The holy grail of poached eggs: add just two drops of vinegar to a shallow pan of gently boiling water, put some spin on the water creating a vortex. As soon as you crack the egg and slowly add it to the centre of the spinning water, you can see the egg white coalesce into the perfect form.

Towards the end of our run I moved briefly from pound, pound, pant, pant wheeze to that fluid movement where the amount of effort drops considerably, but the amount of forward motion rises. Steps that had crashed against the ground now have a lighter touch, the jarring of my spine gave way to a glimpse of the serenity of motion I’d forgotten I could have.

Two of my favorite ‘good eggs’ of the bloggersphere

Pablo has a very handy list of REASONS, (proper valid reasons honey), for buying ESSENTIAL kit from Ebay.

The Hobo Stripper separates the person from their behaviour, and spends her post remembering angels with dirty faces.

Bushwacker.
PS
Sorry I didn’t explain that very well at all
How to spin water:
Carefully stir the boiling water with a spoon, until it is ‘spinning’
SBW

That Old Chestnut.

I’m eating one of the last apples from our tree, as I recover from the mornings exertions. Outside its still sunny but the season is starting to change, apples over, blackberries still good, chestnuts about to begin.

On the sofa my legs are aching, and I wanna go back to bed, but the goal is in sight.
Finally I feel I’m on the road to fitness, I’ve attended Military Fitness three times this week!!!! Twice to the running club, and once at the military fitness class.

Trying to keep my head up as I ran I saw that the chestnuts are in abundance, and will be starting to fall in a week or two. I really love collecting them with Bushwacker Jnr, and eating them with pork. I’m not so keen on peeling them, but its a small price to pay for the satisfaction that wildfood brings.

In the park some of the chestnut trees are literally hundreds of years old, as I ran (OK speed-waddled), I made a note to dig out the big tape measure and try to find out just how old they actually are. Some of them look at least ten feet (3m) around the trunk.

The best sign that the worthwhile nuts are falling is to watch out for the migrating herds of - Chinese Grannies! Seriously, the nuts that fall first aren’t really worth the effort, but as soon as the big fellas start to drop there’ll be septuagenarians matriarchs using broom handles and plastic bags as yokes, harvesting the parks bounty.

While we were collecting last year we’d often meet a few dog walking toffs who know the nuts are edible but are surprised that anyone would bother, they are encouraging in that patronising yet indulgent way toffs often have.

The nuts are never as big as the Spanish imports but some how they taste a little sweeter.
I’ll let you know how I get on.


Bushwacker.

Edging Closer

You must be wondering: when’s he going to get on with it?
Where are the pictures of smashed targets and gleaming broadheads?
Today saw a couple of significant steps in the right direction...

Today was one of those days, not those days, those days.
After yesterdays run I felt, well, well, not just well, well good!
I could actually walk without wincing. I was almost invigorated. Unbelievable I know.
Then I got the email I’d almost given up hope of receiving; I finally have a place on the program, only a month to go until my archery lessons begin! Really you’d think in a city of 6,000,000 there’d be the odd archery coach going spare. It’s been a long search.
I bet it wasn’t like this the year we won at Agincourt!

I felt so inspired by the morning’s events I went back to the park for a bit more of the living hell that is British Military Fitness. Where BMF beats the gym is in it’s sheer relentlessness, you can’t kid yourself. There’s nowhere to hide.
Let’s hope it’s the same for Mr Elk.

Bushwacker.
PS Pablo - thank you for your kind offer - see the comments on the last post.

Sharpening and Reprofiling

Oh the pain! Whinge-moan. Whinge. Moan. Running club! Battered. Whinge moan.
Delicious fried food danced before my eyes.
Imaginary Elk snorted contemptuously and sauntered away over the great mountain range that separates my homeland from the lands of my dreams.
Have you ever heard an Elk laugh?
Well they did, safe in the knowledge that I’d never get my wheezing butt within rifle range. Bow range? Ha!! They’re still laughing now.
Bushwacker.

The stunning picture is of the appropriately named cardiac range

Why Weight?

The morphic resonances of the bloggersphere never cease to amaze me. Just as the American Bushman was posting ‘unloading superfluous gear’ BoB and I were having a conversation along similar lines. As well as using his visit as an opportunity to give me the Opinels he told me the location of a long-time-no-see Trangia stove that he didn’t have a need for. As things do, the conversation rambled round to talking about the lightening the load, travelling with as little kit as possible, while still having everything you need to look after yourself. I showed BoB the amazing Anti Gravity Gear site and the caldera stove system, which is basically a Trangia that’s been seriously slimmed down.
BoB said he’d seen an article from the 1950’s where guys going on a climbing expedition carrying framed rucksacks had wielded up the holes in the frames, enabling them to use their frames as fuel bottles.

As even the most cursory look at the scouting and hunting technologies of the first nations shows, the need-for-speed in backcountry travel is as old as backcountry travel itself. Saxton Pope took instruction from Ishi’s in the art and science of travelling light.

‘In our early training with Ishi, the Indian, he taught us to look before he taught us to shoot. "Little bit walk, too much look," was his motto. The roving eye and the light step are the signs of the forest voyageur.
The ideal way for an archer to travel is to carry on his shoulders a knapsack containing a light sleeping bag and enough food to last him a week.....This will weigh less than ten pounds. With other minor appurtenances in the ditty bag, including an arrow-repairing kit, one's burden is less than twenty pounds, an easy load...... If you have a dog, make him carry his own dry meal in little saddle-bags on his back...

Nessmuk was also an early devotee, taking it as a focus in the classic Woodcraft and Camping.

While I was looking for a downloadable copy Nessmuks book for you I found Nessmuking, a site about super lightweight canoeing with this interesting ‘gear list’ challenge.
How light can you get a 35-day pack?

Last word goes to Mors Kochanski
"The more you know, the less you carry."
Bushwacker.

Sofa King Whacked

It’s that time again: your pal SBW was forced off the sofa and the TV remote prised from his chubby little hand – “Off to the running club fat boy” said Mrs SBW.

And oh what torture it was, Greenwich Park is steep, way steep, and the guys from British Military Fitness had us hopping, (yes Hopping, you know travelling on ONE foot!) up the hill before we were allowed to run up the hill, it was murder. But as mentioned in a previous post at least it keeps the existential angst at bay.
I’ve taken to asking other victims, I mean participants, about their motivation. “ I just don’t want to be last” is quite a common one – myself I’m too busy not wanting this to be my last breath to care about anyone else.

After the hill-climb came the long jog, I’d have thought it was a long walk, but no we ran – well for most of it anyway. As we jogged we passed a rosy-cheeked young couple, enjoying the warm evening air, sitting on a park bench, happily drinking what looked like a bottle of whiskey. As people ran past they shouted encouragement. “You can do it” and “faster you’re winning”. I like to think of myself as the master of the witty retort, but all I could muster, through gritted teeth, was a “that’s easy for you to say” as my hart tried to leave my body.

The thought of tromping the hills of bonny Scotland with a pack and rifle in search of Red Stags and then later more of the same with a compound bow in my sub arctic search for the Elk of my dreams was all that kept me going. I’d rather die now than face coming home with no meat due to general laziness.

When I got home Bushwacker Jnr was eagerly awaiting my arrival: “Hey dad there’s a new film coming out, mum says you’d like it, its called Run Fat Boy Run!!

You’ve gotta love ‘em haven’t you? It’s not legal to use them as bear bait!
Bushwacker.
run fat boy run trailer
www.britmilfit.com/

Still Wheezing And A Little Saw.

Not much to report on the fitness part of the project this week.
Sadly there was plenty of Un-Fitness to report on at (ominous drum roll) the Running Club.
Anyone on first name terms with your pal the Bushwacker will surely tell you the words ‘Bushwacker is running’ aren’t usually used in the same sentence unless the sentence ends ‘down to the Off Licence to get more beer, wine, ice, vodka.....’ with the ‘running’ part being a figure of speech. So it was with no small trepidation that I set off for further punishment from the British Military Fitness Crew at their Running Club.

Shock is probably the hardest thing for a person to fake or try to hide, and glee is the response it never occurs to anyone to hide. Most of the attendees of the running club didn’t bother hiding anything, once the shock had subsided they all wanted to stand next to me at the start of every ‘run’, so they could ‘burn me off at the lights’. I felt like the most talented self-confidence therapist in the world. They arrived half whipped expecting more ritual humiliation at the hands of the speed merchants, only to find that far from being the slowest or having the most pitiful wheezing noise, their day had come.
Some of my delighted classmates actually took to letting me catch up with them so the could redress the humiliation they had themselves suffered. Leaving me for dust.
Still if 'waddling' is half way between sleeping and running, I can at least say I met them half way.
Oh the pain of being a wuss, a fat, greedy, lazy...................

Saw these and thought you might find them useful

The Sven Saw (inc 1 blade) $24.99 spare blades $7.95 each


Tested against

The BCB Commando Saw (inc 3 blades) from £4.99 to £12. Will take generic replacement blades (approx £5 for £3.99) and a BCB Nato & US forces 28” eight strand wire saw, cut in two would make two replacement wire saws for £2.61


I’ve used the triangular Sven Saw a few times and the aggressive ‘bow saw’ type blade is certainly very good for
fire-wood-ish type cuts and will stand a lot of abuse. The saw is light, and durable. The triangulation that makes the saw so strong is also its weakness as not all of the blade can cut to the saws maximum depth. The design suffers where an exposed wing nut provides the blade tension. It's jagged and do you really want to have to carry a spare?

The first way the BCB wins is the smooth, square frame design that gives you the use of the whole length of the blade cutting through larger diameter logs. With a choice of three blades kept neatishly in the handle the BCB saw will cleanly cut wood, bone, plastics and metal. Where the BCB let itself down during my test was that the 'all purpose and hacksaw' blades supplied with the saw are not very good. In fairness, this is not a review of cheapo blades, better blades are easy to come by and the handle feels unbreakable. The wire saw is excellent, but was let down by the aluminium crimps that act as its end stops, which are woefully inadequate. One popped off on the saws second use, and the other was very easily pulled off with a pair of pliers. The blade that is supplied with the Sven Saw is much better quality (which you have to pay for), but limits you to rougher cuts. The BCB has an edge, in that on your travels it’ll take any brand of hardware store blade that’s 12-13”.

The Bottom Line:

Both saws are very good choices, strong, cheapish, and lightweight.
The BCB has a neater handle design, bombproof build quality and the option of the versatile and robust wire saw.
All for a fiver! Now that I've added better crimps (took five mins.-was very easy) it will be my choice every time.

http://www.svensaw.com/

BCB's site - lots of other cool stuff
http://webshop.bcbin.eu/index.php

You may get the Sven Saw for a buck or so less, but REI’s customer service is magic.
http://www.rei.com/product/404040

The best price I found for the BCB saw was at
http://www.ronniesunshines.co.uk/Items/269%20-%20copy?

Get Tough or Move South.

“...one must have a good pair of legs. If automobiles, elevators, and general laziness have not ruined your powers of locomotion, you may follow the dogs; otherwise, you had best stay at home.”
Dr Saxton Pope

So after a considerable hiatus, the Suburban Bushwacker took some unpaid exercise.
Actually it’s worse than that I’M PAYING THEM!!!

This time rowing in front of the TV down at the gym just isn’t going to do it.
I’m not preparing for a duck hunt or a fishing trip: this is an elk hunt, so I’ve enrolled with a military fitness crew.
Started by a retired major and staffed by serving physical training instructors these boys know blood, sweat and tears.
I’m yet to donate any blood.

We meet in the park for an hour of running and circuit training.
The group is divided into three; the green bibs - skinny determined looking people, all high as kites on endorphins.
The red bibs – smiling, full of life, people who chat to each other during the class.
Then bringing up the rear, in the blue bibs; the chubby folk. Needless to say your friend the Bushwacker is wheezing along with the desk jockeys and ready-meal addicts. I would be telling you about the burning pain of such a humiliation, but I honestly didn’t feel it. The burning pain all over my body meant I was incapable of any existential angst.
24 hours later I’m wishing that was still the case ! Oh the pain, the pain of being a wuss! Oh the pain of being a lazy, greedy wuss! Every glorious fatty, salty, sugary delicacy I’ve stuffed in my face is now dancing before my eyes.
When Bushwacker jnr woke me up in the middle of last night my stomach still ached so much I couldn’t go back to sleep. Awww!

British Military Fitness - Now UK wide
http://www.britmilfit.com/

Nike 5.0
Like socks with soles attached. I really like 5.0’s the low heel height means much greater stability, (how do chicks stay balanced on high heels?) and the articulation of the sole really does make them like walking barefoot.

Nalgene 0.5 litre
The best bottles ever! For reasons why the Nalgene is so good, lets look at how it trounces that traditional favorite the Sigg bottle.
Siggs may look good on the shelf (Sigg1 Nalgene 0) but like so many ‘outdoor classics’ they are crap.
They dent (Sigg1 Nalgene 1).
The neck is too narrow to insert anything wider than a straw-who would want to put ice in a drink? (Nalgene 2. Sigg1. Advantage Nalgene).
They corrode (Sigg1 Nalgene 3)
And they are way, way overpriced-look around you’ll see perfect copies for 15-20% of the price (Sigg1 Nalgene 4).
Nalgene wins!
If Sigg is ever to regain it’s once exulted place in my pack, its time for a major rethink, aluminum just ain’t doing it anymore.
Dear Sigg
‘If you can’t run with the big dogs, keep your puppy ass on the porch’
Bushwacker

Why am I doing this?

To awake from my comfortable homeostasis, rediscover my physical self and embark on the adventure of reconnecting with the natural world. Fat and lazy as I am, I get the feeling it’s going to be a rude awakening! I live in one of the most highly urbanised societies on earth, and it shows. Mainly around the middle!

Ambition:
Hunt, and kill a massive Elk with a bow. To skin it, butcher it, put it’s meat on the table and in the freezer, hang its skull and antlers on the wall, spread its hide across our bed and love-wrestle Mrs Bushwacker on top of it in its honour.

Between here and there:
Lose quite a lot of weight, gain quite a lot of muscle, develop endurance, learn archery, learn bushcraft and stalking skills, choose then buy (or trade for) all the kit needed to trek out into the wilderness, kill and bring back the body of my noble prey.

Why Hunting?
Ever since I started eating meat again, I was vegetarian for a few years in my teens and early twenties, I have felt a growing need to have an honest (and some would say blood thirsty) relationship with my dinner.
I’ve noticed a lot of hunters refer to killing an animal as ‘harvesting’, just as there is no polite word for a euphemism, on this blog killing is called killing. I’ve met too many people who can/will only eat something if its origin is obscured. Fish, but only if it does not have a head, prawns without their shells, chicken but only when it comes from a plastic tray, and then only the white meat. These are people are afraid of their dinner. Our food deserves our respect. On the days when our skill and tenacity overcomes the animals guile and awareness, we earn the right to eat the flesh of another being. If you cant (or won’t) kill it, gut it, cut it, and cook it what gives you the right to eat it? I believe in celebrating and honouring the life that is taken so we may live.

Why Elk Hunting?
1.Stone sheep aside, it’s renowned as the hardest hunt there is.
2.You get a lot of meat from one success, and my time is limited

Why Bow Hunting?
To me bow hunting is a pure unadulterated expression of man’s ingenuity and the spirit of the hunt. With a HS Precision loaded with 200 grain .300 Winchester Magnum you can shoot to kill at 400 yards*. The commitment and skill required to kill ‘up close and personal’ with a bow is something such a noble adversary deserves.

* How do I know? During my only rifle hunting experience, with zero tuition I shot and killed a moving White Tail Deer at 100 yards+ with the first shot I ever fired from a (non air powered) rifle.