It wasn't the above individuals that we had an encounter with this past weekend in the wilds of California's gold country, but if I were a betting man, I'd say that they are at least close relatives.

You see, JMac has for the better part of 15 years been making his way to a well off the beaten path camp spot complete with some of the most world class swimming holes that the state has to offer, but as we began the 40 minute hike, completely loaded down with coolers, backpacks and so fourth, we came face to face with a seriously intimidating individual sitting in a chair behind rolls of razor wire, just staring at us.

We had a momentary stand off when we realized that there was no way we were gonna make it to our secret spot this way.

We clamored back up the hill, disheartened, but undeterred. Not sure how we would make the campsite by night fall, we settled for a spot in a group site that apparently had discounts for people with mullets and speed boats.
With an unquenchable desire to dunk our weary souls, we trekked through the bushes until we would find ourselves at the reservoir's edge;

Fortunately for us, we were well stocked with all of the necessary supplies to contend with our unwitting immersion in boat culture;

Eventually we ended up drinking ourselves to a slumber, which as near as I can tell is the only way to go in a crowded public site. Luckily for us our neighbors had their fingers on their air horns at the ass crack of the following morning, so we would be sure and not sleep through their departure to what I can only hope was a painful death by drowning. Anyway, as we began wandering around the camp site like hungover zombies, JMac got cracking on breakfast with my newest and most favorite invention- spray batter;

I tried to do a whip-it, but I just ended up getting a mouth full of dough.

Learn from my mistakes, people.

So today was the day in which we were going to snub the creepy mountain william, and in doing so would test the very limits of our physical strength, and emotional fortitude.
The short version is that instead of taking the 40 or so minute hike down the now very closed trail, we would instead walk up the river, fully loaded down with packs and cooler, taking over two hours, and probably years off of our lives.

I'd like it to be known that I'm no greenhorn when it comes to physical challenges, and this was by far one of the most physically taxing endeavors of my life. If you think it sounds easy, throw on a 50 pound pack, try it yourself, and let me know how it goes.

Just as nearly all hope was lost, we finally arrived at the spot and immediately set up camp so we could get on to more important matters;

As I realized at one point, I think it's a safe estimate that JMac and I, combined, have fallen somewhere in the neighborhood of 40,000 feet from atop rocks and into various rivers together.
There isn't a lot that I can truly say I'm good at.
However jumping off of rocks into swimming holes, and floating in pools while drinking beer, are two things I can say without hesitation that I have a knack for.

Anyhow, we were, as a group, committed to not having to engage in the trail of tears that most certainly would have been the two plus hour hike back up river, so after wringing out the last bit of life that the swimming holes had to offer, we broke camp and decided to take the short, albeit possibly very dangerous trail back through the creepy fellow's property. There was no two ways about it- that man had no interest in having people cross the 30 yard length of path that passed through his land, and had even gone so far as to tie Poison Oak across the trail in several different spots, as well as burying what bits of trail wasn't booby trapped under tangled piles of manzanita branches.
I had an extraordinarily bad feeling about the whole thing, and was keeping my head tucked, as I know all too well the misery of getting shot with rock salt. After a profoundly stressful five minute hike we finally emerged from the other side without incident and hauled ass to the road to make our quick getaway.

I knew positively that this man wasn't one to be crossed, and I still shudder at the thought of having come face to face with him. I can only hope that the forest service will somehow reclaim that little bit of trail so that folks can continue to enjoy this amazing stretch of river.

As usual, any time I leave town, I get boatloads of event flyers and various communiques from folks that you can't live without, such as this one from these folks;

Or this one from Mr. Gill;

We will get into more of that stuff on Friday, so for now here is to hoping that you all had nice weekends as well, all the while keeping mind to watch your step and steer a wide berth around the sounds of any distant banjos.