Thirty five degrees and snowing, but I couldn’t wait any longer to throw this into the Tundra. Volant makes this particular model. It’s a cotton based filter and lasts around 100K miles. This is unlike the K&N systems which use a permanent element and need periodic cleaning. But, the downside is that the element is about $90. No matter, because it looks and sounds wicked.
The gathering of December 2011 started at Kieran’s for 3 + 1 Orange Whips and other beverages. From there, we decimated the Brazilian steakhouse Fogo De Chão. Thank God I am not a vegetarian. It was a great night for food and friends, but I felt like I needed more time to reflect on an eventful 2011. Oh well, let’s do it again and soon!
I keep losing these sheets that I printed off of temp averages and extremes for my frequent haunts. So, I’m posting them here for reference.
I swapped out my son-in-law’s VW Golf oil pan recently. It wasn’t a big job, but 20 bolts without air tools took a little time. I don’t have much to say about it – on this 2001 Golf nothing has to come off prior to the oil pan. Every bolt can be easily reached with a deep socket and a ball hex for the three or four bolts set deeper than the block bottom surface. They were a metric something or other, I don’t recall. I got a FelPro gasket. I’m not sure I needed it, but on advice from many other forum lurkers I also used Permatex. The general consensus is that FelPro sucks rocks. So, with the goo, gasket, and prescribed torque and tightening sequence, I got her on there solid.
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A friend of a friend was gracious enough upon my friend’s word only to invite me to his cabin up near Mille Lacs in MN, where yes, the air is in fact cleaner than what I have to breathe on a daily basis. I shall leave to the imagination the general bent of activity of established, aging and generally professional men. (Pause now, and relevate…ahhh…yesssssss.) Yet, one event begs to be recorded. Not due to heroism on my or Scott’s part (well, Scotty was somewhat the hero), but because it highlights the sheer thread that separates this life and the next.
Scott and I were out in the diminutive craft Old Dutch One, mapping fishing locations with a map, a Sharpie and GPS enabled sonar. Making some good progress, we witnessed a jet ski dump its riders about 100 or so yards our aft. Glancing back, Scott noted the driver caught the ski, but the second man was face up in the water and not moving. And, the driver was by then waving for help. We made way over to the floater. He was OK, conscious and aware, but afraid or unable to move and apparently unable to swim. His unzipped life jacket was all that kept him from dropping like a stone to the 30′ bottom.
Thought and mental processing maybe slower at 40 than 2o, but the former possesses clear and correct thought moreso than its younger version. We pulled close, but not too close, already expecting the man to react and pull our boat over. And, we donned and secured our own life jackets without even thinking about it. Eventually, we manuvered the guy back to the rear platform of their ski, and began to drag it backwards towards shore.
We weren’t making much progress, so we called for another boat. A couple, retirement age, in a nice Lund motored over. The woman, seeing the license on OD1 says, “Hi! Are you from Wisconsin?” I said, “No we are NOT.” In my mind I was thinking, “trying to save a dude’s life here – catch the sit-rep, please!” Once they figured out what we were trying to do, Scott hopped in the drink and helped stabilze the ski. I broke off with Old Dutch One, and the bigger Lund towed the ski with Scott and the two guys hanging on it to shore.
It was a close call for this gentleman. Had he skipped the life jacket he likely would not have survived. And, the circumstance of his death would have been wholly unremarkable. A guy without a life jacket fell off a jet ski and drowned. Apart from the tragedy, the shock, the pain it would have caused his family, there is a weird simplicity to the event which can claim a thing as complex as a human life. We don’t give them much thought. We don’t assume they have a sinister lining, but we were struck with the ease of their occurrence.
Later, the driver, Amir, and others in the family brought food and thanks to our cabin. We, that day, did not experience remorse. We went on with things as usual, or maybe elevated a modicum our demeanor with the offering of thanks, and food and our response of not more than “you are welcome”.
With that, I planned on loading the photos of Cabin 2010, but alas, the blogging software is angry. Or, I am lazy.
The quest for ever lighter backpacking gear has brought me to consider no-cook options. This would save a ton of weight on fuel, fuel canisters and of course, the stove itself. Not carrying a stove means one less thing prone to some obscure failure. Pursuing this avenue of thought lead me to buy a couple of sample MREs from mre-Star, which makes a civilian MRE equivalent. These are truly ready to eat. Just rip open the package and spork away. Or, they can be heated over a fire, with the stove (somewhat defeating the purpose) or with FRH (flame-less ration heater) packs.
I got a couple of packs – one beef stew and one cheese tortellini.
Texture wise, these are pretty good. They are hearty for the minimal calories they contain. On the 1-10 taste scale, I rate them fairly low, however. Beef stew is a solid 5. The tortellini is a reaching 4.
The other downside is the packaging. The full packs weighed 8.8 oz and 8.2 oz respectively. Once empty, they still are kinda heavy. I didn’t weigh them, but I also didn’t fillet the package open and clean out the excess food. On the trail, I think this would need to be done to keep the scent down and the weight as well.
Another concern is the calorie count. From the Noots (nutritional information, that is), there are only 220 calories or so per meal. That may not be enough to keep up with the burn rate. So, that means extra food or doubling up on entree packs.
The benefit to these things is that they require no planning. Buy a box, pack em on top and go.
I arrived early on the 14th, feeling the need to maximize the time. After setting camp and getting the water I decided to climb the hill that’s right next to site 107. It was a steep climb, and about 2/3 of the way up, my 12×10 tent was no longer visible through the brush. Reaching the top, the hill flattened out for 75 yards or so, and the tree cover was not as dense. It occurred to me that this may be a good hide for hunters, so I didn’t stay long. At this extreme altitude (1050 ft.) my phone was able to hit a distant tower. I went techy for a few minutes. I dismissed all such notion about days past when technology was not a daily staple. “You lived in 1837? Sucked to be you.”
YSRF Little Paint Camp contained the normal population for this particular weekend. One group of hunters had dug in for what I’m sure was a two or three week stint. They erected a sizeable canvas tent complete with woodstove and other amenities. We were jealous.
Another couple lounged with laptops. Huh? Yeah, I love technology, but can’t we at least leave some of it at home?
Nonetheless, I am still totally fascinated by GPS. The whole deal is pretty miraculous. Satellites in geosynchronous orbit, time shifts, Kalman filters, ephemeris errors, all of it. Some of it I know for my job, but most of it I learn for the sheer wonder.
Availing ourselves of both our GPS units, my Nuvi and Scott’s Lowrance, we geocached the crap out of Harper’s Ferry and went as far as Prairie Du Chien. Geocaching is more pleasant when most of the search if from within the spacious Toyota Tundra. I like walking, but the point of the find is the find and not the hike. At least, that’s my take on it.
Some of the caches near the river were totally underwater. The river was relatively high for this time of year. Maybe we can nab those next year.
Of note, always, is the food and drink. The steaks and the burgers tasted better than ever. It must be a combination of being outdoors, relaxing, having a fire and some minor cooking skill that makes these meals so memorable.
Plus, this was my first ever Bloody Mary, and my first second, third and fourth and fifth Bloody Mary. These things are totally Jugs Mahoney. Who knew? Or, I mean, why wasn’t I told! Garnishes included shrimp, a beef stick, a pickle spear, olives and cheese. They just don’t stop!! I should have one everyday for lunch. I’d probably loose weight, and be able to tolerate the remaining 4 hours of work.
Little Paint Campground:
Intersection of Donahue Rd and State Forest Road, Harpers Ferry, IA 52146
Or, at about 859 State Forest Road
The coordinates of campsite 107 are 43.18672, -91.235042
On this date, I have been alive 16658 days, today inclusive. Half of my life is therefore 8329 days. I moved to Iowa on January 10th, 1987. More than 8329 days have elapsed since that time, so I have lived in Iowa more than half of my life. Matter of fact, the 8329 day mark occurred on Halloween, 2009. That’s apropos. As I think about this, it depresses me. I only wanted to be here 10 months to 2 years. I’ve never liked it. But, I tend to make the best out of bad situations, so, I’ve stayed. Plus, my mortgage is so friggin’ cheap I can never move and maintain my current cigar budget.
Iowa has gorgeous rolling hills and massive farms that no doubt help feed the world. I’ll state that one positive thing before I rant on about what irks me about this place. First, the taxes are incredibly high. Property tax is about average, but income tax is brutal. It’s close to 9% for those who make any reasonable amount of money. And, the sales tax is 6% plus 1% local option. All this ranks Iowa at 26 for tax burden, as compared to other states. However, all the other nanny state laws makes Iowa looks less attractive. For example, there are killer fees for car registration. For a new car, expect to shell out $300 per year for five years. There are other hidden fees everywhere. For example, it’ll cost you $1.25 per extra bag to toss more than a single 35lb bag of garbage each week. And, with mandatory recycling, you’ll pay extra on your water bill for the handling fee. For that matter, you’ll also use more water, since recycled materials have to be “clean”. I love washing out milk jugs and spaghetti jars. I probably waste a couple hundred a year on hot water just for the “pre-processing’ of what ultimately is sorted garbage.
In my city, the recent addition of camera enforced intersections have been particularly annoying. These systems not only issues tickets for those running a red light, but they monitor speed as well. There have been reports of people getting tickets for going 41 in a 40. Although common throughout the US, the seatbelt laws seem to be nothing but a cash cow for local police. These impish things grate on me, perhaps more than I should allow. I know other places are going to have similar chronic money sucking mechanisms, but I’ll tolerate much to be something other than an Iowan.
The advantage of the quick strut is speed in the removal and replacement operation. There are no springs to compress and no messing around with the bearing plate or boots. You just take the old one off and throw the new one on, and done. The two rears took me about 4 hours in total. It would have been a bit quicker, but that little stabilizer link is very difficult to get off. The nut cannot come off the spindle simply by holding the inner spindle with a hex wrench. There’s too much torque required. I soaked it in PB Blaster and finally was able to grab the back of the mount with a vice grip. To do it again, I’d probably just cut these free and put on new ones.
