Gascan
All chaps, no jeans.
Florida Log - Sunday - 21:46 - The Camp
I woke up with an incredible amount of gratitude… grateful I didn’t need to deal with a black bear in the night. I had been camping, you see; exploring Ocala National Forest. It was late afternoon and I was driving down trails, searching for an opening in the tree growth on either side of me, where I could squeeze-in and out of sight from the main trail. I passed a slight opening to my right, with an unused & overgrown four-wheeler trail behind it. I hoped out and walked the area. Immediately, I noticed a group of various tracks heading down into the overgrown trail, bear, coyote and either deer or wild hog. The prints were fresh, crisp! It had rained the night before and they would have been washed out if they were any older.
Forty feet down the old four-wheeler trail I came to a clearing and a literal fork in the road; on one side, the trail kept going, and 50° to my right, ran an obvious game trail. I was smack dab in the middle of a forest-animal highway junction! A confluence of critters if you will. And as the great Roland Tembo (of Jurassic Park fame) once said
“This is a game trail, Mr. Ludlow. Carnivores hunt on game trails. Do you want to set up base camp or a buffet?”
I set the table and rang the dinner bell; in hindsight of-course.
Despite the obvious black bear tracks, the location was perfect, and I set up camp anyway. Deciding that I’ll play it safe by not cooking dinner that night. I also build a small campfire, as animals have a natural tendency to avoid smoke.
Leaving the chili pepper & onion marinating steak in the fridge, I opted for peeling a can of sardines in oil. So as to minimize the scent of food, you see. And as I held the open tin in my left hand and used the right to dig out a hoagie roll, I dripped the fishy oil all over the ground, the tailgate and myself. Poop!
With the idea of minimizing my scent flushed down the proverbial toilet, I tossed a foil-wrapped potato into the fire and skewered some hotdogs onto a sharp stick. A rustic dinner, if you will.
An hour later, with a thunderstorm rolling in, I climbed up into the man-child fort that I erected - marketing folk call it a roof top tent - and went to sleep. I’m a light sleeper, mind you, the idea of a bruin walking into camp was heavy on my mind. Maybe around 11 pm, I was roused by the sound of something in camp. My body was tired, barely responding (no pun intended), I manage to roll to my side and, in an attempt to shoo off the intruder, I bellowed “ooohhhaaua!” from my slumber.
It ran off and I gave in to the welcoming embrace of sleep. No other beasts bothered me that night.
I woke up with an incredible amount of gratitude… grateful I didn’t need to deal with a black bear in the night. I had been camping, you see; exploring Ocala National Forest. It was late afternoon and I was driving down trails, searching for an opening in the tree growth on either side of me, where I could squeeze-in and out of sight from the main trail. I passed a slight opening to my right, with an unused & overgrown four-wheeler trail behind it. I hoped out and walked the area. Immediately, I noticed a group of various tracks heading down into the overgrown trail, bear, coyote and either deer or wild hog. The prints were fresh, crisp! It had rained the night before and they would have been washed out if they were any older.
Forty feet down the old four-wheeler trail I came to a clearing and a literal fork in the road; on one side, the trail kept going, and 50° to my right, ran an obvious game trail. I was smack dab in the middle of a forest-animal highway junction! A confluence of critters if you will. And as the great Roland Tembo (of Jurassic Park fame) once said
“This is a game trail, Mr. Ludlow. Carnivores hunt on game trails. Do you want to set up base camp or a buffet?”
I set the table and rang the dinner bell; in hindsight of-course.
Despite the obvious black bear tracks, the location was perfect, and I set up camp anyway. Deciding that I’ll play it safe by not cooking dinner that night. I also build a small campfire, as animals have a natural tendency to avoid smoke.
Leaving the chili pepper & onion marinating steak in the fridge, I opted for peeling a can of sardines in oil. So as to minimize the scent of food, you see. And as I held the open tin in my left hand and used the right to dig out a hoagie roll, I dripped the fishy oil all over the ground, the tailgate and myself. Poop!
With the idea of minimizing my scent flushed down the proverbial toilet, I tossed a foil-wrapped potato into the fire and skewered some hotdogs onto a sharp stick. A rustic dinner, if you will.
An hour later, with a thunderstorm rolling in, I climbed up into the man-child fort that I erected - marketing folk call it a roof top tent - and went to sleep. I’m a light sleeper, mind you, the idea of a bruin walking into camp was heavy on my mind. Maybe around 11 pm, I was roused by the sound of something in camp. My body was tired, barely responding (no pun intended), I manage to roll to my side and, in an attempt to shoo off the intruder, I bellowed “ooohhhaaua!” from my slumber.
It ran off and I gave in to the welcoming embrace of sleep. No other beasts bothered me that night.
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