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- #81
So, picking back up with the story at Tres Papolotes....
Consistent with his role as the token hippie, Ron is a minimalist camper. Instead of rolling with the usual #EAF accoutrements, he basically shows up with his camera equipment, ENO hammock, a rain fly and some "big bend" craft label "swill" that he picked up en route from the natty.
Because the desert is pretty much devoid of trees, I see him wandering around hopelessly during camp set up, and, in a moment of sympathy, I offered to to let him use my roof rack as an anchor point for his hammock.
Ron is not a small human being... 6'5" maybe 7'4" with the hair, maybe 8'9" in full strut with the man-bun. Of course, the un-intended consequence of a Siamese sleeping arrangement with a giant Sasquatch was that any time he/it rolled over or re-adjusted during the night, my entire truck (and thus my trailer/tent) shook as if Godzilla was walking through camp.
Due to a combined assault of desert dust, cigars, and a night of particularly hard living around the camp fire, I woke up the next morning with an accelerated case of the nappy headed overlander... In the fog of my hangover, I grabbed my toiletry bag and evaluated my options for returning my hygiene to proper #EAF standards: I initially grabbed my shampoo and was preparing for a nice whore's bath with Jerry Can water when I noticed that my electric razor had inadvertently made the trip... and still had a charge..... Hmmm.... Lightbulb.... Screw the cold camp shower; off with the hair.
As I was giving myself what was likely the first ever self-administered head-shaving at Tres Papolotes campsite, Sasquatch returns from somewhere (probably destroying the tents and cars of innocent campers in hot pursuit of jack links beef jerky) and hears the buzzing of my electric razor. He says "I'm glad I didn't hear that noise from your tent last night." To which I sarcastically replied: "Don't worry, you will tonight" (and, of course, the warnings of "don't push back" echo in near perfect unison from others throughout the campsite).
"I'm not sleeping anywhere near your truck tonight" Ron replies, and I simply smile while quietly reflecting on the near-perfect execution of my Jedi mind trick.
Because we were too far away from the nearest court house for Ron to obtain an appropriate restraining order, Ron kept a respectable 15 foot buffer zone between himself and the rest of us for the rest of the trip (even camping the next night on a distant out-cropping risking certain death in a category 5 hurricane that blew through camp (pics/story later). In fact, despite being a pro photographer, he wouldn't even set his self-timer to join us for our first album cover that he took later in the trip....
Not Pictured - @Papalud - roadie.
Consistent with his role as the token hippie, Ron is a minimalist camper. Instead of rolling with the usual #EAF accoutrements, he basically shows up with his camera equipment, ENO hammock, a rain fly and some "big bend" craft label "swill" that he picked up en route from the natty.
Because the desert is pretty much devoid of trees, I see him wandering around hopelessly during camp set up, and, in a moment of sympathy, I offered to to let him use my roof rack as an anchor point for his hammock.
Ron is not a small human being... 6'5" maybe 7'4" with the hair, maybe 8'9" in full strut with the man-bun. Of course, the un-intended consequence of a Siamese sleeping arrangement with a giant Sasquatch was that any time he/it rolled over or re-adjusted during the night, my entire truck (and thus my trailer/tent) shook as if Godzilla was walking through camp.
Due to a combined assault of desert dust, cigars, and a night of particularly hard living around the camp fire, I woke up the next morning with an accelerated case of the nappy headed overlander... In the fog of my hangover, I grabbed my toiletry bag and evaluated my options for returning my hygiene to proper #EAF standards: I initially grabbed my shampoo and was preparing for a nice whore's bath with Jerry Can water when I noticed that my electric razor had inadvertently made the trip... and still had a charge..... Hmmm.... Lightbulb.... Screw the cold camp shower; off with the hair.
As I was giving myself what was likely the first ever self-administered head-shaving at Tres Papolotes campsite, Sasquatch returns from somewhere (probably destroying the tents and cars of innocent campers in hot pursuit of jack links beef jerky) and hears the buzzing of my electric razor. He says "I'm glad I didn't hear that noise from your tent last night." To which I sarcastically replied: "Don't worry, you will tonight" (and, of course, the warnings of "don't push back" echo in near perfect unison from others throughout the campsite).
"I'm not sleeping anywhere near your truck tonight" Ron replies, and I simply smile while quietly reflecting on the near-perfect execution of my Jedi mind trick.
Because we were too far away from the nearest court house for Ron to obtain an appropriate restraining order, Ron kept a respectable 15 foot buffer zone between himself and the rest of us for the rest of the trip (even camping the next night on a distant out-cropping risking certain death in a category 5 hurricane that blew through camp (pics/story later). In fact, despite being a pro photographer, he wouldn't even set his self-timer to join us for our first album cover that he took later in the trip....
Not Pictured - @Papalud - roadie.
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