The Tar Heel Outdoorsman

When you're doing outdoors stuff, you get dirty.  Maybe you're camping and have a few days of grime on you.  Or you've been out hiking and sweating in the sticky summertime.  Or you've been swimming at the beach, you're covered in sand.  You don't want to stink up the truck, all muddy and sandy, grit everywhere... all in the seats and stuck on the steering wheel.  Or maybe you're out deer hunting and need some pressurized water to wash off your fresh venison.  Or maybe your four legged friend decided to take a mud bath.   There's a simple DIY solution, a camp shower---a few pieces of PVC, some fittings, some basic tools, and a bike pump or air compressor are all you need.  Spray paint it black if you want some solar heat on a cool fall day in the field.  Of course, there are companies that build these things, for a few more dollars, but where's the fun in that? This REI write up was helpful, as was this, and other YouTube videos . ...

If you're a bit too much into gear, like me, let me show you a relatively cheap and easy way to organize and store all your stuff.  And maybe it'll even allow you a nice platform to sleep on during your outdoor pursuits, when even the dirtiest "roach motel" with a haze of perpetual cigarette smoke is miles away, or if the Holiday Inn isn't in your budget at the moment.   There are companies that make these type of truck bed storage systems, such as Decked, etc.  However, this is a cheaper, and simpler alternative, though maybe not perfectly waterproof or perfectly thief proof.  Still though, it's better than an open truck bed, with gear and tools and spent shotgun shells and Hardee's biscuit wax paper from an early morning wood duck hunt and who-knows-what-else strewn about in a homogenous mix and you can't find whatever it is you need that's somewhere in there.   If you're into gear, there's also a further chance, like me, you enjoy testin...

Who wants to build some big ol' sawhorses?  This is the first of a few DIY projects for those of you, like me, who are always starting another project, another project to better do something---to more efficiently store gear, to make outdoor pursuits a bit more pleasant, or in this case, make your truck a truck again for whatever "truck" activities life sometimes requires. If you've got a camper shell, you probably got it for the practicality.  Your truck is now essentially a "SUV," with all the extra storage, double the storage than those flat "toppers" that sit level with the bed rails, storage protected from the rain, wind, and a bit safer from the opportunistic thief who eyes those tools or hunting gear in your open truck bed.   However, sometimes you want to use your truck for "truck stuff."  That's really why you have a truck after all, isn't it?  Hauling some trash to the dump, moving a couch across town, the list goes on.  ...

I'll preface by saying this---I'm a very novice turkey hunter.  I've only been a handful of times.  Never shot at a bird, never seen a gobbler . . . and to be honest, never even heard a gobble while out turkey hunting, though I've heard them when other outdoor pursuits have called me into the woods or the swamp or onto the river.   I met up with my cousin, Jay, for opening weekend of turkey season.  The other side of his family owns some land near Laurel Hill.  The land is largely used for timber.  Lines of pines in neat rows, so open in the understory that you could drive a truck though, with a bed of pine straw covering the sandy ground.  There's almost no underbrush, aside from the stray hardwood, and the stray dogwood, blooming now with their white petals. It's cleared from regular prescribed burns and raking, I learned, so some money can be made off the straw while the trees grow.    They don't call it "the sand hills" for nothing, ...

This past summer I returned to Wyoming.  I've finally gotten around to typing a word or two about it.  

We're starting by backtracking. Not quite a year ago, a group of eight friends and I went on what would be an abnormal spring break for a many college kids.  One that didn't consist of crushing beers and getting sunburned on a warm beach. What we did was a 33 mile float down the Rio Grande, through the Boquillas Canyon in Big Bend National Park.  Flew into El Paso and rented cars.  Drove five hours to Terlingua, got to Far Flung Outdoor Center. It was dark when we got there, so we set up our tents in the parking lot.  In the chill of the next morning, we rented four canoes and hit the road.