"I've been everywhere, man. I've crossed the deserts bare, man. I've breathed the mountain air, man. Of travel I've had my share, man, I've been everywhere." - Johnny Cash, I've Been Everywhere
No, I haven't actually been to Reno, Chicago, Fargo, Minnesota, and all of those other places that the song talks about (with the exception of Buffalo and Toronto -- I actually have visited those places). More's the pity; I wish I traveled that frequently and widely. I have crossed the deserts bare and breathed the mountain air, though. As soon as you saw the title and/or read the quote, you probably realized what this was going to be about: backpacking. Backpacking with my boy scout troop, I've done those things and others besides. I know that I've done many moral compass entries about backpacking already, and there's more to come; it'll take the whole year for me to exhaust my supply of BSA Troop 680 stories. Here's another one. (click below to read more)
One of my favorite stories, and one that would make anyone else who was on the Joshua Tree State Park hike cringe, was the story of Broc-Cole-li. (It's a pun: broccoli is mixed with Cole, the name of the chef.) We had just put a hard day of climbing over rocks and hiking behind us, and we had another hard day of hiking ahead of us the following day. We were all ready for a good meal of spaghetti before bedding down for the night. As we set up our tents, Cole, the designated cook for that evening, set up his stove and began to boil water. For those reading this who aren't familiar with how to make spaghetti and rehydrated broccoli: you boil the water, take it off of the burner, put the dehydrated broccoli in the water and let it rehydrate, remove the broccoli, and place the spaghetti into the pot to let it hydrate.
Unfortunately, Cole was not well-versed in this procedure, and he placed the spaghetti and broccoli into the pot while the water was still boiling. As far as we could tell, the spaghetti broke down into a conglomerate mass of gluten, sank to the bottom, and stuck except for some stray chunks and the starch, which permeated the water to make a sort of soup. The result: a starchy soup with unidentifiable chunks of gray matter that could be either broccoli or spaghetti. Almost no one ate very much of that meal, including Cole. Fortunately, the adult leader for the outing had an emergency meal handy that he always carries. Unfortunately for me, I was allergic to it, so I dined primarily on beef jerky from my trail snacks that night. To be fair, Cole made up for the Broc-Cole-li meal later on that hike with a superb breakfast of gourmet omelets (I had mine without the egg). That's just one story from backpacking that I haven't told yet, and it's just backpacking. I have a whole repertoire of stories that I will tell over the course of the school year.
Unfortunately, Cole was not well-versed in this procedure, and he placed the spaghetti and broccoli into the pot while the water was still boiling. As far as we could tell, the spaghetti broke down into a conglomerate mass of gluten, sank to the bottom, and stuck except for some stray chunks and the starch, which permeated the water to make a sort of soup. The result: a starchy soup with unidentifiable chunks of gray matter that could be either broccoli or spaghetti. Almost no one ate very much of that meal, including Cole. Fortunately, the adult leader for the outing had an emergency meal handy that he always carries. Unfortunately for me, I was allergic to it, so I dined primarily on beef jerky from my trail snacks that night. To be fair, Cole made up for the Broc-Cole-li meal later on that hike with a superb breakfast of gourmet omelets (I had mine without the egg). That's just one story from backpacking that I haven't told yet, and it's just backpacking. I have a whole repertoire of stories that I will tell over the course of the school year.