Thread: The New Age Cavemen

Rad.

nice. deermeat is awesome but i hope he cooks it.

If they wanted to be real cavemen they'd cast off their trendster clothes, for buckskin pants and a fur poncho and head out into the woods with a bow and arrow or a spear and track down their food and then kill it themselves....these guys may be getting the benefits of a healthy diet, but they aren't getting the spiritual cleansing that a week long romp in the wilderness will give them...

That is what my father and I would do on at least one of our deer hunts for the year, pack our pup tents, big bag of trail mix, a couple canteens each, water purification tabs, our little pot and pan, and a small cooler with pre-peppered steaks, dozen eggs, butter and a small bottle of whiskey.... The first morning before we'd set out we'd go to this diner and eat a huge breakfast, stuff ourselves to the gills, I'd always wrap a few biscuits up and stuff them in my pockets, then we'd drive way back down an old lumber road until it became a fire road rendered impassable by a mound of dirt, so we'd get out clear some brush along side the road and back our truck into the spot, then we'd set out, find our campsite, drop our packs cover them and head out until about noon, then go back to the campsite clean it up, collect wood and then head back out for the evening hunt, the next morning we'd hunt a couple hours and then spend the next 6 hours hiking deeper into the woods, find our spot and pitch the tents, and hunt....next day we'd hunt the early morning and then hike all day to our final campsite, we'd collect firewood and then hunt that evening, then that night we'd skewer our steaks, rub them with butter and cook them over the open flames, my dad would give me a few nips off the whiskey, I'd feel the alcohol warm my blood, then we'd eat our steaks right off of the skewers, those were always the best tasting steaks... A couple more nips on the bottle then I'd read the book I'd brought and dad would sit there poking at the fire, sipping whiskey and talking about some tracks or droppings he'd seen while out that evenin', then he'd popup and soak a piece of gauze with doe urine and set his boots on it, then tell me goodnight and crawl into his little tent...then I would close my book and lay there looking up at the stars and the few stray orange ones from the fire thinking about my friends whose fathers never take them hunting let alone camping, only ever on family outings to Disney Land or some lame place....as I laid there I promised I'd get my friends to come along, not on the week long trip no this one was special for Dad and I alone, no they'd come for one of the 3 day trips where we pitched the big 2 bedroom tent and had a propane grill and a huge cooler full of steaks and eggs and bacon, and a radio and my guitar....