View allAll Photos Tagged PartTwo
..Arouna made the voyage to Mecca from Brazzaville (Congo), at that time "France d'Outre Mer", crossing different countries of Africa with his "Pilgrim Passport ". The trip was long, he had no money but arms and legs, and it took many years. During this period he shared his work with food and hospitality. He learned different languages, different jobs, he knew different cultures and techniques.... (continuation to #3,#4)
Check out my loot from Katsucon 2010! I was SO excited to find the two mameshiba items in the back. Slippers and an animated plush. I won the onigiri handbag in a raffle, I was SO excited. My boyfriend and I went to Katsucon on Sunday only (V-Day). :)
banabila.bandcamp.com/album/feedback-modular-radiowaves-ii
KINDAMUZIK:
Drie namen voor een beestje waarin drie gezichten te horen zijn; feedback - check!, modulaire synthesizer - check!, radiogolven - check! Heb je nog helemaal niks aan als je geen idee hebt wat het is, wat je ermee moet en hoe je er een beluisterbaar album of twee van moet maken. Enter: Michel Banabila; jarenlange ervaring in de achterzak, experiment hoog in het vaandel en dan vooral: nieuwsgierigheid naar waar de apparatuur hem voor verrassingen plaatst. Op deze twee albums jakkert Banabila dartel over knopjes; hij lijkt druk in de weer met podmeters en patchkabels. Een antenne plukt fragmenten statische ruis en stukjes uitzending uit de ether. Her en der knarst iets. Een pruttelende golftoon komt op; feedback dreigt nadrukkelijk platwalsend een mengpaneel zonder inputs over te nemen. Gaat daar nu de deurbel? Of is het toch een op hol geslagen brokje elektronica ergens in de keten? Banabila weet verdraaid goed wat hij kan doen, maar laat ook los. Hij weet speels vrijheid te behouden en daardoor ademen de platen een letterlijk experimenteel musique concrète-achtig aura. Verknipt en elektroakoestisch, maar ook vloeiend en verhalend; geïmproviseerd, maar ook met een hand aan de trapleuning van de rode draad. Naar beneden stuiken is er dan ook niet bij. Machinerie komt tot leven en blijkt ook gewoon een speelgoeddoos. De spullen moeten bijeen gebracht worden als op een assemblageband; tegelijk ben je wel eens wat kwijt, verkeerd neergelegd, file kwijt of corrupt, bandje terugspoelen. Drievlakselektronica kan een steriele bedoening worden waarin kille processen zich achter glimmende frontjes afspelen, met daartussen een bult spaghetti aan kabels. Ongetwijfeld zal het in Banabila's studio zo'n zooitje geweest zijn aan apparaten. Zijn absolute meerwaarde bestaat eruit dat hij de machines tot een warmbloedigheid wekt; modulaire processen en golven uit de lucht in interfererende botsingen brengt, luistert en die feedback weer kunstig inzet. En dan kom je ergens in de hoek van 8 bit-achtige gekte, Asmus Tietchens, Felix Kubin en ook de grootmeesters van de GRM, zoals Guy Reibel, uit. Nederconcreet; een nieuw genre ? (Sven Schlijper)
Free Spirit Sunday #49
This is Samui.... a puppy rescue from our trip to Thailand last month. He just arrived in Seattle on Friday and is already adjusting well (as you can see).
I found a second rock , not as large as the first ,
While #cleaningup #weeds and looking for #rocks to #throwaway in the #backyard, I #unearthed a #massiverock
I dug my way around the rock and moved it out of the hole slowly to the top, where it will stay for now until I find a new location.
The rock must be 200-300 pounds!
I found a second rock , not as large as the first ,
While #cleaningup #weeds and looking for #rocks to #throwaway in the #backyard, I #unearthed a #massiverock
I dug my way around the rock and moved it out of the hole slowly to the top, where it will stay for now until I find a new location.
The rock must be 200-300 pounds!
FOR PART I OF THIS STORY PLEASE CLICK...
www.flickr.com/photos/netdep/9455798770/
THIS STORY PICKS UP AT THE END OF PART I.....................
AND FOR PART III...(link also at the bottom of Part II)....
www.flickr.com/photos/netdep/14040205828/in/set-721576268...
He lay there for what seemed like several minutes. He knew he had to prod himself because the longer he was there the more he opened himself up for attack or ambush from either side or the rear. Being alone definitely worked against him sometimes. From all of his previous training and experience he knew how easy it was to become "frozen," especially when confronted with a threat that one did not anticipate. He never thought, and he chastised himself now, he would encounter another person on this run. Remember that "slow is smooth and smooth is fast" he first thought about he was going to do in the next five or so seconds. Recalling further that "the body can't go where the mind hasn't been" he was in the habit of rehearsing his actions before executing them except in the most perilous times and although this was stressful he was not under active fire or threat so his first priority was to make the situation worse by doing something stupid.
"Five." He began to draw his right foot up and shift his weight to his left. "Four." Having started to shift his weight he drew his hands near while starting to move the AR15 parallel to his body to push up. "Three." He pushed himself up quickly to a squat and did a quick three-sixty sweep. "Two." He stood and brought the AR15 to a low ready position. "One." He "Graucho'd" to the front of the truck and staying off cover did a quick assessment across the street to see what became of the shadow he had seen. Nothing. He decided to get into his truck and make a hasty exit to his campsite and once there immediately break camp and relocate. He opened the door of the the truck and noticed Hope had worked her way to the front of the bed of the truck near the window in the canopy and stood looking at him. He thought she had senses the heightened awareness and was worried: well as worried as a dog can be.
"Hey!" The voice cracked the silence like an explosion. He wasn't sure if he heard it or if it was his self-talk that had begun to take over his subconscious. "Hey, the guy in the gray truck!" That time he was certain of it. Someone had hailed him and that someone was a woman. Door open, he continued to load the AR15 in and as he did he instinctively reached down to thumb the holster and release the Glock 22 from the Bladetech drop holster. He left it along his right thigh. He instantly thought that someone was trying to gain a tactical advantage by distracting him and he knew right now, right this instant, it had worked. "Get the fuck out of here, like right now!" That was all he could think and that he was rushed in that thought made him briefly flash anger at himself - slow it down. He walked around the front of the truck to get in. "I know you don't trust us but come back, we have food and medical supplies and you are welcome to return!" She yelled but it was more like a loud voice than a shout. He was close enough to hear clearly. Us? She said, "us." Later. Later he would wonder about this. His priority now was to leave the area - immediately if not sooner. Without delay he climbed in the truck. The windows had been down for the drive in and they remained down. "Thank you!" He shouted as he got in the truck. Starting the engine, he had wanted to leave enough doubt to those watching that he might let his guard down in case they were waiting to ambush him after his surprise. Turning the key, he put the truck in gear and drove in the direction of the truck and made quick progress back toward Highway 20 and to the campground. He stayed in the center if the street and although he drove quickly he was careful to scan ahead and keep a keen eye on the sides of the streets for vehicles or obstacles that might be used to disable or distract him.
His mind raced and he made a very deliberate effort to agree with himself to put it out of his mind until he reached camp. One thing at a time and this was all he could afford to think about. Being distracted led to a host of problems and he could not afford to wreck his truck or become injured because he was driving HUA as he used to say. As he neared Highway 20 he slowed but did not stop and continued to make the wide left turn that put him eastbound back toward the Gorge Campground and safety. He was weary of doubling back near where he had just driven but he considered this and speed of mission took direct priority over tactics right now. He accelerated to about forty-five and quickly saw town fade from his rear view mirror. He felt his knees shake a bit and his breathing quicken. He knew that the stress was starting to overwhelm him and knew he had to do something about it. Keeping a keen eye on the road and being very deliberate he initiated his "QR" - quieting reflex - it had saved his life countless times and he knew that right now and right here it would again. Keeping concentration on his driving he brought the words "warm" and "heavy" to his conscious and almost immediately felt his knees relax, his hands begin to warm and his tunnel vision begin to widen to normal. He also made an effort to unclench his teeth since he knew when his teeth touched it was a sign of stress and when he relaxed his jaw it was a sign of relaxation. Stress can't live in a relaxed body and a relaxed mind creates a relaxed body. He decided to take the Lyman-Hamilton Highway cutoff and stay off of Highway 20 for a bit. Since he had just traveled over it a few hours ago, he did not want to have to go back over the same territory having allowed anyone to set up obstacles or an ambush. As he neared the cutoff he was completely relaxed and decided he would stop and take a much needed break, let Hope take her break and assess his findings from Sedro-Woolley as well as secure his weapons and vest. He saw the cutoff coming up on the right and turned the truck slightly to take the road. This would cross back over Highway 20 and it was a good route for him to avoid traveling over the same roads too many times in too short a period of time. Nicholson Road was just ahead and he pulled the truck off to the left, giving him cover when he exited on the driver side to whatever lie ahead of him, and pulled well off the shoulder slightly into the brush.
He immediately left the truck, engine running and driver door opened to quickly walk into the woods. He waited at least ten seconds and made several three-sixty sweeps to make sure nothing, and no one, was around. Feeling safe he approached the truck and turned the engine off and lay the keys on the seat so the irritating chime would stop. He normally left the door open when he was stopped like this to have quick access to weapons, cover and a way to quickly leave if needed. He re-racked the AR15 and carried the Remington 870 to the back of the truck. Dropping the tailgate, he was almost hit in the chest by Hope as she bounded out of the back. He had made her wait almost too long!! She ran quickly into the woods. Replacing the Remington 870 in the nylon scabbard and arranging all the supplies in the back of the truck took a few minutes. He walked to the front of the truck and took off the plate carrier and set it in the passenger seat. All was nearly back to normal. He retrieved the GRAYL water container from the cup holder and took a long cool drink. The fresh water tasted good and he knew he needed it after his stressful event. Then it hit him, "us" she said. She? "Us." He knew better than to make too much out of the fact it was an LDS Church. Mormons were well known for being "preppers" and if there was any group would've been ready for something like "The Day" it was them and if there was any group that would offer, unconditionally, to help a stranger it was them as well.
Vest off, weapons secured - save the weapons he that kept him constant companion - and gear stowed, he waited for Hope to return. Those Vienna Sausages must've caught up to her he thought! As if she had the canine power of mind reading she came bounding out of the woods to the truck. She leapt in the bed and began to sniff and paw at the bags of dog food that had been secured at the Vet Clinic. He decided then and there rather than have dog food spread all over the bed of the truck, in every nook and cranny, he would put her in the jump seat behind him for the rest of the trip. Taking a few minutes to break down his weapons and gear gave him some time, mentally, to catch his breath. He was able to slow down. Opening the driver side access door to the truck he motioned Hope in. She hesitated, it was new he thought, so he let out a low whistle. She hopped in the cab and took a seat on the jump seat behind the driver seat. It was a little crowded with AR15 magazine, binoculars, MRE's, a grab bag and some other miscellaneous gear but she managed to fit and sit quite comfortably. He slid in behind the wheel and brought the truck to life. Back on the road with approximately an hour drive time to camp. He put all else other than getting back to camp safely out of his mind. He knew, and had experienced too many times, thinking of the next task got people in trouble. "Nothing is more important than now," he repeated to himself. In the mirror he saw Hope's paws on the back of his seat. She had stood up in the jump seat and looked over his seat to see out. She looks very intense as if studying the route. He took a hand off the wheel to give her head a reassuring pat. She seemed to like that and laid her head on the back of his seat. For the first time in a very long time he felt something strange, almost foreign, he felt content.
The drive back to camp was uneventful. Driving about the same speed as he drove there he was able to return to the Diablo Road cutoff in about the same time. Again, he stopped short and launched the drone. Again, he took his time and did not make a hasty ingress to his camping area. Again, he checked his trip wires and booby traps he carefully left behind whenever he left an area that he would return. Again, he arrived safely. Having checked everything and being assured all was safe he opened the access door and Hope let herself out. Now was the time to sit, relax and let all the thoughts that were going to come racing into his head come ahead! He recalled some advice from someone he had heard a long time ago about being lost. He often thought that having an overwhelming circumstance was like being lost. In either case it was important to stop, relax and take the problem piece by piece. He recalled that the first advice from a famous woodsman on becoming lost was to sit, relax, make a fire and brew a cup of tea! Of course the author was an Englishman but the advice was not lost. By relaxing and getting one's bearing a person would, by design, be forced to stop and take stock of the situation and far less likely to just launch off in some random direction and make the situation worse. So, in times like these, he decided to stop, put the kettle and make a cup of coffee. He also decided he would use one of his now precious Trader Joe's "sticks" of coffee since after his ordeal this morning he decided he deserved it.
Water on a rolling boil and the powder deposited into his favorite black Starbuck's mug with the bear on it he began to review the events of the day. In a typical systematic way, and a way that he had hundreds of times whenever he "hotwashed" a mission, he started at the beginning. His route selection was good and he saw nothing that needed selection except to remember not to duplicate routes. His target selection on the vet's office was good since it was the closest to the edge of town and across the street from a bank that provided good cover. His decision to even go to the vet was a good one since he could not continue to feed Hope his food; it was not healthy for her and depleted him of rations that were meant for him. Where he parked, his gear selection, the entry to the vet's office and all the rest of the mission up until the unanticipated encounter with the stranger worked out well and perfectly according to plan. It was there he took his time. The decision to go left away from the threat was a good one. Taking cover and using not only the truck but the tire was a good one. But he stopped there. He knew he saw a shadow but why did he stop? What possessed him to break what should have been protocol and drive through the threat? Why even stop? He knew in his situation that if he had taken rounds he would have been severely compromised if not killed. Had the truck sustained any damage he would be without transportation. Had he been wounded or incapacitated he knew that he would be at the mercy of an unknown adversary. There was no good reason. It was here that he knew he needed to be. Think! He spent a few minutes with that one. Rolling the warm coffee cup in his hand and clearing his mind he came to the inescapable conclusion that he stopped because he had not thought through the scenario of meeting someone. It had not even occurred to him that he would confront someone. He had grown so complacent that something this simple was not even worked into the calculus of his actions. He was briefly disappointed. To beat himself up too much was a waste of time. He was pleased that he had the insight to identify the issue because now that it was identified he could expand his repertoire to include this contingency. On to the rest of the day and the other things that caused his stomach to be in knots.
He had a few things to recall about the stranger. She was armed. She was a she. She was outside a church. She was armed with at least a long gun - that he had seen briefly in the shadow - and that told him that whatever her position it was guarded and armed. She had called to him shortly before he left and that told him she - or they - had a desire to communicate and might not be totally aggressive. She had mentioned food and medical supplies - and that made him wonder why. Food was fairly obvious and for millions of years people that greeted each other, or wanted to make friends, would extend an invitation of a meal or food as an offering of peace and welcome but medical supplies? Did she know that the plague had taken a toll and was offering supplies to provide comfort? Too many questions and no answers! It was at this point he set down his half drunk coffee and reached into his knapsack for a pad of paper to write all these questions down. He did not want to forget any of it while it was fresh in his mind but he did not want to dwell on it either. Retrieving the pad and pen he opened the book to a blank page and wrote "VET MISSION LDS FEEDBACK" and listed all the questions he had just run through his mind. He also jotted down the concerns he had about his own decisions as a reminder to take a look at this and also to make a note to begin to memorialize more of his "missions" and make a better record of his activity, not only for his inventory and mission readiness/capability but also as a way to have a "conversation" with himself after his foraging.That task complete he was able to move on with some other pressing business. Taking care of Hope and preparing to move his camp. He had decided on the way back that he would move the bulk of his camp after his encounter with the unknown female. His “OpSec” had been threatened and even if it had not he must not make any other sloppy decisions and error on the side of caution and safety. Walking to the back of the truck he dropped the tailgate and reached for one of the bags of Eukanuba that he had gotten in his foraging of the Vet office. Never making anything easy he noticed there were no perforations along the top of the bag so he would have to cut it open. Not a big deal but he had become acutely aware of each and every time he had to chop or cut anything. He realized that what had been a minor cut, or even scratch, before the days of the Plague could easily be life threatening now, not only from a loss of blood standpoint but from infection that could result in time lost from fever and recovery to blood poisoning and death. Reaching into his right side pocket he got his Benchmade Griptillian, a constant companion, and flicked the blade open to cut the top of the bag open. Rattling the bag must’ve been a real Deja Vu experience for Hope because she went from stretched out sound asleep under the tailgate of the truck to having her ears perked straight up at attention in no time at all!
Grabbing the stainless steel bowl he had made hers, he poured some of the dry food in and set her water dish next to the food dish. She bounded over and barely sniffed the contents before she made quick friends with her new food. She was one very happy dog and this was evident by the ferocity of her eating and the wagging tail. After some serious munching and crunching she took a breath and moved to her water bowl. She was very happy with her new food and made no secret of it when she came over to him and gave him the first of many “kisses” he would receive from his newest friend. As Hope walked back to her breakfast he decided it was his turn. Something quick and high calorie since today would be high energy and he had taken not wasted, enough time on his administrative tasks. Unzipping the Camp Chef Sherpa to the bag that contained food he surveyed his options. Landing on the Blackberry Crumble he put the kettle back on for hot water not only for his breakfast but another cup of coffee; it was, after all, going to be a long day!
He ate the crumble out of the bag to save washing dishes and wiped off the spoon before placing it back in the galley area of the trailer. Securing his waste in the trash bag had for this campsite he was just about ready to hook up the trailer to the truck and head off. He had spent some of the morning pouring over his topo maps of the area and decided to head a little further into the mountains and make temporary camp at a place he had been once before called Sourdough Campground. The three miles up the Sourdough Mountain Trail would give him some breathing room and change for his peace of mind but also offer a bit more seclusion. He decided to leave his Mossberg 500 in the “Just In Case” that was cached near his current campsite and everything else that had made this his more or less permanent base camp. All that would be going would be the truck, trailer and camo netting. He had planned on being at this camp about two days before hiking back to make sure this location had not been compromised. He finished securing the pintle hitch to the “doughnut” which made the connection secure. Attaching the breakaway chains complete the process. Folding up the camo netting and he was ready to move. He had started a dangerous precedent by letting Hope ride in the front next to him but his choices were limited with the dog food in the back of the truck. It was either let her ride in the cab with him or risk her making a mess of the bags of food he had risked their lives for. Moving felt good. He made the trip fairly easily and the steps to conceal the camp were made easily as well. Gorge campground had been good but too close to the highway. This would offer more seclusion and his plan was to conceal the trailer as best he could, make a couple of more caches of food and weapons then return to scout the LDS Church in Sedro Woolley for some answers in a couple of days.
The heavily wooded area of Sourdough Campground was perfect. He was able to park the trailer in a thick patch of trees with low cover that offered him the support to spread the camo net over the entire campsite. Since he was not planning on staying in this site for too long but rather leaving the majority of his gear there he would have to stay busy concealing some around the trailer and creating a couple of caches in the event he had to make a hasty retreat or return after forced from another location. He had learned a long time ago to never call anyplace “home” for long. This was at once disconcerting and reassuring. The moving every two or three days was made easy by the way he traveled – his truck and teardrop trailer – but had proven to take its toll mentally and spiritually. Now with Hope it was even less appealing since he had the additional tasks that related to having his new friend and her needs. He briefly got caught up in thinking about having a place that could be “his” once again but knew it would be quite some time, if ever, that were to happen again.
Trailer nestled between the trees and covered, non-essential gear moved and stowed from the truck, come rocks carried up from Sourdough Creek to make a fire ring, firewood gathered it was time to set about his caches. He decided he would make three. The first would be his other “Just In Case” Mossberg 500 12-gauge shotgun, set of clothes, one SOG Trident Tanto folding knive, fire starter, spare first aid kit, “First Strike Ration,” steel braided survival saw, nylon pack of two Izula arrowheads to use as spears for defense of fishing and two boxes of shotgun ammunition. Once this was assembled he set about the second, food/fire/shelter, and obtained one of the weatherproof Rubbermaid boxes out of the trailer that he had currently stored clothes in. In this he placed two complete MRE’s, six small bags of Datrex Emergency Drinking Water (4.2oz each), one block Datrex Emergency Ration, one AMK SOL series OD Green Emergency Bivvy, a Gerber firestarter and some AMK FireLite tinder. This second cache would be located near the first to provide him additional food and shelter after getting the weapons he might need if he became separated from his truck or injured for some reason. The third was the one he hoped he would never need. It was a fallback trauma/first aid cache. This was going to take the most thought. The first two were fairly routine and had been put together before, especially the food/fire/shelter one since he often concealed these ahead of camping trips when he was scouting new locations.
For his trauma/first aid cache he would have to envision scenarios that would have caused him to be separated from his truck or other standard emergency supplies. To think of this made him uneasy since the most obvious scenario would be a gunshot or encounter with a human resulting in injury. He thought of his training and reading in this area and decided that the major threats that he might encounter were the same as in his Tactical Combat Casualty Care (TCCC) training. First, bleeding from extremities his major concern. It was most amenable to self-help and most profound in terms of having an immediate result that would help him survive and continue to fight if necessary. Therefore a tourniquet was first in the cache: another Rubbermaid container that formerly housed clothes and at this rate his trailer was going to look like one large unkempt closet! To the tourniquet (TQ) he added three packs of roller gauze, half dozen four-by-fours, two pair of nitrile gloves, two Ace bandage wraps, one SAM splint, one 1000ml bag of Lactated Ringer’s Solution for irrigation with a drip set, trauma size pad and rounded out the kit with ten Providine-Iodine swabsticks and a travel size of Alleve OTC pain reliever. This was rudimentary but it was intended for self-help only and anything more advanced like airways, needles for aspiration or similar items would either take up precious room or be taken away from the main supply where they may be used later.
The caches assembled, it was now time to move on to more important tasks – dinner! Dinner tonight would be simple –it had been a long day for he and Hope. First things first. Hope’s dinner was poured into what had become “her” bowl and she knew the sound of the dry food hitting the bowl and he was reminded again of where “Pavlov” came from. The self-chuckle made him chuckle outloud. Hope had provided some company but he was still amused at his ability to make himself laugh with corny jokes and double entendres - his favorite form of humor before and still was. Both of Hope’s bowls were filled with water and food and it was his turn. Since the length of the day and all of the work, along with the fact that he did not want to build a fire, he decided to bust open an MRE. He had been in the habit of saving MRE’s in recent times since he was unsure of a resupply and they were his best bet in a pinch. Shuffling through his choices he decided on fajitas. The pack pulled apart at the top exposed all the goodies that the standard military MRE had to offer. Normally more food that he could consume in one meal, he was sure tonight he could meet the challenge. Unwrapping the contents exposed the heater unit and he poured a small bit of water into the pack and placed the chicken fajita entrée inside, folded over the heater pouch and placed it back in the box. He knew he had a few minutes until it was warm and also wanted to use the heater to warm the rice to put in the tortillas that balanced the meal. He really did enjoy MRE’s and was sorry that he had such a small amount but what seemed like and endless supply before quickly got used as his definition of “emergency” become more and more of an emergency.
With the fajita packet and rice warmed he spooned the two on a tortilla to sit, relax and enjoy. He was nearly ravenous and the stuffed tortilla began to fill a void. He ate it quickly, too quickly, and hoped he would not have to deal with any untoward visits to the latrine tree (or as he called it, the “latreen”) later. Slowing down and realizing that after his second tortilla all he had was the nut raisin mix and his evening cup of coffee. Hope had long ago finished and was sitting quietly on the other side of camp. He was pleased that she had taken to positioning herself slightly away from him and seemed to almost sense that they created an “opposite threat” awareness.
Still leery of having of having a fire he decided to warm the water for his coffee with one of his few remaining Trekmates heater pack and Trekmate flameless beaker. The Trekmate worked in a way similar to the MRE heaters but was made to heat water in a stainless steel cup that was placed in a polyethylene container in which the heater pack and a small amount of water was placed. The chemical reaction heated the stainless steel beaker as well as the water to about one hundred ninety degrees – perfect for either his Starbuck’s VIA or Trader Joe’s instant coffee with sugar and cream included. Tonight it was Starbuck’s VIA – black – he normally had two Sweet-n-Lows but they were running low and the decision had been made they would be saved.
Dinner, coffee and clean up taken care of – clean up had been to stuff all of the wrappers from the MRE and coffee into the packet the MRE came in and toss it in the garbage back he had started in the back of the truck – it was time to make arrangements to bed down. It had been dark for a half hour or so and his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Making his way over the truck he grabbed is North Face mummy bag and Big Agnes Q-Core sleeping pad. The weather was not bad for this time of year and this is all he would need to stay comfortable. He found a spot about fifteen yards from the truck and an equal distance from the trailer, almost on a triangle so he could keep an eye on both but not be too obvious to anyone approaching, and put the pad and bag on the ground. Making his way toward the truck for one last check to make sure all was locked and turned off and dark as well as the trailer to make sure of the same, he also made one last stop at the latreen to ease the load of the coffee. As was his practice when bedding down he placed his Glock and AR15 on a tarp that served as ground cover for the sleeping pad and his gear. The small S&W 642 was near the right side of his pillow and the Gerber Tactical Tomahawk was placed under the ground cloth on the opposite side from the Glock and AR.
As he drifted off to slumber his ear caught a sound but quickly realized it was Hope yawning and stretching for her nightly exercises as well. Although she would lie down a few yards away from him she always seemed to find herself lying next to him either on or near his sleeping bag in the morning. He didn’t mind and appreciated the companionship but still wondered about the day that he saw and heard the woman in town. Who was she? What group had she referred to? How many were there? Had they tried to follow him? Did they have news about what had happened? So many questions and no answers made his mind wander to the more immediate. Going o ver the plans for the next morning always seemed to make him rest easier. His list of tasks fairly short and straightforward for the next day: do last minute checks and camo on the trailer, make sure the truck was equipped for a few days away from his basecamp, double check the weapons insuring they were clean and serviceable, check ammo, food and first aid stores and make notes about what he needed to scavenge for if the opportunity presented itself. It was this last point that put him to sleep. It turned into a wish list. He drifted off thinking about what it was like before. Glad he could remember before and glad this was not one of the times that thinking like this made him bitter and angry. If anything it made him nostalgic and a bit sad. His house, his job, his friends, his wife all were gone. He remembered them but also accepted the fact that they were gone – if that was before, this is now.
He awakened to a low sun and knew it was early. As expected, Hope was half on and half off the mummy bag and quite asleep. Nothing had stirred him throughout the night and this was made evident as he checked the crude booby traps he had set about the perimeter. After a quick inspection of trailer, truck and perimeter he set about to grab an energy bar and some water for breakfast along with changing Hope’s water and pouring her half a bowl of food. She was happy with that and gladly chowed down her breakfast as fast as the energy bar disappeared. Gear check and weapons check complete he checked the back of the truck for its contents. Sleeping bag, pad, Trekmates for four days, a case of MRE’s, camp chair, hammock, clothes, a case of ammo for the AR15, one hundred rounds of twelve gauge, the drone with a charged battery and a battle pack for the Glock should see him through to his return to basecamp.
Noting the three quarters fuel on the Tacoma he knew he needed to make gas a priority. He had emptied the Rotopax getting back and forth to Sedro-Woolley and to his way of thinking he was getting dangerously low on gas. If it was a decision to park and camo the truck and go on foot with a half tank left in the truck he would do that – he had long ago made the decision to keep the truck as an emergency bug out and a half tank of gas was a bare minimum.
The decision was made to go east and not backtrack west where he had made most of sojourns. Although more mountainous and fewer places that he could seek shelter it did provide new opportunities for scavenging and fuel. According to his maps the drive would be about sixty six miles, well within the allotted fuel he had remaining before hitting his “hard stop.” He knew the route well and in earlier times he drove it for its beauty, lake views and winding relaxing roads. This time was different but he knew that all of travels had given him a unique knowledge of the area and, he prayed, an advantage over anyone else out there had they intended him harm.
FOR PART III go to this link......the story will continue....
www.flickr.com/photos/netdep/14040205828/in/set-721576268...
in the friction, in a flash, when your eyes are glittering at the top of my thick cable thigh high socks, this is where I stand, this is when I take another step, give you permission to grab at my hips, to hold me steady while you work to make me lose my concentration.
flickr.com/groups/mdpd2008/discuss/72157603942206059/#com...
( I don't do html :( but this is the link to my diary. I've decided to write different text on my diary page :)
Pilgrim's Progress part 2 Christiana FULL MOVIE 2020
Pilgrim's Progress part 2 Christiana FULL MOVIE 2020 This is a preview of a new movie. The Late Great Pilgrim's
Progress, Christiana's Journey.
Click link below to watch full movie. www.reelhouse.org/survivalchef/pilgrims-progress-part-25
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