Saturday, January 23, 2010
John Hounslow, another one from the "Son of Savages" lineage. Tracing my family back I learned that we came from Scotland. Sailed to the States in a wooden ship and landed somewhere in what is now the Carolinas. The "McGee," decendent that wed a Cherokee Indian Lady that gave the world my grandfathers that gave the world me, owned a trading post in North Georgia, minted his own coins and fathered two sons, one of which was my great great great Grandfather, another man I hate I couldn't meet. Always, somewhere in me I feel an affinity towards self sufficient beings inhabiting a more pure life lived in the Outdoors. My hat is off to those that find that happy medium these days. Especially in a world that actually forces us to leave the Outdoor Life behind. My Hat is especially off to John Hounslow carry on Sir. AP
Friday, January 22, 2010
I could be a Hermit! Especially one like old Millican. He wasn't as reclusive as I would estimate a true Hermit would be. No, he liked to hob/nob with, "and it sounds like he liked to flirt with the women," the affluent folks he guided and lead on numerous expeditions. He was more than anything an individual and lived it however and wherever he chose. Good for him, and good for those who take his lead and run with it too, that is if you have the "Ca-hones." These days very rare: those that have that type of Ca-hones, that is! If you aren't born with them you will never know what I'm speaking of, sorry don't take it personally but, your Ca-hones have been bred into what you are, small. All the (go for it) is just talk with you! You will always have an excuse! So don't try and fake it, and don't irritate me by claiming to know "What The Hell," I'm talking about. Go on back to the porch and summon your friends to come and console you. Tell them what you tell yourself, " I could be that kind of man if I really wanted to be". And then go in and go to bed and lay there awake in your warm blankets and bite your lip and try and make up the best defense you can to justify why? When the dawn brakes in the morning you're going to lay in your warm bed and comfort yourself as you reach down and try to feel around and locate where your Big Ca-hones should be. AP
|Millican Dalton . . .|
• born April 20th 1867 in Nenthead in the Pennines.
• named Millican after his mother's maiden name.
• attended the Friends School in Wigton.
• father died when he was aged 7.
• family moved south and lived at Walnut Cottage, Stony Path, Essex.
• worked in London as an insurance clerk.
• keen cyclist and camper.
• left London aged 30.
• built a forest hut at Marlow Bottom, Buckinghamshire where he lived during the winter months.
• worked as secretary to the Holiday Fellowship in Newlands for a couple of years.
• camped at High Lodore.
• moved to a cave under Castle Crag in the 1920's.
• named his cave "The Cave Hotel".
• mountain guide.
• styled himself 'Professor of Adventure'.
• offered 'Mountain rapid Shooting, Rafting, Hair-breadth Escapes.'
• was always addressed as 'The Skipper '.
• made his own clothes.
• grew potatoes on the terrace outside his cave.
• baked his own bread.
• ate hazelnuts picked from the woods around his cave.
• collected ample firewood from the surrounding countryside.
• climbed trees in winter to keep fit for climbing.
• a popular guide among the lady climbers.
• invented trousers that could convert into shorts.
• took the Daily Herald.
• often wrote to Churchill demanding he stop the war.
• admired George Bernard Shaw.
• had strong views on almost everything.
• smoked Woodbine cigarettes.
• drank large ammounts of coffee.
• washed infrequently.
• was more likeable when he was standing down wind.
• built a raft named Rogue Herries.
• lit a fire on top of Napes Needle to mark his 50th accent and made a pot of coffee.
• during the cold winter of 1947 his hut burned down; undaunted he moved into a tent.
• contracted pneumonia.
• spent his last few days in a hospital ward.
• died on the 5th February 1947 in Amersham aged 79 years.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Ever now and then when the temperature goes low for a while, the ducks of the north come to lay up a while till the north thaws or they get bored, or we come calling. Thank you Dear Lord for poking a little fun at Al Gore this year, and thank you Dear Lord for all you've made that we share and thank you especially today for making Green Heads. And thanks to good friends that will set in a blind with you at 9 degrees F. and not go "Quietly Into That Good Night". AP
Alternative Uses For a Big Stove.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
A bit of what's happening in our latest culture, a bit of revolution, some words to ponder, a lot of great fishing pics form "Out there Places", latest gear, and art....... This is Fly! I have been following Paris Fleezanis and the Online Magazine for sometime. I like it! Believe me, the growing number of fly fishing enthusiasts aren't the grandfatherly stereotype. No not hardly! The new up and coming group of fishing groupies are young, successful, or not, and really crave the the headish rush of a big fish tugging on a small rig! This is where the eMag comes to life and serves it's purpose, pulling a connect the dots with the new image of fly fishing. What always impresses me is the magazines take on Art. There's always an interview with some genius of artist flair whose art embellishes the cover and other inside pages of the eMag. The writers are professional and enthusiastic about their craft and the locations they cover, Continue the good vibe. AP
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- Just Another Savage!
- I’m a Southern Boy, just 56 last November, I get around here and there, Central America, Africa, Red Bay. I’m a Father, Grandfather, Husband, Artist and general flunky of sorts. Live in a little historic town in an old building I own, upstairs in a loft thing. Just wanted to hear myself think I guess, talk about the need of simplification, show some art, express an interest or two, and see where it goes. That’s it!, That’s the deal.