The Hungry Barbarian

The boxes are finally finished and up.  I made a seperate page for them, its one of the tabs above or on the side.

Check them out to see where you stand in relation to me losing my mind.  

I’m already sick of the damn things, but its better than conch.  I couldn’t deal with the rubberbands of the sea, so I released my catch back into the wild.  Sure in a real survival situation I wouldn’t have done that, I still have the luxury to pick and choose.  My tip off that they weren’t going to work should have been when my grandmother told me she cooks them in a pressure cooker for several hours.

So its back to mussels and seaweed.  At least I found a cleaner bunch than yesterday.  I did some investigating and found a new spot:

I might never eat a mussel again after this….at least not without butter or bread crumbs.  

Its two dozen mussels for dinner.  I was smart enough this time to get them early and start soaking them in fresh water to get the grit out.  Yesterday was like eating a gravel road, not fun.  

Besides, I don’t want another incident like this afternoon. One more of those and I might have to tap out.

So here are some videos I’ve been taking.  While we had been hoping to videotape more, the camera wasn’t working so I’ve been taking all the footage on my Canon.  Seems to work good enough it just can’t get long extended sequences. 

I’ll skip my overview of shellfish stew smelling like compost and skip right to the main event: conch

My grandfather is a smart guy. He makes my favorite chicken dish ever, so I know the guy can cook. He wouldn’t trick me, would he?

Lies, all lies. I hate my life right now. 

Or actually great planning in some regards.  Unlimited water and a toilet saved me today as my intestinal fortitude completely fell apart today.  I’m not going to get into the gritty details but let’s just say I lost a lot of water.  I’m not venturing too far from base camp.

My guess is that I forgot to soak and then boil the seaweed, instead just drying it out and then roasting.  That, combined with a much smaller food intake and high salt content, likely contributed greatly.  Needless to say I learned my lesson for the day: boil everything or say bye bye to your bowels.

Sure some like Wheaties, others prefer tea and a scone, I myself prefer an egg sandwich or two, however when living off the land, there is only one way too start the day: pin needle tea and seaweed!  You know it!

To make pin needle tea take pin needles:

 Grab two rocks and crush the hell out of those needles:

Finally boil with water and enjoy!  

Yummmmm, tastes like Christmas!

And what could be accompanying it?  A fine seaweed dried, grilled and a bit smoked:

Believe it or not it wasn’t that bad.  Seriously.  Washed down with the tea and fresh water it was a meal fit for a barbarian!

I’m cold, everything is wet, the wind is whipping the tent around  and it looks like I’m going to be spending most of my day in a 4×6 tent.  Needless to say I am not happy about the world.  

This would be a hell of a lot better if I got a decent night’s sleep, but I didn’t.  My night can be broken down into 3 phases, which got progressively worse.  It’s like my own little house of horrors, maybe I can sell it to Disney as a new ride for one of their theme parks

Phase 1 - The Cricket

Sure crickets are nice to hear at night, they really set the scene nicely.  When you’re in a tent and one in on the other side of a thin nylon wall chattering constantly, murder is the only thing on the mind.  Likely it was getting back at me for noshing on some of its buddies back in the day.  

I promised myself two things as I stared at the ceiling with my eyes wide open:

1. If I ever got my hands on that little bastard, I was going to roast and eat him.  Thorax, eyes, abdomen everything, but especially the legs which is how they chirp.  I was going to enjoy him like no other meal.  It would be revenge eating. 
2. First thing I was doing when I got back was buying a jumbo pack of Crickettes.  Oh, his kind was going to pay for his transgression, likely in bacon and cheddar.  That’ll teach him to mess with me.

Seriously, I hear him now.  Doesn’t he ever sleep??????

Phase 2 - The Sprinklers      

I didn’t think much of the at the time, they were parting words from my mother.  They were nothing but an afterthought, but now they haunt my dreams.  ”Hey, let me know if the sprinklers go on.”  

If I had known then, what I know now, my life would be much different.  Simply, I would not have left the bug flaps (which let the breeze get in and keep the bugs out) open.

When the first burst of water slammed into my face, I was confused more than anything else.  Rain?  No, I had the rain guard on.  But a rain guard can only protect you against water than falls down (or at an angle), not water that is sprayed directly sideways into your face.  After the second burst left me gasping for air, I jumped up and closed all the flaps.  

But there was no chance of getting back to sleep as every time the water sprayed the tent it sounded like my head was in a drum while this was being played.

Phase 3- The Wind

Imagine yourself in a lighthouse on a high bluff overlooking the ocean.  Imagine the wind whipping past, and rattling windows, doors and anything not nailed down.  Now imagine you’re in a tent.  Finally imagine you’re me.  

Thankfully I had staked my tent down before I went to bed, but that didn’t mean the walls (or is it sides?  Walls connotes something sturdy in my mind) weren’t going to move…right into the side of my head.

 I rearranged everything to all 4 corners to at least make the place more stable; I’m going to be dealing with this for the next day at least, so I better get used to it. 

Well hope all is well in civilized society.  I hope I can get a fire going so I can have some pine needle tea.  Otherwise its going to be a bitter bitter day.