I finished one tomato while riding my bike back, and would have another down before the night was over. I was excited. No more mussels or killies. Finally, something substantial. I almost wept surveying my bounty:
I was not the only one happy that night; my family was ecstatic. It was plain on my face all day how badly I was feeling, but they also knew there was nothing they could do about it. They were finally content that I had something, and the fact that it was all traditional Italian ingredients was not lost on me.
I could barely go to sleep, feeling like a kid at Christmas. Recipes danced through my head where sugarplums should have been. I was gonna make it.
I finally have a goal, and formed a plan to go with it. I waited until 9 pm, so the sun would be down, and jumped on my bike with a backpack ready to collect my bounty. I described my plan to the cameraman (Mike) who came along for the ride (all videos of the operation are pretty much in the dark, so consider them audio files):
I had brought little equipment with me in order to have as much room in my bag as possible: a flashlight, used only to identify what I was grabbing (though NV goggles would have been nice), and a knife in case I needed to open any bags. Hopefully it would be enough.
The following video is a bit long, and I don’t have video editing software out here in the wilderness to break it up. It covers the operation in its entirety though:
Oh, and in case anyone is wondering, I will be settling up for borrowing this food when everything is over. My conscious wouldn’t let me do otherwise.
Fate had stifled every attempt I had made to get out of my current predicament, I fell into a rut. It seemed all was lost. What was I going to do now?
I decided to take a bike ride to sort things out. I was hoping a little bit of exercise would clear my mind.
I passed a farm I had seen before, and having nothing to do, decided to investigate it again. The plants were just put in, meaning there was nothing edible around. While this was nothing new, it did however reaffirm my current position:
The cursory glance had given me nothing, but having time to kill I ventured further into the farm, closer to the storehouse and shop itself. Peering around, there were people around, but nothing of interest. This appears to have been a bust as well.
Until something caught my eye. Onions! Bags of onions, hiding in a overhang! Could it be the break I desperately needed? My luck was finally turning. But there were people around, how to take them:
I decided to come back at night, those vegetables would be mine.
I had found what appeared to be a squirrel nest, which meant I had a chance. Starvation and visions of red meat filled my eyes:
When you haven’t eaten anything substantial in 5 days, and even then only once every 24 hours, this would be a feast.
I circled, looking for the best point of entry. There were about 5 of them hanging around. I had to get at least one, right?
My aim was actually dead accurate, but my timing was off. I hit where the squirrel was, rather than where it was going to be. One inch made the difference between dinner and despair:
Having gone this far, I decided that I couldn’t just give up. I had to give it one more chance. Seeing one in the tree, I circled looking for the path of least resistance. Finally I gave another heave, praying I saw a stunned squirrel tumble out:
Instead, disaster struck. Wunderstick had broken in half, diminishing its abilities greatly. I mourned its passing:
Getting desperate, I searched around in another place where I knew rabbits hide, but there was nothing around. In a last ditch effort I decided to try fishing one last time, but to no one’s surprise that was a complete failure as well.
Time to cook dinner then, the usual mussels and killies. Today I spent far more time preparing everything, hoping to make it a little more palatable; the fish were scaled, split, and gutted.
I decided that I would cook in the cast iron pan instead of boiling. Anything for a change of pace at this point:
At least there was a nice char on everything, which would hopefully make the difference between gagging and not gagging.
It looked good (relatively speaking):
But did it taste good?
If choking the whole way down is your idea of delicious, then it was a 4 star meal. Unfortunately the spine still got caught in my throat, which meant I had to use the usually method of eating everything; pinch my nose, drink some water and then swallow everything down whole.
At least I had a little bit of energy. I needed to do something.
I returned to base exhausted and empty handed. I knew what I had to do: fill up the mummy trap and collect mussels to get them soaking. Even if they made me almost boot with everyone, I still had to have something ready to go. Just looking at them filled me with dread.
My other set of grandparents (nicknamed big, because of the size difference from my dad’s parents) showed up, as they had been dying to see how I was. My grandmother is an encyclopedia of beach fruits, especially what was safe and unsafe to eat. I had a hunch a plant I had found was rose hips, which she makes into a delicious jelly. While bitter, the berries would provide a different flavor and some much needed nutrients:
She confirmed that it was indeed rose hips, but the berries were nowhere near ready. Those were buds and the berries didn’t come around until July. Damn July was haunting me.
So all I could do was admire the plants, which wasn’t much satisfaction right now:
At that point I scoped out someone’s private garden that I had seen in my earlier travels, hoping there was a little bit of lettuce I could snatch:
Nothing, not even a string bean. Instead I had to head back and watch everyone enjoy my favorite beach beer (Miller Chill):
And my favorite type of beer, A belgium white (Southampton double white to be exact, a fantastic beer):
Lauren wouldn’t even sit next to me because I was a bit gross.
So my day started with a serious of efforts to catch anything of substance, and especially anything that wasn’t mussels or killies.
First up, crabbing.
There is a marsh where with a series of bridges crossing it where crabs apparently hang out. While I was doubtful (crabs usually blossom July or later), anything was worth a shot. I was desperate though, so off I went with crabbing gear and my rabbit/squirrel as well. I had learned my lesson the day before when I was ten feet away from a rabbit, but all of my equipment was back at base. That would not happen again.
So off I went with camera crew in tow, trekking long and far until finally the bridges came into view.
While bridge spanned more marsh than water, it was definitely the right location. With at least ten more bridges in view, there was a lot of ground to cover.
But what’s that? Movement! A rabbit no less! I already had visions of Roger over an open fire.
Gone. Before I could could get out “wunderstick” (here’s the inspiration for the name) out, the bastard had already hightailed it out of there. All I was left with was an insult:
Fresh rabbit droppings. Nice.
Well, nothing to do but to continue onward.
At bridge three we sighted our first crab, but it was too far and too deep for me to get at. Even if I jumped in after it, it would be long gone before I had a chance. We spotted another one closer to the shore and were unsure if it was alive or dead as it hadn’t moved at all since we had been there. Naturally, I jumped in after it:
The mud was so deep, that any attempt to walk in would be pointless.
That was the last crab we saw (it was dead), which meant a long depressing walk home.
Yesterday was my lowest day, it was the day I really began to have serious thoughts about everything. I woke up sad, tired and worn out. My hands were freezing and wouldn’t warm up not matter what I did, while my throat was sore and a bit swollen which means I’m likely getting sick.
On top of it all, I knew it was going to rain sometime soon. No matter what, I was screwed. If it rained during the day, there was no dodging getting wet. Even if I did get anything, the firewood was all wet as I have no dry place to store it.
I had planned ahead somewhat in the form of dried seaweed. I had been drying batches of the stuff for the last 2-3 days knowing that rain was inevitable. I figured this way I had some dry, edible food reserves that did not have to be cooked. Just the thought of eating any type of creature (or plankton) from the sea however was enough to make me gag. I was not looking forward to it.
My biggest worry though was not food related, it had more to do with my health. I’ve been perpetually (slightly) dehydrated, despite my best efforts to the contrary. My body now rarely tells me when its hungry or thirsty, except when truly necessary and as I mentioned I’m getting sick. My stamina is low, and I get dizzy when standing up which indicates I now have low blood pressure. For someone who is predisposed to high blood pressure, is Sicilian (naturally hot blooded, and has had 90/120 all his life, this was a radical change. If not for my current circumstances I might even be elated, as this would please my doctor greatly.
Drastic action was needed today or all would be lost.
