The plan was the Sawyer Pond "float & fish", two nights three days, in the cold of the white mountains, yanking trout from the fridgid water, smoking, drinking and melting over ourselves because of a campfire gourmet meal. Plans fail, desire doesn't.
Saturday morning I decided I needed a fix. I left my concerned and loving wife, huffed it to the white mountains, hiked a measley hike to a trail passing creek, hiked up the babble and slung my hammock, just for the love of a creek, just for the sound of moving water, not 200 feet from the trail, not 200 feet from a water source, illegal, totally illegal, and happy, furiously happy in the meat of solitude.
one good leg and a machette is all a man needs
fridge in a post hole
photos by iphone-atard
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