Once again I’m the center of attention as co-workers dance about me in utter horror.
We’re leaving this morning for the Annual “Guys from work go fishing and talk smack about everyone else,” trip – and I’m being admonished to bring quarters for the shower…
“Shower? %$#@ That.”
While the other fellows roll their eyes skyward pantomiming the “Eww” face, I’m wondering how we got to this sordid gentrified state.
When I backpacked we’d use a handful of wild lavender for soap and go bare-arsed into the lake – and only then after being voted off the island. Grubby clothing and a weeks worth of stubble was nothing when you’re cutting your own firewood and survival was Rainbow Trout stuffed with the last handful of trail mix.
Add eight miles of dusty trail to a week without Twinkies, sprinkle in 5000 feet of elevation and we swore Rice-A-Roni was ladled by Wolfgang Puck hisself…
Older bro’s hushed whisper, “this lake has Brown Trout!” really meant, “maybe these are imbued with different natural spices” – as we’d run out of Lemon Pepper a week ago.
Now, with pavement leading up to a groomed fire pit and a trunkload of gleaming cutlery, thousand candlepower lanterns, and Gnocchi’s boiled over a gas stove – we’re back to white dinner jackets and fine china.
“Maybe some cold cuts and a little bread to make a sandwich, we’ll have been on the water for 15 hours, horse shit will look and taste good by then. Just keep the cleanup light – as once that food hits your belly – and after all that fishing, you’ll be asleep in minutes.”
They weren’t listening. They were lost in a land of pizza choppers hovering overhead delivering cases of cold beer and thick steaks.
It dawned on me that it’s the converse that’s true – and why I find so many empty discarded water bottles in the forest. It’s not how rough it is that characterizes the outdoor experience – it’s the degree you tamed the outdoors that now separates the hardcore from the casual.
Unless you’ve got ice cream on demand, you’re not an outdoorsman, unless you transform that 30X30 regulation campsite into your living room, complete with satellite TV and NFL Ticket, you’re a total outdoor wuss.
I’ve only got a couple of choices, yank the generator cord and watch them cry over all that wasted dairy, asking each other in disbelief whether it’s safe to eat pate and gruyere with mayonnaise that’s been room temperature for the last nine hours…
“Bob? *Sniff* Christ Jesus, the Grey Poupon’s been kilt!”
… or I could just skip the shower all three days … which isn’t nearly as fatal, it only seems that way.
… um, still deciding ..
For three days?! Skip the shower! Unless there is a thick crust (akin to that of a good rub that caramelizes on slow cooked ribs) of sweat, campfire and trail dust (and DEET, for those wussy enough to use it) that must be power-washed off by their significant other when they return, it’s not a real outing. Tell those namby-pamby mama’s boys to buck up!
I’d give anything for a weekend out in the wilderness for the privilege of not having to Shower & shave….You need to tell your staff to F***IN SNAP OUT OF IT!
Dude, it’s bad luck to shower before a fishing trip, I imagine it’s even worse if you shower DURING a fishing trip.
Stay stinky….catch fish!
Only 3 days without a shower? Let’s see, you will be fishing, so that must mean there will be water involved. So what’s their problem? They never heard of a cold shower?
Let’s face it, they likely consider you to be about half a bubble off level anyway so why be surprised at such a reaction. That’s what you get for being a crusty old fart that, to the younger crowd, represents a throwback attitude towards the great outdoors.
As I’ve grown older I’ve succumbed to some niceties. A bigger tent. A cot in said tent. A decent coleman grill to cook a relatively good but basic meal – meat, a minimum number of vegetables (usually onion or starch, nothing green), and strong coffee.
But a shower? No! Part of the shared experience is the grizzled look and feel. Besides, everyone knows that the more days you spend on the water the more mojo you accumulate. Why would you want to wash that off?
Water is for fish, not bathing.
You fish the waters of the Little Stinking and you are worried about a shower?!?
You want ice cream? Here’s your ice cream:
http://www.greatoutdoorsdepot.com/mh-freeze-neo-icecream.html
Just remember to use water from upstream of your camp.
Around Nessmuk’s Campfire (circa 1910) there used to be an old Indian saying: “Any goddam fool can be uncomfortable in the wilderness !”
Whiteman has learned nothing from ancient Indian wisdom ! Let’s hear it for the pizza chopper, the ice cream truck, the bubble tent, the cot, the inflatable mattress, the jalapeno flavored jerky, and the Grey Pupon ! Suck it, Whiteman !
Let’s hear it for Nyquil, Chief, on the eve of departure I contracted the flu. Maybe there is something to this hygiene thing …
NAW.
who needs to go camping, to go three days without a shower? Not this guy.
It seems to me that these girley-men and camp-followers your fishing with don’t understand that the correct portions of sweat, dirt, and deet combine to make the human body completely waterproof. The neoprene wader is’nt worn out of concern for the water, it’s worn out of concern for the AIR. The natural goodness is baked inside until the fishing trip is over.
Oh the humanity!
3 days, what the big deal?
Although I’m not a crazy-arsed angler, I tend to agree with the author (aka my supervisor): shower? steak?!?! WTF ?!?
A fishin’ trip of this (guys-only) type does not allow for these shenanigans (Utensils, cleanup implements, quarters for the shower; lookit all this extra crap you gotta bring now).
I was out in 100+ degree heat for 4 hours pruning wine grapes yesterday, d’ya think I showered beforehand?!?!? BZZZZZT.