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Mudlaig Jackson

Sep24
by Greg Cravens on September 24, 2013 at 9:11 am
Posted In: Dirty Pictures

When I first set up this website (back in late 2010.  I can’t believe that, really.) This is the sort of thing I had in mind for the ‘dirty pictures’ pages.  Literally pictures of dirt, and people covered in it and wounds with dirt on them and stuff like that.  It’s changed, as things do.  The ‘dirty pictures’ portion of our show has become a little sillier and a little brighter.  I dig silly and bright.  I’m good with that, and I hope you are too.

But today, we take a barefoot step back to the original concept.

We got off the trail, and as the others and I were cleaning up bikes, our shoes were wet enough without hosing them down any further.  I peeled my feet bare and got this:

MistahMudlaigMan.  It takes something like this to realize the important things, doesn’t it?

I have GOT to tan my ugly feet.

 

└ Tags: bike, dirt, feet, Mud, muddy, spray, Ugly, wash
2 Comments

Spyderco Delica

Sep19
by Greg Cravens on September 19, 2013 at 11:15 am
Posted In: Talk About Toys

I mentioned in an earlier post that I really liked my Kershaw pocketknife, and kept it, even though I’d damaged and re-ground the blade.

I also mentioned that I had carried a Spyderco knife previous to the Kershaw.

I didn’t, I think, mention that I now carry a Spyderco again.

Here it is:

SPYDERCO delicaI originally happened across Spyderco knives when I started kayaking rivers where rescue ropes were routinely seen.  Every PFD (lifejacket) that I’ve ever owned had some kind of tab for affixing a knife, and the bulky overstuffed thing I first wore on the Nantahala river was no different. Time, then, to get a knife.

I had an old sheath knife in a waterproof box in my boat, but that was mostly for eating lunch with- no way to get at it efficiently during a problem, you see.

I remembered the sort of utility/rescue knives some scuba divers had, from my days when I dived a little.  Those were really cool, but they were very single-purposed in a multi-purposed way, what with their screwdriver ends and barbed line-cutters and saw edges on the back and all. They were scuba knives, and not for anything else.

Gerber made some nice kayaking knives a little like that.  Plastic sheathed, made to wear upside down so you could reach up to your PFD, grab the handle and bring it down and out to where you’d want it. Square tipped for screwdriving. Very cool. Good for PFD.  Good for tacklebox.  Couldn’t put it on your belt or in your pocket unless you wanted to be made fun of.

Instead of that, I bought a folding Spyderco knife.  It looked like something I could use on the river and in my pocket.  Molded plastic handle, with a big, round thumbhole in the back of the blade for single-hand opening.  Very slick.  Little pricey, but not so much if you think you might carry it around all the time, not just on rivers.

So I bought the one that was all they had left in that flavor- half regular blade, half serrated and not too big or small.  Delica.

Turned out great.  It was a little iffy on the knife tab of my PFD.  The integral clip could have been longer, and it would have stayed put better, but I kept an eye on it and it worked out okay.

And, of course, I never used it to free my (or anyone else’s) ankle from a trailing rope or unfortunately placed fishing line.

It was hell on FedEx boxes and the like, though.  Zip, zot, and you’re in.

And I lost it.

And I got another.   I may have found the first one again, if memory serves.  And then misplaced and refound both in turn for a while.

While I still had the first one, though, I was wearing it clipped to the edge of my right-hand pocket like I (and various outdoor workers, rednecks, woodsmen, and doughty men ’round the world) do, when I spotted a couple of friends at the pet food store.  One friend ran in for dog food and the other (a well-known local radio personality! Hi Bev!) stayed outside to watch their dogs and chat.  “Where’d you get the left-handed knife?” she said.  She obviously knew more about knives than I do.  “The whuh?” I said, intelligently.  She pointed out that the way the knife was turned in my pocket, it was meant to be a lefty.  I thought back to when I bought it years and years before.  THAT was the reason they only had this one left. “Left” being the operative word.

Turns out that the way I like to slide my hand straight down the knife in my pocket, draw it out and open it one handed is a little backward to what people usually like.  I do better with a lefty set up.  Weird.

I didn’t really think much about it ’til I got that nice Kershaw.  I drew it out of my pocket the same way, but there was an extra little roll of the hand to get it ready to open that I wasn’t used to.  I got used to it, and liked the way a Kershaw springs open.  And like I said, I stuck with Kershaw, and made gifts of Kershaws for a few years.

This last time, feeling I needed a whole knife blade again instead of the little re-ground thing I was down to, I went back to the Outdoor store to get a Kershaw (Bass Pro Shops, at least the one I go to, no longer carried them, and though everything’s available on the internet, I like to shop in person.)  And saw the Spyderco knives.  No longer molded all of a piece, the clips are now metal and bolted on, and can be changed around to suit the buyer.  There was a mixup on the price, and I discovered that it was half again as much as the Kershaw I had come in for.  “Screw it.”  I thought.  “I’m going back to the ol’ Spyderco.”  and I did.  And it was a little iffy going back to opening a knife with my thumb the first few times, but it all came back.  I now pull it out and open it, and then a box, without thinking about it.  Nice.  Plus, another thing that irritated me about the Kershaw was the way you closed it. The lock was inside the handle, and you moved it aside with your thumbnail, then got your fingers the heck out of the way before you close it up.  Not a problem, really, but it was tricky when I was teaching knife safety to cub scouts.  (there were no injuries.)  The Spyderco has the lockswitch on the back of the handle, so you can put your fingers across the back of the blade, push the lockswitch with the other hand, and, just like the Cub Scout Bears book tells you, safely close the knife.  I like that better that the Kershaw, even if opening the Kershaw is totally, totally, really cool.

So, there’s your product review. Spyderco.  If you have the extra bucks to spend on a knife, and you have the hand and head for carrying and opening a knife the way I do, then they’re great.  Worth returning to, even after years.  I attest to that.  Their steel is Japanese, and their logo looks more like a tick to me than a spider, and now you have all the details.  Looking for a pocketknife?  Look close- there are imitators of Spyderco, with spider or ticklike logos and everything.  Spyderco’s a good choice. I will not attest to the cheap knockoffs.

Oh.  And I now wear one of those clever multi-use Gerbers on my PFD.  I’m not risking a good Spyderco on the river any more.

G

 

└ Tags: Bev Hart, Gerber, kayak, Kershaw, Knife, knives, PFD, serrated, Spyderco
1 Comment

A Smile a Day Keeps the ER Away

Sep17
by Jeff Cravens on September 17, 2013 at 10:57 am
Posted In: Play Nice

by Jeff Cravens:

Jeffbike

I got home from work while it was still light.  I had been neglecting my bike trails.  They were lonely and needed me.  I told my children not to play with the knives or drive heavy equipment for at least 15 minutes. I hopped on my bike and shot down the trail at full, liberating speed.  I had a grin on

my face the whole way across Boarder Trail, up the Balsam Root Spur, across Birthday Bridge, down Arrowleaf Trail and out Maple Lane.  As I rode out onto the gravel road and started the long slog back up to the house, I was chuckling to myself. It had been a glorious ride.  Mucho mojo.  Groovitude on two wheels.

At home, I went inside and found that my children had not damaged anything or anyone.  Lap 2 was calling my name.  I went back out, put on my game face, and set my mind to break the speed record.  After all, I was on fire.  My previous run was the best I’d ever had.  I had hit all the banks high, tossed my bike underneath me in the curves, and nailed all three jumps.  What could go wrong?

I shot down the trail determined.  I wasn’t going any faster, but I was working harder.  Half way down Boarder Trail, the front of my bike decided to take a short cut down the hill.  I hit the ground like a blunt Yard Dart 10 feet down the bank.  Neither the bike nor I was broken, and the dirt bath was not going to interfere with the rest of the lap, so I dragged the bike back up on the trail and took off again.  Before the next intersection, my subconscious wanted more dirt in my pants, so off the trail my tire went again.  On this blooper, I managed to contain the wreck to the trail.

Back on the trail, I wobbled over Birthday Bridge and tried to conjure up some mojo for Arrowleaf.  As I gained speed on the downhill, I felt better, then hit the Arrowleaf jump hard and sloppy.  I barely held on in the big bank, and fought the bike through the S curves.  I needed to get the flow back, so I released the brakes on the high bank to let it ride.

As I once again drove my bike off the trail (this time at high speed), it occurred to me that I suck.  This wasn’t a dirty wreck.  This one put me square into a batch of choke cherry bushes and weeds.  I clawed out of the choke cherry, dragging my bike and apologizing to my shins, while checking to see if my eyes had been poked out.

I finished the ride with a bit more humility.  Even so, I was shaky on the last bridge, and almost hurled my body into the woods on the Maple Lane jump.  I coasted out to the gravel road with a little less skin and a lot more dirt than I started with.

As I meandered up to the house, I pondered the remarkable differences between the two rides.

The first ride was thoughtless and wonderful.  The second ride was purposeful and horrendous.  As I replayed the first run in my mind, I realized the real difference in the two laps… the smile.

On the first run, I had felt joy.  I was simply happy to be out there.  Happy to be alive and on my bike.  On the second lap, I mucked it up with the idea of breaking a record, which wiped the smile off my face.

I think it’s the same way with every hobby.  Whether you are a runner, a skateboarder, or a champion horseshoe thrower, we have to stop keeping score sometimes.  We have to stop thinking and pushing.  We have to do the things we love for the joy of doing them.

The joy is enough.

The joy is the reason we keep doing it.

The joy is pure gold.

(Ed. Note-  You can see the video of the trail he’s describing HERE.)

└ Tags: bike, dad, jeff, Joy, jump, kids, Lap, trail
3 Comments

Hoverbikeski

Sep14
by Greg Cravens on September 14, 2013 at 12:32 pm
Posted In: Gideos, Talk About Toys

KNO3 sent this in.  It’s all in Russian, and I don’t read Cyrillic letters, so I can’t tell you what the heck they’re talking about.  I can assume it’s a sales pitch, as some of the funnier things I can imagine happening DON’T happen in this video.  And the music is awfully serious.

This looks like some pretty good homespun tech going on.  I say what we do is show the video to a bunch of Swiss engineers and tell them that they probably couldn’t build anything better.  In the space of a few months, they’d have it down to a two-kilo racing vehicle that hovers a good two feet up and also folds neatly into its own case.  In red anodized finish. Then, we find those trials bike guys in Scotland and tell ’em THEY can’t find a way to ride it up and over, say, a smallish mountain and the roofs of the town on top thereof.  Then we bring whatever they invent over to the United States, have Mountain Dew sponsor a big race on these things, and pretty soon, China will be producing them for SportSmart to sell at a price we can all afford.

Boom.  Fun.

└ Tags: bike, china, engineer, Hover Bike, mountain dew, Russia, scotland, swiss, trials, united states
3 Comments

Proud Papa

Sep10
by Jeff Cravens on September 10, 2013 at 6:33 am
Posted In: Lies Around The Campfire

Proud Papa

 Jeff Cravens

 

When I was a kid, my parents did not jump off cliffs.  Now that I think about it, I’m practically certain that they have never jumped off cliffs, and have no plans to do so.

 

In contrast, I have jumped off many cliffs…  into water.

photoJUMP

Not really big ones like the guys in Mexico.  Those guys are definitely missing the parts of their brains that tell them not to smash their heads into a wall of water at 100 miles per hour.

I have jumped off cliffs into the Puget Sound, the Pacific Ocean, Nada Lake, some lake up in Canada, Firehole Falls in Yellowstone, Pine Creek in Zion National Park, and a bunch of other places.  It’s exhilarating.  It’s fun.  It’s the kind of thing that make your endorphins do a Hoochie Coochie dance.

My son is the kind of kid who does not jump off cliffs.  He is cautious.  He is intelligent.

So, I had to work really hard to convince him to jump off a cliff.

The cliff in question is perfect.  It’s located on the Columbia River between two dams.  The water is deep, cool and beautiful.  The basalt cliffs are easy to climb up, and they shoot down 30 feet vertically underwater.

AJ and I put my 14 year old son, Jay, in the boat and headed up river.  We motored up to the rock wall, and killed the engine.  Gorgeous day.

AJ and I went first.  We climbed up to a ledge about 20 feet above the water.  AJ did a beautiful dive.  While I watched him, I thought to myself, “Dern, I wasn’t planning on diving from this high up, but I guess I have to now.”

My dive was less than attractive, but my shorts stayed on and I didn’t do a back flop, so I counted it as successful.

Next, I climbed back up with Jay alongside.  We stood at the 20’ ledge and looked down.  Jay decided we were insane and climbed back down to about 12 or 14 feet.

That’s my boy.

After a bit of calm cajoling from me and AJ, he stepped out into the air and splashed down a long moment later.  I saw the smile coming to the surface before I spotted his blond hair.  He had swallowed the fear and felt like a million dollars.  I was a proud papa.

One week later, we were back at the Columbia.  Jay asked if we were going back to the cliffs.  I figured he wanted to tackle that 14 footer again.  We convinced my friend and his son to join us.  At the bluff, Jay was the first to volunteer.  He climbed up to the 20’ ledge and looked down.  Then he climbed several feet higher!  With only a brief pause, he launched out into mid-air with a big smile on his face.

I couldn’t believe he just jumped off something that would have scared the shorts off of me!  My cautious son.  My risk-adverse son.  What have I done?  Is he going to drop out of school, buy a Speedo and move to Acapulco?

As he accelerated toward the water, Jay’s smile turned into a look of pure terror.  It was a long drop.  There was enough time to regret the decision.

Upon making contact with the water, we heard the slap of his feet and arms, which must have hurt.  He surfaced quickly.  He was not smiling.  He looked shocked and a bit relieved.

A few minutes later, Jay climbed up again for one last jump with my buddy’s son who is only 8.  They were about 10 or 12 feet up.  Jay expressed no interest in going back up to the high ledge.

A week has passed since that jump.  Normally, the kids are disappointed when we don’t go to the river for the weekend.  But this time, I’m pretty sure Jay’s reaction to the news was that of relief.

That’s my boy.

└ Tags: AJ, Columbia, Jay, jeff, jump
4 Comments
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