Wild Food: Hunters Eat Salad, Too.

There hasn’t been a lot of action around the house of late. Matt’s pushing really hard to get things done on the Ditch Boat (to the exclusion of every other task but work), and en route to Milwaukee a week ago Sunday, my kayak rack blew off my car on I94. Excellent. No outdoorsing for us, really.

This past weekend, we were invited to a 4th of July party thrown by the family of one of Matt’s college buddies. It was down in Wilmette, Illinois on Lake Michigan. I contemplated bringing a fishing pole, but opted not to. We ate and socialized, and camped on the beach. It was a pretty decent time.

Lake Michigan under steely gray skies.

Lake Michigan under steely gray skies.

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Sunset on the beach, facing north-ish

Sunset on the beach, facing north-ish

 

Waves by firelight. The lake water is definitely still cold.

Waves by firelight. The lake water is definitely still cold. Sources say about 45-50F, with some areas in the 30s.

So, when we got back, Matt dove right back into doing his work on the boat (of course). I did a bunch of yardwork, and decided a nice, light dinner was in order, after Maxwell Street Polish, hotdogs, and french fries all the night before. So after looking around at a few recipe ideas, I set out the last duck we had from last year, and picked up salad materials.

 

Arugula, watercress, duck breast, green pepper, zucchini, artichoke hearts, pickled beets.

Arugula, watercress, duck breast, green pepper, zucchini, artichoke hearts, pickled beets.

I started with watercress to go along with the idea of “if it grows together, it goes together”. I added the arugula because I like it. I also threw in some baby red leaf romaine from the garden. So I had to sear the duck, the zucchini, and the peppers.

The skin turned nice and crisp.

The skin turned nice and crisp.

Fried zucchini

Fried zucchini

Rare duck breast

Rare duck breast

After that, it was time to assembled the whole lot. I went with a nice, simple olive oil vinaigrette for dressing.

I like my salads to be loaded down with other veggies.

I like my salads to be loaded down with other veggies.

It was good. I had seconds. I’ll probably have more for lunch today, too.

We’re really hoping to make it down to Illinois again next weekend, only this time to my home town. We’re planning to go back after asian carp in the Illinois River.

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On Wood Heat

A month ago, I didn’t have a pen or paper to hand, much less the will to sit up in the dark, fumble with the lantern, and wake up my boyfriend. I also haven’t taken the chance yet to sit down and write anything about it. But I started this October tenth, around 9:30 or 10 in the morning. I’ve cleaned it up about as much as a post this length could be. We also just had our first good freeze last night- it dipped into the 20s. This week won’t break out of the 40s. Our (gas) heat’s been on for over a week now. This seems appropriate.

It was late. We’d just arrived back at the cabin after eating at a bar in town, gotten a fire going, and blown out the Coleman lantern. I was lying in the bunk, inside my sleeping bag, waiting for sleep to come. The smell of dry firewood catching in the wood stove permeated the cabin as the fire crackled and popped into life.

Plenty to keep warm.

Plenty to keep warm.

 

It isn’t just campfires that spring to mind when I smell wood smoke. Or grilling, though both of those things are there in the background. The house I grew up in had central gas heat. But we never really used it. In fact, sleepovers at grandma’s, or at friend’s houses, my mom would warn us to pack sweatshirts and thick socks with our warm jammies. We wouldn’t be used to the 50-60 degree temps in houses warmed by electricity or gas. Our house was a steady 75+ degrees. And dry. We never had a problem with mold or mildew, especially in the basement.  That’s a problem I’m still slightly perplexed by it when it happens. The floors were always warm. The smoke stained the walls, though.

My grandfather lived in the hills in Kentucky in the warm months. It was the middle of nowhere. He had electricity that he used sparingly, and no plumbing. He loved it. But as he got to be an older man, he couldn’t get around as well in the winter. Never even mind that George had smoked Lucky Strikes like a chimney for 30 years after leaving the Army once World War Two was over. He had emphysema to boot. So, in winter, he would spend time at his daughters’ houses in Illinois. When he stayed with us, he didn’t mind taking the spare bedroom in our unfinished basement in the least. It was warm as could be down there.

Our house wasn’t big, fancy, or all that pretty. My hometown had been a coal mining town when it was founded in the 1800s. The mines had been just outside of town, though town would eventually grow up around the mine shafts when they closed. In fact, just down the road from us, one of my childhood friends grew up on Shaft Street, which had one of the only steep hills in town (Illinois, remember)- it was a boarded up, back-filled mine shaft entrance. It was fun to ride our bikes down. Our house had been a coal miner’s shack. Only the kitchen was original; it had had a basement dug underneath it, and the livingroom, bathroom, and two bedrooms added onto it.  It was sided in pebbledash stucco. The front porch was a concrete slab that was slowly collapsing.

My parents bought that little house when I was two, right before my younger sister was born. It was on a double lot- right around an acre of land, even though we were in town. The house came with a tree trimming and felling business. A big, yellow, aluminum Morton building at the back of our yard housed an old, white GMC boom truck; an ancient International dump truck and the industrial sized, yellow Eureka wood chipper it pulled parked in front of the shop. Dad would add to the collection of Stihl chainsaws and old dump trucks, eventually purchasing two smaller trucks: an old red Ford that ran like hell, when it wasn’t running entirely too rich, and an old red Dodge, which had a gas tank so rusted on the interior that my dad and his crew would take extra fuel filters with them on jobs outside of town, and swap them out on the side of the road.  He got the dump trucks from salvage, making them run again with trial and error and memories of high school auto shop. He also maintained the old GMC and the International. He could stand up inside their engine cavities to work on them. We joked that they were all Flintstone trucks- the floorpans of the cabs were rusted through in places, and when we begged my dad to accompany him when he dumped the wood chips and mulch, we could see the road passing underneath us as we drove down the road. He would let us control the hydraulics of the truck beds at the dump sites sometimes, too. I learned to steer sitting on his lap in those big old trucks.

The wood Dad hauled home from other peoples’ yards in those ratty old dump trucks was our heat. The tree trunks that were straight enough came back intact, and dad would sell them to a guy with a mobile saw mill. But the branches and other assorted chunks would be chopped to heat the house in cold weather and be grill wood in summer. Large branches and chunks were placed on the diesel log splitter, and once they were more manageable, Dad split them by hand with his maul.

I can remember playing outside in the Fall and Winter, out of sight of Mom in the house, behind the International and the yellow building. Dad keeping an eye on us while he chopped- set the piece upright, wood grain perpendicular to the ground, lift the maul overhead, pause, swing, chop, thunk. The two smaller pieces would fall to either side. Helping him to stack it into piles. Covering it with tarp. We would run after or alongside him in the afternoons and evenings to stack firewood into the beat up old steel wheel barrow, and try to keep up as he pushed it, bumping along, up to the house and carried the wood downstairs. I remember him building the fire up to burn through the night, and I remember hearing him waking up before dawn every morning, starting coffee and clumping downstairs to build the fire back up. Through the floor and register: the creak and groan of the stove door opening, the clunk of firewood being tossed onto the coals, and another creak and groan before the door banged shut. He remembered getting up as a child to go milk cows in the winter, without having a fire going yet. He hadn’t liked it.

We would come in from playing in the snow: snow suits, boots, mittens, socks all soaked. The wood stove was tucked into a corner behind the wooden staircase for the basement. We’d leave all our wet clothes on the steps in front of the furnace. They would be dry in an hour. Sometimes, we’d have weenie and marshmallow roasts in the middle of winter over the fire. At Christmas, my parents put our letters to Santa into the furnace, telling us they flew up the chimney and to the North Pole. We were gullible kids. Most winters, the snow within two feet of that corner of the house and the chimney melted away to bare ground.

Our favorite wood to burn in the winter was dense, hard oak and hickory. I can still pick out oak and hickory smoke when I catch a whiff of it. Someone on our street here in Madison has a wood-fired stove, too, and sometimes they burn oak. That chilly October night up in the Northwoods of Wisconsin, 419 miles from where I grew up and lived most of my life so far, we were burning oak and hickory. The sharp, clean smell of the dry wood burning tripped old memories in that hazy space between wakefulness and sleep. I was warm, and my wet clothes were drying on the steps near the stove.

 

My Camping Unpackening.

I survived my thirty hour weekend. However, looking at my schedule for the next week, I saw I worked all 7 days, giving me essentially a 10 day week with no days off. Not too sure what I’ll be able to gin up for content, but I’ve got a few ideas clunking around upstairs.

Anyhow, I’m not too sure how the unpacking process goes in anyone else’s house, but in mine, it’s hectic. Even as a kid, returning from a camping trip meant an afternoon of hurried laundry washing, dish washing, and equipment unpacking, so it was done before we had to return to work or school or whatever. Things haven’t changed, really.

When we got back last Thursday afternoon, we started the process. The camper gets parked in the drive, and we begin to unload it. The first things to come out are usually the coolers, so they can drain. I brought in our dirty and wet clothes to begin washing them (though they still aren’t folded as of this writing- it’s my most hated chore). All the dirty camp dishes were brought in to soak. Since we fished so much this time, we had the added task of packaging up and freezing our catch. Since that needed to be done sooner rather than later, once the coolers were drained, I emptied them.

Drained of melted ice, set by the front door.

Drained of melted ice, set by the front door.

I have an order for this. It’s simple. The coolers, once drained, are set by the front door. I carry in everything that needs refrigeration, wipe it down, and put it away. Anything we aren’t keeping gets tossed straight into the big trash bin, or fed to the dogs. Additional water is dumped out, then the cooler gets carried to the back patio so it doesn’t track dirt through the house. It then gets hosed out, scrubbed down with bleach, and rinsed.

SAMSUNGOur backyard has no shade, so they get left here to dry out in the sun (nothing worse than opening a cooler that had soured water inside), and carried the short distance to the garage to be put away. This typically leaves my house looking pretty messy, though. The kitchen in particular.

You can see our reusable ice packs in the center of this photo. They also get soaked and sanitized before being chucked back in the deep freezer.

You can see our reusable ice packs in the center of this photo. They also get soaked and sanitized before being chucked back in the deep freezer.

After everything from the coolers is accounted for, we bring everything else back in and put it all away. Dry food, the guns and bows in this case, any clean clothes, camp cooking and eating utensils, the works. We do it all right when we get back, and I make sure to do it before I sit down or take a shower and the motivation deserts me. Once the camper is emptied, I get in there with a broom and the Shop Vac and get all the dirt off the floor and other surfaces, and it gets scrubbed down. Then Matt backs it up to the back fence where we keep it when not in use.

Since we got soaked to the skin on this last trip, and everything we were keeping outside the camper was soaked, too, we had the added task of drying everything out for a few days. This included our tackle box (a cloth one), all our camp chairs, and the trout fishing bag. I also soaked the minnow bucket with some bleach water and rinsed it well- some minnows died a hard death in there, and it was kind of stanky.

Once everything is put away or waiting to dry and be put away, I clean up me. And usually order in some dinner. This time it was pizza, because I had lactase pills on hand.

Is your camping unpacking process hectic, too? Or do you have it down to a streamlined art? Obviously, we’re still working on ours.

 

 

One Last Summer Fling Before Fall and Life Catch Us Up.

Normally, my new posts go out on Mondays. But we got back from this vacation on a Thursday. I’m also working all through the weekend- closing the dining room tonight, and closing the bar on Saturday and Sunday. Those two days I also arrive at work by 11 am. They’ll both be long days. I’m not too sure how much I’ll have to write about come Monday, but I had an idea. You see a lot of how-to for packing for camping. I took some pictures of my get home, get unpacked process.

Anyhow. Last Monday I wrote about the salmon fishing we did last week Saturday. We stayed that night in the Appleton area with Matt’s brother and his wife. Sunday morning we hooked the camper back up, packed up the pups, and headed further north. We stopped at a little grocery store in a town along the way to stock up on food. It was a very pleasant ride all along country roads on a sunny day.  Farmers were haying, and that far north, we were seeing the outermost leaves on the ash and maple trees beginning to change color- in spite of temps in the 80s and up.

For the most part, we spent the week fishing. This was another National Forest campground- Richardson Lake. We camped here once last year in June, before I ever started this blog thing up. It was rainy and chilly the entire time, and we were stuck in a tent. At the time, the jon boat had only one trolling motor on a too-small battery, and the old Merc didn’t work. We also didn’t catch any fish.  Not so this time. We had the camper and the canoe. It was nice and warm most of the week. And were the fish ever biting. I didn’t get as many pictures as I would have liked, as my phone and only camera blew through its battery fairly quickly. I need to remember to turn off mobile data that far in the stix so it isn’t constantly searching for a signal.

We fished mostly there on Richardson, but one day we did go to a different lake, where Matt’s grandparents live. That’s where we caught the big pumpkinseed and the big bass. When we weren’t fishing, we were visiting Matt’s family and tooling around the area.

An Adventure in Wet Pants and Smashed Toes…

One thing I wish I’d gotten pictures of, but wisely did not take my phone/camera for was a trout fishing attempt. The Oconto river near Matt’s hometown is cold and rocky. It holds brook and brown trout. One of his old high school buddies took us down there for trout. It was rugged and beautiful. When we picked his buddy up, we should have known we were in for trouble. On the phone, he specifically requested Mike’s Hard Black Raspberry Lemonade and jalapeno beef sticks. He said without those, there would be no trout. He was waiting in his driveway in a pair of chest waders. Matt and I were in shorts and sandals. We went offroad in the Durango for a couple miles, and then bushwhacked our way down to the water. When I said rocky, I meant bouldery. And loggy. When logging was still a big thing in northern Wisconsin, they’d floated logs down the river, and you can still see some of the bigger ones. The rest are all deadfalls. We spent two or three hours scrambling over rocks, under trees, and through icy water. Matt dunked himself repeatedly. I didn’t go in over my knees until the last minute, soaking my right side. No trout, only chubs and smashed, tender feet.

Besides Fishing…

Other than fishing, we did some shooting. I got in some practice with my bow and got it sighted in. We also did some trap shooting, and I got more practice with my shotgun. Based on my practice, the ducks and geese have quite the upper hand this year.

We also went coyote hunting on his grandfather’s farm. The first morning we didn’t see anything. But we went our last night there (Wednesday). It turned into a bit of scouting. We saw at least 5 deer. We also saw a flock of turkeys. Three toms, three jakes. We didn’t see any coyotes, but they did answer our calls in the distance.

Blurry turkey blobs. I need a new camera.

Blurry turkey blobs. I need a new camera.

However, we started to hear thunder rumbling. On the way over, we’d caught some weather advisories out of Marquette, Michigan and Marinette. We hoped it would pass north of us, but then the thunder got louder and this happened.

Not good.

Not good.

It poured. We got soaked. The deer got soaked. The turkeys got soaked. We were mighty grateful for the camper when we got back to the site. Our firepit was full of water, and there were a couple inches of water standing on the ground over most of the site. If we’d had a tent, we’d have been screwed. We changed into dry clothes, and waited it out.

It stopped raining, and Matt decided to throw a line in the lake. Earlier in the trip the dogs had knocked my sandals into the fire, leaving me with only my hunting boots or my leather boots. I opted not to go. After about 20 minutes, Matt shut off the generator on me and said “I’m vetoing you. Come down here”. He’d had a pretty decent bite. We pushed the canoe out for some post-storm fishing. I caught a tiny blue gill, which we used for bait. And Matt finally caught a pike. But the best thing was the light at sunset.

Thursday morning, we headed out one more time to fish. In the pictures above, we kept 32 of the fish we caught. We tossed at least that many back, and used some of the really small ‘gills for bait (only in the lakes we caught them in). Once the morning bite stopped around 8:30, we packed everything in, and headed back home.

A Return to Normal.

Three hours later, we re entered civilization and our normal lives. I work all weekend. Matt works all of today (Friday). Next month he takes over the Madison recruiting office (for the next couple years), and I have the rest of the season to finish out at the golf course (who knows how long the weather will hold). By January, I hope to be back in college classes so I can maybe get this godforsaken degree of mine an inch closer to done.

This vacation was, I think, just a pause or a breath before we both enter a bit of a new chapter. Dealing with recruiting duty with Matt just a canvassing recruiter for the last three years was incredibly hard. The first several months of him running the office will be tough as well, particularly since he’s starting right when school does. It will be a different kind of hard. I’ll be paying down the last of what I owe UW-Madison from two years ago (yuck, I know), and saving up to pay for next spring. Our one touchstone through all of this mess will be our outdoors hobbies. Hunting, fishing, all of it. It keeps us grounded, and it keeps us together.

Staycation

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My first fish ever caught on the lakes in Madison

So, after busting part of the engine on the riverbottom a couple days ago, we’ve fixed the shear pin and been out a couple more times.  We trolled for muskie and pike yesterday (Wednesday- I’m writing this Thursday night). I caught the little bluegill you see above while waiting for Matt to untangle the trolling lines.

It was a gorgeous day out on the water, even though we didn’t get any big fish. Lot of sailboats out, and the sunset was lovely.

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We deliberated Wednesday night about where to try next. Monona is an A1 muskie lake- not a lot of them, but the ones in there are trophy sized. Lake Wingra is A-2- smaller, but more numerous. I voted for Wingra, since we’d never been. We drove through town to the launch off Monroe street. It was another gorgeous day. We started on the west end of this weedy little lake, and were on panfish almost immediately.

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Your blogger has looked better.

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Matt’s pumpkinseed

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Most of the lake was like this.

We had a good variety of fish. Umpteen bluegill for each of us. I had a black crappie and Matt had a little perch and a bass. None of the muskie we were after, but it was still a lot of fun. We headed home to run a couple errands and begin packing for this camping trip.

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Matt got himself a lay out blind for goose.

Naturally that included a trip to Gander. I don’t want to talk about how much Matt spent there, but it was good to get one of the layout blinds out of the way, at least. Then we came home, and I began a cooking and baking bonanza. We have a large batch of chocolate chip cookies, a plum cake, a double batch of pancake batter, two pasta salads, a container of cooked couscous, prepped dry oatmeal, and a couple different snacks and sides.

We’re stopping over by Matt’s brother in Appleton first. He has a buddy who can take us out salmon fishing (!) Saturday. I drew up a big grocery list to get us to next Thursday, and we’re going to get everything up in Appleton or Green Bay to save us a few days of keeping everything on ice. So, depending on when we have access to internet/electricity, it could be a week or so until I put up anything else. Or maybe not! If I find some wifi or whatever.

A Beautiful Saturday in the Northwoods

I was a bit short on time this morning to finish that post. However, the rest of the weekend went pretty well.

When I woke up, I took my camera to get a look around at the spot. In the brief phone call I had with Matt, he said he got the best spot there. He wasn’t wrong.

She towed beautifully, he said.

She towed beautifully, he said.

Fire pit, and the glow of sunlight on the lake.

Fire pit, and the glow of sunlight on the lake.

The dogs were super excited for a morning swim.

The dogs were super excited for a morning swim.

Ada Lake, 50 feet from our site.

Ada Lake, 50 feet from our site.

The only time Matt cooks for me is camp breakfast.

The only time Matt cooks for me is camp breakfast.

We fished most of the day on Saturday. In the morning, Matt took me to the lake behind the house he grew up in, and we caught a lot of bluegills, a couple perch, some tiny baby bass, and some green bluegills. We would barely get our bobbers in the water before a little ‘gill was running with it. The only ones we kept were ones that died on the hook. I got very badly sunburned on my legs. It’s still swollen.

The road to the canoe launch, which we missed the first time

The road to the canoe launch, which we missed the first time

Matt in the canoe.

Matt in the canoe.

A bad angle on the first green bluegill.

A bad angle on the first green bluegill.

The tiniest perch.

The tiniest perch.

As the day got warmer, the bite died down. We packed up and headed out. We dropped off the fish we kept at his dad’s house, chatted with his grandpa a bit, and went back to camp. After lunch, a swim in the cold spring water of the lake, and a nap, we were ready for more fishing.

At that point, I was beyond frustrated with my camera’s read error when I tried to make room on the memory card. It needs to be replaced very badly. No photos of the evening fishing, sadly. It was lots more little tiny ‘gills. Matt managed to reel in three good sized bluegills, though. He kept them to attempt to taxidermy them himself. I imagine that will be another series all its own. On my last cast of the night, I hooked into a nice largemouth. It was 12 inches, which isn’t too shabby. The limit up north is 18 inches, though. Back in the water it went.

The glow of both campfire and last light.

The glow of both campfire and last light.

We paddled back from the fishing spot, and made our dinner. Matt’s family stopped by to chat, as we were leaving early in the morning. Matt had to be back by 11:30.  We chatted and hashed out some ideas for a trip to replace the one we were originally taking to Texas. So far, the one sticking out is to head up to Door County and play on Lake Michigan or the Apostle Islands on Lake Superior. Possibly hire a salmon charter. It would be in August or September.

Anyhow, we woke up around 6 to pack up camp, hitch the camper up, and hit the road. We left with no major issues- I just separated from Matt to drop off the cell phone charger and thank you to the clerk at that gas station. Even with that and a second pitstop farther south, I rolled in maybe 10 minutes behind Matt. He went off to work for a bit, and I unpacked the camper. Being able to leave so much stuff in it makes the whole process so much easier. By now, the laundry and dishes from the trip are done, and all the dirt is swept out of it. But I’m ready to go again.

 

Who Doesn’t Like to Arrive at Their Weekend Destination at 1:30 in the Morning?

I got home safe and sound yesterday from my all-too-brief trip to meet Matt up north. Like I posted last Wednesday, he took off that afternoon, and until I made my way there late Friday night, I barely heard a peep from him. He called me once from his dad’s (rotary) phone, and I got one text, both asking me to bring up a fillet knife.

Work Friday night was steady at best, but since I didn’t have to be in at 7 the next morning, I was designated as the closer. Once I closed my tables, I busted my ass to get all the big closing stuff done. My closing partner OK’d me to head out early, since he could mop and close the other register himself. I sped back home to grab my bag and the dog, and got on the road immediately. This was around 9:45. Matt called, and I told him I was on my way.

It’s a pretty long ride, and it seems even more so at night. I was already tired, and once I got on my way, I forgot to turn off the GPS on my phone. I had it find the destination while cell and data signal was still easy to come by. The majority of the trip is super simple- head north on I39/I90 until just past Wausau. It’s about two hours of heading north until I had to exit and go east. In this case, two hours of draining my phone’s battery. I got to the area near the exit into country back roads where I have mostly no idea where I am, and with a sinking feeling, realized what I’d done. I pulled off at a BP, and ventured inside. I asked the clerk if she had either a universal phone charger, or one for my brand. Miraculously, she did. But even after futzing around outside, walking the pup around until he pooped, and scrubbing bugs off my windshield for a while, I barely had any juice. This awesome lady went to her car and brought me her car charger. She insisted I take it so I wouldn’t get lost. Sometimes the kindness of strangers is pretty humbling. On the way back yesterday morning, I dropped it off at the same gas station with a thank you note and a $5, asking her to have a coffee or a beer or something on me.

Once again confident that I wouldn’t lose myself entirely in the wild in the middle of the night, I got on my way, with the clerk’s caution to watch out for deer and bears. Cripes, I thought; if I hit a bear in my car, I’m as good as dead. It was already after midnight, and there was no shortage of critters (or what I suspect were drunk drivers- this is northern Wisconsin) on the road. I kept count: I almost hit 7 deer (not counting their buddies who stayed back from the road) and one porcupine (which my brain first read as an extremely large, extremely weird opossum), but luckily no bears. After what seemed like one, long, dark, piney eternity of cautious backroads driving, I was there.

It was 1:30 in the morning.

It was 1:30 in the morning.

Feeling like a dirtbag, I pulled into the campground as quietly as possible, hoping not to shine my headlights onto some poor tent camper’s face. I struggled to find a parking spot that wouldn’t leave the little VW stuck on an incline. Matt woke up, and we did some wee-hours vehicle shuffling. I calmed the dogs as best I could, and laid down.

To Be Continued…

 

 

One Project Down.

And just like that, the camper’s done being painted. I got spray paint today and painted the shutters and we put them back on.

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I’m going to put the light covers back on tomorrow. I need to find something to un-fog the plastic on them. Besides that, my only idea is to try and paint the outlines of the branding decals. As it is, the paint lays on them a little funny. Plus, they pretty kitschy, neat things. The “TrailBlazer” logo is a pretty bad depiction of a Native American person, though. I may leave it off. But she is finally finished!

The Camper’s Painted!

Matt told me Friday night that he planned to start painting the camper today. So, while I was at work for twelve hours, he did just that. I got a text around 6:30 telling me he’d gotten pretty much all of it painted. I got home a little before 8 and it looked great. Time for a before and after.

The camper way back when we got it late last summer.

The camper way back when we got it late last summer.

A lovely glossy white.

A lovely glossy white.

We’d assumed it would be exterior house paint on the aluminum of the camper. I found this paint bucket on the porch, though, so maybe it didn’t go according to plan? I’m not sure, as Matt isn’t home yet and has some work-related activities going on, and I doubt he could answer his phone.

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So, for the camper that leaves painting the little decorative shutters, and it’s finished! I think I’m going to get some glossy spray paint and make them a green to match both the interior of the camper itself, as well as the Ditch Boat and our little fishing boat.

 

One Check Off the To-Do List.

This afternoon, I got us one step closer to having a project finished- I finally taped off the windows and some fixtures on the camper!

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Yes, they are awkwardly cut and taped together grocery bags, but there’s a chance of rain tonight, and I didn’t want to do it all over again if newspapers dissolved in the rain. I plan to remove and clean the little decorative shutters, as well as remove the light covers, and a few other fixtures on the exterior. It will be easier than taping them all off. But, this way we can paint it. I’m thinking glossy white, with the shutters in green.

Update: I got the shutters, the lights, and some more fixtures taken off the camper.