R.I.P., Cottontop

Fancy Pants, Cottontop, Mohawk, Fluffy, Frouf, Q-Tip Head, or The Frizz - he may never have had a proper Christian name, but he was one special chick. And sadly, while we were on vacation in Maine, he was called up to that big chicken coop in the sky known as Chicken Heaven - or whatever it's called when an adolescent chicken finds himself in the belly of the beast. 

Who ate Cottontop? Where did he go? These are the mysteries that can never be fully explained. But what we do know is that Cottontop was one of several chickens who fell victim to the Vacation Chicken Massacre of '14. Though, instead of scorning us for losing a couple of chickens to one of our many local predators, let's not forget that AGP and I are but simple city slickers who had anticipated a tragic lesson in our country homesteading journey: that chickens need a safe, completely enclosed run to frolic in. No more of this carefree free-range business. It's just not safe around here. 

That was our problem - usually the chickens run free while we live and work in the yard all day, our presence keeping them safe. We never thought about how the dynamic might change while we were on vacation and our roommate was letting them in and out before and after work. Sorry for our ignorance, Cottontop.

But that's the brutality of country life, right? Now the flock has been pared down to a more manageable level, even if we did have to say goodbye to the more showy and less rugged chickens. However, I will miss Cottontop's ridiculous presence in the flock and the lesson of his loss will certainly protect the remaining chickens from this day forward.

Dearest Cottontop, your silly hair-do made your chickenly exploits all the more entertaining to watch, from the moment you arrived in the mail to the last day I saw you, looking as out of place as ever. You were the chick I sought to pick up over and over while I hand-raised you in a plastic tote in my bedroom until you were old enough to go outside. And even though you constantly regarded me with looks of abject terror, know that I always have, and always will, carry a special place for you in my heart and that I will strive to prevent such fatal mistakes from happening again. 

Requiescat in pace, Cottontop!

High Times in the Sierras

We missed you at Burning Man, Zy! I'm still trying to process that lawless week in the desert. When I do, I'll definitely share pics, stories and observations with you.

I feel like we were just at Forecastle. Before that excursion to the South, we had the pleasure of attending our first music festival on the West Coast -- High Sierra in Quincy, CA.

Quincy is supposed to be 4.5 hours from us. Traffic lagged from here to Sacramento, but the minute the highway was behind us I remembered why I came. Festivals mean freedom. And frankly that drive through the mountains was worth the price of admission.

We didn't have cell phone service (always a good sign), but luckily our friends walked right in front of us as soon as we entered the fairgrounds. Festivals are usually serendipitous that way. We camped on Hillside, an apt name for our steep surroundings. Our tent was at an angle and we had to take frequent breaks when walking up late-night. But the gorgeous trees provided shade as well as scenery.

We were able to shower every day -- a festival rarity and a major plus since the temp reached 95 every day. One night we saw Beats Antique on the Vermont Stage (yay!) followed by a late-night Lettuce set. Each morning, the revelers last standing would play a rowdy game of kickball. There was a parade every afternoon. And everyone was so nice!

High Sierra was everything we like in our festivals. Lazy days and silly nights surrounded by friends. A great time and a perfect start to festival season.

Trail Cam Goes on a Trip

When I was looking through some old trail cam photos, I noticed an odd series of captures that didn't really seem to make sense... what is this sorcery?!?

Until I remembered that before we left for New York City a few weeks back, we had quickly grabbed the camera so we could show it to AGP's brother. It seems it proceeded to capture the journey. As it turns out, we forgot to turn it off.

So here goes the trail cam's trip to NYC - from the woods, to the car and into the city!!!

Seems the cam appropriately captured the transition between the lush greenness of Vermont to the sterile grayness of NYC! Plus my legs!

Getting Rustic in Maine

I'm back from Maine, ya'll! And while it wasn't Burning Man (*cries*), it was still a fun little getaway. In fact, it was probably the opposite of Burning Man, what with the no electricity, people, parties, etc., we had going on.

AGP and I pretty much just wandered around the pond soaking in all the pre-fall niceties with a couple other Pond-ers. And we of course had a candlelit party or two.

One of the more exciting parts of the short week we were there was the MASSIVE yellow foot chanterelle patch we found while bushwhacking through an unexplored area of the forest. It was pretty jaw dropping to be surrounded by so many tasty mushrooms. I'll tell you more about my foraging adventures very soon!

We also took a sweet hike to the "Moss Forest", which as you can guess, is carpeted in moss. And considering we are in New England and not the Pacific Northwest, it's a pretty stunning sight.

After our pond sojourn we headed west to see the Goosepimp Orchestra and Apel play a small festival in Harmony, Maine. And despite the fact that the festival was pretty much empty of festival-goers, we had a good time getting private concerts and hanging around in abandoned campers. Yes, you heard that right. Eventually we escaped the fest for some nearby cabins and relaxed on the Kennebec River instead of staying to party enough lonely night! Such a good idea!

Kentucky: Forecastle Festival

Since we are on the topic of festivals and since my friends are all off without me getting crazy on the Playa and watching the Man burn, I thought I would share some photos of our recent adventures in Louisville, Kentucky, where we attended the Forecastle Festival. 

This music festival... was not our typical festival experience. Usually you can find us getting muddy in the woods or in the fields, stacked in tents around ad hoc camps for the duration. Generally we endure cold, wet, and everything in between for the sake of the music, the party, and the chance to rough-it together. 

Dirty hippies - get off my lawn!! Forecastle, however, was located right in the heart of Louisville, Kentucky and offered no options for camping. Perplexed, we did something highly unusual for our proud, tent-dwelling posse: we rented a flat. 

And boy, what a flat it was!! In one stylish room, the host of this odd rent-a-condo crammed 15 beds into one room with a spectacular view of the city, all for a low price AND free whiskey. From there, it was only a short walk to the fest. Despite the fact that our instinct was to set up a tent anyway, is was quite luxurious for us. Just imagine going to a festival and getting to shower. every. night!

The festival was held on some really neat grounds too. The Louisville Waterfront Park has a great view of Indiana across the Ohio River and goes right underneath Interstate 64. There was also an awesome stage directly under the overpass for an authentic hobo-style experience with a live EDM soundtrack. 

The music was really good (particularly The Billy Goat Strut Review and Spanish Gold) and we were able to keep it pretty weird even though we didn't have our typical cover of trees and darkness to creep around in. Sometimes in the city you just have to play normal.

Yea, right. Aside from festival-ing, we drank beers and whiskey, got zirmed, explored the city, visited Waffle House, and ate delicious burgers at Sidebar at Whiskey Row. Eventually, we all said goodby to our chic flat and scattered off to our respective sides of the country with a solid summer festival experience logged for future reference.

Pond Life

A few weeks ago, AGP and I were lucky enough to spend an entire week up at his family's pondside cabin just outside of Bangor, Maine. Okay, okay, I know everyone thinks their rustic, cabin-y vacations are special, right? Well, mine was pretty fucking special.

 

The reason this cabin kicks so much ass is because it is completely off-the-grid. As in, we can't even see the grid from where we were. There isn't even a road to this cabin. So, how do we get there? Well, by boat of course! And yea, there is, of course, no electricity, plumbing, cable, internet, and not even any phone service. Très rustique!

What you do get from all of this, aside from the utter zen of being one with a completely untouched tract of nature, is a smattering of propane lights, a totally boss outhouse (built by my very own AGP), and a delightfully vintage wood stove for cooking. Oh, and the lake, being part of the local watershed and mostly free of motorized traffic, is completely safe to drink from - that is, if you don't feel like drinking from one of the many nearby freshwater springs, pumping that famous Maine earth nectar.

Indeed, pond life probably isn't for everybody (I can imagine a few city slickers reading this and being off-put simply by the suggestion of an outhouse, let alone being told they have to drink the lake). But thankfully it is for me and AGP - well, especially AGP since he has a particularly strong bond with his lake, living and working summers there since he was a kid. He not only built the outhouse, but also the smaller guesthouse, originally erected by his grandfather of the same name.

So, what is there to do out there in the wilds of central Maine with no phones, internet, or roads to town? Well: swim, hike, cook, stoke the fire, read, nap, chop firewood, play cornhole, sunbathe, forage, drink gin and tonics, and then when the new day crests the hilltops: repeat!

The forest that surround the lake (the entire shoreline and adjacent acreage is protected land with no developments) offer many exciting hiking opportunities and passive water sports are always an option. What should we do today? Hike to the moss forest? Kayak to Blueberry Island? Hunt for chanterelles?

Oh yea, and the forest is littered with the delicious floor candy us foragers call CHANTERELLES. When we were there in early August, it was a literal fungal bonanza, of both the edible and inedible varieties.

Cabin family time is always a sincere adventure that we are very excited to take part in and sad to leave. Luckily, AGP and I head back there in less than a week, so I will be sure to capture some more of Maine's rustic spirit!

And if you are interested, you can see the whole album at my Flickr.