This morning I took the Hammer for a walk into the woods around Keeper Lake. It was good to get into the forest of the low reaches of the mountains that surround us Dope City folk like an AC-130.
From there we continued to Sundown Lake where I bought a birthday gift for one of my many nieces from a small store run by a coven of witches. They asked what I was looking for. I told them, "Nothing too witchy." I settled on a book about faeries and a cute card with a snail on it.
I was going to play a few horse races on my way home but decided to visit a pub on the highway I have passed thousands of times but never stopped at. It was busy with lunch time visitors so I grabbed a seat at the bar. The food was good and so was the beer.
The bartender waved and said, "Good luck!" to four guys loaded down with equipment of some sort. I asked, "What are they up to?"
The bartender told me, "They are off Sasquatch hunting."
I said, "What?"
The bartender repeated the magic words, "Sasquatch hunting."
Having lived in Sasquatch country all my life I take it for granted. But there are hopeful dumb motherfuckers out there in the endless mountains with their video equipment all the time looking for their hairy grail. Turns out the bartender had roomed with a Sasquatch hunter for 3 years. The guy got the Sasquatch itch back in Hamilton and left for the mountains said to be rich with Sasquatch so fast his friends thought he had committed suicide. He moved back to Hamilton but still gets the itch to lose himself in the mountains of the Beast.
The mountains where the four men were headed feature what may be the most rugged, dangerous geography on Earth. There is no level ground. And anyone you might bump into out there is not going to be level headed - they are the last of the great explorers.