We knew it was going to be relatively cold this weekend and we prepared decently enough. We weren’t, however, prepared (as much as we would have liked) for the unrelenting wind. Or the snow flurries.
And yet, for as much as we’ll be remembering this trip to The Spot as having the worst weather ever, it was a really good time.
Knives were thrown. Axes were thrown. My back? NOT THROWN. (That was last year.)
Fire was started with flint and steel. Two bottles of whiskey were emptied. A small bottle of Jaegermeister? NOT OPENED. (I was *this close* though.)
We cooked all our hot meals on the skottle. A half pound of dry rubbed bacon and a dozen eggs in the late morning sun by the edge of the cliff. Four amazing beef brisket cheeseburgers with duck bacon by the campfire.
And all to an amazingly chill soundtrack that included The Grateful Dead, Frank Zappa, Tool, Chili Peppers, and a handful of bands I’d never heard of before.
It was most excellent. Except for the cold. And the wind. And the snow.