The Rock And Other Stories

If You’re An Outdoors Person, You’ll Understand
135

The Rock has been with Dave for decades, riding along in
his vintage Coleman stove. It lights matches, and listens
to stories without repeating a word!

It was the opening weekend of deer season last month; I was camping solo on top of a ridge, and it was time to dine. I needed to fire up my trusty, decades-old Coleman two-burner camp stove.

I had “strike-anywhere” matches, and if you believe that claim on the box top, you’re already in trouble, because they don’t always strike when stroked across any rough surface. I guess they just don’t make ‘em like they used to.

The strike strips on the side of the paper matchbox had either gotten damp or been used too many times, but fear not, because parked in the middle of my stove was “The Rock.” I’ve had this stone for some 35 years, maybe longer. The same thing happened back when we first met. At the time, I grabbed the nearest small rock and gave my wood match a swipe. Instant flame.

For the remainder of that weekend, The Rock was instrumental in firing up my propane stove, lanterns and space heater. So, The Rock earned a spot between the burner grate rails. It has traveled with me probably thousands of miles and hardly ever failed to spark one of those red-and-white-tipped wood kitchen matches.

Then, along came the more “environmentally friendly” green-tipped matches. They don’t work nearly as well, but The Rock eventually prevails.

The Rock is like a trusty sixgun. In a pinch, it’s ready for action. Beats me what kind of stone it is, but it has worked when other surfaces have failed, even other rocks.

And this brings us around to why I always pack a wheelgun in the backcountry. They work, whether it’s a single-action Ruger Blackhawk or a double-action Colt or Smith & Wesson. On this particular weekend, a Model 57 adorned the holster on my hip. Extra cartridges filled the loops on my belt, so in an emergency, I’d have the ability to crank off six shots and pull reloads immediately.

It’s pretty hard to not notice a sixgun like this on someone’s hip
in the backcountry. While it is a utility implement for the person
wearing it, the revolver elicits some interesting reactions from Flatlanders.

Wide-eyed Motorists

The Rock has been within reach during many of my more colorful adventures in the outdoors. So has one of my revolvers, and I’ve become indifferent about what others might think of that.

During last month’s opening weekend, at two different campsites, people just driving around enjoying the scenery — and maybe wondering why so many people wearing fluorescent orange were strolling around with guns — rolled up toward me, and I could tell immediately they saw my sixgun. It’s pretty hard not to notice.

You can always tell when someone is a little apprehensive about the fellow with the great big gun who is glancing in their direction. They’ll sheepishly wave in your direction or stop before “invading your space.” Once on the trail many years ago, I encountered this jerk and his hoplophobic female companion. I was carrying a rifle and a revolver. The guy began loudly demanding to see my “permit” to be in the middle of nowhere with a couple of guns. I was in no mood for this, as it was opening day of the early high country buck hunt, and I had hiked in about four miles looking for a deer.

And then the woman nervously asked, “You’re not going to shoot us, are you?” People that stupid need adult supervision.

In this selfie, Dave is wearing a reinforced bright orange cap,
and it shows an unusual sturdiness.

Interesting Accessory

Last month’s trek provided the opportunity to test an accessory my younger son acquired for me many months ago, and I must admit it surprised me.

It’s called the “Airlite Basic,” a plastic frame made by Green Devil, which fits inside of a baseball cap to firm up the crown. Described as a “bump cap insert,” this lightweight frame fit perfectly inside a bright orange cap I got from Chris Hodgdon a few years back on a Midwest pheasant hunt. I like the cap, but it is made from a lightweight polyester material, and it doesn’t hold a shape; the crown just sort of flattens out and it looks rather silly.

The secret is this plastic insert Dave’s son
gave him several months ago.

Once installed, the “bump cap insert” actually provides a
bit of safety from low-hanging branches and other
head-bumper objects.

So along comes the Airlite Basic, and the problem is solved. I adjusted the cap to fit my bony head. Once installed, it actually kept me warm, presumably because it creates an air space between my noggin and the cap material. It’s not an industrial strength safety helmet — there’s a warning label which says so — but it does keep my head from being conked by low-hanging branches and I don’t really care if the cap gets dirty. My head stays clean!

I recently discovered the polyester material sheds water pretty well. My head didn’t get wet in a good Northwest rain shower, and rain out here is famous for soaking everything.

What brings guys like Dave back time and again to the High Lonesome?
It’s sunsets like this — that’s Mount Rainier in the center — and a
reliable rock to keep the camp stove burning. It doesn’t get any better.

My rock could probably tell stories about camping with Dave that I wouldn’t want anybody to hear. Fortunately, The Rock has never ratted me out; it keeps quiet when some human would be a blabbermouth.

There was the mild early autumn evening I cooked dinner for several guys up in the Okanogan, only to wake up the following morning with eight inches of snow blanketing everything in the camp, including my stove. It was truly bone-chilling cold, and The Rock once again earned its keep by allowing me to fire up the stove and get the water in the coffee pot boiling in just a few minutes. I cooked breakfast on the stove, too. Dealing with snow at 5,000 feet is easier with warm food in the belly and hot cocoa to make it settle.

Keeping The Rock handy to fire up a space heater inside the tent when it is freezing hard outside helps one sleep ever so soundly, and this is another story you dare not tell at home for fear of terrifying the wife.

So, The Rock stays with the stove. Last month, it fell off the camp table at night without me noticing, and when it came time to fire up the stove before daylight, imagine my panic when it was not where I thought I had left it. A flashlight search found it, and it was quickly back up on the table to resume its work.

This story about The Rock proves how any of us can get attached to something, regardless of how foolish it may seem to others. The Rock has been with me through three pickup trucks and more hunting and camping trips in more places than I can remember, so I’m pretty careful not to leave it behind at some remote spot hundreds of miles from home.

It would leave a hollow feeling nearly as bad as realizing I’ve left a rifle propped against a tree or a prized hunting knife stuck in a log next to a gut pile. My dad did this more than once, and I learned from his error).

Throw it away? Hell, no! There are still many adventures over the horizon, and The Rock can keep secrets.

Subscribe To American Handgunner