Hi. It's actually The EGE here. Yes, mandachan told me to be here, and to post. Didn't say what about. She's still out eating bugs and sleeping under rocks and whatever the hell else camping involves. Don't ask me, when I go out hiking in the wilderness, I like to come back to a nice relaxing hotel room. Or at least a proper bed in an AMC hut.
I mean, I'm cool being out in the middle of the forest all day when it's light. I can see whatever's out there (okay, okay, I have nearly walked into a moose. In my defense, damn thing was smack in the middle of the trail). But I'll be damned* before I go to sleep with only one layer of 20-mil nylon cloth between me and whatever hungry caniform** wishes to make a snack out of my head.
Also, before mandachan comes back and sonic-hip-checks me into next week for being an ass on her blog, I have one more snarky comment to make. They're in Rhode Island. Which, not everything's bad about Rhode Island. The natives are hard to stereotype, except for the accent. And the clam chowder (the clear stuff) which is not as godawful bad as Manhattan chowder, but not as good as proper New England chowder. Excuse me. Chowdah.
But I digress. The problem with Rhode Island, you see is that it's flat. Boringly flat. As in the highest point is 812 feet, and that's on a ridge that really belongs to CT. The highpoint is half a mile from Connecticut. And 812 feet is flat. Like, I can hit a golf ball further than that. I could fly a rocket from sea level and land it on that hill. Give me dem mountains every time.
~~~~ The EGE
* I already am damned. But that's a story for another day.
** read: BEARS