Whatever

Laughs in Willie nelson

 

Okay okay okay

next story!

GATHER ROUND ERRYBODY

ERHMM!


So, I’m heading out on this “easy” trail in the backwoods, thinking it’ll be a chill day of dirt and nature. I barely have my coffee down when I spot a group of Canadians decked out in flannel and toque hats, standing around a campfire roasting what looked like maple-glazed beaver tails. I wave, they wave back with the politest “sorry” you’ve ever heard.

I pull over to say hi, and before I can say “Hey, eh?” one of them points to the sky and says, “You see that, bud?”
I look up. There, hovering low over the pines, is the tiniest green alien you’ve ever seen—like, pocket-sized, with eyes bigger than its head, just chilling in a tiny UFO that looks suspiciously like a hockey puck.

Before I can process this, the alien beams down a hologram that’s basically a trail map… except it’s written in some kind of universal language that looks like a combination of Tim Hortons coffee orders and emoji hieroglyphs. The Canadians nod solemnly and pass me a can of something called “Intergalactic Poutine Juice.” Naturally, I take a swig.

Suddenly, from the bushes, a raccoon appears. But not just any raccoon—this little guy’s got the sass of a thousand moose and the aim of a professional pitcher. He starts hurling frozen fish sticks at my 4Runner like he’s trying out for the raccoon Olympics. One fish stick smacks my windshield with a satisfying “thwack,” and I swear it left a tiny maple leaf imprint.

The Canadians burst out laughing, explaining that this raccoon is the “Trail Guardian” who tests if you’re worthy of the forest’s secrets. I’m trying not to get fish-stick bombarded while they explain how the raccoon once held off a bear by pelting it with frozen lake trout. Legendary stuff.

Now, I’m feeling the vibe, so I air down my tires with a hockey puck valve cap I stole from the alien’s UFO. I hit the trail, which immediately turns from dirt to a weird combination of syrupy mud and neon moss that glows faintly under the moonlight. The 4Runner slides sideways, but the tires grip like it’s got claws.

Halfway through, my dash lights up with a new message: “EH-VENTURE MODE ACTIVATED.” My radio switches to nonstop classic rock and hockey commentary simultaneously. The alien’s hologram appears again, guiding me through a series of impossible switchbacks that somehow loop back on themselves like a curling rink.

At the last bend, the raccoon reappears, this time riding a tiny ATV built from twigs and cans, throwing fish sticks like grenades. I dodge, the 4Runner picks up speed, and I fly out of the forest onto a hilltop just as the sun rises.

The Canadians are waiting there with maple syrup shots and moose-shaped cookies. The alien gives me a thumbs-up and zips back into the sky. The raccoon disappears behind a tree, probably preparing his next fish-stick assault.

I sit there, covered in mud and fish stick residue, thinking: Only in the great northern wild could a day like this happen. I swear the 4Runner is humming the Canadian national anthem, and I might be one fish stick away from joining that raccoon’s squad.


Anyone else ever get fish-stick-bombed on the trail? Or meet intergalactic mapmakers and overly polite lumberjacks? Let’s swap stories before the raccoon comes back with reinforcements.

 

wtf

 

Gonna be in your hood from the 23rd thru 27th. Need some bar/things to do recommendations.

 

Why is the Portland airport so weird?

 

Cuz Portland..

 

Atlanta isn't as bad layout wise

 

last time I was at the airport in Atlanta you had to drop your bags off at one end of the airport and then go through security on the other. And it was all one way. I was so confused

 

We've arrived.

 

Overland Expo to start.

Are you a cocktail man? Let's get after some quality speakeasies. Run For The Roses. Williams and Graham.

Oh, a beer man? Oh, you're fucked bud. Westbound and Down. Breckenridge. Avery. Odell. Reverence.

Nature? Guam's nice...but there is magic here. Let me know...I could fit a bit of off-roading and camping in my schedule.

Fishing ain't bad here.

And I will show you the best feet west of the Mississippi.