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A Trip to the Wilderness (John/Karl chat)
Jan. 24th, 2005 06:54 pmThe day dawns slightly overcast, and that is fine with me, the fish always bite better on cloudy days. I got most of my gear together last night, but I double check that I have everything. I was thrilled when Bernard called and proposed this camping trip with him and John. Anytime I can escape away with Bernard is a good time, and well, I haven’t spent that much time with John, but I’m looking forward to the trip with him, cause he’s always seemed like a great guy.
Ire is watching my every move. “What did I forget, boy?” It’s always something, hopefully something minor this time. He wags his tail, he knows something’s up and when I get out the camping gear, he knows he’s invited. “Let’s see . . . sleeping bag . . . tent . . . dog food . . . fishing rod . . . tackle . . . oh, wait, I bought that new spinner bait I planned to try . . . where did I put it?” I locate the lure and resume my catalogue. Lanterns, beer, cooler, food in case we aren’t successful. Oh, yes, dry clothes. Not a real camping trip without at least one rainstorm.
I start loading the truck and as I’m coming back in the house for another pile, I hear the phone ringing. It’s Bernard with bad news.
“No, mate, that’s totally fine, I understand. . . I’ll miss you, but these things can’t be helped . . . the trip? . . . no, it’s alright, we can go when you get back . . . yeah, I don’t mind going with John by myself . . . did you talk to him? . . . all right, I’ll call him when I’m ready to leave . . . take care of yourself, mate.”
I put the phone down, feeling badly for Bernard, feeling bad for myself, and then feeling bad because of that.
You’re a daft bugger, Urban. Just relax, you don’t have to feel the weight of the world.
But I’m glad that the trip isn’t cancelled, I was really looking forward to getting away for a bit.
Last thing I load is Ire’s travel kennel, and with a command, “Up, boy,” he’s in and we’re on our way. ( I call John on the cell to get directions to his place. )
Ire is watching my every move. “What did I forget, boy?” It’s always something, hopefully something minor this time. He wags his tail, he knows something’s up and when I get out the camping gear, he knows he’s invited. “Let’s see . . . sleeping bag . . . tent . . . dog food . . . fishing rod . . . tackle . . . oh, wait, I bought that new spinner bait I planned to try . . . where did I put it?” I locate the lure and resume my catalogue. Lanterns, beer, cooler, food in case we aren’t successful. Oh, yes, dry clothes. Not a real camping trip without at least one rainstorm.
I start loading the truck and as I’m coming back in the house for another pile, I hear the phone ringing. It’s Bernard with bad news.
“No, mate, that’s totally fine, I understand. . . I’ll miss you, but these things can’t be helped . . . the trip? . . . no, it’s alright, we can go when you get back . . . yeah, I don’t mind going with John by myself . . . did you talk to him? . . . all right, I’ll call him when I’m ready to leave . . . take care of yourself, mate.”
I put the phone down, feeling badly for Bernard, feeling bad for myself, and then feeling bad because of that.
You’re a daft bugger, Urban. Just relax, you don’t have to feel the weight of the world.
But I’m glad that the trip isn’t cancelled, I was really looking forward to getting away for a bit.
Last thing I load is Ire’s travel kennel, and with a command, “Up, boy,” he’s in and we’re on our way. ( I call John on the cell to get directions to his place. )
