Craig and I went on a backpacking vacation to Glacier National Park in Montana. Beautiful place. Not the raw altitude of many other parks in the Rockies so you can still breathe, yet, the trails and terrain are quite rugged and beautiful. Bears everywhere. We saw or had encounters with nine bears in our short stay. We took two days to hike in to Red Eagle Lake, stay overnight, and hike back out. About a 12 mile hike using the long trail around the back end of St. Mary Lake. Really gorgeous. There are two campgrounds at the lake. When we got to the first campground the only other people there were three guys who were just morons. They had a huge smokey fire going (they had cut down a small green tree and were trying to burn it, rather than using the dead wood) and for dinner they were cooking ham and bacon. Friends, Glacier is bear central. Their dinner was a big red warning flag. Plus, they were cooking right next to their tents and all of their gear was piled nearby. Craig and I looked at each other and decided we didn’t want to hear the screams in the middle of the night as those three jerks were eaten. We moved on to the back campground. We were the only one’s there and we set up shop. That night, it was a New Moon so it was really dark. The entire sky was clear except for a thunderstorm over the mountain across the lake. Stars in the sky above, while we watched lightning flash over the mountain peak and hear the low rumble from the thunder. So bloody cool !!!!
Craig and I made a good team camping. I’m a morning guy and Craig is an evening guy. As I faded late in the day, he was setting up camp and being productive. In the morning, as Craig sat comatose with his coffee, waiting for consciousness to arrive, I was taking the camp apart and packing up. Synergy.
We also took a day hike back to a campground where we spent a day enjoying the scenery. Again, no one in camp. When we came out later we checked in at the ranger station and had a conversation that went kinda like this.
You boys have a good hike?
Yep. We spent all day back at this campsite (pointing to map). It was really nice there.
Um …. You were at that campsite?
Yes.
All day?
Yes. Why?
Weren’t the chains up?
Chains? No. Why?
Yeah. That campground’s been getting ripped up by Grizzlies lately. We closed it. Chains and signs should have been up to keep everyone out.
No chains or signs we saw.
Hmm. I’ll have to go back and check later. Bears probably ripped them down. I’ll have to put them back up. You say you spent all day back there?
Yes.
Well, you boys had a run of good luck then.
OK. Well, nice talking to you.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Dale Addendum - Stupidity II
Dale liked blowing things up. Well, everybody needs a hobby.
One day we decided to try to make a bomb out of a can of butane used for refilling lighters. Not one of those little skinny refill cans. In those days you could get a can about the size of a spray paint can. We used duct tape to attach an M100 to the can. Although reckless, we were not stupid or suicidal. We recognized the potential explosive capabilities of the butane and decided we needed to find a way to set it off with a large safety factor. About a half-mile from Dale's house they were building new homes. Several lots had the hole dug for basement and foundation but nothing had been poured yet. Just a couple of big 'ol holes in the ground. We attached an electric model rocket igniter (or several, I forget) to the M100 fuse. We then put the thing into the bottom of one of the holes (this was about 1:30 am - night stealth can be good) and moved a long way away from the hole. As far as we had wire for the igniter. When we pressed the igniter button it took our breath away. The entire foundation hole filled with a red fireball that billowed out and looked every bit like an
atomic mushroom cloud as it rolled up to the sky. We booked out of there as we expected the neighbors would be calling the police. The next day we slinked back and checked out the hole. The walls were peppered with metal shrapnel from the can.
Impressive and cool ..... but we never even discussed ever trying it again
One day we decided to try to make a bomb out of a can of butane used for refilling lighters. Not one of those little skinny refill cans. In those days you could get a can about the size of a spray paint can. We used duct tape to attach an M100 to the can. Although reckless, we were not stupid or suicidal. We recognized the potential explosive capabilities of the butane and decided we needed to find a way to set it off with a large safety factor. About a half-mile from Dale's house they were building new homes. Several lots had the hole dug for basement and foundation but nothing had been poured yet. Just a couple of big 'ol holes in the ground. We attached an electric model rocket igniter (or several, I forget) to the M100 fuse. We then put the thing into the bottom of one of the holes (this was about 1:30 am - night stealth can be good) and moved a long way away from the hole. As far as we had wire for the igniter. When we pressed the igniter button it took our breath away. The entire foundation hole filled with a red fireball that billowed out and looked every bit like an
atomic mushroom cloud as it rolled up to the sky. We booked out of there as we expected the neighbors would be calling the police. The next day we slinked back and checked out the hole. The walls were peppered with metal shrapnel from the can.
Impressive and cool ..... but we never even discussed ever trying it again
Surprises Ain't Always Good
Joe and Randy had built a nice darkroom in Randy's basement and Dale had a darkroom in his too. Each one was set up slightly differently and occasionally one group asked the other to do some processing for them. Joe and Randy, in particular, asked Dale for special processing because Dale, good scientist that he was, liked to buy the photographic chemicals and, using a formulas book from Kodak, he mixed whatever developer was good for the film or papers he was trying to process.
Also occasionally, since we were all pranksters, one group or the other would sabotage the other for a little fun. Joe and Randy asked Dale to process a roll of film one day and I went with Dale to help. After carefully mixing ingredients and going through a good half-hour of work to get the "perfect" negatives for Joe and Randy, we were finally able to open the developing tank and discover that the film was bogus. It was actual film, but there were no photographs. It has been completely exposed and the message "Ha Ha to You Too Sideburns" was scratched into the emulsion. Dale had some rather large and bushy sideburns in those days so the reference was true, but the time we wasted to discover this was irritating. Dale decided to strike back.
From some dark corner of his darkroom he produced a glass bottle with a NASA label. I have no idea how he acquired this, but, the bottle contained about six ounces of 80 molar hydrochloric acid. I went out to find an old plastic film can and, while I was gone, Dale donned a mask and poured a little of the HCL into a stainless steel developing tank and dipped the film we had just processed into it. The emulsion just liquified. I didn't know Dale had done this and when I got back, before he could warn me, I walked into the darkroom and in less than one second, with a single breath, my lungs just locked and I literally fell backwards out of the darkroom. The HCL was so reactive it was fuming and my first breath burned my lungs and made my body decide not to breath anymore. I went outside to recover while Dale cleaned up. Later, after the basement had cleared, we took the blank cellulose and the remnants of the melted emulsion and shoved them into the film can and returned the film to Joe and Randy. What a mess.
It hurt every time I breathed for about three weeks, but I never told anyone and never went to the doctor. How could I explain it? "Yeah doc, I burned my lungs with some fuming 80 molar HCL acid stolen (most likely) from a NASA government facility." "No problem kid. Take two aspirin and call me from jail."
Dale also tried to destroy his neighbor's house one day. His neighbor was having his yard graded and shaped and there was a front-end loader/grader working in the yard. The operator would bring the bucket, very carefully, right up to the side of the house and grade the soil back towards the street. Dale hated his neighbor. He took a metal garbage can out and put it by the street next to his neighbors yard. As the grader driver was approaching the house, Dale threw a lit M80 into the can and slammed on the lid. When it blew the noise was tremendous and the can lid flew into the air. The grader operator literally stood up in his seat and turned around to see what had happened as the grader continued forward. He then realized he was still moving and sat down just in time to stop the bucket of the grader about two inches from the neighbors wall. Disaster had been averted and Dale was PISSED that it had. He sooooooooo wanted to see that thing go through the wall.
Dale also got a copy of a formula for smokeless gun powder. He mixed a huge batch in his garage and, with confidence that the formula was good and he had mixed it correctly, he put a big pile on the garage floor and threw a match in it. Pea-soup fog is transparent compared to the blindingly thick smoke cloud that filled the garage, and then his house. Minutes later his dad came home from work and ... well ... let's just say that "it" hit the wall.
Thus, some of the adventures of Dale.
Also occasionally, since we were all pranksters, one group or the other would sabotage the other for a little fun. Joe and Randy asked Dale to process a roll of film one day and I went with Dale to help. After carefully mixing ingredients and going through a good half-hour of work to get the "perfect" negatives for Joe and Randy, we were finally able to open the developing tank and discover that the film was bogus. It was actual film, but there were no photographs. It has been completely exposed and the message "Ha Ha to You Too Sideburns" was scratched into the emulsion. Dale had some rather large and bushy sideburns in those days so the reference was true, but the time we wasted to discover this was irritating. Dale decided to strike back.
From some dark corner of his darkroom he produced a glass bottle with a NASA label. I have no idea how he acquired this, but, the bottle contained about six ounces of 80 molar hydrochloric acid. I went out to find an old plastic film can and, while I was gone, Dale donned a mask and poured a little of the HCL into a stainless steel developing tank and dipped the film we had just processed into it. The emulsion just liquified. I didn't know Dale had done this and when I got back, before he could warn me, I walked into the darkroom and in less than one second, with a single breath, my lungs just locked and I literally fell backwards out of the darkroom. The HCL was so reactive it was fuming and my first breath burned my lungs and made my body decide not to breath anymore. I went outside to recover while Dale cleaned up. Later, after the basement had cleared, we took the blank cellulose and the remnants of the melted emulsion and shoved them into the film can and returned the film to Joe and Randy. What a mess.
It hurt every time I breathed for about three weeks, but I never told anyone and never went to the doctor. How could I explain it? "Yeah doc, I burned my lungs with some fuming 80 molar HCL acid stolen (most likely) from a NASA government facility." "No problem kid. Take two aspirin and call me from jail."
Dale also tried to destroy his neighbor's house one day. His neighbor was having his yard graded and shaped and there was a front-end loader/grader working in the yard. The operator would bring the bucket, very carefully, right up to the side of the house and grade the soil back towards the street. Dale hated his neighbor. He took a metal garbage can out and put it by the street next to his neighbors yard. As the grader driver was approaching the house, Dale threw a lit M80 into the can and slammed on the lid. When it blew the noise was tremendous and the can lid flew into the air. The grader operator literally stood up in his seat and turned around to see what had happened as the grader continued forward. He then realized he was still moving and sat down just in time to stop the bucket of the grader about two inches from the neighbors wall. Disaster had been averted and Dale was PISSED that it had. He sooooooooo wanted to see that thing go through the wall.
Dale also got a copy of a formula for smokeless gun powder. He mixed a huge batch in his garage and, with confidence that the formula was good and he had mixed it correctly, he put a big pile on the garage floor and threw a match in it. Pea-soup fog is transparent compared to the blindingly thick smoke cloud that filled the garage, and then his house. Minutes later his dad came home from work and ... well ... let's just say that "it" hit the wall.
Thus, some of the adventures of Dale.
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