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What? You haven't heard what's coming down next month?
It starts with a polar reversal — the sun will rise in the west — spurring cataclysmic earthquakes, giant tsunami and volcanic eruptions.
Then things really start to go south: ferocious fires, melting nuclear reactors, crashing buildings, howling winds, collapsing bridges, choking dust...
It's all true! Not according to some crackpot preacher who wants you to send him money, or a bed sheet-garbed doomsday prophet shouting on street corners, or to some other crazed lunatic such as Karl Rove, but according to the Mayan calendar — and after all, who has more credibility than an ancient Mexican-Central American civilization that collapsed 3,000 years ago?
Acolytes regard Dec. 21, 2012 as the end-date of a 5,125-year-long cycle in the Mesoamerican Long Count calendar devised by the Mayans. Evidently the Mayans didn't bother continuing the calendar past then because the world is going to end that day. What's the point?
I, for one, am mighty p.o.'d about this, mainly because now it's clear I wasted hours and hours and hours — not to mention all that wear-and-tear on my back — building two woodsheds and stocking them with more than 10 cords of wood.
I won't even have gone through half a cord by Dec. 21.
I also wasted weeks building deer-proof enclosures around my vegetable garden, blueberry bushes and a mini-vineyard I planned to plant next spring — except there won't be a next spring, let alone another harvest. Damn!
I could have been kicking back with a few brewskis and a barrel full of Doritos instead of digging post holes, lugging rocks and assembling metal fences.
Speaking of Doritos, I've spent decades turning up my nose at Big Macs, pepperoni pizzas and the entire KFC menu, choosing instead to gnaw on granola, raw veggies and tofu, in the mistaken belief that it would prolong my longevity. Had I known earlier on about the impending doom I might have indulged in a few more treats.
Imagine: I'll be checking out the same day as Rush Limbaugh! Arrrgh!
Here are a few other things, in no particular order, that I wish I hadn't done:
-- Run all those stupid marathons.
-- Climbed all those stupid mountains.
-- Kayaked all those stupid rivers.
-- Swum in all those stupid lakes.
-- Skiied all those stupid trails.
-- Sailed, skated, sledded, hang-glided and otherwise moved around in the stupid great outdoors without the use of an engine.
Instead, I could have been learning how to drive a snowmobile, ATV or Jet-Ski, or how to shoot a rifle — in other words, becoming a REAL outdoorsman.
Oh well, with only a month to go there's no point in changing horses in midstream — or more accurately, now that I've almost almost reached the other side.
I might as well go back to my dish of yogurt with a side order of bean sprouts. If I finish in time there may still enough light to split a few more logs.
Lugging back-country skis and poles on our shoulders, my son Tom and I trudged along the Volcanic Legacy Scenic Byway at Oregon’s Crater Lake National Park, searching for a section of road that had not been plowed.
As I clambered toward the crest of the Mist Trail in California’s Yosemite National Park a couple weeks ago, spray from the thunderous Nevada Fall washed over me, but I was already soaked, with sweat, after gaining nearly 2,000 feet of...
Just between us, don’t you hate it when friends or coworkers post photos on Facebook of awesome journeys to exotic destinations – or if they’re really old-school, send postcards depicting glorious sunsets, sparkling lakes,...
It’s difficult to imagine a more outrageous example of idiotic government overreaction than this week’s incident involving a mute swan on Five Mile Pond in Danielson, which would almost be laughable if the outcome weren’t so...
With a blustery breeze making the 8-degree temperature feel as if were a few notches below zero, our group didn’t intend to dawdle while scrambling back to civilization. The mountain hut where we spent the night had been so frigid my boots...
After having swum the 1.2-mile leg of Hawaii’s Rohto Half-Ironman triathlon Dirk Vlieks of Mystic was 22 miles into the 56-mile bike section, already thinking ahead to the 13.1-mile run to the finish line, when he began to feel...
You’d think that those of us who heat with wood can relax this time of year when we no longer must make 10 trips a day to the woodshed, stumble out of bed at 3 a.m. to stoke the stove, continuously shovel ashes and forage the forest for...