FA, FA, FA!! We can’t even get into camp due to excessive warmy-changy residue. Polecat is dead in his tracks halfway to the camp lot with his high-dollar-foreign-supposedly-supoda-to-go-anywhere-in-the-snow-with-“cityot-tires”-vehicle. Once the metal roadblock is cleared, Leaddog “walks” his American-made-yes-it-does-go-anywhere-in-the-snow-truck-with-“non-cityot”-tires right up the hill, with Robba’s snowblower. Robba brings his American made truck up as well, and clears the lot of the warmy-changy residue so that the remainder of the crew can park in fine fashion without difficulty. This was accomplished after several hours warmy-changy residue removal at their prospective abodes back in the flatland. Darkness ensues, as does the mood of the gang. FA, FA, FA!

After yet another camp mechanical issue is addressed and repaired – water – the persistent events of residue placement hamper the gang still. Up to 20″ in spots, more in others slows the gang down and keeps them local. Tracks are seen! Beds are seen! Rubs with fresh scrapings are seen! The makers of such are not however, but at least we know they’re still on the hill. A tired and demoralized crew, now with Dr. Pork in tow trudges back to camp to whine about the events of the last few weeks. At least a good dinner was had, mule based. FA-FA-FA-FA-FA-FA…….



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