For the 2nd year running, a group of misfits and maroons packed up and headed over the Cascades for a long weekend of hanging out, riding, and generally doing things deemed unacceptable in the general public. The mayhem started late Thursday afternoon and continued throughout the weekend as guys showed up when their schedules allowed. The plan was simple, go riding during daylight, eat and drink too much once the sun went down, and hope you found your tent before all lights went out as it was freakin' freezing cold.
I had the pleasure of being first to camp and thus picked out the best spot for my tent. It wasn't long before several of the other usual suspects showed up and beers started flowing; along with all the sarcasm and bad humor that accompanies a trek like this.
JP packed a whole bunch of fresh oysters from Tillamook and those served as the best appetizer I've had when camping; perfect thing to chow down while waiting for the halibut bake to finish. Of course, more beer was consumed and various bottles of whisky, tequila, and other spirits started appearing.
At some point during this revelry, I actually heard my phone alert me to a text message. Go to check and sure enough, it's our friend TY who has the directional sense of a gnat. Not sure how tough it is to follow the directions: stay on paved road until you hit gravel, but we'll leave that alone. Needless to say, getting Magellan to camp took a concerted effort, but a few shots of whisky and hot fire smoothed everything over...lol.
I'm pretty sure the rest of the night was more of the same; we ended up with a cat condo to sacrifice to the fire gods, enjoyed good grub, and at some point I stumbled to my tent and actually made it into my sleeping bag, though I don't recall all said events specifically.
