Which one should we share....
The tale of Sherpa Kurt and the tattooed lady....nah this is a family site....perhaps the story of the Sherpa Kurt and the big ditch....nope not quite right....perhaps Shepa Kurt and Bwana Kahuna chasing the one legged deer....
Dang...to many of these are just not g, pg, pg 13, or r rated appropriate.
There was this one time at deer camp along the Red River of the North just across from the Georgetown bridge.
After some late night shenanigans downtown at various watering holes we pulled our sorry carcasses out to the land. Gav went to the north to coffin corners, Peaches down to south point, I was over by the high stand, and Sherpa well...he said he was going down to the old farmhouse along the high edge of the bank.
It was a cold morning, winds blowing in from the north across the prairies with nothing to slow them down, your breath making ice on your mustache and beard. So cold you kept your eyes to just slits so they didn't hurt like pin needles being stitched on your unmentionables. One of those cold clear mornings where everything had a rainbow hue around it as you looked through the scope.
Right around 930 or so the senior members of the group showed up. Bringing out hot breakfast. Gav walked his way down to me and we headed back through the woods and the field edge to what we called the parking lot. Hoping to bump something to those who sit in trucks. We could see Peaches doing the same from the south point walking north towards the big ditch. Yet no sign of the crafty devil of the north hisself was seen.
Well long story short we got to the parking lot and still no Sherpa. Which was surprising as one of the elders had already cracked his ceremonial medicinal nectar of a Germanic peppermint variety. (Disclaimer: He was restricted to the truck and a non shooter by this time, he was there for the social aspect). The cracking of that substance would have surely brought forth the indomitable most Sherpular one. And yet.....nothing.....
Figuring he had succumbed to the night prior and was relaxing in the old farmhouse it was decided to make sure he was not a sherpsickle so off I go on Bwana Kahuna's ATV.
I get to the house and walk in, calling out for Sherpa....all I hear if mrrrppphhhh, hmmmpppffff, frrrummmphhhhh......I walk into the back corner room and there he is....except for one small issue....he has black marks on his face and singed eyebrows....now knowing my beloved brother in arms I start looking for any other serious wounds or ongoing structural damage but only found glazed eyes and a distant faraway look.
And then there it is....an empty cartridge case, an old metal bowl, and can of lighter fluid. Turns out ol' Sherpa did get a bit chilled that morning. Decided he needed to do some warming up, He rigged himself an impromptu heating system. Only one little problem he couldn't get it to light. So what else would a backwoods boy from the north woods do. He doctored the wood in the bowl with some special ingredients, a little bit of this and some of that absolutely knowing he would soon be warm.
Only one little drawback to this whole plan was his lighter was almost out of fluid, so instead of using the fluid in the lighter he chose instead to put the fluid in the bowl with the aforementioned compounds. Thinking that he would ignite it with the spark from the lighter.
One and one makes whoosh.....needless to say once we finished for the day and headed back to town the Sherpa was in rare form and while talking to the local does at the watering hole extolled the virtues of his soon to be patented heating technique. As I recall it didn't turn out to good that night until he met the imaginary tattooed lady at the hotel pool....but that's another story
The tale of Sherpa Kurt and the tattooed lady....nah this is a family site....perhaps the story of the Sherpa Kurt and the big ditch....nope not quite right....perhaps Shepa Kurt and Bwana Kahuna chasing the one legged deer....
Dang...to many of these are just not g, pg, pg 13, or r rated appropriate.
There was this one time at deer camp along the Red River of the North just across from the Georgetown bridge.
After some late night shenanigans downtown at various watering holes we pulled our sorry carcasses out to the land. Gav went to the north to coffin corners, Peaches down to south point, I was over by the high stand, and Sherpa well...he said he was going down to the old farmhouse along the high edge of the bank.
It was a cold morning, winds blowing in from the north across the prairies with nothing to slow them down, your breath making ice on your mustache and beard. So cold you kept your eyes to just slits so they didn't hurt like pin needles being stitched on your unmentionables. One of those cold clear mornings where everything had a rainbow hue around it as you looked through the scope.
Right around 930 or so the senior members of the group showed up. Bringing out hot breakfast. Gav walked his way down to me and we headed back through the woods and the field edge to what we called the parking lot. Hoping to bump something to those who sit in trucks. We could see Peaches doing the same from the south point walking north towards the big ditch. Yet no sign of the crafty devil of the north hisself was seen.
Well long story short we got to the parking lot and still no Sherpa. Which was surprising as one of the elders had already cracked his ceremonial medicinal nectar of a Germanic peppermint variety. (Disclaimer: He was restricted to the truck and a non shooter by this time, he was there for the social aspect). The cracking of that substance would have surely brought forth the indomitable most Sherpular one. And yet.....nothing.....
Figuring he had succumbed to the night prior and was relaxing in the old farmhouse it was decided to make sure he was not a sherpsickle so off I go on Bwana Kahuna's ATV.
I get to the house and walk in, calling out for Sherpa....all I hear if mrrrppphhhh, hmmmpppffff, frrrummmphhhhh......I walk into the back corner room and there he is....except for one small issue....he has black marks on his face and singed eyebrows....now knowing my beloved brother in arms I start looking for any other serious wounds or ongoing structural damage but only found glazed eyes and a distant faraway look.
And then there it is....an empty cartridge case, an old metal bowl, and can of lighter fluid. Turns out ol' Sherpa did get a bit chilled that morning. Decided he needed to do some warming up, He rigged himself an impromptu heating system. Only one little problem he couldn't get it to light. So what else would a backwoods boy from the north woods do. He doctored the wood in the bowl with some special ingredients, a little bit of this and some of that absolutely knowing he would soon be warm.
Only one little drawback to this whole plan was his lighter was almost out of fluid, so instead of using the fluid in the lighter he chose instead to put the fluid in the bowl with the aforementioned compounds. Thinking that he would ignite it with the spark from the lighter.
One and one makes whoosh.....needless to say once we finished for the day and headed back to town the Sherpa was in rare form and while talking to the local does at the watering hole extolled the virtues of his soon to be patented heating technique. As I recall it didn't turn out to good that night until he met the imaginary tattooed lady at the hotel pool....but that's another story
