I guess we’ll start from the beginning.  I know sometimes it’s good to start at the end - gives the viewer a sense of foresight - but since we’re not at the end I can’t do that.  So we’ll start with the beginning.  And all good stories need a title of some sort so we’ll call this one SPUDS. Pronounced SCHPUDS.  Webster defines spuds as a collection of good friends, in a far off country well worth visiting.  It’s true! Look it up.  Spuds is where we start.  With the hero of this story, on one of his many dictionary days, happening to stumble, ignorantly enough, upon the word and decided to book a flight. That, is the beginning.  Now comes the story…

Tuesday February 23, 2010 was like any other day that week.  The birds were singing, the dogs were singing, the grass was singing and the pigs were in the barn.  Yes. Just another wonderful day in Orange County.  Or so it seems. [insert scary music] One Nate Reinig was buying his last minute supplies in order to finish his packing.  A 6500+ cubic inch pack lay naked and empty on his bedroom floor.  His clothes, camping gear, camera equipment, toy dinosaur and plastic flamingo sat patiently for him to return with his handle of whiskey so they might find shelter in the pack.  Long time friends his clothes and pack are. It had been a while though, since their last meeting and they couldn’t wait to find one another once more.  He returned.  Handle in hand.  Also carrying a few bars of fancy blue soap from America.  Having only moments before he left, he set off with his task.  He worked fiendishly, mechanically and with grace.   Inserting each item precisely where it belonged.  Gently padding the dedicates with shirts and other soft goods. He worked at his task and when he was finished he stood back and marveled at his creation.  No. No he didn’t.  He actually packed his bag and brushed his teeth. But it was a dangerous brushing with oh…. lets say he had to fight off ninjas or something.

Then came the ride.

Having said goodbye to his faithful pup, he looked fondly into the mirror and doing on of those snap, point wink mouth click things he was off.   His mother picked him up and they went to his grandmothers house for an emotional goodbye.  Brandy the 17th was in her typical form, growling at him as he entered the house.  Making quick haste of his dog fighting skills he learned in DubyaDubya 1 [ww1] he stilled the beast and all was well.  Salutations and farewells from his incredible grandmother and once more he was off.  Traffic was heavy and he was a little worried that he wouldn’t make it time so he called his old police friends to clear the way.  And they did,  True story.  In no time at all they were at terminal two.  After a good goodbye from his mother he was off on his way.

5400 miles is a long way.  Nah!  5600 miles is a long way. Good thing his trip was 5800 miles.  Our Hero likes airplanes.  He likes travel.  He loves international travel.  Although having only been to four - strike that - five countries outside of his own, he loves international travel.  But 5800 miles stuck next to someone who has an affection, a love, a fondness for spilling over into another persons seat, can make things semi-uncomfortable for ten and one half hours.  This, was the situation for our hero.  But! His spirits were high. So he endured.  He was miserable but he endured.  He sat there sobbing silently in the dark, wishing for a terrorist to take the woman hostage.  A terrorist that never came.  But stil, he endured.  Falling asleep ten minutes before landing only to be awoken by a sloppy British accent, saying a hail Mary and crossing herself at the same time.  This is how he arrived in London.

A bench is a marvelous thing.  It provides sanctuary from the tedious redundancy of walk.  Through their production efforts they create jobs and social welfare.  Truly the great levelers of mankind.  Rich and poor alike unite in harmony on benches.  Truly, benches are proof of the greatness of man.  This was his feeling after he passed through customs and seeked out a lone bench for the six hour lay over in London.  It was only a matter of minutes before he found himself sleeping, in seat hogger-free bliss.  No doubt he dreamed of Dragons. Or perhaps he was a deep sea explorer fighting undersea dragons.  Most likely he dreamed about being the president of his country and dealing with the constant threat of Dragon attacks.  Dragons. The number one killer of people in his country.

Nothing happened after London.  Well, not really. He got back on a flight to another country that wasn’t that long and really doesn’t need any sort of explanation.  He got on an airplane and then the airplane landed in Dublin Ireland and that is really all that there is to it.  Nice flight. Nice people. And that was it.  So, we’ll leave it at that.

Dublin

The history of Ireland is a complex one.  Centuries of oppression under Dragon rule… Ok.  No.  The Irish have been pissed on by tyrannical monarchies and various other nations.  Not until the early 20th century, when a group of Irish men and woman liberated a post office in Dublin declaring Irish independence were they ever considered anything less than 2nd class citizens.  The British responded in force and the Revolution was squashed.  Years later they would rise up again.  Finally overcoming British rule to become an independent republic.  Then came the Civil War, the Religious wars in the north and a number of things that would slow the cause until they would final emerge in the late 20th century as an Economic powerhouse and a nation well received on the international scene.

To be continued….

Now that the greeting is out of the way…. shall we get down to business?  Alright, fine, business might not be the right word to use seeing as I don’t sell anything…yet.  There are plans.  The future is changing fast and I will soon be expecting all of you to pay for my lavish life style.  But, as always… I digress.  So, there are going to be some changes coming to this here website.  Hopefully sooner then later but seeing as I have no web design experience and can barely type it might take a little bit longer then I would like.  But I doubt the 3 people that look at this site every month will really care.

So here we go.  New stories.  Regular updates.  Photography.  Outdoor activities. A store. Humor…… attempts.  Irrational rants.  Rational raves.  Everything and everything that you might suspect a person of my calliber to want to share to the world.  I don’t know if that makes you happy or sad;  But at least people like you are thinking about me.  That, is what counts.

So pull your easy chair up to the fire and sit patiently for something that will sure as heck take time.  But when it does…. Oh boy oh boy.  You are in for one helluva a disappointment.  I mean let down.  I mean a metaphorical journey through the bowels of Medieval literature.  No, that’s definitely not right.  I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.

As always.  Have fun.

Canyon swing take one

canyon swing take two