SUBMITTED december 2014
BY LYNN D
Ahoy there Stephan the Pantless (and anyone else who cares to read)
Lynn D, the Departed or Deephearted of the Fancipants side here. It works either way you fix your gaze upon it. I have indeed departed from the Southwest for this season and I most whole heartedly agree with you Stephan about the movie Braveheart. Being of the Deephearted side of the “Pants” pirate family I must say that I fall in love with Mel Gibson every time I cast my attention upon that man and movie. The ending nearly sends me directly to Davey Jones Locker” each time I watch it. Arrrrr, where are me tissues?
Anyway, as I wet me pipe with this warm grog by the fire on the shores of Boston I find meself with ship under bare poles and crewless, still a far better fate than being pantless, IMHO. It’s a dreary damp bone chillin winter mornin here. The sun has barely just risen over the vermilion horizon. I wrap my blanket tighter as I think; yes, on such a mornin sailors do take warnin and pirates do too. I will batten down me hatches after I finish me tale here. I just barely availed meself of this fire. Luckily, being raised by the Girl Scout band (though thrice removed as I have been told) I had my trusty flint and tinder box with me. So, here I sit and ponder whilst I drain me cup o grog and warm me bones.
Just about now you must be scratching your scurvy skull and a wonderin why I have thus addressed you. Avast Ye! I fancy there is still booty to be found in those Rockies and a blaze marks the spot. I am also a wonderin iffin ye ave recovered sufficient from your landlocked doldrums since your last hunt??
Ye see now, I am a girl pirate, from me boots up to me at. Since me last hikin around the canyons and dried up river beds I’ve been thinking that I do indeed need a priate in crime, I mean a partner in crime. I must apologize for that Fennian slip thar. It does seem to be happenin more and more whilst I compose the memoirs of my search. It’s a wonder I can organize my thoughts by this fire as my beloved brown hounds Homer the Cross Eyed and Crooked Nosed Smile and Abigail the Beautiful wrestle over the ham bones I just tossed over me shoulders whilst Kipper the Black strolls across this lap top purring… I bemoan the fact that my 80 pound brown beasts are too large to place into a carry on to place beneath the seat a front of me on that grey bird that flies me in to Santa Fe. Arrrrgh, what protection they could lend as they jumped, kissed and licked every scurvy dog that happened along me trail.
My last voyage to the Rockies on a beautiful, sunny warm hiking day for my now land locked pegs was in November. It found me with the turquoise sky over me head and the terra cotta land under me feet. It was a foine day to hoist me sails with the fair wind blowing at 15-20 mph on that mountain. I found meself at the bottom of that deep gulch on a dried up river bed looking for the ole “X” that marks the spot. Tis a wonder I landed upon me spot with the likes o Sir Doug Scott directing me such! Me thinks he should give up the writing of treasure maps!
Whilst I searched according to that fated poem by f squared ( yes, the small f as I am too lazy to also raise my finger to hit the cap button ) I smelled the strong stench of cigarette smoke upon that wind. It did shiver me timbers right then and thar as I thought dead men or a woman as is my case tell no tails. There I go again with that Fennian slip thing, a thousand pardons ladies, “tales”. I truly feared that no quarter would be given in my search of treasure on that day there in that riverbed. Whilst goose bumps aplenty arouse upon my flesh I thought of Bess, my flintlock that I had left behind home in Boston. It was hunting season there in the Rockies and I had worn my bright pink frock (until just now I had wondered why I saw no birds) and thought surely a game hunter would not chance alarming his prey with that putrid whiff. I did ponder how far this odor could travel on such a blustery day. I sat there quiet amidst the rocks listening and sniffing until I lost track of all time. As I attempted to make my hourly call in early, I discovered I had no service. My eyes searched the cerulean blanketed boulders above me as I quietly sat. Finally I braved out in to the open, well as open as one can be whilst being deep in a ravine with boulders surrounding over head.
I do believe this stench and fright skewed my search on this day. I hiked in circles through mud and a light snow covering for the remainder of the afternoon as the sun watched from above. The only boot prints I ever came across were my own, one, two then 3 times to the same spot!! I looked both high and low but found not the booty for which I was searchin. I never came across that smoker either as far as I could tell but this woman did follow me around all day. Every time I looked behind me she was there. In some cases depending on whether I was facing East or West she was in front of me. She was so quick! I found her to be relentless in her stalk of me as she wondered what secret I beheld. Whilst this could be disturbing to some, I found a growing admiration for her determined spirit that was not unlike my own. I have included a picture of her that I did capture whilst she looked off in to the distance. Although I did not find “THE” treasure I have many small ones of my own found along the way. I have included pictures of some of them.
One treasure is of a stone held up high sitting amidst the most unlikely arms. Another treasure is my fossilized scraper or such where my thumb fit perfect on the reverse. How I wanted to show this to ff.
There are 2 people treasures I will keep close too. One was my pony tailed, shorts wearing waiter who was also the cook, the dishwasher, the food server, the owner and the money taker in that breakfast nook of 4 tables. When he got behind in his duties people at the tables took over the coffee serving and the dish washin for him. Everyone seemed to hold this place with pride with in their hearts. When I answered that I only needed salt and peppah with me breakfast that arrived after four cups of Joe he exclaimed you’re not from California. I stuck out like a sore thumb as the stranger amidst them. Apparently he had already scoped out me rental cars’ plates. On his log I wrote me name Lynn D, from Massachusetts and under comments I wrote it was worth the drive,” just to see that sense of community. The next person to remember is the proprietor of the establishment where I roosted in Eagles Nest. It overlooked Eagle Nest Lake. As I had arrived late on that day he invited me to a leftover turkey dinner with all the fixings. He knew there was no other place open in town. That was indeed a warm welcome shared with his wife and young boy.
Before I commenced my trek the following day, he told me a tale of a gent and his nephew who had stayed at the very same logde and searched the very same trail as I was about to embark upon just a few months back. Then, this man and his nephew apparently had a bitter disagreement and took off to another state. Hmmm is all I can say. I worry that this has piqued the proprietor’s interest enough that 2 strangers finding themselves on the same trail would send him on his own quest from nearby.
I had another thought unrelated that I quite forgot to query the proprietor about. This was a lodge where it seemed that only treasure or game hunters took refuge. It was a place for big burley mountain men. I could not help but wonder why this place (and none of the other higher priced establishments) had that magnifying mirror over the sink. Becoming quite far sighted in my advanced years I was thrilled to be able to find that one hair on my chin lest it grow and I become mistaken for a mountain man. Yo ho ho!!!!
And, I will lend a dishonorable mention to that one man dressed in blue. I will only refer to him as the bilge rat from here on in as he bestowed upon me a $177 greeting card from New Mexico. The smile and the bill just did not go together in my way of thinking. I had just set me sails and was on course. How I’d like to have him walk the plank. Better yet, to keel haul him to clean the barnacles off of me ship!! I am happy to say that my ship was not searched as others have alluded to be happening on the high seas as a sting from the local law enforcement to acquire the treasure from the unsuspecting finder.
Doe ye ken my gist here Stephan the Pantless??? Unless you have another pirate lass to go a searchin with I have new ideas apart from yours and would love to share them with a fellow Matey of the same low standards. Of course we will split the bootie J
I do pIan on finding this treasure afore ff feeds the fishes and I have need of another sword arm to prevent the skullduggary that often accompanies a treasure hunting/ finding.
So, both my tale and fire dwindle at this moment and the cold New England wind blows and yet another purring beast prances upon this key board as Pickles the Plaid demands my attention. Until next spring…. when I cast my Jolly Roger!
For more info about Stephan the Pantsless Pirate’s exploits you will find them near the bottom of the “Other’s Adventures” menu.