Saturday
The next day I got up around OMG-IT’S-EARLY, or 6 am. (Considering Grey works the swing shift and we usually go to bed around three AM, this is a major shift.) I lit a fire by cheating and using matches because it kept @#$% raining and everything was damp. After coffee and an egg, I felt more human and went to register for classes. I chose to take a class on soapmaking, taught by a good friend of mine, and a seminar on the colonial custom of the quilted petticoat and its construction. There was a breakfast buffet as well, featuring fruit, bread, biscuits, a couple coffeecakes and some storebought doughnuts, so I supplemented my egg with some fruit and biscuits.
Saturday the class offerings included a rifle class for new shooters, but I didn’t feel the need since I am already competing with Dead Center. The evening buffet was just as sumptuous as the previous day, with the notable additions of some Scotch eggs, herbed cheese curds, a nameless but tasty casserole of chicken and potatoes, peanut butter fudge, and a chocolate cake covered in white and dark chocolate shavings. There was no Dutch Oven contest this year, instead a Canning competition was instituted. I entered a jar of raspberry jam and a jar of peach chutney.
The usual council fire was somewhat inhibited by the constant showers, so most people socialized at one another’s tents, gravitating to the ones with awnings. (Mine doesn’t.) I set my own soaked mocs aside and borrowed a pair from the common pool known as Grandma’s Closet, but those quickly soaked through as well.
I entered the Seneca Run again this year, which had a boobytrap in it: everyone had to FIRST don a pair of oversized pants, then finish the run while still clad in them. The rest was fairly standard: shoot one arrow at target, pack a blanket into gunnysack, shoot rifle at target, stack wood, throw ‘hawk at target (this part was out in the rain, the rest was under the roof of the firing line), run back to starting line and shuck pants off. Time. I garnered some admiration by choosing to do so barefoot (my soaked moccasins were more of a hindrance than a help) even at a run over gravel.
The evening went much the same way, due to unrelenting precipitation.
Saturday the class offerings included a rifle class for new shooters, but I didn’t feel the need since I am already competing with Dead Center. The evening buffet was just as sumptuous as the previous day, with the notable additions of some Scotch eggs, herbed cheese curds, a nameless but tasty casserole of chicken and potatoes, peanut butter fudge, and a chocolate cake covered in white and dark chocolate shavings. There was no Dutch Oven contest this year, instead a Canning competition was instituted. I entered a jar of raspberry jam and a jar of peach chutney.
The usual council fire was somewhat inhibited by the constant showers, so most people socialized at one another’s tents, gravitating to the ones with awnings. (Mine doesn’t.) I set my own soaked mocs aside and borrowed a pair from the common pool known as Grandma’s Closet, but those quickly soaked through as well.
I entered the Seneca Run again this year, which had a boobytrap in it: everyone had to FIRST don a pair of oversized pants, then finish the run while still clad in them. The rest was fairly standard: shoot one arrow at target, pack a blanket into gunnysack, shoot rifle at target, stack wood, throw ‘hawk at target (this part was out in the rain, the rest was under the roof of the firing line), run back to starting line and shuck pants off. Time. I garnered some admiration by choosing to do so barefoot (my soaked moccasins were more of a hindrance than a help) even at a run over gravel.
The evening went much the same way, due to unrelenting precipitation.