FFFFFRRRRRRRGGGHGHHH!! (actual sounds I was making right as I typed that) Yawn, stretch, scratch, repeat- let’s have some coffee!

How are you? Did you have a good week? Do you have a hot cup in hand?

I went Saturday afternoon and bought a bag of Yacuri from Choco coffee which I am enjoying right now. I made pourover with it this morning. My first cup was both a touch sour AND astringent and I didn’t quite know how to tweak it. My intuition was to go finer, so I adjusted the Kingrinder K6 down two clicks (32 microns) and guess what? My second cup turned out beautiful and balanced, the cup I am enjoying immensely as I write this. Let me tell you about my week.

Yesterday I saw two black-throated blue warblers. The first I glimpsed deep in a swamp as I was scouting my way out of a hunt after a fruitless morning, flitting from privet bush to privet bush, gleaning insects at eye level. The next I saw at the edge of the swamp. It flew up from the ground into a bush about 8 feet away from me. I haven’t seen one in a few years, and this sighting brought me a keen sense of joy.

The morning hunt was a dud- no sightings of deer, though I got snorted at by two from the river bottom. The amount of hog sign was obscene, as was the hog smell wafting from the bedding cover behind me. It’s incredibly dry where I’m hunting, so it could be the hogs have been forced out of the hills into the river and creek bottoms where there’s a ton of acorns and water. You know it’s dry here when you hunt a swamp without seeing a mosquito.

Saturday I hunted at home. I hunted my usual tree which sits at the edge of a line of brush the bucks use to enter our property and search for does. I wondered if the lack of horses and the food plot in our pasture would shift deer activity uphill and downwind of me. It did- I got snorted at twice. I wound up seeing at least 9 deer altogether, including a little spike that kept me company for awhile. The deer at our place are incredibly sensitive to pressure, so I’ll have to stay out of there awhile and wait till the rut is really rocking. I’ve hunted here around November 14 in the past and had a parade of bucks all morning long. I’m hoping I didn’t screw it up hunting too early. Like I said, the deer in my neighborhood are pressured and fussy.

I hunted Wednesday afternoon in a new spot and saw a small buck chasing two does. I was just hoping for a doe that day, but nothing came close enough. I spent that morning at the gun range sighting in my .270. I always forget how much I enjoy shooting- the firm push of the recoil, the satisfaction of seeing a bullet hit where you are aiming. I was trying to dial my scope in a little better. I got close, but ran out of ammo before I got there. It’s shooting well enough to kill a deer at 100 yards; I just wouldn’t take a 300 yard shot at an antelope yet. It’ll get there.

The rest of the week was work and hockey, perfect weather and great cups of coffee, a pot of beef stew and a visit to Crumbl Cookie. I felt like I floated through the entire week, sleeping well in the cool dry air, savoring the cool bright days, scheming at night over a bowl of ice cream on where to hunt next, or searching the internet for the next bag of coffee beans. I ordered some from Traverse City Michigan that got good reviews, so I’ll keep you posted. I’m soaking in the season, reveling in the golden light, the perfect temps, the migrating birds, the bucks whose restlessness I share, the falling leaves and brilliant colors, the return of soup to the menu.

I managed to pull a couple decent shots of espresso this weekend. Dreamy actually. Perfectly balanced. If you think of espresso as overly bitter or tough to drink then you’ve never had good espresso. I wanted to down the double I made Saturday, but it was already 1 o’clock. My stomach doesn’t like black coffee in the afternoon, so I made possibly the best cappuccino I’ve ever had. I also drank two pots of French press this week for the first time in two months. I was afraid all this experimentation with other coffees would ruin French press for me, but no- It’s still a great cup of coffee. Going down this coffee rabbit hole has paid off more than I could have imagined.

Saturday Southern Culture on the Fly magazine released their Dave issue- a tribute to Dave Grossman, who co-founded the magazine with Steve Seinberg, and departed this world far too soon on April 3 of this year. I wrote a tribute to Dave here on this Substack shortly after, which they were good enough to include in the issue. Dave was one of those larger than life figures who left his mark on the world of fly fishing, for all the right reasons. This issues has some fitting tributes to Dave, and also some great writing by the man himself. I hope you can take the time, give it a browse, and get to know a good man who won’t be soon forgotten.

Southern Culture on the Fly- The Dave Issue

And with that I leave you to it. I’ll be hunting Wednesday and all weekend as the rut continues to ramp up. I would love to get a couple does for the freezer and save my remaining buck tag for a big one. With over two months of season left I’m sure something will come my way. I hope you have a great week. May the sun shine on your face.

My coffee is done and it’s time to get to work.

Let’s get after it. . .

Elsewhere on Substack

continues to deliver- words, photos AND illustrations. Go on, click.

Field Notes

Waterfall Chasing: Upper Opossum Creek Falls

Inspired by Life in the Wild…

Read more

8 days ago · 15 likes · 4 comments · Erik Hogan

And loses a deer, but not his soul.

Cow We Doin'

On Recovering

Evening sit. Rocky Woods. Bump the doe and her two fawns on the way in, bedded yards from my stand, behind a rock. Sit, still, hope for the best…

Read more

10 days ago · 21 likes · 19 comments · Lou Tamposi

RRRRRrrrrggggGGGGGG!!! Yawn, stretch, scratch, repeat- let’s have some coffee!

How are ya? I’m good. It was a busy work week last week. Very little hunting for this guy as it was way too hot, with daily highs around 90.

It seems like I’m learning more about coffee every week right now. A new bag of Nicaragua arrived from my Atlas gift subscription. It makes a solid cup of coffee with minimal dialing of my grinder, smooth and rich, probably the most “coffee” flavored coffee I’ve had in awhile. My hand grinder works like a dial on my coffee cup. Coffee too bitter? Turn it two clicks coarser. Too sour/acidic? Finer two clicks. Every coffee is different based on roast and origin, but I’m starting to feel like I can play that grinder like and instrument and make music in a cup.

I told you last week about the food plot I planted in the back pasture. The deer have really taken to it. Two does and three fawns are out there every day, often at random times of day. Then last Monday evening I walked the dogs in the front pasture after work. I walked back inside around 6 pm, walked to our bedroom window in time to seem all 5 stroll out into the back pasture, like all they were waiting on was for things to go quiet.

A few minutes later they started staring into the woods they came from. Within minutes SEVEN bucks walked out through the gate 20 yards from my bedroom. 4 8-points, a 6-point, and a couple yearlings. Two of those bucks were really nice, with antlers much wider than their ears.

I looked around out back the next morning. I found rubs and a huge scrape in the woods near the fence line. I tried to find a tree I could climb without the does busting me. When I got looking around the best spot I could find was my front porch, with a clear 25 yard shot from where all the deer passed through. Our house is white, so I went and got some camo burlap to hang on our handrail to try to break up my silhouette, then picked up some camo mesh to hang behind me to hide my movements, make it so I’m not a dark object moving against a white background.

I walked the dogs Wednesday night after work, then sat out there. I heard stuff walking around but didn’t see anything. Squirrels were busy cutting acorns off a red oak just outside our front yard, and I think some deer were there cleaning them up. I sat till dark seeing nothing.

Saturday the big cold front blew in. I didn’t hunt this weekend because I found the wind too annoying and we had stuff to do, but last night I sat on the front porch to watch again. This time the does and fawns came tripping past me at 18 yards. With a persistent East wind they didn’t bust me. Right as they were coming through, a big deer walked through the thicket just beyond. This was the Big Guy. Long tines and a big body. He did not come to the gate, but jumped the fence just out of range. Later he chased another buck out of the pasture. He’s definitely the boss around here. I put out 3 cameras on the pasture so we’ll see what the video looks like.

This weekend was our hockey season opener. Our Athens Rock Lobsters had a tough game, but they pulled out a win, our goalie Carter McPhail getting the shutout on a 2-0 win. Then Saturday, because we’re completely nuts, we went to the season opener for the Atlanta Gladiators. It’s a pretty straight shot for us down I-85 to get there, so it wasn’t bad. They won 2-1. All in all it was a fun weekend of hockey. Our team’s lines haven’t gelled yet, but there’s lots of potential there, so it could be an interesting season.

Bird migration continues apace, and I saw a couple common nighthawks the other night over the pasture. The first ruby and golden crowned kinglets showed up, and the warbler parade continues. Hopefully I get another deer or two the next couple weeks and can do some dedicated birding and photography.

I wish I had more to share, but my coffee is done and it’s time to get to work.

Let’s get after it. . .

YYYYYRRRRRRPPPPPHHHTTTTTT!!!!! Yawn, stretch, scratch, repeat- Let’s have some coffee!

How are you? I know it’s been two weeks, but unlike last week I feel like I actually have something to share- coffee, bird news, pasture news, hunting news, hockey season, so let’s get into it.

My coffee explorations continue on apace. I haven’t drank french press in weeks now. I’m mostly playing with pourover because I love to drink an actual cup of coffee. This morning I’m drinking Olgar Ortega from 1000 Faces. However there is also espresso news.

Two weeks ago I was feeling a little limited by my Casabrews espresso maker. It does ok, but it uses a 51 mm portafilter, whereas the industry standard is a 58 mm (meaning it’s easier to find accessories). You also don’t have much control over several features, it makes what it makes and that’s it. I pulled a couple decent shots with it, but was already feeling limited by the machine.

Luckily I found a Gemilai Owl on Walmart.com for $300 and it arrived ten days ago. I did quite a bit of research on it and it seems like it’s one of the best reviewed low-end espresso makers. This, I swear, is my final coffee equipment purchase for quite some time. It has the features I want that give me the control I want. I managed to pull a couple decent shots already, but I’m also still down the pourover rabbit hole, so all this is going to take time to sort out. I went and talked to the roaster at Athens Coffee Holdings last week and plan to do an interview with him sometime soon. I picked up a Costa Rica Tarrazu from him that is to die for. I have a couple coffee articles written up that just need some polish, so look for those soon.

The birds. Oh the birds. The end of summer was pretty dull around here, but things have really picked up the last ten days. We have been getting waves of migrants almost daily, with large flocks of migrating warblers and thrushes present, and I even spotted a small flock of Baltimore orioles. The kestrels arrived in numbers about a week ago (meaning you’ll spot 1-2 every couple miles over farm fields). There are ducks on the ponds, mostly blue-winged teal, and geese in the air. I got a couple lifers this week including gray-cheeked thrush, hooded warbler and yellow-throated warblers.

On a sad note, our summer birds are slowly but surely departing. I realized the other day I haven’t seen an indigo bunting in over a month. The cuckoos have gone silent. For years I have been saying the hummingbirds appear to depart around October 9 each year. Wednesday the 7th I saw 3 at the feeders. Thursday I was out of town. Friday the 9th they were gone. Bon voyage my tiny little jewels.

I finally got out on an actual hunt last Monday afternoon (my first turned into a scouting trip) and of all the damned things I shot a buck! After working so hard the prior season, having everything go wrong, having deer show up after I climbed down for the morning, or not offer a shot, come in from odd places, do odd things, and me making some bad shots- after all that, the one deer I see on my first sit this season pops out in the perfect place and offers the perfect shot. I had to call in the dog tracker on this one, but it turned out to be a good shot and the buck didn’t go far or live long. It just goes to show you can’t ever give up, and everyone has bad luck or even a bad season sometimes. After last season I felt like quitting altogether, but I’m back baby! I published the story Saturday, so you can read about it here.

And while it’s easy to equate hunting success with some kind of masculine chest-thumping, for me the best part was butchering my deer up last week. Nothing makes me feel more capable or self-sufficient, not to mention nostalgic. The whole time I’m butchering I’m planning the meals I’ll be making, even customizing cuts for what I know I’ll be cooking. And then that first meal. I made a beautiful pumpkin soup Friday night that I had with sous vide loin quickly browned in butter. It was so delicious. It was the essence of fall. The buck was small, but this also means he is almost fork tender, and the flavor is to die for.

For me the deer season is just beginning, and if I can put 2-3 more in the freezer I will. It has been over a decade since I’ve made anything like jerky or sausage. I can typically eat 2 deer myself a year and don’t like to waste good cuts on jerky or grind when I only get two deer. This year I’d like to do some jerky, breakfast sausage and brats maybe. One deer at a time, right? (BTW, you’re legally allowed 12 deer a season in Georgia)

Two weeks ago I seeded the back pasture. While we had horses we were sowing 250 pounds of winter rye each fall to give them something to graze in winter, and also to try to build some soil and keep them from destroying the place completely. Horses are hard on everything.

Without horses this year I decided to plant 100 pounds of rye in the back pasture to try to keep some deer around. I also put out ten pounds of clover with it. Then I got the idea to order 50 pounds of alfalfa to see if I can establish some by doing a fall planting. I got it seeded a week ago Friday, in time for a small shot of rain on the weekend. We had relatively cool weather during the week with some heavy dew, and when I checked the pasture Friday all I could see was sprouted alfalfa everywhere. Then along comes Hurricane Isaias over the weekend, dropping a big shot of much needed rain, right when I needed it. The directions on the bag say to make your first cutting 40 days after sprouting, so I’m expecting this alfalfa will be drawing deer from around the countryside right as the rut is underway. See how my devious mind works?

As if all that isn’t enough, we went to an exhibition game on Saturday between our local hockey team and Macon. Our team is in the SPHL now so we’ll have to get used to new faces on the roster and new rivalries to sort out. Still, it was great to be back in the arena cheering on our team.

Well that’s all I’ve got for this week. I do have a couple articles about ready to publish, so look for at least one this week. This is the most exciting time of the year for me, so much to do and enjoy. A dose of hunting success doesn’t hurt my feelings at all.

My coffee is done and it’s time to get to work-

Let’s get after it. . .

Elsewhere on Substack

continues to turn out great work writing about my home state of Michigan. Be sure and check this article out, maybe give him a subscribe. Here he captures the boom and bust cycle Northern Michigan is perpetually caught in.

It’s 10:20 on a Monday night. I should be snug in bed. I’m not. I’m sitting at a gas station spitting sunflower seeds in a cup, waiting on my dog tracker. We’re meeting at 11. It’s going to be a long night.

It could be worse. I could not have a dog tracker. I used to go out with my buddies after one of us shot a deer at last light and track till we found it or ran out of blood. We had a lot of 1-2 AM nights. Some successful, some not.

As I got older I started focusing on morning hunts. Shoot a deer at 8 AM and and you’ve got the whole day ahead of you. Have a bad trail, you can still call in a dog or your buddies, grid search if you have to, find the deer and be home in time for dinner.

Evening hunts? Sometimes you get that 4 O’clock deer that comes through and falls in sight. Sometimes. Far more often evening deer are moving at sundown.

Take this buck tonight. I sat out there for four hours without seeing anything. Sunset was at 7:15, last legal shooting light at 7:45 on paper. I sat all evening listening to the pileated woodpeckers’ harsh chant, and the sounds of squirrels cutting acorns. At 7 pm I checked my sight pins. Still visible, but with overcast skies and heavy forest cover I knew by sunset I wouldn’t be able to see to shoot anyway. I checked my pins at 7:05. Still there but fading fast.

At 7:07 I heard something walking in the forest litter behind me, something that sounded different than the squirrels cutting acorns all evening in the treetops. It was a buck, 25 yards behind me eating the acorns the squirrels had worked so hard to harvest. I hunt out of a tree saddle, and a deer directly behind me is actually an easy, strong shot. You just pivot and shoot.

I picked up my bow and turned. I couldn’t see him at first, but then I realized he was actually closer to me but in thick brush. Luckily he turned right back around and walked into the hole in the brush, offering a clear shot again. This time he was quartered away from me. Almost too good to be true.

I was still skeptical of this whole situation after all the botched situations I had last season. I drew and aimed, doubtful I would be able to sight on him in the gathering dusk, but to my surprise I could see my pins and the deer quite well. I aimed, settled my pins an extra moment and released.

I’m using lighted nocks on my arrows this year, and the green LED burned a trail through the gloom, through the deer, and glowed brightly back at me from it’s new perch in the ground. There was a loud pop at impact, and the buck tore off, but he stopped 25 yards away, staring back at the glowing arrow sticking in the ground. I fumbled for another arrow for a follow-up shot, but he suddenly sniffed his side and took off at a dead run. The ground drops away from where he was standing; he bailed over the side and I lost sight of him immediately.

I climbed down, gathered up my things, then walked to the arrow. It was covered in thin, watery blood. Not great, but not terrible.

I decided to walk over to where I thought the buck stood after the shot. He stood long enough that there should be blood there. The problem was I am not familiar with the area and was unable to pinpoint the spot when I climbed down. Everything looked the same. Not only that, everything was wet from weekend rain and cool overcast weather. All the leaves were dark and wet. Realizing I would never locate blood on my own, I sent a text to my friend and dog tracker Kyle.

Kyle was coaching that night, so I waited till after 9 PM to talk to him. I told him about the shot, the blood on the arrow, the actions of the buck. He thought it sounded gut shot, but was willing to come out at 11 PM. That’s a real outdoorsman right there. What? You have a deer you need help tracking in the dark on a weeknight? I’ll be right there! You find a friend like that you better pick up the Waffle House check.

With time to kill I drove down to Greensboro to find some food, buy some extra batteries and the aforementioned sunflower seeds. It’s a tiny town that rolls up the sidewalks at 9 PM, but there’s some fast food joints down by I-20, so I went, got a burger, went to a gas station for the other supplies, and got back to the rendezvous point by 11, then to the access.

It was great to see Kyle again. He’s helped me with several tracks, a couple successful, a couple not. His dog, Bailey, is a bloodhound with a sweet disposition and a sharp nose. On a track she’s all business.

We navigated the 400 yards through the dark forest, sweeping aside the joro spider webs across our path as we went. After a few minutes we spotted the green glow of my arrow still stuck in the dirt. Bailey was already on it and immediately dropped into the creek bottom and took off.

Tracking dogs don’t actually follow blood. Mortally wounded deer give off a smell from their interdigital glands that the dogs pick up on. It’s why a tracking dog on blood can get bored with the trail and quit trying- there may be blood, but they know that deer is still alive.

While following Bailey we found blood. Not a lot, but a good start. Unfortunately at about 70 yards she completely lost the trail and began going in circles, even going back to the arrow before returning to us. She ranged up the creek for over 100 yards without appearing to to be tracking. On her third try she ranged a little further east, and finding the track once again, she took off with her nose to the ground. We went another 100 yards to where the creek cut a ten foot deep gash in the valley floor. Bailey charged down and crossed, but when Kyle shined his light he stopped me.

“Hey man- he’s laying right over there. You got him.”

And there he was, a splash of white fur in the darkness. It was after midnight.

This turned out to be a perfect scenario for calling in the tracking dog. While the shot had been good, the way it entered and exited didn’t leave much of a blood trail. I never would have found the trail by myself in the dark, and it was warm enough that night that it may have spoiled by morning. After years of tracking mine and my friends’ deer, bent over at the waste straining to see drops of blood in the darkness, it feels like a magic trick watching a dog walk down a trail I can’t see, right to the deer in a fraction of the time it would take me in daylight. Even with the wait and the dog momentarily losing the track, we still found the deer far faster than I could have myself.

Kyle sat and held Bailey while I quartered up the deer. It took longer than it should have, but I didn’t mind. I put the quarters and meat in game bags, loaded up my pack, and we trekked back to the vehicles, the buck on my back, pausing on our way to grab my arrow still glowing in the dark. I stopped at the Golden Pantry on my way home to grab some bags of ice. I got home at 3:15 AM, tired but satisfied, took a shower, then turned in. This is what I remembered, this is what I missed- these late nights, the hard work, the doubt. The feeling of triumph, relief and fatigue. The realization that the work has just begun, there in the woods in the wee hours of the morning.

It’s the feeling of success. It’s the feeling of deer season.

PPPFFFFFRRRRRTTTTTT!!!! Yawn, stretch, scratch, repeat- let’s have some coffee!

How’s it going out there? I hope you’re soaking up all this fall goodness. Fall kicked off Tuesday, of course, and it was like flipping a switch. Wednesday and Thursday were cool and overcast, Friday the humidity cleared out, and the last two days we had mornings in the low 50’s. Perfect early season hunting weather, but I had other obligations.

I did get out for my first hunt of the season Wednesday afternoon. I tend to experiment in these early season hunts. I went to a spot I found on the map and wanted to try. This has paid off for me in the past, but not this time- It turned out to be thinned pines with very little deer sign even though I was hunting the edge of some oaks near a creek. I climbed a tree and sat for an hour before deciding I hated the spot so much I had to climb down. I scouted my way back out without finding anything interesting, then drove around checking accesses for signs of use. Then I went to a boat launch where I did some birding and saw some great egrets, blue herons, kingfishers, blue-winged teal and mallards.

Birding is picking up fast around here. I haven’t seen a male hummingbird in two weeks, so I’m assuming all the ones left are juveniles trying to bulk up for migration. There is a definite uptick of bird activity. Every morning there are Canada geese grazing in the farm fields, flocks of cowbirds and blackbirds have shown up. The chipping sparrows are back. Saturday I saw a yellow-breasted chat and a yellow-billed cuckoo. Our water oaks are dropping acorns and it’s attracting a lot of doves. I’m hoping to do some dedicated birding outings, but I need to fill the freezer first. Yesterday morning I went birding at the fire house down the road and saw 3 anhinga soaring with the raptors on the first thermals of the morning.

The coffee journey continues on apace. I’m mostly doing pour over in the morning, with the occasional espresso shot. I overdid it Friday- two cups of coffee in the morning, then a double shot of espresso at lunchtime. I got a hankering for a cappuccino and went home and made one after work, a double-shot number that was beautiful and creamy. I was afraid I wouldn’t sleep, but I fell into bed that night and slept like I was knocked out. I’m pulling some decent shots from the Casabrews, but I’m already eyeing an upgrade to a final machine. I won’t spend too much on it, but I’ve already spent more on coffee gear this summer than the last 20 years combined. That’s a measure of how inexpensive and durable coffee gear is, not of how much I spent.

The coffee hobbyist world is strange, finicky and expensive- kind of like fly fishing. Like fly fishing, you can half-ass it and still do pretty good. Or, you can go down the rabbit hole and see how far it goes. In fly fishing I always said that we need the purists and snobs- they are the ones who elevate the game. I’m not that person, I just ride their coattails. Thank god for all the fly purists out there studying entomology, the physics of the fly cast, researching fish behavior or new tying materials, moving everything to the next level. Thank god for the dry fly snobs, spey casters, Euro nymphers and muskie mavens. All these folks refine the sport, make it better, and it seeps out to the rest of us. I’ve been doing snap-T casts on brook trout streams for years now. Cross-pollination is a good thing.

The same is true in coffee- thank god for all the purists out there pushing it as far as it can go. Like fly fishing it is focused on increasingly minute details chasing ever incremental results, but for the rest of us it means big gains in quality and taste- much better coffee beans, much better equipment, precision grinders and better techniques. My finding so far is that one of the biggest gains in taste and quality is also the cheapest- a plastic Hario V60 pour over sells for about $10, and coupled with a $100 hand grinder (which you need anyway) the world is your oyster. You’re only limited by your own taste.

Yesterday at noon Marsha looked at me and said “You want to drive to the mountains?”

It was a gorgeous day, bright golden sunshine and mid-70’s, perfect for a Sunday drive. We live in the Piedmont, literally the foothills of Appalachia. When we go to our Walmart 10 minutes away you can see the mountains. We decided to drive north to Great Smoky Mountains National Park to see the elk and maybe a bear.

We stopped off at Tallulah 1882, a diner built in the old train depot, one of the most quaint and picturesque little diners I’ve ever been in. Diner is the wrong word- they specialize in coffee, tea, sandwiches and pastries. We got the pastrami sandwich and I ordered a cortado.

From there we drove to Cherokee NC and into the park. Oconaluftee visitor center is about a mile outside of town, and that’s where the crowds began. The visitor center parking lot was thronged with people. The draw on a Sunday afternoon was the herd of elk hanging out on the grounds. The rut is on, and a massive bull had his herd of cows corralled literally in a corral in the restored farm. Chickens roam the grounds there and I had to get pics of the incongruity of them foraging among the elk. At one point a smaller bull charged out to see if he could steal a cow. The big bull jumped the fence and ran him off. Park volunteers in florescent vests did their best to wrangle the people. One volunteer showed me a picture of a man getting knocked down by this very bull the day before. He had been warned.

After a pit stop and some elk pics we made our way up to Kuwohi ( formerly Clingman’s Dome), watching for bears all the way. The parking lot sits at over 6,000 feet, one of the highest points east of the Mississippi. Up there it was only about 50 degrees, with a crisp fall breeze and dazzling views of the Smokies. We lingered just long enough to snap some pics, then made the long drive back down, passing several herds of elk on our way down.

Back at Oconaluftee things were heating up as the sun dropped below the ridge. More elk were in the big meadow. Another big bull was pushing cows through the visitor center area. The big bull was there, and he was upset. Bugles echoed through the valley. We parked and I grabbed my camera. The big bull started thrashing trees in protest of the other bulls. The crowd buzzed, and the park volunteers admonished. The big bull emerged from the brush, a volunteer ordered us back into our cars. The crowd ignored the order, and the bull went out into the meadow, belting out a bugle now and again. The bears did not show.

It’s such a privilege having the mountains in our backyard. It was a great afternoon, cruising through a National Park after a leisurely morning at home, taking in some astounding scenery and being home in time for bed. I wish we did it more often. It’s not just the park, it’s all the mountain area north of us. It’s so close, and so beautiful, I can’t believe we don’t get up there more. A lot of it is much closer, right here in Georgia.

I don’t know much else. I had a great week. I always get excited this time of year. The light is beautiful, the birds and deer are on the move. The hot season is over and I get to enjoy the next 9 months. I really hope you enjoy your week- get out there, go for a walk, breathe in the fall air, listen for the honk of geese or trilling of cranes.

My coffee is done and it’s time to get to work-

Let’s get after it. . .

So I bought my espresso Machine nearly a month ago, A Casabrews 3700 Essential. Yes it is a very basic, inexpensive machine at $109, but that’s all I wanted to start with. I once asked a very wise fly rod dealer rep when I should upgrade from my switch rod to a full Spey rod and he said ‘when you’ve taken the switch rod as far as it can go’. This is my plan for this espresso machine. I am well acquainted with the expression “buy once, cry once”, but right now it’s the difference between having something or nothing.

As soon as I got it I made a few shots of the Passalacqua ground espresso coffee which was fine- dark, bitter, intense, with a bit of weak crema floating on top. I went out of town for a couple days after I bought the machine, so it wasn’t till a couple weeks ago that I finally played around a little.

I had 3 coffees on hand at the time- the Passalacqua from Italy, a bag of Mayorga Cuban roast from Costco (Mexico), and a bag of Comunidad blend (Ecuador) from Choco Coffee here in Athens.

The first shot I pulled was the Passalacqua. It had the the usual dark notes, weak crema (crema is the coffee foam floating on the espresso, not milk) and bitter finish. It’s what I’m used to from espresso, and while I like it, to be honest, it’s not great. This is incredibly popular espresso in Italy, so it could be I’m doing it wrong, or it could be a case of brand capture in Italy. Honestly it tastes about how I remember it, and a tiny bit of sugar improves it a lot.

The next shot I tried was the Mayorga. Mayorga is from Mexico (Mayan Organics), smells wonderful in the bag, and makes a mean pot of French press. It has been my go-to for nearly a decade now. I rarely even buy Starbucks anymore because the Mayorga hands down beats it in the French press at half the price. As espresso?

It tasted like burning tires mixed with electrical fire. It was truly the worst thing I’ve ever tasted in coffee, worse than any gas station or late afternoon diner coffee I’ve ever had; worse than all the free cups I’ve gotten because they forgot about it on the Bunn burner all day and were going to throw it out anyway.

Part of the appeal of espresso is you can play around with any given coffee to optimize the flavor. You do this by varying the amount of beans by a few grams, and especially by fine-tuning the grind size. Even a few microns can make a big difference. The Mayorga was so incredibly bad as espresso that I doubt this will accomplish anything. I think it has found its natural home as French press coffee.

The last shot I pulled was the Communidad blend from Choco. When I bought the bag I also asked for a double shot to go, and Communidad blend just happens to be the house coffee. It was one of the best shots of espresso I’ve had anywhere. Much to my surprise, my shot I pulled at home was nearly identical. I will attempt to be your cuppelier here, like a sommelier but for coffee.

It has a very bright and pleasant acid on the front end reminiscent of pink lemonade or even rose hips. Rose hips isn’t entirely accurate, but it does have a strong floral note. This segues into a beautiful roasty cup with let’s say a medium body, with mild bitterness on the finish. It is one of the most delightful things I have ever had, doubly so because I made it myself at home.

Since the machine has a steam frother built in I have since made several cappuccinos using the Communidad and they likewise are possibly the best cappucinos I have ever tasted anywhere.

Now, at $18 for 12 ounces of whole beans the Communidad had better be good. I get a 2 POUND bag of Mayorga for about the same price. I would say the Communidad is well worth the cost and will continue to buy it.

In a way caffeine is the perfect addiction- it is a very powerful stimulant, but one of the few recreational drugs we can take daily that is fairly self-limiting. I can only have so much before I begin to feel ill and aversion kicks in. Humans being critters that really struggle with certain substances, this is a very welcome distinction, but it also means there is only so much experimentation I can do. I bought more coffee the other day and made shots from the three bags I had, but for the most part I sipped them and threw them away, only finishing the one I liked best. I feel like these side by side comparisons are extremely useful, but I just can’t consume that volume of caffeine. I’m at a point in life that if I drink a diet Dr. Pepper on my drive home from work it interferes with my sleep, and I pretty much shouldn’t drink any caffeine after about 10:30 in the morning. All this means that, for me, perfecting my espresso is going to be a long-term project, not something I can dial in in a week or two.

I will mention the other coffee just to give them a shout-out. I bought two bags at Athens Coffee Holding and Roasting on Bryan Street. Allison was very helpful and I got a bag of Tanzanian Peaberry and one of Rwanda Natural she suggested. I don’t have notes on those yet so I’ll save it for later. Suffice it to say Athens Coffee Holding will definitely be a favorite.

What does any of this mean for you? Get out there and try some stuff. If, like me, you’re a coffee lover who hasn’t explored much about it, get yourself aV60 pour over, a good precision hand grinder, and find your local coffee roaster. Talk to them about what you like and ask for suggestions on grind settings. This is the fastest way to taking your coffee to another level without spending hundreds or thousands on expensive equipment.

As far as espresso goes, I’m just getting started. With the limitations of my own caffeine tolerance it will be a long, tasty road. One limitation is my own personal preference- I love a cup of coffee, a big hot mug of love I can hold and savor for 20-30 minutes in the morning. Espresso always feels like a snack with a big kick. It’s something I want mid-morning or mid-afternoon when I feel like I need a jolt. Some folks want to pound a double shot on their way out the door in the morning. Me, I want a cup of COFFEE in the morning, and I’ll either have to sacrifice that, or work espresso in around it.

I should make a note on equipment. My Casabrews 3700 is an incredibly basic machine. I think it performs very well for what it is. It is actually made for brewing pre-ground espresso coffee you would buy in the store, like Bustelo or LaVazza. It comes with what they call a pressurized portafilter basket, a double-wall design meant to turn out a consistent shot every time with good crema on top. Purists and hobbyists don’t care for these baskets as they are kind of a one-hit wonder that doesn’t allow the kind of experimentation that allows you to get the best pull from something like the Communidad blend. If you enjoy a simple espresso that is dark, roasty and bitter, this machine or similar from DeLonghi or Breville will suit you just fine.

I bought a bottomless portafilter and basket ($30) for my machine which allows me to experiment with the specialty coffees I’m buying and grinding myself. In the side by side taste test I did above, I used the pressurized basket for the Passalacqua since that’s what it’s for, and the bottomless for the two whole-bean coffees.

So that’s the journey so far. It’s pretty exciting, after decades of drinking coffee and trying different styles, to realize that I’m just getting started. It’s difficult to overstate the difference the K6 grinder has made. It’s going to take some time to sort this all out, but I’m here for it.

PPPPPrrrrrfffffFFFTTTT!!! Yawn, stretch, scratch, repeat- Let’s have some coffee!

How about it folks? You doing all right? Not letting the news get you down too much?

I say I don’t discuss the news here, but it’s difficult to ignore when I fill my gas tank. Thank god I don’t own a diesel. I sure haven’t seen anyone rollin’ coal lately. I’m sure you’re busy stocking your bunker so thanks for taking a moment to share some coffee.

I jest. Kinda.

I had a decent week. It was hot, but the days are so short that the mornings stay pleasant. Most of the week wasn’t too bad, but Friday was a scorcher at around 98 degrees.

Saturday Marsha and I went to the lake and just bobbed around on pool toys till thunderstorms from the north chased us off. Lake Hartwell is extremely low, with the shoreline at our beach 150 feet further out. I saw some cool birds, which reminded me that migration is underway and I need to get out birding. A lone semi-palmated sandpiper hung out with us while we bobbed around watching the thunderheads loom darkly.

Last week the coffee journey continued. I’m making astonishing cups of coffee with my pourover and Kingrinder K6 grinder. That grinder has opened up a new world of coffee. Wednesday I made a cappuccino so good that I made another and regretted the extra caffeine. I wrote up a couple posts on it and just need to take some pics and edit. I’ll get them out this week. Yesterday two new pourovers arrived in the mail, a stainless steel V60, and a beautiful ceramic version with a matching carafe. I am drinking the product of it this morning. These are to replace the silicone pourover I have which was meant for camping trips and doesn’t work very well. A fresh bag of Guatemala beans arrived as well from Atlas, which I am enjoying this morning. I finally made it over to Athens Coffee Holding & Roasters on Bryan Street in Athens and picked up a couple more bags of great coffee. At this moment I’m done buying coffee paraphernalia as it will take me a year or so experiment with the grinder, different local coffees and my French press, pourover and espresso machine. There’s only so much coffee I can drink in a day, so this will take time.

I finally, FINALLY, got my bow sighted in last week, just in time for cooler temps and hopefully a first hunt this week. It took two moves of the 20 yard pin, and based on that I nailed the 30 yard pin on my first try. I’m not sure why I put off doing it for so long. I did this with my friend Mike who also had his string replaced. We both had short work days Tuesday he invited me over to shoot. It was good to see him again. We spent some time walking around his property discussing how best to hunt it since he’s kind of in a primo spot that a lot of deer funnel through. Hopefully we hit some public land together this season. It’s been a couple years

After today our temps drop out of the 90’s and will be in the 70’s the last half of the week- perfect hunting weather here. Wednesday night I looked out the back window to see a nice 8 point buck in the back pasture. There were 8 deer out there. Pretty soon that 8 point and another buck were pushing each other around. It was nice to see. I’m desperate for some venison and can’t wait to get out there. When I sighted in my bow I only sighted in the 20 and 30 yard pins. It was tempting to leave it there to force me to take closer shots, but practicing at 40 yards is the best way to dial in those closer shots.

I want to give a shoutout to who recently wrote an excellent piece on landscapes and why conservation is important. He’s a good writer who deserves a follow.

Tangled Nature

How Landscapes Vanish From Our Memory

Today, clear blue water stretches its arms over Hetch Hetchy Reservoir. It is a large and impressive place. The lake rests between enormous granite rockfaces and waterfalls pour in from cliffs above. On the surface, it is still a beautiful and stunning place. But go with me now, all the way to the bottom of…

Read more

a month ago · 18 likes · 13 comments · Andrew L. Rypel

Other than that- I don’t know much. I think it’s going to be an exciting week. First hunt of the season hopefully, some cooling weather and hopefully some birding to do too. My coffee is done and it’s time to get to work-

Let’s get after it. . .

I’m going to skip a lot of details of developments over the last few weeks and get to the point. I bought my espresso machine in part to burn through all this pre-ground Passilacqua I’ve been sitting on since I got back from Italy 2 years ago. However early on I decided this wasn’t going to cut it. I wanted to buy good beans locally and grind them specifically to the method I’m brewing with and achieve the flavor that best suits me.

I have been playing with pourover exclusively for the last 3 weeks. Until last week I had finally achieved a cup I like using 3 different coffees ground in my blade grinder. This was a great cup of coffee- 1 scoop of Aldo’s from 1000 Faces, 1 scoop of Abuela from Choco Coffee, and one scoop of my beloved Mayorga Cuban roast from Costco, which has been my go-to for French press.

There seems to be a consensus out there, that if you have a passable espresso maker, then a precision grinder is even more important- you can make better espresso with a decent machine and good grinder than you can with a great machine and a cheap grinder.

The problem is good precision electric espresso grinders are pricey, with $500-$800 being a mid-range price. Way out of my budget for now. But in poking around the r/espresso subreddit a theme kept recurring- if you don’t mind expending some elbow grease, a precision manual grinder is a cheaper alternative. One model in particular gets rave reviews- the Kingrinder K6, which retails around $100.

Mine arrived last week from Amazon. The next morning I used it on the suggested setting with my 3-bean blend I’ve been using. I’m brewing in two pours, the first to bloom the grounds and the second to fill the cup.

In all the ways I’ve been experimenting with improving or trying different things this was the first eureka moment- not something that was marginally better, but transformationally better. A beautiful silky cup that was amazing from start to finish. Beautiful body and aroma. The Kingrinder is precise enough that I can dial it in even further from here.

Going into this I had serious doubts about whether going down this rabbit hole was worth it. Obviously if your budget is limited and your French press or pourover is doing it for you now, don’t change. But for me in this little journey I’m on this was the first indication that I can achieve not just incremental results, but quantum leaps. I could stop this whole thing right now and play with this grinder, my French press and pourover seeing what kind of flavor and cup I can achieve with different coffees.

But no-

Espresso is calling.

Up next. . . The espresso journey thus far.

How was your week? Was it everything you dreamed? We started out with the first comfortable temps of the season, but the week quickly turned back into a steamer. Wednesday was quite oppressive.

I spent Labor Day smoking some beef ribs, which turned out excellent as always. I’m finally figuring out how to dial in my Oklahoma Joe’s offset smoker. I have a truckload of pecan wood I’m working my way through. I get it so cheap from a local firewood dealer that I’m afraid he’ll raise his prices if he reads this. The ribs I get from Costco cut from the ribeye. They look a little sparse, but 3 bones is still a meal for me. I only smoke them for 4-5 hours. They are ribeye after all, and already tender. They’re kind of a cheat code on good barbecue, with great barbecue flavor without spending 8-12 hours hovering over the smoker.

There have been lots of new developments in the coffee world, new toys and tools, and at least one eureka moment, but I have begun a new section of this substack called The Coffee Journal, so look for that here. I posted the first entry yesterday which you can check out below.

Thursday was a short workday, and Friday I was off. I raced home after work, loaded my truck up and drove up to North Carolina to visit and fish with my friend Louis Cahill.

Driving the four hours to western North Carolina is to be teleported to another time and place. That’s how it feels. It is much cooler and drier. When I left home it was 96 degrees out; in Burnsville it was 82. At Louis’ place it was cooler still. We went out for barbecue in town (the Pig n Grits) then sat on the porch talking in the dark, breathing in the night air and listening to the screech owls hoot back and forth.

The next morning we loaded up and headed for the South Holston in East Tennessee. It’s about an hour’s drive up and over the mountains, through tiny mountain burgs, usually just a church, a convenience store if they’re lucky, and a small cluster of homes. We got to the river rather late, around 11 am, but TVA wasn’t generating water till 1 pm and I can testify virtually all the progress made in Louis’ Smithfly raft was made by dragging it downstream over endless rock shoals.

What surprised me is there was actually a fly hatch going on with fish rising to sulfur duns and emergers. We spent that first couple hours casting to rising fish, but with ultra clear water the fish were extremely finicky. We both touched fish without hooking up, probably because we were presenting downstream. The water was so crystal clear that it was difficult to set up parallel to the fish without spooking entire pods.

There is very little cell signal in the valley. Louis tried checking his TVA app, but now it was telling us there was no generation scheduled for the day. This was incredibly bad news, as it meant we would have to almost stop fishing and concentrate on rowing/dragging the raft downstream to the takeout with no current to assist us if we wanted to be off before dark. One o’clock rolled around and the sirens went off alerting everyone a release was about to start. Nothing happened. Another siren at 1:15. Still nothing.We took turns fishing, with Louis doing most of the boat dragging, when we got to the first deep run we found around 2 pm. Louis wanted to run his Euro nymph setup through it a few times. I got down in the bottom of the boat to sort out some of my mess when I looked up at Louis and asked “Did the river just get louder?”

Louis looked around and said “Yeah, I think so.”

Looking upstream I realized that the glassy flat river above us dimpled by rising fish had turned into a choppy riffle. Louis said “I need to get in the boat NOW”. I grabbed his stuff, extended a hand and we wrestled him into the boat before it swept him away. Then we paddled to an island and ate our lunch.

After this I took over the oars for a long stretch. Louis grabbed his streamer rod, tied on a small streamer and went to work, catching 3-4 small fish in that time. We released them without removing them from the water. We traded off and on after that. Around 4 pm after some clouds had rolled in and hardwood shadows crept across the stream, a supertanker brown came out and chased my streamer around, about a 6-7 pound fish. When they really want it there’s nothing you can do to keep it away from them, but it was nice to see this fish all the same.

I should have spent the day birding instead. We saw large flocks of cedar waxwings feeding on the hatching mayflies, Eastern kingbirds everywhere, belted kingfishers, several ospreys, a bald eagle that looked on disapprovingly, resident molted out mallards, a couple large flocks of blue-winged teal, swifts and swallows of various stripes, phoebes and pewees, great blue herons of course, and many more birds I couldn’t identify without binoculars.

But fishing and birding are very different activities, and so we fished. It was the kind of break I had been craving. Due to the late generation schedule we didn’t reach the takeout until 7:30. I felt tired and not up to the four hour drive home, so I asked to stay another night, to the dismay of Marsha.

Saturday we got up and had some coffee together before I hopped in the truck and headed back to the sultry part of the South. I drove under overcast skies which eventually turned to heavy rain the last two hours of the drive. I had not checked my weather app since leaving home, so this rain made me incredibly nostalgic for the time before cell phones and weather apps, a time when you could be out on a trip and drive into rain, and not know where it came from, how long it would last or where it was going. It just simply was.

The fishing gear situation is even more dire than last time. Last trip I stepped in the river and my right leg filled immediately. This time I went to put my waders on and looking through them I could see the ground. I put them back in the truck. This was just as well, as it was a very warm day, and I was fine in my quick dry pants and wading boots. My wading boots were also worse than remembered. I knew the tops were all cracked up, but didn’t remember that the left boot is coming completely apart and I’m about to walk right out of the sole. I absolutely can’t fish again without new boots and waders. It’s officially an emergency now.

Saturday marked the beginning of bow season here. I am nowhere near ready. Seeing the extended forecast I put off some of my preparations, but it’s time to get serious now- get the bow sighted back in, get my gear laid out and ready, think about replacing the seal on the freezer. I just can’t get too excited about hunting with daytime highs in the 90’s for the foreseeable future. I definitely need to concentrate on getting some meat. 3 deer would be nice; four would be perfect. My friend Tom informed me it was in the 50’s and breezy yesterday in Minnesota, so hunting weather is around the corner for sure.

Well, my coffee is done and it’s time to get to work.

Let’s get after it. . .

After a lifetime built around coffee I recently came to a startling conclusion- I know nothing about coffee.

When I say “a lifetime” I believe I had my first cup of coffee at age 8. It was a dollop of Maxwell House with a healthy dose of milk and sugar mixed in. My dealer was my grandmother, a woman who indulged in her own product daily and usually had a pot on at any given time of day. Any time anyone stopped by a fresh batch went into the percolator and soon enough everyone was sitting around, a white cup of congeniality clasped in their hands regardless of time of day.

I didn’t become a daily drinker of coffee until around age 14. I was an asthmatic kid who missed a lot of school because I couldn’t breathe, especially when cold, damp snow began falling in November. As I got older my parents increasingly allowed me a cup of coffee now and then, but around 14 I discovered that a cup of coffee improved my breathing by a lot. It was often the difference between staying home and going to school. Before I knew it I was drinking coffee every morning.

It wasn’t just medicinal- I loved coffee. I loved the ritual. I loved the way it woke me up in the morning. We lived in far Northern Michigan, where the snow piled deep every winter. Like everyone one up there at that time we heated our home with wood, so it was often quite chilly in the morning when I got up until the stove took off, spreading exploratory tendrils of warmth through the house. That warm cup in my hands was like hugging a puppy while I felt the asthmatic tightness in my chest gradually relax. I very quickly went from cream and sugar to straight black coffee and never looked back. Coffee was, of course, a beverage adults drank, so at first there was an element of feeling like an adult. That quickly faded as the daily medical relief it provided overrode that.

40 some years later I’m still at it. Recently things have taken a turn, but let’s start with a brief history-

• that first delicious cup of milky-sweet coffee at age 8 served by grandma.

• Age 14: discovering coffee eased my asthma symptoms and became a daily need.

• Age 20: I moved to Brooklyn Heights in NYC and a friend took me to Cranberry’s Coffee where I had my first actual GOOD cup of coffee, coffee so thick and dark you couldn’t see through it, coffee that grabbed you by the tonsils. During this era I also had my first espressos and cappuccino.

• Age 25: I bought my first grinder and began grinding beans fresh daily. Bought my first Moka pot during this era as well. Puerto Rican friends introduced me to PuertoRican/Cuban coffee and Bustelo.

• 32: a friend introduces me to French press, which became my daily pot of coffee from then on.

Fast forward to age 56. Despite allllllll this, it suddenly occurs to me I know almost nothing about coffee. Despite being known by my friends as the coffee guy; despite having written a weekly column called Monday Morning Coffee for at least 15 years. Until now I have been using a Krups blade grinder every morning even though I’m aware that burr grinders are supposedly the way to go.

I am a man prone to rabbit holes. I discover a new hobby or interest and dive in. In my 20’s it was beer. I didn’t like American light lagers and very quickly got into craft brews and IPA’s, at a time when Bass Ale was about the only IPA available. I friend of mine I’ll call Dave introduced me to Belgian Trappist ales. I bought books, studied up and set out tasting and learning about different global beer styles at a time when there was something like a grand total of 3 brewpubs in Brooklyn- McSorley’s in Greenwich Village, Brooklyn Brewery in Park Slope, and I don’t even remember the third. This led to home brewing, and by age 30 I could tell you all the tedious details about the hop varieties available then, which were suitable for which beer styles, and how to achieve the appropriate IBU’s for a specific beer with those hops. I made a lot of good beer, but in the end it was too much work and mess, and too many friends who wanted to “help” which meant sitting around drinking my beer while I sweated over a boiling cauldron.

This kind of pattern repeated itself- photography, fly fishing, scuba diving, bow hunting, gardening, sourdough bread and so on. Some things have stayed with me for life and others have come and gone. For instance, after a cost-benefit analysis of scuba diving, I gave it up, which was an incredibly mature decision for me at that time considering it was a consuming passion from my childhood.

Somehow coffee escaped this treatment until now. I poked around until I was making something that was good enough, but I never even bought a book on the subject despite a good cup of coffee being the most consistent through-line of my entire existence. I had read that a burr grinder is the best way to improve your coffee, but Marsha bought me one a decade ago and I found it produced a very good, but kind of boring, one-note French press, so I went back to using the blade grinder.

Two years ago I visited my daughter in Naples, Italy for two weeks. I was determined to drink as much espresso as possible. The first espresso bar we stopped in I learned something startling- the baristas go to school for a YEAR to work at one of these coffee bars. What the hell could they possibly be learning in that time that I couldn’t learn in an hour? Etiquette? Latte art?

Then this year I realized how lazy I was being with the Monday Morning Coffee posts, using ugly pics of coffee shot on my iPhone for my flagship post. I felt my readers deserved better. I finally had a decent camera and lenses, so I did a couple photo shoots, which turned out ok for not having a studio. I should also credit Chapman, whose beautiful photography of coffee was putting me to shame. He doesn’t really even write about coffee, just shares pics of the lovely stuff he’s brewing at home. To be fair, he actually owns a coffee business.

Last year I bought a pour-over, in part because I wanted something simple and unbreakable to bring camping instead of the French press I’ve been packing on canoe and hunting trips. I’ve decided it’s impractical for that, but have been playing with it at home. This year I finally got serious about hunting down GOOD coffee I can buy locally here in Athens.

A few weeks ago I decided it was time- I had all these 500g bricks of Passilacqua pre-ground espresso coffee sitting around from my trip to Italy. I did some internet research and bought an inexpensive espresso maker, a Casabrews 3700 Essential for $100. Then I bought a fancy hand grinder, a Kingrinder K6 for another $100. Then I spent another $100 on tools- a bottomless portafilter to replace the pressurized portafilter that came with the espresso machine, a small coffee scale to precisely measure beans, and a tool set to that includes a spring loaded tamper, a distribution tool, a dosing funnel, and a work mat.

I also bought a book, The World Atlas of Coffee by James Hoffman. Mr. Hoffman is a Brit who won the World Barista Championship a number of years ago and now owns a coffee company and also has a very popular YouTube channel on coffee. If you want to improve something as simple as your pourover coffee, James has a video for you.

So here I sit with a mountain of new information, new tools, and a world of coffee to explore. It’s wild after all these decades to discover I have barely scratched the surface and I hope you will join me on the journey. This is not an attempt to make you less than happy with the coffee you’re drinking, nor am I presenting myself as a guru. I’m on this journey, and inviting you to come along.

As I say every Monday morning- Let’s have some coffee!

PPPPHHHHHHRRRRTTTTTTGGGGGGRRRRR!! Yawn, stretch, scratch, repeat- let’s have some coffee!

How is your holiday weekend going? I hope you got out, went somewhere, did something fun, unlike me. It has been hot as blazes all weekend, and since I already work outside on a daily basis, I did my best to stay inside. A little bit of house work, a little bit of shopping, a little bit of napping. I made “fajitas” for dinner both nights.

I use the quotes there because I’m not claiming authenticity. I’m just sauteing up some chicken, onions, mushrooms and peppers and eating it on a flour tortilla with some sour cream. Nothing authentic about it, just delicious, easy, and a way to use up the frozen chicken breasts in the fridge. I bought a rack of beef ribs the other day I’m going to throw on the offset smoker today to celebrate both the holiday and a major break in the weather, with a high temp of around 80 as opposed to 99 the last couple days.

I’m further down the coffee rabbit hole, and I don’t like what I’m finding. Yesterday I pulled the lever on a small espresso machine- $100 on Amazon. If you’re a real espresso snob you’re already rolling your eyes at that price point, as good home espresso machines easily top $1000- I’m an order of magnitude off in the price. But I’ve been dying for a decent espresso at home like I had in Naples two years ago. Again- more eye rolls. They’re making espresso on a $13,000 machine (two orders of magnitude) and went to school for a year to learn their craft. Yes, I have a Moka pot, but I’ve learned over the years it’s not really making espresso- it’s making Moka pot coffee. This reminds me of those documentaries about sushi in which you find out apprentices spend 4 years learning to make eggs, or 10 years on how to make sticky rice perfectly. The difference between good enough and excellence is sky high.

Coffee is a lot like sex- when it’s good, it’s really good, but even when it’s bad it’s still pretty good. Think of all the bad coffee you muscled down over the years because you were on a road trip, and that smelly, stained up gas station bun-o-matic pot stewing between the pork rinds and public restroom was your only choice. If you were awake enough and paying attention- they sell caffeine pills right next to the register. But this isn’t about caffeine, it’s about coffee. The warmth and heft of that styrofoam cup in your hand, that vague bitter brown flavor, buffered with several of those little cups of artificial creamer if you’re smart. That gradual sunrise of awareness as the caffeine tickles your synapses. That pill could wake you up, but it’s coffee that gets you down the road.

I have been known by my friends for good coffee for several decades now. No matter how hard we hunted or fished the day before, or how late we sat around the campfire at night, they stumble out of their tent in the morning expecting to grab an energy drink out of the cooler, and there’s Tucker sitting with a pot of French press waiting, with a second one on the way the moment it’s empty. I am pretty much always the first one out of the sleeping bag every trip. That includes my friends who do yoga at sunrise.

So I’ve been reading up and watching YouTube videos on coffee lately and have found it’s like many other rabbit holes I dive down- it’s as complicated as you care to make it. I just watched a 25 minute video on pour-over coffee, which to me is about as simple as coffee gets. But no- they cover water, water temp, beans, grind, blooming the grinds, pour technique- one guy advocates pouring 5-7 times for a single cup of pour-over coffee.

Espresso appears to be the highest art form in coffee- the easiest way to make truly terrible coffee, but if you get it right, it’s divine. I’m looking forward to playing around with it, seeing what I can come up with. I should have learned a lesson from my offset smoker. I spent $400 on a decent model, only to find I have to spend $1100 to get the features I really want and need for good barbecue. My smoker and I have reached a detente, but only after great struggle and prolific cursing. I have yet to spend that $1100 because you can buy a LOT of barbecue for that kind of money. If I took that $1100 and spent it on an espresso machine I would probably get the value back out of it in less than two years, whereas I am the only one who eats barbecue in this household. Marsha won’t eat anything grilled, much less smoked. She sure knows how to make some good Polish food though.

Despite the heat here in the Deep South, the signs of fall are impossible to ignore now. I saw a yellow-throated vireo in my yard while out walking my dog yesterday, and Birdcast, the Cornell Lab migration map, shows migration well underway. Big flocks of blackbirds have begun showing up in the farm fields, as has a kestrel. I skipped dove hunting Saturday to get stuff done at home. Bow season starts this coming Saturday. With forecast highs still in the 90’s I won’t hunt, using that time to continue getting stuff done at home. But you can see the changes daily now, and it’s a matter of time before Summer is broken by the Northwest wind, and life is good again. I’m really looking forward to being able to enjoy birding. Can’t wait to get the camera back out and build off what I learned last winter. It’s crazy the difference between summer and the rest of the year here. Yes we have some really cool species here in summer, but in winter there can be hundreds of birds on our property daily, most of them, like the white-chinned sparrows and yellow-rumped warblers, visitors from the far north, though it may be more accurate to say they live here and visit the north- they’re here for 9 months and only spend 3 months nesting in the north.

I’m slated to fish with my friend Louis this week, so hopefully I will return with tales of derring-do and fish. I still need to replace my waders and boots and I’ll have to put my new streamer line on my reel. We have yet to decide whether we’re chasing smallmouth or trout, but either way I have flies to cover it. In Michigan it was my tradition to fish on Labor Day, both to celebrate the day off, but also the end of the tourist season. I need to get back to that.

The Audubon Center for Birds of Prey announced it’s vulture-themed haiku contest winners on Saturday and (DRUMROLL)- I did not win. So I here present to you my entry, which I was quite proud of, but whatever. I’m a salty loser. Check out the winning entries and you decide who should have won. Congrats to the winners.

Well, that’s about all I have for you this week. My coffee is done and it’s time to. . . prep the ribs for the barbecue and make room for an espresso machine. Whatever you’re doing this Labor Day I hope you’re enjoying it.

Let’s get after it. . .

UUURRRRpppphhhttttTTT! Yawn, stretch, scratch, repeat- let’s have some coffee!

How was your week? How ya doin’? Still recovering from the loss of Dolly Parton?

Since I brought it up- I’m one of those people who was never a fan so to speak, but I also had no reason to dislike her. Her accent and story reminded me a bit too much of my own East Tennessee relatives, not that they were bad people but. . . I won’t go into that now. My maternal grandfather actually died in West North Carolina not that far from where I live, and not far from where he was born in Tennessee. Mom’s family had that same hard edged hillbilly accent Dolly had, though I don’t mean that as an insult.

Anyway, it was hard not to shed a tear reading her accomplishments in life, her incredible human decency, and the way she used her success to benefit her hometown, surrounding communities, and millions of people around the world. In a world in which billionaires are building survival bunkers they can fuck off to when the crises they have enabled come to a head, it was refreshing to read the details of a life of someone who was a genuinely good person, someone who pretty much no one from any part of society had anything bad to say about. She has become the measuring stick by which we should be judging our leaders today, and perhaps ourselves as well.

This is not a news column so I’ll go back to my usual musings.

As you can see above I have an embarrassment of excellent coffee right now. I have a bag of Aldo’s from 1000 Faces, Abuela from Choco, and a bag of my old reliable Cuban roast Mayorga from Costco. A couple days after I bought the two local bags I checked the mail and had a bag of Ugandan coffee from Atlas coffee, an annual subscription which my boss Scott got for my birthday. The Atlas coffee has been consistently good (the bags are works of art I’m saving to make some coffee art out of) and this bag of Uganda is the standout favorite this week, a rich medium roast with a dreamy, spicy bag aroma. It falls a little flat on the back end but I found if I use two scoops of the Uganda and one of the Mayorga you get about as perfect a cup as you could find anywhere. The other two bags are seriously good coffee as well, but I have to be in the mood for a lighter cup. I’ve been mixing it up all week, and all of it is slowly disappearing.

I didn’t do Monday Morning Coffee last week because I had too much work to do and just felt drained. I am happy to report that Wednesday I took my first shower in the new shower stall I installed. I decided to follow the directions and not try to rush it. This meant gluing up the walls then letting them cure for 24 hours, then caulking the edges and letting that cure 24 hours before finally setting the glass surround Monday night, caulking that in and letting it cure for 48 hours. Then Wednesday I was finally able to test the drain, which leaked, so I replaced the seal which was damaged during installation, got the new one to seal and presto. It feels good to have the project to this point. There is still painting and flooring to do, but I intend to replace the double vanity and flooring in the rest of the bathroom this winter, so the timetable on actually finishing is a bit stretched.

With all this going on I have yet to prepare for deer season which is now less than two weeks away. This sounds crazy being that it is still smoking hot summer. It sneaks up on you fast. I personally won’t hunt if forecast highs are much above 85 degrees. Lows in the 50’s and highs in the 70’s in the early season are more to my liking. The clock is definitely ticking if you shoot a deer when the temps are hot- you need to get to that animal and get the carcass cooled off fast.

Hopefully this week I can get my bow sighted back in after having the string replaced this summer, and also buying lighter arrows. It’s funny watching trends come and go in hunting. Finding and hunting buck beds was all the rage for awhile, but you’ll hardly hear anyone talking about it much less doing it now. It’s a one-trick pony, not a strategy for a successful season, and research overwhelmingly proves that bucks in most areas of the country do not have fidelity to a single or even handful of beds. They bed wherever they want. They may bed in a handful of areas that have the characteristics they prefer, but are rarely loyal to a single bed. The older trend I recall from the 90’s and 00’s was arrow speed, with manufacturers even designing overdraw systems that let you shoot the lightest, shortest arrow possible in order to gain speed. I don’t think anyone sells or uses these anymore- they were loud as hell and wore out equipment fast. I believe they were also difficult to tune (make accurate). The fad of the last few years was heavy arrows, which to me was a more convincing proposition- that a heavy arrow carries more momentum than a lighter arrow and is more likely to pass through on an animal, and thus more likely to be deadly. This is true, but, like light arrows, it can be taken to an extreme that likewise impairs performance. The heavy arrow has better penetration, but it also drops faster, producing a rainbow arc that requires shorter shooting distances on game and a more precise knowledge of distance to target to make an accurate shot. Guys with fast bows would brag that they use a single pin to cover their entire range of hunting distances from point blank to 35 yards, whereas heavy arrow guys are shooting rainbows.

Long story short, speed vs. arrow weight is a trade-off. Bowhunters need penetration AND accuracy. There’s no “perfect” arrow weight, only the compromise that works for you. I’m only shooting a 60 pound draw weight, and at 535 grains (still light in the heavy arrow world) I was shooting rainbows. At about 425 grains my new arrows should flatten that rainbow a bit and remove some of the guesswork out in the field while retaining enough momentum to get the job done.

I must say, I love this part of summer. Here in the South there is an early leaf fall that occurs as trees shed excess or damaged leaves. It’s always my first cue that fall is near. That and the golden light of late August afternoons that paints a beautiful patina across the landscape. This year we had a wet enough summer that it’s still quite green around here. It was getting a bit dry, but thunderstorms Friday freshened things back up. Looks like we’re in for some last ditch heat this week. I’ll take it as it comes. I look forward to fall here like I used to look forward to spring in Michigan. With the hardest part of the year nearly over, I look forward to 9 months of more comfortable living.

On the birding front- it’s quiet as hell around here. I finally did an eBird list Saturday, all of 14 species. Wasn’t planning on it, but a belted kingfisher flew past the yard en route to some hidden pond, and a pileated woodpecker flew the opposite direction out of our property. Despite some very cool birds still present, species counts are way down, and I’m seeing that fall through spring are the best birding periods here. I’ve been trying to get some pics of hummingbirds, but it’s been too hot and buggy to sit outside for long to get it done. I kinda let my feeders go a bit long this week, but traffic didn’t diminish, and there’s a good dozen hanging around the house. They depart around October 9-10 here each fall so I need to take some pics and enjoy them while I can. Next month fall migration will kick off in earnest, with Baltimore orioles and others coming through en masse, and by November we should be back to the backyard being full of birds here for the winter. The rare bird alerts I get from Cornell back up my observations- being summer there’s not many birds wandering out of place. That combined with the heat, bugs, foliage and humidity all conspiring against southern birders to make this a rather dull time of year. I’m really interested to see how well the intersection of birding and deer hunting works out, and if I have my camera along to take pics of birds, I may as well film my hunts while I’m at it. We’ll see how it shakes out.

I have absolutely nothing on the fishing front for ya. I did manage to find this old photo of me standing in the Two-Hearted River, Drinking a Two-Hearted Ale while reading from The Big Two-Hearted River by Hemingway, taken on the 5 Days, 5 Rivers, 5 Great Lakes tour I did with Alex Wilder years ago. This pic got the most likes in Substack Notes I’ve ever gotten and garnered several new subscribers, so if you’re new here- welcome, and thanks for clicking that subscribe button. Despite all appearances this is not the Monday Morning Coffee substack, and I’ll try to get some actual writing done here from time to time. I appreciate all of you who enjoy my writing enough to tune in on a regular basis. Thank you.

That’s about all I have for you this week. My coffee is done and it’s time to get to work.

Let’s get after it. . .

BBBBRRRRRRFFFFFTTTTTT!!! Yawn, stretch, scratch, sniff, repeat- let’s have some coffee!

How was your week? I hope you don’t live in Indiana where repeated daily storms have caused record flooding. What a wild summer, some places on fire, and others under water.

What a week. I took the whole week off to get stuff done at home, which was just as well because it was hot as blazes out there. I started out by spending two days cleaning my van. It’s 8 years old and showing its age amid heavy use. I have so many tools and supplies in it, it’s difficult to get it clean, but it was long overdue so I dove in. Cleaning the inside is pretty straightforward- remove everything inside and clean. The outside was less simple. I went and bought some fancy auto cleaning soap and some micro-fiber tools to swab it down. This performed far better than anticipated and got most of the bugs and road grime off.

What was really bothering me was the five o’clock shadow the van had in all the door pockets, slider doors and inside the gas cap door. Down here in the humid South places like that grow mildew, and every time I opened a door it just looks terrible, so I got in there and swabbed all that out and rinsed it till the water ran clear. This got the van to 90%, but it still looked bad.

The body paint needs some love. It was covered in stains that just don’t wash off, especially around the doors. The clear coat has eroded over the years in the Georgia sun, allowing the paint to pick up dirty handprints etc., so I bought a clay kit and set to cleaning it one panel at a time. It looks a LOT better, and the clay bar even did a decent job of removing most of the rust stains from my steel ladder rack. I couldn’t afford aluminum when I bought the van brand new in 2018. I still need to finish the clay job and apply some sealer, but other things got in the way.

That was Monday and Tuesday.

Wednesday I began the long-overdue project of replacing our shower. We live in an old farmhouse built by family and friends of the original landowners, and it shows, especially in the bathroom, which seemed to be an afterthought. The shower has leaked several times and been replaced and repaired over the years. I was hoping this repair would wait till September, but the shower base started moving on us and I realized it had to be done now.

I was hoping for a quick job- tear out the unit, replace some subfloor, shore up anything that needed it, replace some drywall (an area of my actual expertise), set a new shower stall, paint and be done.

That morning informed me that the internet said gravity was going to cease working for 7 seconds this day. Nobody knew exactly when, but be on the lookout. When I pulled the shower base off the floor I saw that the pipes to the faucet were routed through my rotting floorboards instead of the wall plate like normal. I set about tearing out the subfloor, saving the delicate task of freeing the delicate PVC piping for last.

When early afternoon rolled around I found myself trying to free these brittle pipes. I used some nippers to carefully cut the cold water pipe free. Success was nigh. The hot water pipe was protected by three stripped out zinc wood screws that refused to turn or pull out. The board looked rotted enough that I could possibly pry it up high enough to then cut the wood around the pipe and free it. I inserted my pry bar and put some pressure on it.

That is when gravity failed.

My pry bar flew upward. The pipe shattered. Water floated to the ceiling, freed from gravity’s pull. I held on for dear life. Outside millions of people died, their cities laid to waste as the gravity that ordered the structure of everything gave way, dissolving the bonds that held civilization and Earth itself in place. This was the longest 7 seconds since time began.

Then as quickly as it quit, gravity reasserted its universal force, hot water rained down from the ceiling, and my bathroom began to flood. Once again able to walk, I ran to the electric panel and tripped the breakers to the well pump, then turned on a couple faucets and an outside hose to slow the flow in the bathroom.

An hour later I had shop-vacced up the flood and restored some order . I swore out loud and made a new plan. I had to replumb the whole thing. Thank god for Pex and Shark Bite fittings. I grew up in the dark ages of plumbing, when grown men sat underneath houses in the dim light of a weak flashlight and “sweated pipes”, their term for using a torch uncomfortably close to the highly flammable wood structure of your trailer (all trailers are just a bonfire waiting for an excuse) in order to solder two copper pipes together, a process that didn’t work half the time, and was only detectable by turning the water supply back on, waiting for water to start spraying everywhere, then starting over once the cursing stopped.

The other method, equally fallible, was using the highly brittle PVC pipe that has to be glued together, first swabbing the ends with a primer, then with glue, (which in the enclosed crawl space would get you high as a kite, but you won’t see THAT article in High Times magazine) then jamming the pieces together before the glue dries, and again, if you didn’t get it quite right you found out by having water spray everywhere. When glued PVC failed due to your glue-addled senses, you had to trash everything and start over.

With Pex and Shark Bite fittings you just cut everything to length, jam the ends into the fittings and you’re done. Cut a pipe too short? Pex is cheap, easy to cut and you just cut a new one and keep going. It all feels too simple, like cheating. Having experienced the labor and stress of the old ways of doing it I’m always just waiting for the Shark Bite to fail, but it never does. Our hallway bath I remodeled 6 years ago has yet to leak.

Next- the floor isn’t level enough to set the shower base, so yesterday I used mortar to float the base level, then wait a day for the mortar to set and cure before I can continue. In order to do this the convoluted drain plumbing had to be configured before I could do the mortar. The drain flange is only accessible before the shower base is set. Once it’s mortared in there’s no going back. I’m off Monday and Tuesday this week as well. By day’s end tomorrow I hope to have the shower completely set.

By the time Saturday rolled around I had the farm truck full of enough debris that we needed to make a dump run. I forgot to eat, so afterward we went to the Jefferson House restaurant for a proper country breakfast- corned beef hash, two eggs over easy and a biscuit with gravy. Over breakfast Marsha (two eggs over easy, french toast) convinced me to take the rest of the day off and drive to Dalton, Georgia, to attend the Mobile Hunters Expo. This was the original plan, but I cancelled it to try to keep our project going.

But I was tired, and a day trip would give us some time together. So we drove the couple hours over to Dalton and I walked around and looked at all the gear. I got to talk to Andrew Maxwell from the Southern Outdoorsmen and buy a hat. The Southern Outdoorsmen podcast is by far the best one out there on the subject of deer hunting. They ask the best questions and put out better information than anyone out there, no disrespect meant to the other good hunting podcasts. Listening to their podcast really helped ease my transition to hunting in the South, and most what they share is useful wherever you hunt.

Then I visited the Trophyline booth and bought a pack I’ve had my eye on for a couple years. It’s a little bigger than my Tidewe pack (which I love) with stiff padded sides meant to protect camera gear. I don’t plan to start a YouTube channel, but would love to film some outdoor content to share here. I already have the camera arm and cameras.

Then I was standing around talking to Marsha trying to decide if I was done when I spotted a familiar face. I couldn’t remember his name, but decided I better go talk to this rascal so he doesn’t think I’m rude.

The young man was Jonathan from the Catman Outdoors YouTube channel, which I have enjoyed for a lot of years due to his unpretentious nature and realistic hunting he does- he’s not hunting Iowa or some dream destination. He’s just out in the Tennessee woods getting it done.

I got halfway up to him before I realized he wasn’t someone I knew personally, but by that point I was committed (a hazard of parasocial relationships). Jonathan was very gracious and kind, and we had a very nice conversation. Then we made our way out and made the two hour drive home.

Yesterday I was back in the salt mines, gluing up PVC pipe (“I love the smell of pipe glue in the morning”), mortaring in the shower base, trying to keep things moving. I’ll get as far as I can today and tomorrow.

Whatever you’re doing I hope you have a good week. Stay cool out there. My coffee is done and it’s time to get to work.

Let’s get after it. . .

I leave you with the Bottle Rockets

More From FR

Saturday I finally wrote and posted a follow-up to my 2025 Hunt Journal. Check it out. Look for the 2026 Hunt Journal to begin soon.

Where did I leave off?

The last I posted about hunting I wrote about the cold snap mid-November. I believe that was the last hunt I did. Most of my public hunting areas close November 30, leaving our small piece of private land for me to hunt. I need an east wind to hunt at home, and we didn’t get much east wind last year. My daughter came to visit during Thanksgiving. Work was busy through December, then came the holidays and a New Year’s ice storm.

I also ran out of gas. I was super diligent about getting up on time and getting out the door on the days I had scheduled to hunt. Wake up was 4 AM every hunting day and usually I was out the door by 4:30. I also traveled to Michigan and hunted hard in the worst weather imaginable- howling winds and cold rain with wet snow mixed in. I hunted high on a ridge over Lake Michigan I shared with 5 bald eagles in sleet borne by the unobstructed breeze.

I had some successes and some failures so let’s discuss the failures first.

Failures

The obvious one- I didn’t get a deer. This was the first season I hunted that I didn’t get one. With a catastrophic freezer failure last summer this means I had no venison, and venison is the primary reason I hunt. I just love it and I really miss having it. Sous vide, steaks, roasts, stew- I love it all. I also enjoy butchering my own meat and I process my own deer with specific preparations in mind.

Some reasons for that lack of venison?

Not wearing my release, and my rangefinder in my pocket at all times. At least 4 times when either climbing down or getting ready to climb my tree I found myself staring at a deer in easy bow range with no release or rangefinder handy. I actually got two shots off at two does after rustling up my release, but because I didn’t range them I missed. I walked right into the middle of a rutting group of deer at 1 in the afternoon at uncomfortably close range with my release and rangefinder comfortably stowed in my pack. The lesson is always be ready to shoot at all times in the field, release on my wrist, rangefinder in pocket. It’s usually not safe to walk around randomly with an arrow nocked, but a lot of these situations allowed plenty of opportunity for that if I just had my release on my wrist.

Next reason for missed or wounded deer- forcing something to happen. Getting impatient. The deer aren’t doing what I want them to. Getting surprised by deer. The first deer I wounded surprised me and bombed right through my shooting lane, only to bed down 40 yards away on my off side. Instead of waiting for the shot or letting it go I decided to go for it. I called in a tracking dog, who indicated the deer wasn’t mortally wounded. Far better to wait for the deer to get up and come back into range or just pass up the shot and wait for another chance. The other buck I wounded was closer but only offered a quartering-to shot. I have killed several deer with this shot and I hit this buck exactly where I aimed, but this time my luck didn’t hold. Far better to let the deer go or wait for a broadside shot. Sometimes we equate luck with skill, but eventually the percentages catch up with us.

Bad Luck. As I recall I only had one deer come in broadside on my strong side, and that one at the limit of my range. I have been hunting thicker areas where deer can come from anywhere. Hunting from a tree saddle gives you great flexibility, but it has its limits, and deer kept coming from anywhere but where I anticipated. I hunted all morning in one of my best Michigan spots without a deer coming through, but when I climbed down at noon two does came in. I walked into that rutting herd early afternoon in one of my best spots, then had nothing come in range while I was on stand. I could go on. Sometimes things just don’t go your way.

Successes

I identified a “new” terrain feature which I plan to focus on this season. It is only visible using lidar on a map, but had great success finding deer hunting these spots. They are a hidden funnel, sort of like a saddle, but not identifiable on a simple topo map. I have identified a dozen more such spots and can’t wait to dive in.

I also learned a lesson. As much as I like high oak ridges, the deer do not unless there is water nearby. I hunted a few such spots last season with no success despite deer sign in the area. All my activity last season was found much closer to water. Even if they’re feeding on acorns at night on those ridges, they’re dropping back to water for a drink in the morning and probably to bed as well.

Bucks. I am on the bucks. I have had opportunities at mature bucks every season for the last several years. While other seasons were sightings, misses and close calls, this season involved several shots fired. I’ve never been much of a trophy hunter, but like most hunters I dream of shooting a mature buck. Somewhere along the way my hunting style changed, and it’s a matter of time before I seal the deal on a good buck. Will this be the season? Who knows, but this feels like the year.

Coffee. I started bringing a small thermos on stand and man, what a morale difference it made. I used to believe in scent control and turned up my nose at the idea of bringing coffee, jerky or (ugh) cigarettes hunting. Some of the really cold mornings we had it was just the pick me up I needed, and I have long quit worrying about scent control. Who knows, maybe I’ll go hog wild and pack some jerky this season.

Friends. I really enjoyed camping and hunting with Tom Hazelton in Michigan. We met for lunch a couple times. We sat around camp after dark in torrential rain and high wind, the rain blowing onto us as we huddled under a tarp discussing our day and plans for the next day. I admire anyone who will endure those conditions with such bonhomie and good cheer. Every day we got up, turned out and hit it come what may.

I enjoyed hunting with my friend Zach who brings a lot of energy and enthusiasm to the table. Zach has a bit of a different hunting style, but he kills deer, so I enjoy seeing that different perspective. We plan to hunt together more this year. It’s nice to have a local friend to talk strategy, discuss our hunts, and back each other up out there.

I also enjoyed spending time with my dog tracker Kyle Clay who helped me on two unsuccessful tracks. I learn so much from watching him and his dog work together. It’s always amazing watching a dog in minutes cover a trail it took me 2 hours to tease out. If I had my way I would track every deer with a dog unless I see the deer fall. I’m hoping to do an interview with him sometime soon. There’s so much to learn from a tracker.

Fun! Ihad a lot of fun despite the failures. I saw a lot of bucks, my discipline in the mornings meant I didn’t feel frustrated or desperate in the mornings, a lot of my plans actually worked, I saw some great rutting activity and I tried some fun stuff like decoy hunting.

So there it is. I appreciate you riding along for The Hunt Journal. Writing all this down helped me keep track of what happened and will inform my actions in the season to come.

Up Next: 2026 Season Pre-Game

GGGGGrrrrrrrrpppphhhTTTT!!!! Yawn, stretch, scratch, repeat- let’s have some coffee!

How are you? Did you have a good week? Mine was arduous, but I’ll get to that.

In one of its few useful uses I turned to Reddit to consult the Athens subreddit on where to find the best coffee beans in town. One of the top mentions was a place called Choco Coffee on Baxter Street which specializes in Ecuadorian coffee. I picked up a 12 oz. bag of Communidad blend which I am drinking this morning. The bag aroma is dreamy- rich cocoa aromas etc. I wish I was better at describing these things. Brewing tones those aromas down. The cup is a little one-note, but it is premium coffee, delicious on the front end and low acid on the back end. I would say it’s smooth, but as a writer feel compelled to say it’s velvety. At over $20 for a 12 oz. bag it’s quite pricey, but it is definitely a treat worth the occasional indulgence. I then went to Costco and bought a 2 lb. bag of my old reliable Mayorga Cuban roast, which is just a good dark roast coffee that makes an excellent pot of French press I could drink until I short circuit from caffeine. I don’t know why it’s so difficult to find coffee I love. The coffee Scott brought me from Hawaii was divine, and I imagine quite expensive. Most Sumatras will make a great pot of French press.

I hate to admit it, but I have pretty much sworn off Starbucks beans, except for the occasional holiday or anniversary blend. Mayorga is better coffee for half the price. I always hate it when people hate on Starbucks though. Before they became universal and therefore passé, Starbucks was the company that introduced America to good coffee. Before that everyone I knew everywhere universally drank the cheap, weak and terrible tinned coffees available at grocery stores. Gas station and diner coffees were equally bad. I got lucky and moved from my childhood home in Northern Michigan to Brooklyn Heights, New York, right across the East River from lower Manhattan. Right down the street from me was a local shop called Cranberry’s, which was my introduction to GOOD coffee- rich, dark, thick, amazing coffee. This was 1990. A couple years later Starbucks broke out of its Seattle stronghold and peregrinated into the national zeitgeist. I used be be a fan of both their Sumatra and Komodo blend, but to my palate today both taste a little burnt. Still, it irks me when people denigrate Starbucks, as if we had any other options worth mentioning before they came along. I guarantee you 99% of Americans had no options for good coffee before that, and the other coffee chains and independent shops are mostly treading the path blazed by Starbucks.

I keep trying local coffees and keep going back to the Mayorga, for both price and flavor. This Choco coffee is a nice change of pace, brewed with my pourover rather than the French press, but 12 ounces being more expensive than 2 pounds of Mayorga, it will be an occasional treat. I’m enjoying it with some hazelnut filled beignet I got at Costco, a match made in heaven. I will keep trying other local shops and roasts in search of my perfect local cup.

Once again my summer busy season is accomplished. Friday I finished a big school project we do every summer. I get to work off a 60 foot boom lift for part of it, which is fun. I ended it working on my 32 foot ladder (with a heavy wooden brace attached to keep it off the glass) on uneven ground on a slope, the hardest job of all the work I do for my company. We had a whole lot of work added to our normal busy season, so I went from my normal 4 day work week to a 5 day schedule, and we did a lot of long days. By the time Friday rolled around I wasn’t feeling well, and Saturday and Sunday I had to just lay low and recover. But I’m glad we did it, glad it’s over and looking forward to getting back to a normal schedule. This last project always occurs at the peak of summer heat and humidity, so it’s ending marks a time when I can at least look forward to cooler, more manageable weather even though realistically it’s a month away.

Speaking of a month away, deer season begins September 12. I still haven’t sighted my bow in, but I have a few days off this week, so in addition to some chores and a small home project, I plan to get the bow dialed in so I can start practicing daily. I really want some venison this year and want to fill a tag as early as possible. Opening day is usually insufferably hot here, but not always so we’ll see.

I’m still down my Canadian paddling YouTube rabbit hole. Almost no one knows this, but in my 30’s I went deep down this hole researching trips I wanted to do in the north, especially tributaries that drain to Hudson Bay, since they begin outside Wawa Canada only a couple hundred miles north of where I lived. At the same time I was getting into kayaking the local rivers in Michigan, and eventually bought a 12’ touring kayak- big enough to carry camping gear, but small enough to get down the wind-y rivers in Northern Michigan and the UP. I wound up doing 4 long weekend trips down various rivers and had a great time doing it. I had big dreams of doing 1-2 week backcountry trips in Canada. I exchanged a couple emails with Larry of Larry’s Canoe Journals, a paddler out of Ann Arbor Michigan. He informed me that using a kayak for those trips wasn’t practical, as it would be impossible to pack enough food and gear for such an extended trip. I also never found companions at the time who were interested in anything more than a weekend lark.

So watching these channels is scratching an old itch, the desire to see and experience the Canadian Shield, boreal forest, and sub-Arctic. The times I have spent there have only scratched the surface and it’s such a unique experience and mode of travel. I’d like to get one good trip in before I get too old to do it. Aside from getting to see that country and get a feel for what the travel is like, they capture some stunning imagery, especially of sunrises, sunsets and northern lights. It makes for a soothing background (many of the videos are hours long) when I’m writing or chilling out after work. My two favorite channels so far are Northern Scavenger and Lost Lakes. Lost Lakes goes to some really remote places around the Nipigon region that very few people visit due to the difficulty of access and distance from civilization. His trip down the Pic River is one I always dreamed of doing after I camped near it and fished the lower end. I’m really enjoying watching details like how they pack, what foods they bring, their interactions with wildlife, and of course, the fishing.

So that’s all I’ve got this week. I have a few days off to recuperate and get some projects at home done before I head back to the salt mines. Better times are coming, it’s just a matter of getting through the last month of hot weather and whatever the tropical season dishes up. It’s been quiet so far, but as of today the National Weather Service is tracking two tropical systems with strong chances of development. I know I live far inland, but it’s amazing how many times in the last ten years our lives have been disrupted by tropical storm systems.

Anyway, my coffee is done and it’s time to get busy. . .

Let’s get after it. . .

GGGgHHHhhhhuurrrtttttthHHHHH!!!!

Yawn, stretch, scratch, repeat- let’s have some coffee!

August- can you believe it? The last full month of summer. The hottest month here in Georgia. If I were in Michigan still I would be seeing the first fall color and a change to cooler nights. Here in the South we are in the heart of the Beast. I’m in the heart of a two-headed beast, the heat and my busy season. As a result I have to take my pleasures where I find them- coffee in the morning, a rare cool, dry morning on Thursday, the glimpses of hummingbirds battling around my feeders.

I’m kind of proud of the fact that I’ve gotten back to packing a lunch every day. Peanut butter and jelly, and the odd peach here and there. A customer gave me a half bag of peaches, and they are the best I’ve had in years. I had a couple for dessert at night. I really lack motivation in the morning and have fallen into the bad habit of just buying lunch every day. Now I’m at the point that I never want to taste a french fry again. Obviously fast food and sub sandwiches aren’t good for you.

But the cost, Jerry, the cost! It’s $12-$20 these days to eat anywhere, and I just can’t justify the cost anymore. Also, the heat! A heavy, greasy lunch just makes you feel hot and nasty when you’re working outside in the 95 degree heat. A peanut butter sandwich sits just right. I hate lunch boxes, can’t stand the smell, and a peanut butter sandwich doesn’t go bad on the front seat of my work van. Anyone who has packed a lunchbox for work knows the smell that creeps into it after the first few days of use, one that never quite goes away even if you wash it daily, a smell of old food and garbage. I’ve never figured out how to prevent this, and it really makes your lunch unappetizing. So I just pack a peanut butter sandwich and be done with it. One added benefit is that I actually get hungry between meals. I used to get hungry a lot as a youngster, and by the time dinner rolled around I was famished and eager to eat. Then one day in my 30’s I realized I had not felt hungry in years and it occurred to me that this may not be a healthy, desirable way to live. We should feel hungry. It’s healthy and normal to feel hunger between meals, perhaps for hours at a time. We live our lives awash in unhealthy food, limitless calories, and snacks. Being hungry is one of the joys of life, hunger being the yin to the yang of a good meal. When I was a kid and wanted a snack my parents and grandparents would say no, you’ll ruin your dinner, and they were right.

On a different note, I picked up my bow Wednesday after work with a new string installed. I bought a dozen arrows while I was at it. They’re about 100 grains lighter than what I have been using, so I’m hoping to flatten my shot out a little. The young man who owns the shop is a professional competitive archer, and his work is fantastic- my first shot through paper was a perfect hole with the clean outline of three fletching around it. It just doesn’t get better than that. On the chronograph I’ve picked up about 50 feet per second with the lighter arrows.

If you’re not familiar, the lighter your arrow is, the faster it flies, and it has less arc than a heavier arrow. The heavier your arrow is, the more momentum it carries, and the better it penetrates on impact. I’m making some broad generalizations here, but in hunting situations the light arrow is faster and more accurate, while the heavier arrow has a better chance of penetrating deep enough to kill the game, a complete pass-through being the ideal hit. Hunters need both accuracy and penetration to make humane kills, and finding that balance in arrow weight that is right for you and your bow can be quite tricky. I’m only shooting 60 lbs. draw weight, which limits my options. I have yet to sight these arrows in (It’s a process) so hopefully I will gain enough in performance to make the expense and effort worth it. The true reward will be venison in my freezer once more.

Marsha brought home some tomatoes grown by a co-worker this week, so we had ‘mater sandwiches for dinner on Wednesday night. To make them properly you need to spend a couple extra bucks for a fancier white bread that toasts nicely. Then you need to toast it in a toaster oven so you can watch and pull it at the moment of perfection. Have the tomato sliced ahead of time. Slather your perfect toast edge to edge in mayo, layer on your tomato slices, SALT AND PEPPER, top with the other mayo’ed slice, and voila! the perfect summer light dinner. (PS: Marsha has since informed me she prefers the cheapest white bread possible.)

The next evening we did BLT’s and potato salad, also very good. I have somehow ruined the last couple potato salads I’ve made, so I left this batch to Marsha and it turned out perfect. I’m trying enjoy as much of these summer meals as possible. We’ll be in stew season soon enough. This weekend we found some perfect white sweet corn at the flea market and I was in heaven.

I’m currently doing my last big job of the summer busy season, and I’m looking forward to getting back to a normal schedule. I’m working from a 60 foot boom lift pressure washing and window cleaning at a large school complex, so it’s kind of fun and different. The boom lift malfunctioned on the first day- controls shorting out, or doing random things, some real ghost-in-the-machine stuff. The repair guy came out right away and of course couldn’t find anything wrong with it, but the next morning it acted up right away and this time he was able to isolate the problem and fix it. Having a 60 foot boom lift malfunction next to a glass curtain wall is not good for anyone. Hopefully I get this job done in the next ten days and I can take a day or two off.

That’s all I’ve got for you this week. My coffee is done and it’s time to get to work.

Let’s get after it. . .

Dear subscribers: This piece was published in Southern Culture on the Fly several years ago. It is a fun piece, and I apologize for the salty language if you find it offensive. The original story was graced by the excellent photos of Louis Cahill but I didn’t have the heart to ask him for permission here, so you’ll have to endure mine.

I’ve had a lot of dreams about fly fishing. Nowadays we call it a bucket list thanks to that movie starring Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson in which they took off around the world in search of adventure before they died. I’ve been thinking about it a lot in this era of Covid, not simply because of the off chance it will kill me, but because I’m at that point in life where I’m taking stock of what I still want to do while I can still do it. My list is informed by what I’ve already accomplished, as well as how my goals have changed over the years. Some things have dropped off the bucket list, some have been added, some have never changed.

There is a river in the Provence region of France that runs clear and cold in my dreams. It is full of huge trout. Five pound rainbows slurp mayflies and caddis on the main street of L’Isle sur la Sorgue where the river is channelized by waterworks built by the Romans. The entire river boils out of the base of a mountain in one giant raging spring at Fontaine de Vaucluse where some of the first paper in Europe was made. Big trout line up on the outside of the runs in sight of the old paper mill. Further downstream I played petanque with my French friends (mes amis) while more large trout boiled the river in the background.

I dream of going back to fish the Sorgue. I visited my daughter a few years ago in Austria and took a fly rod with me. There is no fishing there in the sense that we have it in the US. Instead there is a hodgepodge of rules and regulations stemming primarily from the fact that the fish belong to the landowners, and even they don’t always have the right to give permission to fish due to extended family and laws of heredity. My daughter knew the owner of a guide service in Innsbruck and he accompanied us to a high mountain park with a lake (and cows) where we caught stocked rainbows and even an Arctic char surrounded by Alpine meadows. Sometimes the reality of a dream doesn’t meet the expectation. I still dream of the Sorgue flowing cold around my legs in the arid heat of Provence, of making an upstream cast with an elk hair caddis and watching it disappear so I can shout “Oo la la!” before retiring to a brasserie to sip pastis and insult the French sense of fashion with my waders.

If you’re young, you don’t get a bucket list. If you’re in the prime of your life, smoking, drinking, ingesting controlled substances, sucking and fucking you don’t get to have a bucket list. You’re living a bucket list. If you’re on a two-year sabbatical guiding in Colorado to make enough money for that winter trip to a New Zealand summer- no bucket list for you. Bucket lists are for people like me who are counting the final years of able-bodied-ness and calculating exactly how many arduous trips we’ve got left in us. It’s not for young people bungee jumping off bridges who pack a travel rod to unwind after. You can’t plan what you’re having for dinner much less where you’re going to fish in five years.

Your thirties are when you start putting such lists together, but you won’t be ready to embark. Your career is finally getting going, you’ve got two nickels to rub together and you’re still young enough you want to climb every mountain, cross entire oceans in search of Indo-Pacific permit, and still sleep in a moldy sleeping bag on the dirt floor of a thatch hut. You’re goal oriented. You get shit done. There’s just one hitch- you’re likely married with children in that newborn to grade-school age. If that’s true you’re not getting far. You’ll be doing good if you can get a Sunday morning once a month on a local trout stream, and if you don’t live near trout water you’re stuck sneaking off to the bluegill pond. Carp are the height of adventure. If you’re lucky you will spend early mornings on your Florida vacations before everyone wakes up casting in the marina to sullen mullet, and you better not be a moment late when it’s time to go to Frank’s Mermaid Adventure and Gator Safari or you’ll be the worst dad in the world.

Once you’ve reached your forties you can start putting together a bucket list. At this point you’ve likely got some money and your kids are likely old enough to survive on their own in the wild. Your wife is less likely to miss you, or even notice you went. If you haven’t fallen into complete midlife crisis meltdown, you are no doubt at least acutely aware of your coming mortality and the need to start tying up some loose ends. You’re going to want to follow some guidelines.

The first thing to remember about a bucket list is that it’s aspirational. We live on a planet covered in water, scenery and fish. You’ll never get to it all. Give yourself a ten item list, but only commit to one item at a time.

Second, don’t let your bucket list rob you of your joy. If you fly fish at all you are in a lucky minority on this planet. If your life is weighed down with bills, dirty diapers and after school activities, count yourself lucky that you can step out on a Sunday morning and catch some bluegills. Your kids should be on your bucket list too.

Third, remember that it’s a fluid situation. Former me may have lusted for Arapaima in Guyana; to current me it sounds like a lot of mosquito-bitten hard sweaty work, a trip probably worth it for the cultural experience more than the fishing. Now I’m more likely to lust after the north shore of Lake Superior for musky and Coaster brook trout than the depths of the Amazon.

Fourth, let some of the bucket list come to you. One of the best trips of my life came from a last-minute invitation, from guys I didn’t know, to the Algoma District of Ontario. We saw three bears on the way in, on the roughest roads I had ever witnessed. We spent a long weekend bushwhacking into remote lakes for big brook trout, and we found them. At night we howled at the moon around a campfire and ate grilled walleye we caught in front of camp.

Fifth, pick species that will take you to unexpected places. This is why bonefish are one of the best bucket list fish. Bonefish are found around the world from state parks in Florida, to the limitless flats of the Bahamas, to small island and atolls of the Pacific and Indian Oceans. They’re as close as a quick flight to Cancun, and as far-flung as St. Brandon’s and Cosmoledo that require days-long boat rides after a flight around the world.

Sixth- roll deep. Catching a permit is fantastic. Watching your best friend catch a permit is epic.

I think the movie had it wrong. I don’t have this list of things I have yet to do before I die or I’ll somehow feel unfulfilled. Remember- if the religions of the world have it right, once you die you will have passed on to something far more fulfilling; fishing will have been something you did to pass the time without being miserable in this mortal husk. On the other hand, it’s in our nature not to go to our graves feeling unfulfilled. Are you really going to die in agony and tears because, yeah, you caught a lot of fish, but the ONE species or destination ultimately eluded you?

Yes. Yes you might. You’d better get going.

UUUURRRRPPPPHHHHHHTTTT!!! Yawn, stretch, scratch, repeat- let’s have some coffee!

Another week flipped by without my noticing. I’m in my busy season so I’m working 9-10 hours a day, 5 days a week. My boss has had me on a 4 day work week for about 3 years now, so I’m a bit worn out. A lot of my weekend consisted of catching up on sleep and re-stocking the pantry. Sunday I cancelled plans to fish with (sorry man). Marsha is still recovering from minor surgery and can’t quite handle the dogs on her own, and I was so exhausted I needed the rest. I disinfected and refilled the hummingbird feeders, walked the dogs, mowed some pasture and did other chores, but mostly just tried to lay low and recuperate.

I can’t remember if I mentioned before, but we sold our boat in June, which is just as well because Marsha wouldn’t be able to get out anyway. We’re shopping for another, but my vote is to buy one this fall/winter to be ready for next spring. Personally I’m willing to be patient and find the right boat rather than rush into another one.

My busy season lasts until mid-August and then I’ll get back to my usual schedule. It’s tiring, but I make more money so it’s a trade-off worth making. I’m hoping to do something fun when it’s over but haven’t figured it out yet. My friend Tom wants to do another Michigan deer camp, hopefully a week later in the season and without the horrific weather we had last year. I would love to do a short trip to Michigan or Florida in August to do some fishing. I don’t know. Something to get me outside. I still haven’t gotten my bow back from the shop yet and archery season is coming quick.

I did manage to delete the time waster apps off my phone this week. You know, the games and other bs I spend too much time on rather that doing something productive, or simply thinking my thoughts. I think I’ve reached peak digital and I’m ready to move on, get back to reading books, get back to thinking for myself. Next on the chopping block is all things Meta- it does nothing for me, I spend no time there, they throttle external links unless you pay them, and even then it doesn’t go out to my organic audience. Facebook and Instagram are such a waste of time, or a swamp of AI slop that I can hardly stand to open the apps. I’m working up the guts to download my data and move on. I have a lot of pics on Facebook that are otherwise lost. If you know me from those apps and want to stay in touch reach out to fontinalisrising@gmail.com.

I picked up a new favorite cup at Jittery Joe’s the other day. I went to their roasting facility to pick up some beans on Friday. Of all things they have a comedy club in the front called The Flying Squid and they sell mugs. Pretty cool to score such a hyper-local little mug. I got a couple pounds of beans for the pour-over, and I’m all set for a couple weeks. The Guatemalan coffee has a nice strong peanut butter aroma and makes a solid cup.

Sorry the well feels kinda dry here at MMC, but I published a piece about getting away from it all last week, so check that out if you haven’t already. I have another piece waiting in drafts that I’ll try to get out this week or next. I’ll try to finish out my hunting journal and start the new one. I’m hoping to find another flush or two of chanterelle’s before summer ends, do some birding, photography and more. I’ll try to share something good with you. I just need to survive the next couple weeks.

I know I read at least one or two good stories here on Substack, but I didn’t bookmark them and my feeble mind can’t recall what they were. I don’t think I even have a photo album for you.

On a final note- I hit 200 subscribers this week, which is really cool. I want to thank each one of you for tuning in and reading my work. It means a lot. I’ll do my best to keep it coming.

Well, my coffee is done and it’s time to get to work-

Let’s get after it . . .

I can’t remember the last time I got away from it all. I mean really got away from it all. Maybe it was 2011 when my brother and I went to Nipigon. I drove the 20 miles back to town twice that trip to message my girlfriend and post stuff to social media, so it may not count. The next year I went for a long weekend to the Ranger Lake district of Ontario, so maybe that was it. Maybe 2009 when I took a week-long camping trip to Pukaskwa National Park in Ontario with family.

One thing I can tell you is getting away from it all was literal circa 1981.

That year my brother and I got to go on a fishing trip with my dad and grandpa for 5 days. We rented a cabin at Welker’s Lodge in Grand Marais, Michigan. The plan was to fish the breakwall for whitefish and steelhead, and the local streams for trout. Grandma baked a batch of lethally fibrous bran muffins for us, which my brother weaponized into a potent gas. We packed up our food and gear, and we were gone.

This wasn’t a wilderness trip. Though the town of Grand Marais is somewhat remote, Welker’s is right in town. Yet there we were in Grand Marais, no internet, no radio, no phone in the cabin. Sure we could use a pay phone in a real phone booth, if there was an actual emergency. Grandma or my stepmom could leave a message at Welker’s desk if necessary, but long distance calls cost money. No emergencies happened, so we went on this trip and did not speak to our loved ones we left behind until we returned five days later. No texts, no emails, and definitely no calls while we were on the river. We didn’t go back to the cabin and scroll on a device when the day was done. We cooked dinner, did dishes, my brother and I played, and listened to dad and grandpa tell stories about fishing trips past. I think I read a couple outdoor magazines left behind in the cabin.

We lived like kings that weekend, eating menominee whitefish we caught off the breakwall for every meal. We saw a ghost bridge in the fog over Lake Superior which I believe was an actual mirage, climbed Grand Sable dune, and caught more whitefish at Hurricane River. Then we went back home to family, refreshed and happy to be alive.

If that sounds extreme, my grandfather used to do a two-week fishing trip to Prickett Lake in the western UP for several years running, including before the Mackinaw Bridge opened and they had to take a ferry across the Straits. They were living in Waterford Michigan at the time, and I-75 connecting metro Detroit and Mackinaw City wasn’t complete until 1973. I have no idea how long it took to get from the Pontiac area of Michigan to the western part of the UP but if you told me it took part of two days, I wouldn’t be surprised. Driving those cars on those roads with a ferry crossing in the middle I can’t imagine it took less than 10 hours to get up there.

And yet he made this trip several years running. He was gone for two weeks. There was absolutely no phone or means of communication with home from camp in the UP with southern Michigan. That’s just the way it was- you went on a trip, you told your wife and family when you would be back and barring some extreme emergency you did not speak to them again until you pulled into the driveway. Maybe you went to town once for resupply and used the pay phone to check in, but it took a fistful of quarters to make the call, and it cut you off within a few minutes, so you kept things brief and to the point.

This was not considered an inconvenience, it was part of the allure. It was what we meant when we said “getting away from it all.” It was literal, not a figure of speech.

That all began to change, especially in the 1990s. In 1995 I was working at a Manhattan public relations firm called Burson-Marsteller. One day I got called into a meeting to discuss this thing called the World Wide Web. They showed us software by a company called America Online or AOL for short. They showed us how to go virtual shopping using the software. I remember it looked like a virtual mall on the screen with icons for the different stores and then you could enter and browse through products. My memory is imperfect, but it was very clunky. I thought it was the stupidest thing I’d ever seen. I wondered why anyone would do this when they could just go to the store instead of sitting at their desk, waiting long periods of time for a new screen to load so you could see the items you want to look at and then wait an equally long period of time for the screen to load if the product wasn’t what you wanted . It all seemed like such a huge waste of time.

We all know what happened. AOL may not have been a huge player in online commerce, not by today’s standards, but it definitely was a precursor to the e-commerce we have today. What is funny to me is it was actually after that cell phones became more ubiquitous. To my linear way of thinking phones were phones and computers were computers. Little did I know that we would merge the two into a seamless universe of communication, information and commerce that would revolutionize the world. The effect that this had on the outdoors was profound. The outdoor world began to shrink. There were fewer and fewer places you could go and not be in touch.

Getting away from it all was becoming a figure of speech in the late 2000s. I started getting cellphone service on my most remote trout streams in Northern Michigan. All of a sudden I would look at my phone and see I had Facebook notifications while I was ass deep in a trout stream 20 miles from the nearest town. Getting away from it all was starting to take some work.

In 2015 it all came crashing down. I got a phone call from my friend and superb writer, Dave Karczynski. He wanted a companion to go on a trip to Labrador, driving from his place in Ann Arbor, Michigan to Labrador City then taking a float plane to the lodge, 150 miles into the wilderness. I relished this prospect for multiple reasons, not the least of which was the opportunity to get away from it all. I had a new girlfriend, Marsha, who I dearly loved, but in my life, I felt overwhelmed and buried under an avalanche of work, social media and constant contact. I didn’t want to get away from my girlfriend, but I did want to get away from the world. If you don’t know, Labrador is one of the most remote places in the world, with a tiny population and little infrastructure. And, of course, giant brook trout.

This was to be a two week trip. I would be gone from my new home in Georgia for 15 days. I told Marsha once I got to Canada I would be out of touch as I was unable to afford a cell phone plan. It went without saying, the remote camp in Labrador would be completely off the grid.

Boy was I wrong.

It turned out the Lodge was not off the grid. That very season they got a satellite uplink which they told us we were welcome to use as long as we kept it limited to a few minutes per day. So of course I felt the need to reach out to Marsha and let her know we were OK and check on how she’s doing. Dave and I had a tremendous time and possibly the best road trip anyone short of Jack Kerouac has ever had.

But we did not get away from it all.

Just a couple years later I got an invitation from my friend Louis Cahill to come with him to Andros to fish for bonefish. All I had to do was buy my plane ticket and bring some cash for tips for the guides and staff. I would, of course, be completely out of touch. In case of emergency I could use the landline at the lodge, but there was no cell signal. I kissed Marsha goodbye, drove to the airport and got on the plane with the knowledge that I would speak to her in seven days. Imagine again my surprise at going to this remote outpost in another country only to find out that they had just gotten satellite internet, and we were free to use it all we wanted. I had a great time and it was a dream trip. I caught a 13 pound bonefish, the fish of several lifetimes. I had experiences I will never forget. I suppose this sounds selfish that I don’t love Marsha or my daughter or the other people I should stay in touch with, but you have to realize I do not have the same baseline as younger generations who grew up with cell phones and Internet. I think I grew up with a pretty humane baseline. We weren’t completely without technology or communication, it was just far more sparse, expensive, and difficult to use.

Imagine yourself a poor lad from an earlier time who felt his only chance at financial success was to join up on a whaling ship for shares. Then you went away on your ship and you engaged in the act of harpooning whales, flensing and rendering blubber, for 3 to 5 years at a time. Your loved ones could be sitting at home all that time perhaps in financial distress, but holding the thought you were completely unobtainable until such time as your ship returns to port. On a regular basis boats never returned to port. The British had a legal process for declaring deceased men of lost ships so that widows could claim insurance or remarry. Occasionally, due to a variety of circumstances, a long-lost harpooner could reappear out of nowhere eight years later to find the insurance collected, his wife remarried, and his home presided over by another man.

I don’t think I’ve ever aspired to going back to those days. But getting away from it all had a definite literal interpretation in my childhood that gradually eroded until now it means nothing. It is a figure of speech instead of a literal act. I think we are the poorer for that.

I love my technology and use it every day. Social media has a shrinking role in my life. I feel like having instant communication has helped a lot of people who feel vulnerable in the outdoors to get out there and do things they wouldn’t do without it. And if I ever take a trip to the Arctic you can bet I’ll have an inReach in my bag.

All of this tech comes with some costs, not the least of which are the benefits of undistracted immersion in nature.

The Appalachian mountains are still a place you can go and not be in touch. While it’s true most mountain towns have cell service, a lot of the places I actually fish do not, so it is possible to go fishing for a day and not be bothered by my phone. No one is going to take an inReach for a day of fishing.

Last year one of the major US cellular companies announced a new satellite phone service, allowing anyone to call from anywhere on the planet. I haven’t heard much about it since. The other day my service was down and my phone tried to coach me through sending a text via satellite, but it took so long to link up I gave up on it.

For most of us outdoor recreation is meant to be a respite from our day to day lives. We are forsaking the bustle and bad news of daily life to have our souls renewed in the natural world. We exchange electronic chatter for the song of birds, the sighing of wind, and the burble of water. All of us have a primal need for connection with nature to recharge whatever it is that is depleted by daily life. Souls replenished we return to our families, jobs and responsibilities better able to engage with them.

My experience is that while a day immersed in nature without electronic buzz is great, three days is, better, and a week will just about cure you, spiritually speaking. While any time outdoors is time well spent, it is extended periods away that really recharge the internal batteries. Last year I did a 4 day canoe trip in which there was little service and I kept my phone put away to save battery. I made it a point not to look at news or social media during the periods my phone was on and we had signal. The spiritual refreshment I experienced was profound. It takes work these days to get away from it all. You have to be determined, but it is well worth it.

PRFRPRFPRPRFRPRRRRFFFFTTT!!!!! Yawn, stretch, scratch, repeat- let’s have some coffee!

Has it been two weeks again? Sorry about that. I had to do some paperwork last Monday that couldn’t wait.

Well, I hope you had a good couple weeks without too much of a July 4 hangover. Here we are deep in the hot wax heart of summer. The major heat broke, but the normal heat is here- 90-95 every day and humid, with afternoon storms scattered across the landscape like stampeding buffalo. Sometimes you just hear the rumble, other times it plows right into you. I got plowed into Friday afternoon at work and drove home shivering from being soaking wet

Biggest news that I can think of other than the USMNT washing out of the World Cup and Spain taking the trophy? I took my bow to my local archery shop to get a new string, so maybe I should start a new hunting journal like I did last season. I don’t think I actually finished it. I wanted to do an audio episode with my friend Zach, but we had differences on how we wanted to go about it- he wanted to start an actual podcast with video and a three camera shoot (he has a YouTube Channel), and I just wanted to do an audio wrap up as a bonus feature here.

In the end we had too many technical difficulties- batteries dying, files lost, sound problems. Then we both had work and personal things that got in the way and we dropped the project. This long story short- I don’t think I ever wrapped up my hunting journal from last season, including the fact that I seriously considered hanging up my bow for good. Now with about two months to go before the season starts again, I’m starting to feel excited about hunting again, so I guess I’m good for another season. The bow is off to the shop, and with a few changes I’m hoping for a better season this year.

Recently I stumbled across a new YouTube channel called Northern Scavenger. It’s a guy from Nova Scotia who does canoe trips across the Canadian Shield and sub-Arctic. It’s just the kind of adventures I always dreamed of doing, trips I’m marginally still capable of if I chose the right route and maybe shed a few pounds first. This kind of backcountry travel has it all- adventure, fishing, whitewater, hardship, bugs, scenery and wildlife. You have to be prepared for everything from freezing temps, to stifling heat, clouds of bugs, and violent storms. The payoff is true wilderness, lots of wildlife, pristine fishing, and scenery found nowhere else on earth. Anyway, check out the video below if you get the chance. At nearly 3 hours you’ll probably have to break it up, but the whole thing is breathtaking.

Speaking of Canada, I’ve been following from afar the wildfire situation in Northwest Ontario and it’s really hard to watch. I spent a lot of time up there over the years, from the Ranger Lake district outside Sault Sainte Marie to Dryden in the far west. It’s a beautiful wild area with sparse human population and lakes measured in the HUNDREDS of thousands. We’re not affected by the smoke down here in Georgia, but my native Michigan has been hit hard. My thoughts go out to everyone affected. The forest and animals will recover, it’s a fire-regulated landscape (though not usually on this scale), but many people’s lives are being permanently upended, especially some of the First Nations communities that have burned to the ground.

A week ago we went to see Train in concert over in Alpharetta. Not My cup of tea, but Marsha loves them. I will say he does sound the same live as he does in studio, and who doesn’t like live music? It was fun, and after he played a half dozen songs Marsha was ready to go, so it wasn’t too bad. Then yesterday we went to our hockey arena for the World Cup final which was kind of boring but we got to hang out with our friend Kyle Pow, a defenseman for our hockey team. By the way, kudos to Akins Ford Arena for putting on a great free event, with activities for kids and the game playing on the Jumbotron.

Yesterday I got out birding early in the morning before the heat got out of hand. Due to a massive storm the night before, the humidity was off the charts. I went to a nature center so I managed to take some deer pics, and also some shots of phoebes, an indigo bunting and bad shots of a white-eyed vireo. I saw 24 species altogether which isn’t too shabby for mature forest with a little wetland mixed in. Saturday I saw two swallow-tailed kites which was a real treat since they’re more of a Gulf coast bird and considered a rare wanderer here. Seems like I see a few each summer. I’ll leave you with a few pics from morning. My camera was still fogged up from being in my air conditioned truck, so the deer pics may not be totally sharp.

I’ll try to keep up at least with Monday Morning Coffee, but this is the height of my busy season so it may be challenging. It’s almost August already so I’m thinking about the cooler season to come and some things I’d like to do. I do have a post scheduled for Wednesday this week, so keep an eye out for that.

Well, my coffee is done and it’s time to get to work-

Let’s get after it. . .