Ronald's Borrowed Vomit Saddle Bags
It started pouring with rain and in minutes I was soaked. As was Buddy, the mule I was sitting on. And coming from Polly, my pack mule, a noxious, air sick smell. Damn, maybe Ronald was right. Maybe someone really had puked in to those duffel bags he’d loaned me.
It's Not's What's Over the Door
This week I went rambling in the Uwharrie Forest with Polly and Buddy, my mule companions. Just the three of us, 100 miles of road and a bit of gear: hammock, sleeping bag and string. No great mission. Just two mules and a man out clearing his head.
Days, we traveled the back roads. Nights we camped with friends new and old. The second night I slept in a hammock tied to Wayne Hussey’s corn crib.
Pack Saddle Temptation
Mule Polly never was intended to be a pack mule. The mule that I drove from Canada to Mexico and across Newfoundland has made it clear she doesn’t count carrying a pack saddle among her duties. Last time she was doing the beast of burden thing, she ran away, crashed her packs into some trees and high-tailed it to camp. Ronald Hudson, Polly’s last owner, has me warned she was ticklish about the subject.
This weekend I could take it… Continue reading
How to Stow Away on a Sailboat
So you want to stow away on a sailboat, eh? Blend in somewhere on something like that salty sailboat I built 20 years ago. See where it takes you.
Damn. Unless you could shape shift into a seat cushion, brass lantern or bronze port, I’d rate the odds of remaining undetected on a 18 1/2 footer as slim to delusional. If you still insist, though, I would suggest seeking shelter in a cockpit locker. Don’t try to hide under the… Continue reading
Seek Work
Then came the day I realized I was 45, my dad was almost twice that, and I needed a job. Cash money baby. The folding kind. Not the kind that gets electronically deposited into your account on Friday. No, for that you need to commute and smell nice and tuck in your shirt.
The lifestyle that Polly and I had chosen just wasn’t up for that zeros and one kind of monetary lifestyle.
Polly’s my mule.
Nope, it was all… Continue reading
Adrift Between Missions
My ship has sunk. I’m sitting in my dinghy which has become my life raft. Around me the ocean is empty, blue and calm.
Whiskey Bottle Cake
Today’s the Big Day. Dad turns 87. Happy birthday dad!
My dad Arthur Harberts is my closest friend. He’s also my traveling hero and the man who taught me one of life’s most important lessons – improvise. This year, when I came up short in the cake department, I… Continue reading
Spring 2013 Hoofing It program schedule
Ready for a quick ramble? Join me for one of the upcoming “Hoofing It” programs. All the excitement of traveling across North Carolina with a mule (minus the saddle sores and slugs).
Saturday, May 6
3p
Mebane Public Library
101 S. First St.
Mebane, NC 27302
(919)563-6431
Tuesday, May 14
11a
First Lutheran Church
3600 W. Friendly Ave
Greensboro, NC 27410
Monday, June 10
7p
Allegany Public LIbrary
122 N. Main St.
Sparta, NC 28675
Upcoming Hoofing It programs
Sap’s rising and you’re getting the urge to hit the road like back in the day when all it took was a stick and a hankie. Sure, those hobo days are romanticized but face it, the older you get, the more reasons you come up with to stay put.
Still, every year, you wonder. If you don’t run away this year, will you ever?
The Last Thing I Hear In My Wagon World
The walls of my wagon world are canvas thin. Lit by an oil soaked wick raised with a tiny lantern gear. Nights, when darkness falls, I put a match to the wick and write in my journal by lamp light. The… Continue reading
