This time I wasn’t in a hurry and I had my camera.

It’s a gorgeous spot.

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Well this year was different. Oh yes. Different (actually this year has been entirely as different as possible in a whole host of ways) because I knew when the MBF was and I happened to be in town (although I was not supposed to be).  I also managed to remember to set my alarm to get up so I could drive like a maniac to Mylan Park only to find out that there was no way the balloons were going to launch at 7:30 Saturday morning due to the fog.  And it was wet, but that was just an issue for me and my not-waterproof 16 year old Doc Martens.  (Anyway, the delay meant I had time for a schmagel at Sheetz and a GIANT cup of coffee before the balloons got about the business of inflating. It also meant I drove around and took some random photos)

And this is where I mention how I choose poorly when it came to my location. First off, i think I was one of the few people who actually paid to park. Everyone else had just pulled off the side of the road near the FCX Lane sign. Me? I felt a little guilty and so I paid to park. That wasn’t the poor choice. The poor choice was when I decided I’d climb the hill and take my shots from the Mylan Park (and not the road) side. This was dumb for oh so many reasons.

1. I parked as far as possible from where I ended up taking photos
2. I wasn’t really dressed for a hike through dew laden grass (please see 16 year old Doc Martens)
3. The sun was in front of me (well, ok. the sun was behind the clouds which were in front of me – see below).

Did I mention it had been foggy? Oh yes. And cloudy. And you know what does not make a great background if you want to see anything BUT silhouettes? A huge bank of clouds lit by an early morning sun. And I should have known better. It isn’t like this is the first time I have taken a photo. But by the time I puzzled it out (note to self: next time use Big Gulp size cup for coffee)  and realized I was not going to get much in the way of good photos, the balloons were starting take off.

It doesn’t take a lot of imagination to figure out that while I shot and shot and shot, what I got were  100+ raw images of balloon silhouettes.  Some days it does not pay to be me.

But it just so happens that there was a second mass ascention scheduled for 4:30 that afternoon. Which boded well for me.  As long as the weather held and it didn’t rain.  And surprisingly enough, the weather did hold. The sky was a stunning blue and the evil wretched clouds had drifted off to bother someone else.  

 So once again I found myself barreling out to Mylan Park only to come to a screeching halt as there were small children and people walking in the road, cars were parked along both sides of the street and I was begining to worry that the small green stamp on my hand (you know the one I got for paying to park?) may be just a little too faded for the guy controlling the parking to see.  And that’s when it became apparent that it really does pay to wear an unusual coat.  The guy directing traffic and taking money recognized me (or most likely my long, metallic blue coat) from the morning.  I saw that with great confidence because as I stuck my hand out with the tiny smudge of green and said pitifully, “I was here this morning but my stamp is mostly gone…” he looked from my hand to my coat and said, “Oh yeah, I saw you this morning.”  NICE. Because honestly, I was so not paying to park twice.

Once again I took up my spot on the Mylan Park side of the hill (the sun being behind me and the sky being blue this time) and proceeded to get some very nice, crisp, pretty shots. 

This time I moved around a little and ended up on the hillside where a fellow photo-taker (because I’m not a photographer in any sense of the word) started quizzing me about where the balloons were going.  So there I am, on the side of a hill with my slightly expenisive camera (and not much in the way of gracefullness) trying to shoot and answer questions.  Seriously dude, stop asking me questions. I don’t know squat about balloons and I’m clumsy.  Go. Away. Please. Thank you.

Enjoy the pics.

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Imagine the look on the bellman’s face when he saw our luggage as we checked in. The poor man finally he just asked what the heck the hoop was for. I guess not everyone shows up with their own farthingale any more. My how times have changed.

Not ones to be wallflowers, our merry group paraded through the Greenbrier, led on by Uncle Sam. You have no idea how amused some of the guests were…and the other half seemed to be quite confused. Earlier in the day while on the elevator one of the guests looked at Chad, Kris & I and said, “You’re the first people I’ve seen without grey hair.” Which would probably explain the confusion we caused in the dining room.

I was pretty happy with the inagural wearing of my dress, it fit, it stayed assembled and it was comfortable.  And as far as I could tell, I didn’t lose any of the pearls or assorted beads from it. I’d call that a clear victory! The green dress fit Kris almost as if I had made it for her, instead of my sister-in-law. The wig though, well after the parade I declared it unfit and chucked it.

After our circuitious route through the hotel, we headed back to the Florida House and indulged in food, drink and general frivolity that is the hallmark of Halloween! Who says this holiday is for kids? Please…

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The standard characters of me, Chad and Keith were joined by Mike, who brought along a nice selection of rifles and a shot gun. Combined with the glut of AR-15s (uppers & lowers) and pistols that Keith brought (and my poor lone ACP) we had a buffet before us. So profuse was our equipment, we managed to take up 4 or so of the bays at the range….oops.

My rifle experience is pretty much limited to the AR-15 and maybe two rounds out of Keith’s .308 whereupon I had my head smacked by the scope and my shoulder beaten to death. None-the-less I was way overstimulated at the possibility of enjoying the spread before me.

Just like I do at a food buffet, I tried a little of this and then a little of that. Of course somehow I always go back to my favorite the AR-15 that hates me and always jams (I’m such a glutton for punishment you know). I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to try the shot gun, even though I was unable to hit anything. Yes, that is true. I was unable to even nip the poor yellow plastic jug. How this is possible I have no idea as everyone else was able to hit the darn thing.

I didn’t let that failure get me down since I did pretty well with some of Mike’s guns. Helped out of course by the totally mack’d out scope which made it seem as if the target was being held right at the end of the barrel. I was smart enough to keep my eye away from the scope which completely eliminated an embarrassing repeat of getting smacked on the recoil. See, I do learn after all!

There was much time spent sitting and aiming and trying not to shiver from the cold so you could actually hit the target.

The ultimate problem of letting me sample so many delicious goodies is that now I have developed additional expensive tastes for expensive things. And, as usual, expensive things that require specialized tools and so forth – which is so totally in my wheelhouse it’s scary. I see a really bizarre Christmas wish list forming here. Good thing my birthday is coming up too. Heck, I could have my own arsenal by the New Year! (kidding, totally kidding…it will at least take into the Spring and me using up my anniversary wish list!)

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So in sum, for me this football season has been mostly about:

1. Food – I like food and I LOVE me some good tailgating food.

2. Drink -  No real need for explanation here, it is WVU

3. The Pride – Yay for the band!

4. Friends

5. Football – yes, they still do play, just not so well.

Still we have had great, sunny and downright hot weather for several of the games. And that means really good pictures even if I’m just randomly holding the camera up and shooting.

Let’s GOOO Mountaineers!!!

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Of course Chad took the opportunity to show me up, as usual. I think perhaps he has special shooting contacts that he wears because I swear I can’t even tell if I am hitting the target. Unless I dig out the binoculars which I constantly forget to take with us.   But that’s ok, because eventually Mr. Smartypants had a little bit of an issue with the AR-15 as you can see. It makes it rather difficult to actually aim, let alone shoot when it’s sort of….well…bent in half. The good news was that our friend Keith is used to us making things cease to work and came prepared. At least I can take some satisfaction in knowing it wasn’t me this time around. Yay for small miracles.

For more pictures of us looking like looneys, click away….

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Chad and I headed out to meet up with our friend Keith (who just happens to have several very fun guns to shoot). After a quick schmuffin & schmagel we headed out to Pedlar WMA Shooting Range hoping to beat the crowd of annoying (read = seriously annoying and possibly stupid) people who would show up later.

My main goal was to get comfortable with my gun and actually be able to hit the target. It’s heavy, it kicks and last time it bit me.  Sometimes I think that I’d have a better chance of defending myself by throwing the gun than shooting it. Which is to say, I might as well carry a big rock with me (no, I don’t carry it. I haven’t gotten that far yet.)

While it was good to get the much needed practice with my gun in -  and I totally rocked that cardboard box by the way – it was way too much fun for Chad and I to shoot Keith’s AR-15. Too…much….fun….oh….my….goodness…. uh, what was I typing…oh yeah, right, right. Especially at 100 yards (or however far it was…so far I let the guys go out and retrieve the targets afterwards. I’m no dummy).

We ran through a good amount of ammo, a plastic water bottle, some clay targets (mostly fail for me) and some paper targets. Not to mention the cardboard box – you know, the one I totally rocked. It was a good morning! Enjoy.

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Let’s see, who is the local cacher best known for meandering trails and elevation changes that could drive a man (or woman or cheese doodle) mad? Anyone? Suggestions?

You, over there…with your hand up. Wvcoalcat you say. Yes, I’m familiar with his trickery. His .75 miles as the crow flies from the parking coords to the cache. But if you can’t fly (and I can’t) it turns out to be a 10 mile round trip. Oh yes, I’m quite familiar with his brand of madness.

But which ‘coalcat cache? He’s been scattering them about the WMAs in these parts like a madman! Pheasant Mountain, you say. Sure, why not.

And so the call went out on MAGPI for any intrepid soul who felt compelled to spend his or her Saturday going up and down, around switchback after switchback, all in hopes of finding the elusive ammo can.

Now, according to ‘coalcat himself, it should have taken us 2 hours from our house. This meant shoving off at 8:30 to make the latest meeting time. No expedition departs the house on time, ever. It was 8:45 when loyal sidekick, myself and Aquacache and all of our equipment were situated in the Might Vue and set out.

Guess what? It didn’t take 2 hours. It took 1.25 hours. We showed up at the parking coords and a) we thought, no way could you fit 6 cars there and b) where the heck was everyone. We sat and waited. And then we waited some more and looked at the topo maps and tried to figure out how exactly this cache was going to be 5 miles in.

Eventually around, oh say 10:40 the brothers showed up.

The group thus finally assembled, we headed out and up and down and around. Repeat. Again. Maybe Again. Are we there yet? No. What do you mean the GPSr still says 1.35 miles to the next split? We were that far away 20 minutes ago. Grumble, grumble, step in mud.

Eventually the distance did go down and we made the final dreaded climb. When the arrow swings 90 degrees and the distance is around 200 feet and your only option is UP….you can’t avoid it any longer.

89SC made the find and we all settled down to sign our name, take pics and try to recuperate for the long walk back….

Final Report: All cachers made it back to base. Everyone appeared to be intact. Everyone but the cache owner got a well-deserved smiley. Excellent adventure! Thanks ‘coalcat.

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Yet I have no photographic evidence. I dig deeper into the files and yet nothing. No pictures of me and the horse, no shots of me buried under mounds of sewing or cleaning up the yard. We have two digital cameras and take pictures at the drop of a hat, but nothing. Go figure.

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