Gas Problems

Well I dunno about you folks, but gas is certainly becoming a problem around the Silverhorn Mountain. Oops, let me be a little more clear, I mean gasoline prices are becoming a problem. Gas...has always been a problem around here, especially after the Pork and Beans Suppers at the firehall. Why I remember driving back from one of the suppers a few years ago in Karl's truck, a little Chevy S10 I believe, and gas got to be a problem....man the cabs on those trucks are small.

But anyway, back to the real story. Apparently some drivers in the US, fed up with paying over $3.00 a gallon (poor souls......try about $5.00 a gallon around here) are running out of gas on the freeway. This prompts the Freeway Rescue Unit or some such thing, to arrive and give the stranded motorist one free gallon of gas to get them on their way. So...people in big SUV's are running out all over the place and the government rescuers are giving away free gas, pretty good deal.

It reminds me of something that happened when I was a mere lad here on Silverhorn Mountain. It was the first big gas crisis, the summer of 1974, and everyone was up in arms, it looked like gas was gonna go over $1.00 a gallon....whew, talk about the good old days. Anyway, my buddy Mark and I had small aluminum boats, with small motors, around 10 horsepower. Gas wasn't a big concern for us, because we could run almost a week on about $4.00. But we weren't riding in luxury, and we wern't going very fast, everyone else was blowing past us in their big speedboats, and even if we ducked down to be more streamlined, we still were only crawling along. Then came the gas crunch. They weren't blowing past us as often and when they did, they all had distintive looks on their faces, something that I interpret now as the look a person makes when they are thinking, "Oh my God, this is costing me a freaking fortune." For a period, Mark and I pretty much owned the lake, no one was boating like us, they were all on shore, checking their wallets and pretending they didn't feel like boating anymore.

One particular guy had a sleek looking runabout with a 115 horsepower merc outboard on it. I don't recall his name but I think he owned a company, and wasn't poor. As I recall the boat was a Checkmate, low and sleek, probably the quickest on the lake in those days, but I could be wrong and it doesn't matter. Long story going nowhere.....

Anyway, one sunny warm day late in the afternoon, Mark and I were at the head of the lake in our little boats, running around in our boats, doing whatever 14 year old boys in boats do, (don't ask, you don't wanna know, particularly if you are the parent of a 14 year old boy with a boat) when the guy in the big speedboat blows by us yet again, but this time it was different. He only went a few hundred yards past us before his motor suddenly sputtered and shut off and he coasted to a stop. He was....you guessed it...out of gas...and what do you think Mark and I did?

We towed that big boat 12 miles down the lake, with our little boats, it took both of us to tow him and the going was slow. Meanwhile, he and his party sat back in the comfy swivel chairs in the speedboat, drank rum, and enjoyed a leisurely, free, boat ride. They seemed to be enjoying themselves and didn't mind how long it was taking us to tow them home. They were having a great time, I can hear the laughter coming from his boat even now.

He paid us though, gave us each a couple of cigarettes....Mark and I laughed all the way home about how stupid he was to drive a big gas guzzler to the head of the lake without enough gas to get back......

Saturday on Silverhorn Mountain

Whoo Hoo! It's Saturday here at Silverhorn Mountain. No matter the day, we don't sleep in around here, up and at it around 7:00. There are always things to get done. Like this column. I apologize to all my loyal readers for my absence of late. I have been distracted with some other projects.

One of the projects that has taken me away from you is my novel. In between work, Silverhorn Lodge updates and everything else that comes up, I am in the early stages of a novel, the title of which hasn't been decided yet. It is somewhat of a romance story, with an element of mystery. To be truthful I am not sure where it is going yet, but it is well underway, up to about chapter 6. In a nutshell, a police officer, turned small town real estate agent, sells an old house he owned to a woman who has some secrets. Turns out, the old house he sells her used to belong to her family, and it holds a secret, that the two of them are going to uncover. The DaVinci Code it ain't, but time will tell. Can't say much more about it now, you'll have to wait. Free copies will be available to members of Silverhorn Lodge.

Silverhorn Lodge is now available all over the world, as one of our loyal members took care of blasting us into cyberspace in the last couple of weeks, putting the Lodge and all it's glory all over internet search engines. So cool, Thank you Maggie.

Fishing season has finally made it, things weren't looking good for a little while, I thought it might never get here. The first chance I have, I will be gearing up the boat and heading out on Silverhorn Lake to look for some trout. I am already a little late getting out, because the best fishing is often early in the season, but old age and an increasing dislike of the cold has held me back this year. There is nothing much colder than several hours in an open boat in April, it's often worse than a snowmobile in January. The cold goes through you like a knife and hypothermia is often just minutes away, however, the opportunity to catch a little fish somehow makes it worth the risk.

In the news, apparently the President of the USA has recently stated that the key to furture space exploration is to discover a way to make money on the moon. Uh-huh....pretty good idea....I guess that's why he is the President. I am thinking opening a Tim Hortons Coffee Shop might be a good start. It might also be a way to find out if there is other life out there because I firmly believe when it comes to Tim's coffee shops, "if you build it they will come." Of course a fly through window would have to be included. I am contacting Tim's today to get the negotiations started to purchase the territory. Anyone know how to say 'medium double-double' in Martian?

In other unrelated news, (what would you do if I didn't tell you this stuff) a restaurant in Rome was fined the equivalent of about $855 US for cruelty to lobsters. Apparently they put some lobsters on a bed of ice in a display and got themselves in trouble for cruelty to lobster. It's not easy being a lobster, but the Romans are doing their best to look after them. Apparently it's not easy owning a restaurant in Rome either, particularly a seafood restuarant. One of the lobsters, who had appeared in court as a witness, declined comment following the trial and was whisked away in a big pot of boiling water by two men in white chef's uniforms. The lobster didn't appear too happy but he did look warmer.

Well, that's it for this morning, short and sweet, it's spring cleaning day around the Silverhorn and I gotta go clean some of the springs....it's amazing how dirty they get over the winter.

Old Zac Might Just Be A Little Crazy

Hi All, welcome back to the View From Silverhorn Mountain.

Well, as you know, from time to time I make the mistake of commenting on news items, especially ones of special interest here on Silverhorn Mountain. I also make the mistake of trying to be serious at times, which doesn't always go that well for me, so be patient, along with a team of doctors, I am working on it.

Although what caught my eye this evening is not of any real consequence here on the mountain, it did make me stop and reflect for a second, and you know that means I am gonna tell you about it.

According to various news reports coming from the Zacarias Moussaoui trial, (as I am sure you know, old Zac is the 911 hijacker that didn't quite make it to a plane on Sept 11th.) he has already plead guilty of conspiring with the 911 attackers, the question before the court now is what to do with him. I'm not sure why he didn't make it on to a plane, perhaps spent a little too much time in the airport bar, or had a little too much carry on baggage, at any rate he missed his plane, got himself arrested and became more of a wanna be terrorist.

Anyway, here is the thing that caught my attention today, a psychologist by the name of Xavier Amador, has testified that he believes old Zac is perhaps, well, kinda crazy....It is the learned opinion of this psychological expert that Zac is delusional and may be schizophrenic, (big words for most of you readers, but just follow along the best you can).

Naturally Mr Amador, (I believed it's pronounced, I'm a door) was asked to substantiate his findings, how he came to the conclusion that Zac was a little off.....? Mr. Amador said he became suspicious while visiting with Zac in prison, when Zac apparently told him that he didn't want to talk to the good psychologist, but he did (Zac) seem to want to talk to somebody, because he was talking to himself the entire time he was meeting with the psychologist. Not your everyday run-of-the-mill psychologist, our Mr. Amador became convinced of his diagnosis when Zac spit on him repeatedly, up to a dozen times. The good psychologist said he felt that this could be a sign of abnormal behavior.....

Could be a sign.....? Could be a sign of abormal behavior? Apparently the psychologist is not sure. It's not definitely a sign, but a possiblity. It leaves me wondering if Mr Amador is spit on by other people he meets in his day to day comings and goings and therefore isn't really sure what it means. The amazing thing is, Mr Amador stayed in the room with Zac long enough for Zac to spit on him at least a dozen times.....I suppose the first 6 or 7 times could be construed as an accident, but after that, you gotta start wondering if the guy just might not like you. I am considering sending Mr. Xavier Amador (cool name though) the link to my previous post, "Am I Stupid?" he might find it useful.

Now, here is what I am wondering. Why is anyone even questioning whether or not old Zac might be a little crazy? He was planning to fly a plane head first into a building, killing thousands, including himself, and when he didn't succeed in his plan, he plead quilty to trying. Now he believes U.S. President Bush is going to pardon him. Pardon Me...? I don't think that is high on the list of things the President has on his mind. If you ask me, that's gotta be crazy and not just plain crazy, cutting edge crazy.

In the end, Mr. Amador indicated that in his opinion old Zac is not quite right, which of course is what the defense want to hear because it could be the difference between life and death for old Zac. However, given all of that, old Zac might not be completely bonkers, because he has been overheard to say that he believes all of America wants him dead, and I don't think he is very far off the mark there.....

A New Man

Frequent visitors to Silverhorn Mountain know that we like be informative. Our team of researchers keep an eye on what's happening in the world, in addition to looking for the real answers to questions we all have.
USA Today is reporting that men in Japan are spending thousands of dollars....improving their looks. Yes, they are spending thousands, on things like manicures, spa treatments, girdles, and get this, seamless beige underwear so there are no lines if a man chooses to wear white pants. Now, that is impressive, and some would say commendable. Around here I think we would say it is silly, or I thought we would have, until I ran into Reggie the other day coming out of the bank on Main Street.

Now Reggie is a 'mans-man', who until very recently made some extra money in bars spitting nails into a dart board 7 feet away, and he was always pretty accurate. At 70 odd years old, the ravages of working in the outdoors were starting to show. He had worked in the woods prospecting for gold, for about 50 years until he struck it rich one day. Yes, he hit the big one, he picked the winning numbers in the lottery, and won several million dollars. He threw down his propectors hammer and shovel and never looked back.

I hadn't seen Reggie for several months, someone had said he was travelling, enjoying his new found money. Well, it turns out he was on a little trip to Japan, where he learned all about, you guessed it, male beauty products. Apparently he hurried home and opened the first male beauty salon in Silverhorn Mountain.

So, imagine my surprise as I came out of the bank to run into a guy who looked a little familiar, but I couldn't place him until he spoke to me. It was Reggie, only he had on a nice shirt, silk I think, and a pair of white pants. Now around here, the only people in white pants are the Navy in the summer, and because we are several miles from the nearest ocean, we don't see much of the Navy. There wasn't a line on his face, in fact it looked soft and well...pliable. He smiled and geez, he had teeth. He was a new man.

Reggie shook hands with me and I noticed his hands felt, well, nice and soft, softer than my wifes, and exceptionally soft for an old gold prospector. I glanced down at his hands and noticed they were not only clean, they were what I believe to be...manicured...although I have never really seen a man with manicured hands. They looked like what I imagined male manicured fingers look like.

Reggie looked like he had dropped a few pounds too, so I gave him a little jab in the ribs, like men do when they meet other men...well sometimes...they do...well they do around here, especially when they are drinking. I guess it depends on the men. Anyway, when I jabbed him, my fingers met something solid, like he had been working out, except it was also kind of unnatural feeling. Upon closer inspection, it turns out old Reggie was sporting a mans girdle. Yes, I said girdle. Nice. It had him all sucked in, and he looked 'svelte' for a 70 something year old prospector turned millionaire.

"How ya doing old boy?" I asked, trying to hide my curiousity, I figured it must be a back brace, "You're bad back acting up again?"
"I'm doing great!" Reggie replied, "My back never felt better, why do you ask?"
"Ha..I thought you were wearing a brace." I said.
"Nope" said Reggie, "Not a brace," he looked up and down Main Street, lowered his voice and said, "It's a girdle, for men...."

Now, what do you say to that....? I stood there for a second, speechless, there was no reply forthcoming. When a man tells another man he is wearing a girdle, there is really not much that can be said. It leaves a fella in a bit of a spot. Should I laugh, is he kidding? Or is he really wearing a girdle? If he is wearing a girdle, what does that mean....?

"Just got back from Japan." Reggie said, "All the men are wearing them over there, it works too, sucks a guy in, in all the right places."

Sucks him in alright, geez, I was still speechless. As I was considering whether or not to just run the hell away, an attractive young woman with a mini skirt and a body to die for, walked up to Reggie and said, "Ready Honey?" I recognized her as one of the girls who worked in the bank, although with the new bank machines, it isn't very often a guy gets to talk to them. "Whenever you are Darling" he replied, beaming, as he took her hand. Reggie turned back to me smiled and said, "Gotta run man, we just bought a new water bed and it is being delivered this afternoon."
But before he left, he slipped a business card into my hand, smiled and said, "Drop by my new shop, we can help you."

Standing on the steps to the bank, I watched as he walked away, hand in hand with his new woman, laughing and giggling like teenagers in love. I also noticed, although I really don't know why, his white pants didn't have any underwear lines......

I glanced down at the business card he had slipped me, it said, Reggies Salon for the New Man, Main Street Silverhorn Mountain. The motto said, 'Dedicated to helping you achieve a new kind of manliness.'
As I entered the bank I sucked in my gut and threw the card in the wastebasket....I guess Im just not ready for a new kind of manliness......

Casinos and Church - Is There A Connection?

Hello and welcome to Silverhorn Mountain. How are you?

Well it's the Monday of a 4 day weekend here on the Mountain and things are getting back to normal. I haven't completely finished my research (we do the research so you don't have to) but it appears from preliminary caculations that 4 days off work go by 4 times faster than 4 days at work. I am not sure of the reason for this, but it seems to have something to do with the moon and the tilt of the earth on it's axis during long weekends and vacations. My team of Silverhorn Researchers, are currently working on the formula to support this theory and I will report back once we have it verified.

This being the Easter weekend and all, and therefore a religious event, I thought I might pass along something else we have been researching. Although our conclusions are not definite yet, there is a possiblity we may have found a similiarity between church and casinos.

In church yesterday, I was thinking about church, and about religion, and about getting to Heaven and so forth. I think the whole church experience is kind of like a casino. As I was listening to Reverend Bob (I told you Bob was a common name here on the Mountain) I was looking around at the various parishioners and thinking about the similarity to the people I see at the casino. On another note, have you noticed the tendency these days to refer to ministers and priests by their first names, like, Reverend Bob, Father Steven? What's up with that?

Anyway, back to my church /casino observations. As I said, I see some clear similarities to the people in church and people at the casino.

First you have your little old ladies, like old Mrs Langstroff, about 87 years old, she is always at church, and she is always at the casino. They don't put much in the collection plate, and they don't put much in the slot machines, but they expect a big return eventually, both in terms of heaven and when the bells on the machine go off.

Then you have the diehard church goers, like Sarah and Malcolm MacDonald, they are on the various committees, teach Sunday school, sing in the choir and always bake for the bake sales. Paul even cuts the grass around the headstones in the cemetery. At the casino, they are also diehard, the ones that are really addicted, always there, playing with all their hearts and money, giving it their all, even if they don't have it to give. At church, they are the singing the loudest, at the casino, they lose the biggest.

Then you have the Van Rostrums from the big mansion overlooking Silverhorn Valley. Some say he was in railroads, and others say he was in real estate, I personally believe his vast amounts of money have something to do with illicit drugs, but I digress......They are the high rollers, both in church and at the casino. The high rollers are the ones who put the most money in the collection plates, and the most money in the slot machines and at the tables in the casino. Much like the casino staff, who give them lots of extra perks like free hotel rooms, silver pens, free drinks and nice leather handbags, Reverend Bob always gives them a little extra attention. They are also the ones expecting the biggest return on their money. The high rollers are the most confident that they are headed up and not down, provided they play their cards right....

Then you have the ones like yours truly, infrequent church goer, and infrequent casino goer. I don't go to the casino very often and I don't go to church very often. However, I think I am quite religious, because I do a lot of praying, actually, I think I might even pray a little more in the casino than I do in church. Whether it's church or gambling, I always like to hedge my bets, because at the casino you never know if you might get lucky, and, you never know when you might meet your maker and have to explain your church going habits.

Well, I will leave you with the above insight, hopefully you are better for it. I have to go, it seems one of the Silverhorn Researchers has had a breakthrough and we might have found a way to slow down the passage of time on long weekends.

Giant Rabbits Terrorize England

Hi Silverhorner's!
Welcome back to the other side of the mountain.

In keeping with our Silverhorn Mountain pledge, (we do the research so you don't have to) I have uncovered a story quite fitting for Easter. Apparently, or should I say allegedly, there is a giant rabbit in a village in England terrorizing the locals and eating their fresh garden produce. This is true, got it straight off the internet news, ripped right out the headlines, and if you can't believe the internet, what can you believe?

Leeks, onion sprouts and baby carrots are disappearing from their gardens and a giant rabbit is alleged to be responsible. The British Secret Service are investigating the possibility that the giant rabbit has ties to terrorists, and have nick named him Bunn Laden. Like the infamous Binn Laden, he is very elusive, disappearing into rabbit holes whenever the coalition troops appear.

Now yes, it's quite likely that I have, well, stretched things in the past, but this time I am not making this up. This story has been verified by the British Rabbit Council...British Rabbit Council........? Yes, apparently they have a council for rabbits, it's a British thing....

The furious and scared villagers (I've noticed villagers scare easiler than town folk) have actually hired armed guards to protect them from this huge wascally wabbit. He is described as being black and brown, and he's estimated to stand between 3 and 4 feet tall. The guards are armed with air rifles....personally I think I would want something a little bigger for a 4 foot rabbit. Those British, they love a good scrap, apparently they want to make him mad before they go after him. Although air guns seem a little light for a monster rabbit, I'm told by a reputable air gun expert these particular air guns are equipped with a very delicate 'hare' trigger.

Local Rabbit Police, (who work for the British Rabbit Council and are referred to as British Bunnies) rounded up the usual suspects and had a police lineup, but so far the monster rabbit has eluded capture. He should be easy to identify in a police lineup, as witnesses say he has one floppy ear that is longer than the other. One suspect, who police say fit the profile, was arrested but had to be released, because there was some confusion on the part of the eye witnesses. Unnamed sources close to the garden say it was Peter Rabbit, but police have not released the name, indicating they're wasn't enough evidence. Apparently the witness' couldn't agree as to whether it is was the perpetrators right ear or his left ear that was long and floppy. (This is another similiarity to Bin Laden the terrorist, who is also said to have one ear floppier than the other.) There is also some witness confusion as to whether or not the culprit is brown and black, or black and brown.

Here on Silverhorn Mountain we have some pretty spectacular wildlife, but nothing like this. The closest we can come to a 4 foot rabbit is the 32 inch squirrel that Old Kelsey claimed ate his nuts. Now, poor old Kelsey made it to 95 years of age, and he didn't seem the type to make stuff up. (in other words, he was nothing like me).

According to local legend, one warm October afternoon in hunting season, Old Kelsey fell asleep standing up, while leaning against a red maple tree watching for a deer on his favorite deer trail. He woke up with a start, when he felt something bite into his leg. Imagine his surprise when he looked down to see that a big squirrel, standing on his hind legs, had chewed through his mackinaw pants and was eating his nuts.

Old Kelsey screamed and the squirrel got down on all fours and ran away before Old Kelsey could get his rifle up for a clear shot. But the poor old fella said it ruined his hunting trip, he had been saving that bag of salted peanuts (oh c'mon, what kind of nuts did you think I was talking about?) in his pocket for a late afternoon snack, and the dammed squirrel ate them all.

According to Old Kelsey, the squirrel stood 32 inches tall, because he said he had a 32 inch inseam. His son, Young Kelsey, always disputed the story, stating emphatically his father only had a 31 inch inseam....

A Sack of Flour and a Box of Bullets

Hi All, welcome back to the Silverhorn. Those of us stuck here on the mountain, appreciate your company.

My wife of little faith insists the Easter Bunny probably won't come here, based on previous 'experiences' at the Lodge, so she insisted we had no choice but to do a little Easter shopping tonight. We went to town, to the general store where we do most of our in-person shopping. (We used to buy stuff through mail order, but since the 'Postman Rings Once and Runs' incident, we haven't had much luck getting mail delivered.)

So, given little choice in the matter, we rolled down to the general store. After a couple of hours shopping, we're all fixed up for Easter. I'd tell ya what we bought, but some of the recipients read The View From Silverhorn Mountain regularly. I fear they might be disappointed to find out Silverhorn Lodge has been boycotted by the Easter Bunny, and the Federation of Unionized Carriers of Mail. (By the way, the mail carriers are known around here by the logos on their uniforms which have a very nice embroidered crest which proudly displays their membership in the Federation, as evidenced by the equally nice embroidered acronym, FUCM.)

I'm sure those of you who have done it will agree, there is nothing like an old general store to enhance the shopping experience, a little of this, a little of that, it's all under one roof. Whether it's toys or garden tools, bras or ammunition, candy or books, corn cob pipes, miracle cures, clothes or shoes. It's all there, some of it several years old, but still brand new, usually only one size or color, but that makes deciding what to buy a little easier.

One thing I have always wanted to do is walk up to the counter of a general store and ask for a sack of flour. It seems to me that whenever a cowboy went to the general store he always strode purposely to the counter, tipped his hat brim to the ladies who scurried out of the way, while he asked for a sack of flour, and a box of bullets. That seemed to be all they ever needed. I guess things were simpler then. I also have noticed a sack of flour and a box of bullets seemed to always cost one single coin, I assume a silver dollar, no plastic money for our cowboy. Then, with another tip of his hat to the ladies, he'd leave the store clerk to pack up his order,(which seems strange considering it's only a sack of flour and a box of bullets) while he grabbed a quick nip at the saloon and perhaps a shave, hot bath and with any luck, a girl who was very happy to see him, all for a silver dollar.

It seems store clerks took a lot longer to pack up a purchase in the 'old days'. (This was long before self serve speedy lanes, oh don't get me started on that....) At any rate, once he was stocked up with supplies, I mean, flour and bullets, he'd ride out of town, a smile on his face, knowing a good wrangler could live comfortably for several weeks on the open range with a sack of flour and a box of bullets.

So....at the general store tonight, we got to the cash register (that's what they call them at a general store) and the friendly 16 year old cashier asked, "Did you find everything you were looking for tonight?"

I tipped the brim of my baseball cap, smiled my widest cowboy smile and said, "No Ma'am, I didn't, I'd also like a sack of flour and a box of bullets...."

My wife hit me, the cashier giggled, and the 97 year old security guard eyed me suspiciously, while nervously fingering his bottle of pepper spray.

I left a single silver dollar (well a shiny loonie) on the conveyor belt and moseyed over to the saloon....

The Easter Bunny Cometh

Hello Silverhorners!! Thanks for coming up the mountain. I hope this finds you all well and in good spirits.

Well, imagine my surprise when I discovered this weekend was Easter. I had completely forgotten about it. Thankfully we have a fax, I was able to fax my Easter list to the Easter Bunny at the last minute. I hope he got it, I'll be disappointed if there is nothing in my rubber boots on Easter morning. That's the tradition here on Silverhorn Mountain, we put our rubber boots out the night before and the Bunny fills em up with candy. We used to use the traditional Easter Basket, until the year he left popsicles. Not that I am greedy, but the only rubber boots I could find this year are chest waders.

Here at the Silverhorn we have a couple of beagle dogs, tried and true rabbit hunting hounds, 'Bonnie' and 'Clyde', which in the past have presented, well, shall we say a 'challenge' for the Easter Bunny. So this year I have promised to lock them in the basement and not let them out until well after lunch. I have also given them a stern lecture about the difference between the Easter Bunny and an ordinary 'non holiday' associated rabbit, but they are dogs after all, and I am not sure it sunk in. They just sat there looking at me and turning their heads from side to side. They did much the same thing Christmas Eve when I explained Santa Claus to them, and then turned around and drank the poor old fella's milk and ate his cookie. I might be the only person who had to write a letter to Santa after Christmas to apologize. Well, I think there was one other guy, a deer hunter on the other side of Silverhorn Mountain who shot a deer on his roof, ... it was one of Santa's flying reindeer, (not Rudolph, one of the other, less well known ones), fortunately, he only 'winged' him and he made a full recovery.
Things do get a little outta hand around here during holidays....

Those of you who follow these enthralling entries into cyberspace will recall that a couple of weeks ago I had a mole removed from my back. Well, today I had the stitches removed without incident. I went to the Silverhorn Village doctor, who we all refer to as 'the Doc'. I asked the Doc for a leather strap or something to bite on and he said, and I quote: "Don't worry, this won't hurt you........much." Nothing like a GP with a sense of humor......ouch!

Well it turns out the pathology report says it was 'Clarks Niva", which I would have been very happy to let Clark keep. These are apparently moles that have a tendency to turn to melanoma if left to their own devices. So I am just as pleased to have sent it back to Clark. Although it appears not to be, whether it actually was a melanoma has not been determined yet, as we, (well mostly me) await the actual specialist report. I also found out (remember, I do the research so you don't have to) that skin cancer is one of the most dangerous types and in many cases by the time a mole turns bad, it has already spread to other parts of your body. So guys, wear long pants and shirts and hats, and sunscreen on exposed parts when you are outside, girls, ( I may have suggested this before) wear lots of sunscreen, clothing is optional. And if you do spot a mole that looks different, or irregular or dark, get it checked, doesn't hurt a bit.....well, ok it hurts a little......by the way, I am an experienced mole checker, specializing in woman's moles.....

The Doc said I should continue to avoid heavy lifting, washing dishes, washing floors, vacuuming and laundry. Oh, yeah, almost forgot, raking the lawn is a no-no. He said my best chance for a quick recovery is alternating between lying on the couch and fishing.

Trees, Tragedies and Moments in Time

Hi All:
Welcome back to the View from Silverhorn Mountain. I missed you yesterday, but I was just a little too busy alternating between sleeping on the couch and watching TV. The last thing I remember before I fell asleep Stacy on Trucks was installing a roll bar on a Jeep, next time I looked he seemed to have turned it into a big Dodge truck.....man he is good. I'm thinking of sending him my Tracker, see if he can make it into a Hummer.

In the news today I stumbled on a small tragically sad story from Rome. Now, it is certainly not nice or appropriate to make a joke about a tragedy, in fact it is probably what some would refer to as in bad taste, however, good taste has never been something we claim to have here on the Mountain. But, in case there are some sensitive folks reading this, (who knows what they are doing here) lets not call this a 'joke' lets just say this is an 'observation'.....Just don't laugh about it when someone is watching and it will be ok.

So here is what happened. A tree, (not just any tree a century old tree) fell on a group of deaf tourists, killing a man and injuring seven others. (told ya it was a sad story). The victims were unable to hear the warning shouts of their bus driver. Now, this is tragic.....I agonized over this all afternoon....but I can't help myself....I gotta make an 'observation'. We are all familiar with the age old question, "If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it....does it make any noise....."? I am thinking the question will have to be revised to become, "If a bus driver screams that a tree is falling in Rome, and no one is there who can hear him, does the bus driver or the tree make any noise"?

Speaking of Rome, I often hear people say, "Is the Pope Catholic?" but I have never heard anyone answer the question, so, we will look into it for you and report back.

Changing the subject, (quickly) one of our readers, Edith from Five Islands, (I think she is on island number 4) wrote in to ask us about the difference between a 'minute' and a 'moment'. Apparently this is a problem in Five Islands, God only knows why, because from what she has told me, a day is an eternity there, so I can't understand why this minute/moment thing is an issue.

Now Edith did some research on her own, which of course is a no-no here at the Silverhorn, where our motto is "we do the research so you don't have to". However, she gave it a shot and came up with some gibberish about a minute being 'a measured amount of time", and a moment is 'a movement of time'.....yeah...well......Thanks for giving it your best effort dear, but next time leave the research to the pros here at the Silverhorn.

So...in keeping with our motto, I looked into this for Edith and the others from all 5 of the islands. What I came up with might surprise you. It is certainly going to surprise poor Edith, who went all scientific on us.

A minute is 60 seconds, easily determined by a watch duh...On the other hand, a 'moment' is what you say when you haven't got a watch and you want to sound, well, just a little better than the rest of us, perhaps, dare I say it, 'cultured'.

In other words, if a Five Island husband is kicking back on the couch Saturday afternoon watching Stacy on Trucks convert a volkwagon Rabbit into a Sherman Tank, and yells to his wife, (Edith) "Bring me a beer Edie!!" It is perfectly acceptable for her to shout back "In a minute!!" (she can add a term of endearment to the answer if she feels so inclined).

However, if someone says, "Edith Dear, would you be so kind as to pour me a glass of Chablis" The correct response is, "Certainly, just give me a 'moment' darling."

I hope that helps you Edith, I can't have you Five Islanders tongue tied.

Note: In keeping with our motto "we do the research so you don't have to" and given that we are surrounded by trees here on Silverhorn Mountain, we are going to launch an investigation into the tree falling question. We may be asking for volunteers to participate in the study in upcoming weeks.

The Lost Treasure of Silverhorn Mountain

"Bob..you in there?" the loud voice came through the open window, followed by loud banging on the door to my shed, interrupting me sharply from a peaceful slumber. I slowly sat up from the floor and stretched, wondering who was waking me up at 4:30 in the afternoon. I also wondered why I was asleep on the shed floor with a chainsaw file in my hand, but then I remembered had been sharpening my chain saw, got a little sleepy after lunch and had decided to grab a quick nap on the shed floor.

Before I made it to the door it swung wide open, almost hitting me, and in charged my neighbor Bob, (a common name here on the mountain) his bald head wrapped in a what I refer to as a 'dupe rag', he always corrects me, but it still looks like a 'dupe rag' to me. He was waving around his metal detector, it was an expensive one, even came with headphones so the user could hear the slightest beep. He had the headphones positioned on his ears, partially deafening him, so it seemed he was shouting at me.

"I think I found something!" he shouted pointing towards his cottage with his free hand, "Treasure, right behind my cottage! It's gotta be the Lost Treasure of Silverhorn Mountain, I knew you'd want in on it."

Now, one of the many pastimes we enjoy here on Silverhorn Mountain is the quest for treasure. Searching for treasure beats the Hell outta working for a living. Roaming the woods looking under rocks, behind trees and under the water (as long as it's not too deep), waving the wand of a metal detector and looking for the tell tale 'beep - beep' that indicates something buried. Bob and I both have detectors and we occasionally spend afternoons looking for the Lost Treasure of the Silverhorn. Legend has it that French Privateers buried a treasure of silver coins somewhere in these parts, back in the days when the tides were much higher, which explains how French Privateers would sail their ship 15 miles inland. Of course, this is a legend Bob and I completely fabricated to get out of doing yard work.(I think we stole the title from a Hardy Boys Mystery.) The fact that both Bob and I made up the story of the lost treasure, made me wonder why he thought he had found it.

We've always been very guarded about telling people what we expect to find, that way, no matter what we find, we can pretend it is an important part of the treasure, thus giving us an excuse to continue searching.

Bob's cottage was built on part of the original Silverhorn Mountain Farm property, long abandoned as a farm and now not much more than an old barn with a stone foundation and a few old rotting roof timbers and Bob's cottage.

"The detector went crazy behind the old barn...I got such a strong signal I know whatever it is, it's gotta be big....the beeper goes over a big circular depression in the ground, at least 3 feet across. Like a tunnel, or a big chest....full of precious coins......probably old silver coins...." he said, his round face red with excitement, and his normally poppy eyes even more poppy than usual, "it's gotta be the Lost Treasure of Silverhorn Mountain!" He pushed his 'dupe wrap' (he calls it a doorang so he isn't much better) back up on his forehead as it slipped down over his eyes. "And that's not all," he continued, "in a tree above the depression, there's an old pulley, like it was used to lower something heavy into the ground!"

"We'll have it made Bob. We're in the money!" he exclaimed, still loud because of the headphones. He seemed to be dancing on his tip toes too....a peculiar habit of his which always made me wonder.....

I shushed him, making the 'be quiet' sign with my finger to my lips and pointing to the walls, "Shhh..." I said quietly, "The walls have ears."

"What?" he shouted. "What??"

I pulled the headphones off his head. "Be quiet, do you want everyone in the lodge to know about this?"

"But you are the only one here.." he protested, "The wives have gone to town."

"The walls have ears...." I said, mysteriously, and for no reason, other than it seemed to be appropriate to a treasure hunting situation. I crossed the room to the window and pulled the ragged curtain closed on the small shed window, leaving us in semi darkness.

Turning back to Bob, I said, "Now tell me, what did you find?...........but do it quietly"

"I was searching behind the camp, just casting about, killing time until it was too late to take Karen to town shopping, so she got fed up and left without me." he said, now almost in a whisper, "Suddenly the beeper started, and it was strong Bob, it was soooo strong. I know I found something big."

"What did you do?" I asked, in a mysterious whisper.

"Whaddya mean what did I do? I made sure no one was watching, and I drew this." He reached in his tee shirt pocket and pulled out a map crudely drawn on the back of a package of cigarettes. It looked like all he had drawn was an 'X'.

"Then what?" I asked.

"I hightailed it over here to get you, cause you're my best friend, and I wanted you in on the treasure, you know I wouldn't wanna get rich without ya."

"Uh-huh, I'm touched, but let's be clear, you came for me because you got a bad back and can't dig."

He hesitated for a second, looking rather hurt, before he recovered and said, "Yeah, well, so what, the point is I came for you."

I looked at my watch, "Look at the time, stuff like this we gotta plan, Bob, we can't just go over there and start digging."

"Whaddya mean Bob?" (one of Bob's favorite expressions), "We gotta get this done, I want to be rich!!"

"Well, there are rules to treasure digging, you need permits and approvals from the government." I stopped, wondering what the hell I was talking about, we weren't gonna get no stinking permits....

"I mean we need a plan, we need digging tools, and something bring the treasure back in, we can't walk back here with a treasure chest full of treasure, someone will see us." I paused, "and...we need refreshments, some sandwiches and beer, this could take awhile, we better get a lantern too, it'll be dark soon." I said, looking at my watch, "Better to wait until dark anyway, we don't want everyone in on this before we can claim it."

So we set to work, making ham sandwiches, gathering up some digging implements. We decided to use a wheelbarrow to bring the treasure back, ours were both rusted from non use, so we swiped, I mean borrowed one, from the neighbor on the other side of the Silverhorn, and we searched high and low until we found a lantern. We had plenty of flashlights, but somehow a lantern seemed more appropriate for digging up a buried treasure of centuries old valuable silver coins. We waited until it was dark, so we could slip away, right after eating all our sandwiches and drinking the beer.

Before we left, I suggested we put on some dark clothes so we wouldn't be noticeable, as this was a somewhat 'covert' operation. Bob ran home and came back in minutes, dressed in black jeans, black sneakers and a black tee shirt with a black stocking cap, his face smeared with wood stove ashes. I remember thinking he was pretty good at dressing for 'covert' night work.....

Unfortunately I didn't have anything black, other than my charcoal, wool worsted funeral going suit, (anybody know what 'wool worsted' means?) so I slipped it on, after all, once we find the treasure I could buy a dozen new suits if I wanted.

We arrived at the site of his discovery, at first we had a little trouble finding it as he had left his 'map' back at the Lodge after smoking the last cigarette in the pack. Finally we found it, sure enough, just as he had described, a round circular depression in the ground that set the detectors beeping. He pointed to the pulley hanging from the tree and I remember thinking it looked newer than I had thought it would if it was put there by 17th Century French Privateers.

Around midnight, after about 4 hours of taking turns digging and holding the lantern, (the fact that Bob spent more time holding the lantern did not go unnoticed by me), finally I struck something solid, buried about a foot under the ground. (OK we had a few rest breaks during the digging). As we hastily swept away the last of the dirt, we could see it was a round shaped object, it looked to be the cover of a big round treasure chest, it sounded metallic when the shovel hit it.

After a lot of grunting and groaning, we got the hasps apart, pried the top open and found.......(you guessed it, or if you didn't you're dumb)..... the old Silverhorn Mountain Farm Septic Tank. Three months later, attending a funeral for dear old Mrs Landry, I could still smell it.........

On the brighter side, Bob had the old septic tank pumped out, installed a toilet in his cottage and he and his family are now using it.....(no, not all at the same time)........I often wonder why I was the only one disappointed when it turned out to be his septic tank instead of the Lost Treasure of Silverhorn Mountain.......what a coincidence, he pumps his water from a well we dug last year, looking for the Lost Gold Mine of Silverhorn Mountain.

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Spaghetti Night !!

Well it's finally Thursday and that means it was Spaghetti Night here at the Silverhorn Mountain Lodge. Homemade sauce tonight too! It was great!. Now before you get the idea we are predictable here at the Silverhorn, Spaghetti Night isn't always Thursdays, sometimes it is Wednesdays and sometimes it is Mondays. So, technically...Spaghetti Night is any night we have spaghetti. It is always an event, and usually costs me a shirt because I am a messy eater. Tonight was no exception. This maybe the only Lodge in Canada, where the owner and guests are encouraged not to dress for dinner. We have some bibs available, but some of the guys think they make a fella look like a sissy.....

When we have paying guests at the Lodge we call it Italian Cuisine Night, because we find we can charge more. However, that theory is as yet unproven as we haven't actually had a paying guest here at the Silverhorn. We have had a few mooching guests, and the odd neighbor who arrives at mealtime for a visit, they are usually less particular. After supper, we usually enjoy a Roma Cokatina, which is a suberb Italian alcoholic refreshment, known to the unwashed as a Rum and Coke.

Fishing season is open now, so we will soon be swapping spaghetti for fresh speckled trout, right out of a special secret fishing spot in Silverhorn Lake, (known only to me and several hundred locals), broiled to perfection and served with a nice egg sauce, fresh mushrooms and garnished with a 'sprig' of parsley (actually rolled in flour and fried to death in butter but 'egg sauce' like Italian Cuisine Night, sounds classy, kind of 'speaks to' the image we are trying to portray of the Lodge).

And speaking of 'speak to' I threw that in, because it is a pet peeve of mine and probably you. I always get a kick out of it when I am enjoying one of the many informative, enthralling presentations at one of our Semi Formal Bi-Annual meetings here at the Lodge, someone says, "I can speak to that slide" or "Jim, would like that to speak to that issue?" I always expect the person to get up, walk to the slide projected on the screen, look at it and start speaking to it.....you know, stuff like, "Hi, Overhead Projection Slide, how you doing?" (sexy italics)

However, it never happens, I guess I really don't belong in boardrooms. I am not particularly sure where I belong at the best of times. I have noticed that many of the meetings around here seem to be held when I am on lunch.....
And one more thing, speaking of 'sprig of parsley' are you supposed to eat that or what? My wife always says no, but it's on my plate it must be there to be eaten....besides I kinda like it.

Well, I hate to leave, but it looks like Gil Grisham and the boys are digging up an abandoned septic tank on CSI, that's one of my hobbies, you never know what you might find, so I am going to watch! I think it might be cow parts!

WARNING YOU MAY BE OFFENDED

Hello Silverhorners, members and guests and visitors.
Todays View from the Silverhorn Mountain may be a little graphic and offensive, so if you are sensitive you may want to go surf the net for a little while, at least until the rest of us are done here.

Apparently, cow parts have been found in the woods in Nova Scotia. The news guys are all upset about it...no really, they are wound up.....Cow parts, in the woods....probably behind a.....farm...uh-oh. They are calling it a Bloody Boneyard, I think a Bloody Bovine Boneyard.

I know what you are thinking and that is exactly what I am thinking....I am thinking cult. Probably a Cow Cult. (I read somewhere that they are growing in popularity since Mad Cow Disease was first discovered) I suppose they (the Cow Cult, or the Cult of the Cow) have been stealing cows for sacrifice and when they are done with them...well, I suppose you gotta do something with the leftover parts. However, as the investigation is ongoing, I will refer to the cult as alleged, I don't want to be sued by the Cult of the Cow....(oops, alleged Cult of the Cow)
Cows must be hard to steal because they also found some deer hooves and some smaller carcasses. I dunno about you, but this clearly indicates to me that there may be more than one cult involved. Man! Those cults.

It just occured to me, Pam is gonna be upset !! This might distract her from the seal thingy. We gotta keep this quiet...She is going to be pretty pissed off with us Nova Scotians. Might not come back....

I am the first to admit I don't follow the rural news very often, and the only farm close to the Silverhorn is now a paintball battlefield and campground. I think the barn is a gift shop. I have no idea what happened to the farmer or the cows he had, I thought they all retired to Florida, but now I am wondering about the cows.... I guess it is understandable why I hadn't noticed that cows were disappearing from farms, I always have trouble counting them in the fields. However, I have to apologize because I pride myself on keeping you informed about the important stuff. This one slipped by me, sorry about that.

Of course, this is pretty big news, and makes a graphic picture, especially when the news guy says, "We have to warn you, these pictures are graphic...and may be disturbing to some viewers" before they show the pictures. No kidding. Cow parts dumped in the woods could hardly be anything but graphic and disturbing.
A warning of graphic pics is one line guaranteed to make us all look up from our supper to watch. ( that's why I popped it in the opening line of this blog) I almost missed the report, I had gone out to the kitchen for another hot dog when the announcer read the warning.

It looks like the alleged cult has been dumping the extra parts there for a long time, must be a whole herd of cows. Of course, there are only parts left, I suppose you might find enough stuff to reconstruct a couple of complete cows. Gil Grisham and his CSI Team are flying in tonight to assist in the investigation, I think this one might be messy. The FBI profilers from Criminal Minds turned down our request for help, seems they already got enough on their plate.....ta-dum! (Sorry, sometimes I just can't help it). A good samaritan business owner, Mom's Discount Burger Chalet has offered to clean things up but currently the area is wrapped in crime scene tape.

On another note, tonight I installed a new lock on my father's bathroom door. Nothing to it, ripped that sucker out of the package and removed the old lock and presto, job done. He was pretty pleased with it and went right in and locked it, to try it out....seems I had it together backwards...the locksmith is coming tomorrow morning to get him out. It's unfortunate the bathroom is so small, he won't be able to lay down to sleep, however he will be able to sit. He seemed happy when I left, after all, he was in the bathroom, my mother, on the other hand........

Did ya happen to catch the guy on the news tonight who won the lottery, 7.5 million. Went to the mall, looked at cars, clothes and other stuff and finally and bought himself a candle....a candle.....$2.40......all the guy wanted was a candle.....geez I got candles here at the lodge I would sell him....they aren't any good to me. Since the dirt burning incident my wife won't let me play with matches...

Am I Stupid?

Welcome to the Silverhorn! How are you?
Well, yesterday I asked you to name Pam Anderson's talent without mentioning her breasts....so far nobody has come up with anything.....I guess we better drop that one, no point wasting our breasts...I mean breath...I mean time.

Veteran members of the Silverhorn know that we like to educate and inform here at the Lodge and whenever we come up with something we always pass it on to our readers. Several readers have suggested I might have just a little too much time on my hands...(obviously they are unaware that I write this foolishness in the middle of the night). So, speaking of time, I was sitting here researching on your behalf as usual, and I have discovered that this Wednesday at 2 minutes and 3 seconds after 1:00 a.m. it will be 01:02:03 04/05/06......if you say that out loud it reads 1 2 3 4 5 6...duh. I suggest you stay up on Wednesday night and try it...

One of the members dropped in on us here at the Lodge the other night and it got me to thinking, and you know that can't be good. I was wondering, do slow people know they are slow? Now, before all the bleeding hearts get yapping, I am not talking about medically proven mentally challenged people, they are under a doctor's care etc. I am talking about people out walking around with jobs and cars and families and all that stuff, but they are still stupid. I bet you can even name a couple.(dozen)

This has been bugging me for some time, and I just got around to thinking about it....What if, after all, it turns out I am stupid...will I know? Not just because someone might tell me, that doesn't prove much, they might just be jealous, but what if I really am? Nobody is going to come out and tell a slow person they are slow....It is entirely possible that I could be going through life stupid, and never know....I doubt that my wife is going to tell me I am stupid...(no wait....bad example), I doubt my parents or my friends are gonna tell me (oops....another bad example). OK, total strangers won't tell me, but they could be just whispering about it behind my back and silently shaking their heads, and I am too stupid to look over my shoulder.

This could be quite life changing, perhaps for the better. The realization of stupidity is probably one of A.Maslows theories of self actualization....oh boy...way, way, waaaay to deep for this crowd......Anyway, it would explain a lot and ultimately help a person understand stuff. (It's good to understand 'stuff')

So we are going to leave the safety tips aside tonight, and just ask you to be careful until we get back to them. Instead we have come up with some 'signs I might be stupid'....see if they apply, but I am going to warn you, there isn't much you can do about it. So here are some examples, see if they apply to you....

You have just finished tuning up your truck and upon starting it, the muffler blows up. You paint one side of the house red with white trim, then get confused and paint the other side white with red trim and although you know something is wrong you can't quite figure out what....You jump into the canoe with a big push and realize the paddles are still in the boathouse, or, while camping 200 miles from home you decide the safest place for both sets of your car keys is locked in the car, or....you tie wooden latice work to the roof of your car and try to drive 110 kilometers per hour on the highway...(who knew it break off and fly like that?) you take the plug out of the stern of your boat to drain the rainwater...while the boat is in the water tied to the wharf, and then you go away for a few days.....and this stupid sign that some of the male Silverhorners will identify with, after you finally talk your wife into posing for some sexy 'boudoir' photos you happen to mention that she looks to be gaining a little weight...

Take a few moments today and just think about it...ask yourself, "Am I stupid?" I'm thinking that if you are stupid, you won't know it, you will say, "Nah..I'm not stupid..." On the other hand, if you do have a moment of self actualization (never mind, it just means you know something about yourself) I want you to say the following out loud: "Geez.. I am really stupid!!" Trust me, you will feel much better and everyone around you will either laugh or breath a sigh of relief that you have figured it out......

Pam Anderson, Seals and Motorcycle Safety

Hi Folks.
From time to time those of here at the Silverhorn are left wondering stuff. Tonight is one of those nights, so we are looking for answers. Can someone tell me, without mentioning the size of her breasts... what Pamela Anderson was doing at the Junos? (not just at the Junos, someone actually let her up on stage)
So that's the challenge, tell me why..... without mentioning her breasts.....I don't think it is possible, and please don't say it's because she is Canadian. There are lots of Canadians, many with talent.

Of course she had to mention something about the seals. The person responsible for getting her up on the stage should receive a serious reprimand. (yes I said 'serious reprimand') this is Canada after all, we are generally pretty nice. I give her credit for nerve if not brains, I think baby seal talk on the east coast of Canada, where all the cod stocks are gone so the seals can lay sprawled all over the ice burping, is not a particularly great venue to discuss the seal hunt.

While I am asking questions, here is another one, besides eat fish, burp and crap on the white ice, what do adult seals do? (I know they produce a lot seal pups so maybe I answered my own question). Let's think about it, adult seals are not particularly attractive, nobody eats them except some of the Native North Americans and I bet they would be just as happy to have cod to eat. Now ask yourself the same question about Ms Anderson.....
While we are on the subject of seals, three Silverhorn Cheers for Jan Arden who told the Juno crowd her bra was made entirely of Seal Eyelids ! Wow! gotta love her!! Buy her CD's folks.

Now, here at the Silverhorn we are not ones to drag on and on about something, oh wait, yes we are, we do it all the time, but I am gonna let this one go. Nuff said...for now....

Changing gears for a second or two, special mention gotta go to an old friend of the Silverhorn, Clyde C. Smith. Clyde is probably a wanted felon, we're not sure, but here at the lodge we are not judgmental. He is a biker, not that there is anything wrong with being a biker....we welcome bikers to the lodge regularly....(under police scrutiny).
Clyde is also a man about town, kind of a raconteur (not quite sure what that is, but it seems to describe Clyde) I am not sure of Clydes view of the seals but I think he ran one over with his motorcycle. Clyde is the busiest retired guy I know, he retired after one hundred years with a company and now has three of four jobs and three or four women. Welcome to theSilverhorn Clyde, and by the way, your motorcycle is parked on the septic field and it looks like it's sinking.

In keeping with our frequent safety theme, Clyde has been kind enough to offer us some motorcycle safety tips, most of which (by the look of the scars and the plate in his head) he doesn't follow. So here are tonight's tips brought to you by Clyde C. Smith the newest member of Silverhorn Lodge:

1) Do not fall off your motorcycle.Especially don't fall off your motorcycle on a gravel road, especially if you are riding naked.
2) Leather motorcycle chaps are meant to be worn over pants...geez nobody wants to see that, even if you do enjoy the breeze.
3) If you are riding your motorcycle on a frozen lake, (God knows why...) keep an inflatable boat in your saddlebags (and a club for seals)
4) Don't buy a motorcycle you can't pick up if it falls over....it only adds to the embarrassment when you have to ask someone to help.
5)If your motorcycle is small, and you notice other bikers laughing, they are laughing at you, not with you.....just ask your ex-wife..size matters.
6) It is probably not a good idea to piss off other bikers with a lot of patches and crests on their leather jackets.
7) No matter what they tell ya, moped drivers are not welcome at biker gang meets.
8) Your bike may work fine without a muffler, it will not work very well without handlebars.
9) Strapping a female manikin, (is that how to spell dummy?) to the back of your bike, will not make you look like you are a babe magnet....
10) If Pam Anderson goes by on a the back of a bike driven by a seal, club it, unless it is a navy seal.

For the Love of an Outboard

Well, it's Saturday night and almost suppertime here at the Lodge. The Head Chef and her two capable assistants have been busy all afternoon preparing what can only be described a Silverhorn Mountain Special. Meatballs and sauce over rice. I am not sure why it takes all afternoon to make, as it appears quite straightforward, but I assume that is because they want it prepared to perfection for me. Thank you Ladies. I am sure you are wondering why we aren't eating fish, this being a fishing lodge, but c'mon you can only eat so much fish and venison.

Just got off the phone with a friend of mine who owns a small somewhat rundown lodge close to the Silverhorn. We were discussing, among other things, outboard motors. Now there is a topic suitable for a blog called 'The View From Silverhorn Mountain' Boats and outboard motors are the lifeblood of a sporting lodge.

My friend, who for the purposes of this article, I will call 'Sparky' was the victim of a robbery late last summer which cost him several outboard motors. Now, admittedly, the motors he had were kind of slow....but they suited him, and they were his....and the theft was proof positive that no matter what you have, someone else always wants it.

It's not all about the money either, it goes much deeper than that. A man grows close to a dependable outboard motor over the years and losing one is like losing an old friend. Losing three is a whole family. An outboard motor that starts easy and runs steady can be a lifesaver, and the source of endless hours of enjoyment. Especially compared to one that doesn't. That is why, those of us with outboards don't like to trade them in or buy new ones. We develop a bond with our motors, we know how they run, how they think, and what they will do. If you own a good one you know what I mean. If you own a bad one you know what I mean as well. When you catch a big fish, who is always there to see it? your outboard, when you fall overboard, who can you climb on to get back in the boat? your outboard, and when you are racing some other sumbitch to the best fishing spot, who can you count on? your outboard, and when the lake turns ugly and the wind and rain come up, who get's you home quickly without complaint, yup, you got it.....your outboard.

Of course, when they breakdown it is an equally heart breaking experience, like being let down by your best girlfriend , (you know, the one that likes sex and fishing and can cook). Yup, when your motor lets you down it is a depressing, disappointing feeling. And like all stories of love gone bad, not easy to forget. I've known men who become obsessed with fixing it, alternating between tearing parts off and just sitting there in the stern of their boat, staring at the motor and then off into space.

When they are stolen, a fisherman feels so many emotions, not the least of which are despair, and loneliness. To be snatched suddenly away from you in the prime of life, without warning, not even a chance to say good bye. It is so difficult to find closure. I recommend counselling.

The night Sparky lost his motors, one of the many spacious, comfortable outbuildings (ok it's a shed) at Silverhorn was also breached. Thankfully nothing was taken. It was in such a mess at the time of the break-in that the investigating police officer, upon looking inside, said, "Geez they really ransacked this place, almost looks like a personal vendetta."
My father, not willing to admit his son keeps a messy shed, replied, "Yeah.....did they ever..."

I was spared this time Sparky, but I feel your pain Buddy...I feel your pain.

GLOBAL WARMING AND A HISTORY LESSON

Hello, and welcome to Silverhorn Lodge snuggled on the shores of beautiful Silverhorn Lake, located beneath Silverhorn Mountain.If this is your first time here, I hope you see something you like, if you have been here before and chosen to come back on your own accord....thank you. (and perhaps it is time you seek some counselling).

First a little social commentary. For several years we have been hearing about Global Warming, and as a bit of a nature nut I can attest to seeing first hand what could be construed as some of the impacts of it on earth and on life on earth. When I first heard about it, I must admit I was excited because I immediately came up with images of women wearing less and less clothing because of the higher temperatures. On the surface, that seemed to hold some promise. In hindsight, I may not have been thinking that through, because in reality, it wouldn't just be the attractive super models walking the streets in less clothing it would be everyone, including men....putting it in that perspective changed my view.

Science, is at best a moving target and opinions abound and theories vary from scientist to scientist. However, by reading the first couple of lines and the last couple of lines (short attention span)of many recent magazine articles, it appears global warming is upon us and creating devasting effects that have only just begun. It is far too deep a subject for me to even begin to discuss, so I won't try. However, I do suggest you pay attention to it, read about it and talk about it with your friends, politicians and anyone else who might listen to you.

Frequent visitors to Silverhorn Mountain will attest to my love of educating and informing on matters related to safety, and history. I research things so you don't have to. Today I think a little history is in order.

Several hundred years ago, when beautiful damsels, charming knights and ferocious dragons roamed the earth there was a young knight by the name of Henry Wilbur Swanson. Henry was a very brave young man and quickly earned the favor of his King. However, Sir Swanson (as the lesser nobles referred to him) was a financially poor knight, having spent a lot of money on his shiny suit of armor. It is a little known fact that it was very cold back then (no global warming). According to weather records of the time, the sun didn't shine very often, which is why historians refer to the period as the 'Dark Ages'. Suits of armour had to be fur lined to be warm, so they were pretty expensive.

Anyway..lets get to the history lesson. It seems the beautiful daughter of the King, Princess Annabelle, (I think a lot of princess's were named Annabelle) was walking home from her grandmothers house one day (she was walking because her father was a very poor King and they had sold their carriage to pay some gambling debts) when she was kidnapped by a dragon named TeeVee. ( possibly because he had this odd indentation in his forehead that looked like the letters T and V) (it may also have been an abrieviation of his scientific name which was Tenaciciousxlfibberbasterxenobily Venarrtronsiblelackseemous which the people of the time found difficult to pronounce) TeeVee snatched the charming Princess up and ran off with her, eventually imprisoning her in a tower. It is unclear why, but it seems a lot of the towers were owned by dragons.

Sir Henry Swanson was out on his poor old horse, wandering the countryside. He was happy, snuggled warm inside of his fur lined suit of armour, humming a knightly tune (he enjoyed the way his humming vibrated inside his suite of armor) and looking for chivalrous acts to perform when he heard the plaintiff cries of his King's daughter. Urging his steed on, with fur lined spurs, he arrived at the tower to confront TeeVee, the terrible dragon. One story I found says that his trusty horse (named Trusty) threw poor Henry on the ground at the dragons feet, but I haven't been able to verify that because records of that time in history are scarce.(writers were too busy trying to stay warm and running from dragons..) He may have simply fell off, his armour was so shiny it was slippery. This lack of records is compounded by the fact that what can be found is written in latin.

OK, OK this is becoming an epic mini series instead of a history lesson, so I am going to pick up the tempo. Sir Swanson wasted no time drawing his sword and slaying the Tee Vee the nasty dragon, slicing him into manageable pieces. Leaving the dragon pieces on the ground, he hurried to the tower and after dashing up the stairs, (actually he struggled up the stairs because of his heavy armour) he released the thankful Princess and they 'spent the knight'...(get it...think about it..)

The next morning, the poor knight rose early because he was sooo cold, the temperature had dropped far, far , far below freezing (it was cold) and his Princess was hungry. ( I said she was beautiful, not necessarily thin) He went outside to rustle up some food, build a fire and have a leak. (not necessarily in that order)

After removing most of his armour to relieve himself, he shivered in the cold, wishing there was a better way. Finally he did his business, put his suit back on, lit a lovely fire and then looked around for some food. His wandering eyes fell upon the now frozen slices of Tee Vee the dragon and the wheels in his head began to turn. Taking off some of his suit of armour he began making a zipper fly, which as you can imagine, given his lack of tools, took several attempts to get it right.

Meanwhile, the Princess, tired of waiting for him, had come outside to see "what he hell he was doing". (in her words, translated from latin) Seeing that he was busy frigging with trying to invent interlocking pieces of metal, she took matters in her own hands. Using an extra piece of his armour as a tray, she put some of the choice cuts of meat on it and placed it next to the fire to cook.

Suddenly our Henry stood up and shouted: "uyriewud!!" (some historians say that means 'Eureka I have invented a zipper', but no one is quite sure).

Realizing he had a great money making idea, Sir Swanson quickly jumped on his horse and hurried on his way to patent his invention, suits of armour with a zipper fly. Unfortunately, he didn't do very well financially, because zippers were difficult to make and suits of armour were losing popularity as more and more noblemen lost their interest in fighting (probably because of excessive blood loss) and they took to wearing stretch hose with matching velcro codpieces (look them up).

It all turned out OK in the end because Sir Swanson eventually married the noveau rich Princess Annabelle and they lived happily ever after. Annabelle, being a woman, had recognized a good idea when she saw one. The beautiful princess, now know as Mrs. Swanson, went on to enjoy untold riches, as the inventor of Frozen TeeVee Dinners!!