Please may I have a Buck Saw?

I have honed and adjusted my camping kit in the past years, experimenting with different items - I am working towards a most minimal list of items for backcountry camping. If I had the freedom from work, I would spend a good month in the bush canoeing and exploring, every 6 months.

I suppose the trip that really taught me a lesson about weight and extraneous gear was the trip I took last September with my dad. The backcountry lake we were intending to canoe into has 9 permits available, and it was a busy weekend and we were just too late - I felt very stupid. The ranger told us if we portaged a bit we'd reach a lake with few campers if any at all. A bit. Because of the amount of gear my Dad and I brought with us, and the fact that we'd rented a 2-person canoe with the intention of only canoeing - we had a great deal of weight. It turns out we ended up portaging 19-kilometers just to get to the next lake, all of it with either a canoe strapped to my head and shoulders or carrying an awkard canoe-bag, certainly not amenable to hiking. A canoe bag is a thick, sturdy canvas sack designed to safely carry gear in a fairly waterproof housing, with thick leather straps attached for securing it.

And so I have spent considerable time, imagination and effort to reduce my load for trips. I have left my camp shovel (the folding variety) behind - I can use a sharpened stick for digging, etc... etc... Weight in a back-pack adds up by the grams, and lightness is gained from gradually overall reduction. But some items are indispensable: I have a camping axe, which is useful for many things - primarily for felling deadwood and splitting logs for firewood - but once you have a long tree laying on the ground, the best way to cut it is with a saw.

And this brings me to the reason I started writing this post: I want a Buck Saw. Bucking wood is the act of cutting boughs and logs into manageable pieces. I want item 'A' in the image below this quote - Lee Valley's web site describes it thusly:

"Buck saws are ideal for cutting firewood or for felling and bucking trees (up to 6" in diameter), but are not usually portable. These well-made modern versions are.

Available in two sizes – 18" and 24", the saws pack up into a compact 1-3/8" dia. by 19" and 1-3/8" dia. by 25" size respectively for easy transport or storage. The open A-frames have 6-1/4" throats and are made of lightweight anodized aluminum. The Swedish steel blades have an aggressive cutting action that is both fast and easy to control. Both saws assemble in under a minute and pack up neatly in the largest handle part.

The highly portable 18" version is an ideal accompaniment for camping, backpacking, etc. The 24" model, with its longer, more comfortable stroke and greater speed, is best suited for trips to the wood lot."




*Wouldn't you know it - 12 hours after I posted this, I get an e-mail from Ray Mears' company stating they have just added a new item to their online store - a folding buck saw. But of course I don't know what it looks like and I want to see an image first begore I decide this is better than the one posted above. The description begins with -
"As salt is to pepper, this saw is to the axe. They complement each other perfectly."

Anyway, by the time we reached the end of the portage I was pumped full of endorphins, and felt wonderfully drugged up and happy and like I could walk for hours. We canoed the last kilometer as daylight rapidly vanished (it was mid September) and we clamboured onto shore as the sun spent its last 10 minutes in the sky. We immediately directed our efforts to making camp - Dad was terrific at putting up the tent and arranging the gear and I drank a beer while lighting the fire. That or the next beer were maybe the nicest beers I remember drinking:

I got dugg...



Well, I got dugg... and instead of my roughly one dozen daily dedicated Mungo says bah readers, since this afternoon, I've had roughly 7,000 readers. Bah!

How to delete all cookies in Firefox on closing, EXCEPT for those from selected domains!

*Note this has been updated for Firefox 2.0 here - June 4, 2007:

How To Delete Cookies in Firefox Except from Particular Sites like Google - Exceptions in Privacy Control

Using the Firefox ‘Clear Private Data tool’, I set my privacy settings on my Firefox to clear the following when closing:
  • browsing history
  • saved form information
  • download history
  • cache
  • authenticated sessions



Trouble is, when I needed to log into Gmail, maintain my Google search preferences, keep my Digg login active, New York Times login, my Blogger login – you name it, I had to re-submit my credentials each time.

Now, Firefox doesn’t seem to have a ‘Delete all cookies except the following’ feature under a fancy button entitled ‘Delete all cookies except the following feature’. But here is the way to do it without installing any add-ins or extensions

Select the Options feature from the Tools option in the File Menu:



Under the Privacy region, select the Cookies tab.



Select ‘Allow sites to set cookies’, make sure the 2 checkboxes beneath that are un-checked (‘for the originating site only’ & unless I have removed cookies set by the site’), ensure the drop-down option box for the item ‘Keep Cookies’ equals ‘until I close Firefox’.

Now, here’s the good part. The Exceptions button beside the ‘Allow sites to set Cookies’ option contains the important elements.



I have added several domains for which I wish to have the cookies retained on my system, and you will see how I am adding ‘digg.com’ to my list. Choose ‘Allow’ to add this domain to your list, and then click ‘Close’. Then click ‘Okay’ on your Options window, and then exit out of Firefox.



Once you open it again, you will be able to visit the sites for which you have allowed cookies to be retained and you won’t need to log in again - i.e. the cookies remain, while all others are deleted.

This will save me much annoyance - and I hope it saves you much annoyance too.

You can go home with Mungo now.

Wildlife Illustration

I was very interested in wildlife illustration as a kid, my parents bought me books by Keith Brockie and Glen Loates who I met at White's bookstore in Oakville and he signed a book for me and made an illustration of an eagle for me. I dreamed that one day I would be able to draw like Glen Loates and live a gypsy life like I pictured Keith Brockie lived.



In the summer between grade 8 and grade 9 - between leaving public school and gearing up to going to private school which I had written a test to get into and had passed with much excitement and pride - I was in the old section of the town in which I grew up. I had a sketch book and set of pencils with me and was tucked into a grassy fenceline drawing an old house. A skinny old woman walked by and asked to look at my work. Later on she ended up being a major artist, but more importantly, turned out to be an art professor at the private school I attended for the next year. She gave me a few suggestions and remembered my name. I remember hers - Betty something.



I think I should start drawing again. I'd like to get good at it.

Box Of Rain


Box Of Rain - Grateful Dead - Album: American Beauty

Look out of any window
Any morning, any evening, any day
Maybe the sun is shining
Birds are winging, no rain is falling from a heavy sky
What do you want me to do
To do for you to see you through?
For this is all a dream we dreamed one afternoon long ago

Walk out of any doorway
Feel your way like the day before
Maybe you'll find direction
Around some corner where it's been waiting to meet you
What do you want me to do
To watch for you while you're sleeping?
Then please don't be surprised when you find me dreaming too

Look into any eyes
You find by you; you can see clear to another day
Maybe been seen before
Through other eyes on other days while going home
What do you want me to do
To do for you to see you through?
It's all a dream we dreamed one afternoon long ago

Walk into splintered sunlight
Inch your way through dead dreams to another land
Maybe you're tired and broken
Your tongue is twisted with words half spoken and thoughts unclear
What do you want me to do
To do for you, to see you through?
A box of rain will ease the pain and love will see you through

Just a box of rain, wind and water
Believe it if you need it, if you don't just pass it on
Sun and shower, wind and rain
In and out the window like a moth before a flame

And it's just a box of rain, I don't know who put it there
Believe it if you need it or leave it if you dare
And it's just a box of rain, or a ribbon for your hair
Such a long, long time to be gone and a short time to be there

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It will help you in a number of ways.

This Must be the Place (Naive Melody)


Talking Heads - This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody). It is from their Speaking In Tongues album.

This Must be the Place (Naive Melody)

Home is where I want to be
Pick me up and turn me round
I feel numb - born with a weak heart
(So I) guess I must be having fun
The less we say about it the better
Make it up as we go along
Feet on the ground
Head in the sky
It's ok I know nothing's wrong . . nothing

Hi yo I got plenty of time
Hi yo you got light in your eyes
And you're standing here beside me
I love the passing of time
Never for money
Always for love
Cover up + say goodnight . . . say goodnight

Home - is where I want to be
But I guess I'm already there
I come home - she lifted up her wings
Guess that this must be the place
I can't tell one from another
Did I find you, or you find me?
There was a time
Before we were born
If someone asks, this where I'll be . . . where I'll be

Hi yo We drift in and out
Hi yo sing into my mouth
Out of all those kinds of people
You got a face with a view
I'm just an animal looking for a home
Sharing the same space for a minute or two
And you love me till my heart stops
Love me till I'm dead
Eyes that light up, eyes look through you
Cover up the blank spots
Hit me on the head
Ah ooh

They are or They were.


There is an elderly woman who lives in our building. She always remembers to respectfully greet Monty and ask after him. I think she does some volunteer work, and this evening as I was walking towards the front path to our building, I found her sitting waiting for a taxi with a woman whom I have seen with her before. This younger woman sits in a wheel chair and seems quite friendly and perhaps developmentally handicapped. They both like Monty - I've run into the 2 of them a few times over the past several months.

The woman in the wheelchair, her leg - the first time I saw her - was in a metal device, bracing her leg, with metal pins entering the skin, presumably screwed into the bone. Imagine the worst device you can for pinning a leg back together. That's what she had.

Tonight her leg was looking better, I think the device had been removed. I asked her how her health was. She looked happy to have a chance to talk about it. She happily said "I got some good news today! They are going to amputate."

I blinked once and kept smiling, wondering what social world I had suddenly been thrust into, and what my options were. For a second I thought that maybe amputation was going to free her from infection, or pain, or give her the chance to walk perhaps with a prothesis. Then I ran out of ideas. She may have noticed my hesitancy to say anything else and to simply smile and stop blinking, and took my pause as a chance to continue: "Yes, they were going to amputate but told me they wouldn't. They say it is getting better and that I can move home now after 6 months in the hospital."

I recovered and said "Well, that's wonderful news for you to digest!". She'd likely already digested that news - rather it was I who was still digesting. I think I'd misheard her - I think I heard "They are" instead of "They were".

It was the oddest thing my brain had claimed to hear in a long while - "I got some good news today! They are going to amputate."

Gnaw gnaw gnaw

My little dog is whimpering insistently because he knows that I drove to the grocery store before and retrieved two containers of marrow bones, some still covered with meat, from the back of the freezer at the back of the store near the orange juice, and that when I got home I sprinkled some rock salt and pepper on them once I had arranged the 6 pieces in my well-seasoned cast iron frying pant which I was about to place in the oven which I had instructed quietly to raise itself to a temperature of 350 degrees Fahrenheit.



Soon I will retrieve a cooked bone from the hot iron.



He will wait for a while because I will contruct a heat-sink device from tin foil, place it in the freezer for 10 minutes, knowing that the heat will quickly leave the tin-foil wrapped bone.



He will then lay down, rest a paw upon one end of the cooled bone and his other paw on the other end of the cooled bone and begin to gnaw religiously upon this item until he stops a few hours later.

Scalpy scalp

Because Philogynist has the finest picture of a surviving old guy who was scalped by a warrior, I'm asking everyone to go there and observe and wonder.


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