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After having been abandoned as a two-year-old
in Chequamegon National Forest, Dick
Baker grew up with a passion for the outdoors. Baker
hosts "Baker's Dozin'" on the Camping Network
and is Sportalicous! outdoor correspondent. Email your questions
to outdoordick@sportalicious.com.
Dear Dick:
We have no indoor plumbing in our home in northern Wisconsin.
We have to get all bundled up to go to our outhouse. By
the time we get out there we are all sweaty and the seat
is so cold our tushies stick to it. What can we do to prevent
this on a daily basis?
- Barnyard Joe, Mountain, WI
Dear Joe:
Mountain, huh? I won the Smelt Netter Invitational near
there on Lake Superior in '91. Good people.
Well Joe, your question doesn't seem to have much to do
with outdoor sports... on the surface. But you know, your
quandary is one shared by ice fishermen and winter game
hunters all over the northern midwest, so I'm glad you brought
it up!
Here's what you do, and I hope you don't mind me sayin'
this Joe, but readin' between the lines of your note, I'm
guessin' you're about 260, 270 pounds easy and the l'il
missus is right behind ya -- don't wear the coat! Wear a
nice cotton blend longsleeve t-shirt and longjohns that
"wick" away body moisture. Then -- pardon my french,
Baryard Joe -- get yer ass in gear! Get to that outhouse,
and don't be dallyin' 'cause you think you see a seven-point
buck and really you're just a little toasted from some imbibin'.
Trust me, when you get in the outhouse -- you'll be way,
way less sweaty...
...I know, I know, now you're out there for who knows how
long, dependin' on how much venison chili you inhaled last
night, and that ain't no time to be shiverin'!! Here's an
easy solution -- leave one of them old Woolrich
shirts with the double insulation on a hook outside the
door! Wool conducts heat FAST and that
baby'll heat up in no time -- especially on your sizable
"furnace!"
I know city folk would say, "Hey Barnyard Joe, get
indoor plumbing, ya dumb Goober!" and be done with
you - but I'm fully aware, Joe, that in some parts of the
northwoods the tundra is brittle. Tough. And almost... vengeful.
Frozen black loam like that, gets a mind of its own, twists
your underground pipes juuuust right so THEY
don't snap -- but a pipe on the INSIDE
of your house snaps! And not a real snap, just a pinhole,
a slow leak... so that while you sleep, it fill your house
with clear, cold, deadly water that slowly rises, slowly
rises -- while you snore -- until just about 5:15am it literally
reaches your slumbering, unaware body and freezes you to
death in your own tragic giant ice cube. It's the definition
of "When Hell freezes over..." Ah, city folk.
Don't forget -- hang the shirt back up before you dash back
to "the mainland!"
- Dick
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