Eh, that post title was funnier in my head than it is in pixels. Oh well.

The news from Cheap Charlies is that the restaurant has brought back the former menu, including meat pies.

“Guess what just got back today……. The Pies Are back In Town”
Yes our famous meat pies are back! Yes they are not round like before (no stock of round pie cases) But the same great taste and filling as before. Of course gravy?? Yess the real stuff! 😋🤤🥧. Only here at Foodies Restaurant and Cheap Charlies Bar.

So, the trend of undoing everything the owner Graham had instituted prior to his stroke continues. Mind you, I agree that these changes are for the better, but it just seems odd somehow. The only news I have about Graham is from the CC Facebook page:

Once again a huge thank you to everyone who has donated so far, your donations really do make a difference and it is so much appreciated. Graham is still stable in ICU, we have purchased a Bed Sore mattress for him to prevent him from getting bed sores, as currently he is unable to turn in bed. He is still being intubated and being fed through the nose. Graham is responding to people when spoken too by opening his eyes and squeezing with his left hand. The fever he had seems to have now subsided and was caused by tubes in his arm giving him discomfort. These Tubes have now been re positioned. We currently think that Graham could be in ICU at least another week for monitoring. I personally will be going to see him again the early part of next week and will be talking to the doctors about his rehabilitation etc. Once again many thanks to everyone. 

It doesn’t sound good to me, but here’s hoping for the best.

Anyway, this post is about the pies. Cheap Charlies was rumored to have the best in town, but before I ever got the chance to try one, Foodies had closed. When they eventually reopened they weren’t on the menu. But as mentioned above, now they are back.

Here’s how the pie looks on Facebook:

This is what I was served at the bar last night:

So, how was it? A little disappointing actually. I got the chicken and mushroom version. It was plenty meaty inside, and tasty enough. But it was cold in the middle. Not sure how that happens, unless maybe they were microwaving pre-made pies. The gravy was hot enough to warm up the cold portions so as to be edible, but still.

As things stand I cannot say Foodies has satisfied my quest to find the best pie in town. I’ll give them another shot (it was Sunday night, so maybe the regular cook was off) before passing final judgment.

But if an unsatisfactory pie is the most I have to complain about I’d say life is pretty damn good. I mean, it’s not like getting struck by lightning while walking the dogs like this guy was.

Speaking of dogs, at the SOB dance contest Friday night, the Alaska team incorporated a puppy into their act. I found it very off-putting and as a judge, I deducted a full point off their score because I thought it was cruel. On one of the forums, the owner couldn’t understand why his team’s string of home bar victories had been broken. I mentioned I thought using the dog was wrong and people said I was overreacting. One guy said he was amused because the pup looked so “astonished”. I responded that it looked terrified to me. Anyway, someone else posted a video of that portion of the act. I’m sharing it here and welcome your opinion on the matter:

Such is life.

Well, technically we were at the SOB dance competition, but you know what I mean.

Anyway, it had been quite a while since I’ve attended an SOB and it was a nice way to welcome Justin back to town. One of the raffle prizes I won was for a free night’s lodging at the Treasure Island Resort. Something I don’t personally need, but it gave me an idea. I’ve mentioned my support for a friend with five kids as my current charity project. I figured a day at the beach/pool is something they might enjoy. So I booked a room in her name and made their day. Which makes mine too. Funny how that works.

Yesterday morning we joined a group hike out to Castillejos (pronounced Cast-till-lay-hos, I’d been saying it wrong, although I guess as a reader you wouldn’t have known that). It’s about 10K west of Barretto.

And that’s about as far as we got. See, the thing about the non-Hash hikes is that we are more or less winging it. And sometimes the trail just doesn’t pan out. Once we were at the summit, the trail, such as it was, disappeared in the tall thatch grasses. After some discussion, we elected to retreat and retrace our steps back down the mountain. I really hate having to do that, but I was on board with the decision to do so. Just wasn’t worth the risk of getting lost. Or worse.

Anyway, we had somewhere to be after our hike. The Roadhouse bar in Castillejos (there, I pronounced it right that time). Yeah, we needed some beers, but this was also for a special event. Some of the Hash girls (Harriettes) have started a business making a liqueur beverage. So they have been going to various establishments giving out samples and selling their wares. They call their company “Creme De Crop”, which may not be grammatically correct, but what do I know?

But we weren’t quite done yet. Pubic Head mentioned another bar up the highway called The Goat Locker. It’s run by a retired Navy guy. And Goat Locker turns out to be Navy jargon for a galley on-board ship. You learn something new every day.

The Goat Locker was a small and friendly place and we enjoyed a couple more beers there. There Creme De Crop gals came down and sold the locals several more bottles of their concoction. A successful afternoon indeed!

And life goes ever onward. Until it doesn’t. Just gonna enjoy the ride while it lasts.

Well, you can rock it you can roll it
You can stop and you can stroll it at the hop
When the record starts spinnin’
You chalypso when you chicken at the hop
Do the dance sensation that is sweepin’ the nation at the hop

Ah, let’s go to the hop
Let’s go to the hop, (oh baby)
Let’s go to the hop, (oh baby)
Let’s go to the hop
Come on, let’s go to the hop

Well, you can swing it you can groove it
You can really start to move it at the hop
Where the jockey is the smoothest
And the music is the coolest at the hop
All the cats and chicks can get their kicks at the hop

Let’s go!
Let’s go to the hop
Let’s go to the hop, (oh baby)
Let’s go to the hop, (oh baby)
Let’s go to the hop

Back from my whirlwind trip to Angeles City with the nephew safely on board. It was a long night though. Justin’s flight wasn’t due to arrive until 0215, but I had my driver pick me up at 7:00 p.m. I figured I’d get some dinner and a taste of AC ambiance while waiting.

I actually started out at Cheap Charlies and had my driver meet me there. The place was packed and rockin’. When we arrived in AC, I treated my driver to dinner at one of my old-time favorites, Tequila Reef. There was a brownout (no electricity) in town, but the Reef was running a generator. Power was restored about 30 minutes later.

We sat outside where we were permitted to smoke or vape and do some people watching on the street. There was a sign on the table saying to push the button on the wall for service. I did that but received no response, so I pushed it again. One of the other diners advised that the button was out of order and he suggested I flail my arms about until someone inside notices me. Hmm, that didn’t work either. In frustration I went inside and asked what I needed to do to be served, mentioning that the button and attention-seeking had been to no avail. “Sorry sir, the button isn’t in operation now” was the response. Sheesh. I took a piss, came out of the CR, and noticed there were STILL no menus at my table. I again tracked down a waitress and pleaded for service (I was pretty damn hungry by now).

Tequila Reef has a varied menu, but they specialize in Mexican food. I accordingly ordered up the enchilada platter.

After the meal, I took a walk down, well, Walking Street. Not much had changed since my last visit and I wasn’t tempted by any of the girly bar action on offer. Instead, I walked up the road a bit to a little outdoor bar I had enjoyed previously. I was disappointed to discover that the girl I was fond of back then wasn’t working. In fact, only one gal was working and she was pretty much worthless at providing even a minimum level of service. I should have left after the first beer, but I couldn’t be bothered. After sitting there with an empty beer bottle for the second time, I got up and went back to where she was fooling around with some paperwork. “Are you mad at me?” I asked. She gave me a look of incomprehension, so I said: “I’ve been waiting and waiting for you to bring me another beer”. She said something about being there by herself as if that was a valid excuse. The place was not busy at all–two customers besides me. So I got my beer and she grudgingly continued to provide refills upon request (meaning she never offered). Ah well, another reminder of why I dislike Angeles City.

Around midnight, I rustled up my driver and we went to the airport. Justin had messaged me from Incheon that his flight was delayed by an hour. So, I set my alarm for 3:00 a.m. and napped. Justin exited the terminal at 3:30 and we hit the highway for home, arriving here at 5:00. I was exhausted and went straight to bed, but the dogs had me up before 7:00 to tend to their needs. Justin came downstairs around 10:00 and I grilled up some steaks and we had a nice brunch. Then he joined me on a 1.5 hour beach walk. Afterward, I had a good nap and have probably put you to sleep now with this post. Situation normal here at LTG!

I’ll take Justin to the SOB dance contest tonight. Tomorrow morning we will hike in Castillejos, then join some Hash friends at the Roadhouse bar there.

And now, as promised in the title of this post, let me share some more memes I came across:

I’ve had just about enough of this! I’m sure you have too. I’ll leave you with one of my favorite songs from the 1970s. Beto’s remarks about gun violence in Ohio brought it to mind.

Tin soldiers and Nixon coming,
We’re finally on our own.
This summer I hear the drumming,
Four dead in Ohio.

Gotta get down to it
Soldiers are cutting us down
Should have been done long ago.
What if you knew her
And found her dead on the ground
How can you run when you know?

UPDATE: It occurs to me that what I’ve posted are political cartoons, not memes. Which of course destroys the whole premise of the catchy tune I used as a title for this post. Oh well.

Nothing much new to report. Well, my nephew, Justin, is coming for a quick visit/visa run. His plane arrives in Angeles City at 2:15 in the morning, so I’ll be making a trip to the airport tonight.

I did half a Wednesday Sausage Walkers hike yesterday.

Anyway, I feel like a wimp for not completing the hike, but damn, when it stops being fun, what’s the point? Meanwhile, Kevin Kim is trudging away from one end of Korea to the other, walking through persistent pain, heat, and rain. Why does he do it?

I’ll tell you why: because compared to sitting in a shoebox of an office, clickety-clacking at a keyboard for eight hours a day, walking long distances imbues us with a sense of purpose and accomplishment. We feel as if we’ve done something that has meaning and value, and we reap the fruits of such labor immediately. We can write material for an English workbook, but we have no clue whether the kids who use our material have been positively affected or influenced by it. By contrast, when we walk thirty kilometers, we feel as if we’ve done something. In the meantime, the simplicity of walking allows the mind to open itself up to the sounds of the world, to Mother Nature and her cacophonous children (yes, even the hairless primates with their loud, polluting technology are her children), who are teaching us something new at every moment. Walking is meditation, and it’s a way of reconnecting with the beating heart of the universe. There are other ways of touching such depth, of course; I’m not claiming that walking is something everyone must do. But if you want to know why I engage in distance walking, well, that’s why. Or that’s one reason, anyway.

There is something to be said for the social aspect of group walking, but I guess I’ve just come to prefer walking where I want, when I want, at the difficulty level my tired old bones can best tolerate. So, I’m thinking I’ll do the Hash on Monday and only an occasional Sausage walk in the future.

I did enjoy this guy’s company on my morning walk today:

I was very heartened to learn that science recognizes and supports my healthy lifestyle. If this article is to be believed anyway.

Doctors are recommending that people drink EIGHT glasses of alcohol every day to help stave off the horror that is reality.

A new study found that 100% of people who drank eight glasses of alcohol every day were significantly happier than those who didn’t.

‘The results were incredible. The sober control group were absolutely miserable while those who drank a large quantity of alcohol were in a great mood, albeit with some bouts of violence,’ Dr Drinkwater told us.
With reality becoming increasingly difficult to face, doctors now believe that everyone should up their alcohol intake so we can all ride it out together.

‘It’s easy to do. Just put a shot of vodka in every coffee. Or, better yet, replace water with vodka altogether,’ said another doctor.

However, people are being told that regular consumption of high quantities of alcohol could lead to an early death.

Whether that’s a promise or a warning isn’t yet known.

I guess we’ll find out.

On the political front, I did enjoy these memes:

That’s just about all for now. But I never want to close a post without always imparting some words of wisdom.

“Always and never are two words you should always remember never to use.”

Get it? Got it. Good.

Survived another Hash day. Was geared up to tackle whatever the Hare, Leech My Nuggets, threw at me. But not in the rain. And it started to rain before the Hashmobile reached the drop-off point. So I and a handful of others opted to make our own trail, avoiding any dangerous climbs.

It wasn’t hard to do that because I’ll be damned if Leech didn’t lay the trail in Calapacuan–the very area I’d been scouting for the October 14 Hash. Leech even did Black Rock mountain yesterday, the one we had rejected as too dangerous. And that was BEFORE the rain! Ah well, we did a very nice flat trail at 7+K and rejoined the Leech’s chosen path after the mountainous parts.

I always feel bad when I don’t respect the trail the Hare worked hard at providing. But having said that, I’m 64 years old and I’d like to make it to 65. I’ve made up my mind to put my safety first during the Hash. And that means I’m not climbing mountains during a rainstorm. Tough titties said the kitty, but the milk’s okay.

Now I’ve got to figure out how to salvage a trail when I Hare in two weeks.

Stay tuned!

My usual morning stroll, but I consciously kept my eyes wide open despite the familiar surroundings. This is what I saw:

Time marches on, and so do I.

That’s one thing about being retired. All the days are pretty much the same and you can do pretty much whatever you please. Still, you tend to fall into a rhythm associated with activities that normally occur on any given day. Yesterday featured the Wednesday Sausage Walkers group followed by the darts tourney at Alley Cats.

Regarding the darts, I confess that I have not been motivated to practice. But you wouldn’t know it based on the way I threw last night. Most of my throws were on target and I was consistently hitting my “out” shots. Of course, it didn’t hurt that I drew Christy, the top female player in Barretto as my partner. We were expected to win and we didn’t disappoint. In fact, we never lost a leg, winning all our matches 2-0 in the best of three format.

I was more tired than usual because the Wednesday walk was pretty strenuous. We climbed the “big” mountain that separates Barretto from Olongapo City. By big, I mean that the mountain My Bitch crosses is approximately 100 meters of uphill. Our hike yesterday was around 250 meters of elevation. It being sunny and hot didn’t make it any easier, but I was still glad to not be hiking in the rain.

Anyway, with the improved weather, we had a big turnout of walkers, twelve all told. Nice scenery as usual and only one injury. For some inexplicable reason, someone had strung a strand of barbed wire across the trail–at head height. Gunter, who was leading the pack, walked right into it (like most of us do, he was looking down at the trail so didn’t see the wire). He got a gash on his forehead, but it didn’t appear deep enough for stitches. I teased he’d make a good Frankenstein for Halloween. Ah well, it can always be worse.

Here are some photos from the day’s march:

And that was my Wednesday.

Well, not cotton. But that irritating wild grass that towers over my head and makes hiking more difficult does have a name: talahib. At least that is what the Filipinos call it. Scientists say Saccharum spontaneum, and us English speaking folks might call it thatch grass or fodder cane. Whatever the name, it is a pain in the ass.

On my dog walking excursion this morning, I took note of the thatch grass growing throughout the neighborhood. From the vantage point of the pavement, I could better appreciate it’s beauty. Like the photo above, the grass here has gone into its “blossoming” phase.

Anyway, it was just another example of looking for new within the routine.

I did the Wednesday walking group this morning. I’ve got some photos of that to post tomorrow. Right now, I need to head out for darts. But before I go, let me share this:

A girl at the bar showed me a picture of her mother. I said “wow you look like identical twins”. After a pause, she said “Yes, we were separated at birth.”

Run #1367 of the Subic Bay Hash House Harriers is in the books. And for the first time in weeks and weeks, the rain was not a factor. In fact, after three straight days of sunshine, the trail was almost dry. It was a pleasant day to hike, even if I was drenched in sweat.

Now, once we came down that first mountain I was on very familiar turf–yep, it was My Bitch. So I was pretty confident I knew where we were heading–Rizal Extension. My only concern was the last time I’d hiked that way the tall grass made it almost impassable. But then, just before we got to that section, the Hare took us in a direction I’d never seen before. Now, I do enjoy exploring a new path, but damn, this one was pretty f’n steep. And that wasn’t the worst of it…

And I had to chuckle once we came back down–we intersected with My Bitch again and did in fact, wind up on Rizal Extension. Ah well, it was an easy paved walk from there to our “on-home” at the Hot Zone.

We are I believe one of the more perverted Hash kennels around. Definitely not family-friendly. Here’s but one example:

(to the tune of “if you’re happy and you know it”)

If you girlfriend tastes like shit, roll her over

If your girlfriend tastes like shit, roll her over

If your girlfriend tastes like shit, it’s her asshole not her clit

If your girlfriend tastes like shit, roll her over.

Well, you get the idea. It’s silly in a fraternal kind of way I suppose. There’s a couple of songs I actually kind of like, if for no other reason than that they are decidedly non-PC. It’s all in good fun.

…new to say. But maybe that’s not a bad thing. Writer Pico Iyer has an interesting article called “The beauty of the ordinary”:(found via Althouse)

Put differently, how might we be enchanted by discovery’s opposite — routine — and find in constancy a stimulation as rich as novelty provides? 

“To learn something new,” the wise explorer John Burroughs noted, “take the path that you took yesterday.” A knowing friend in New York sent me that line when he heard that I’d spent 26 years in the same anonymous suburb in western Japan, most of that time traveling no farther than my size 8 feet can carry me. 

For me at least, it’s about finding the right mix of old and new. This morning I walked my familiar path down Rizal street, around Abra road, back to the National highway, along Barretto and Baloy beaches, then onward to home. I marveled at how the market stalls had been torn down on Rizal. I sadly wondered what happened to the occupants of the now demolished squatter houses on Abra. And I was surprised at seeing the lowest tide I can remember on the beach. Everything old seemed new again somehow.

Anyway, last night I was drinking beers in Alaska. This morning I had breakfast in Arizona. I get around some, don’t I? And I never even had to leave my beloved Barrio Barretto.

And that’s just about all I’ve got for you faithful readers today. Well, this cracked me up:

I’m so sick of American politics. It’s good to mock the lefty hypocrites (but I repeat myself) in Canada for a change.

No I’d rather go and journey
Where the diamond crescent’s glowing
And run across the valley
Beneath the sacred mountain
And wander through the forest
Where the trees have leaves of prisms
And break the light in colors
That no one know the names of

And when it’s time I’ll go and lay
Beside the legendary fountain
‘Till I see her form reflected
In its clear and jewelled waters
And if you think I’m ready
You may lead me to the chasm
Where the rivers of our visions
Flow into one another

I will want to dive beneath the white cascading waters
She may beg, she may plead, she may argue with her logic
And mention all the things I’ll lose
That really have no value in the end she will surely know
I wasn’t born to follow

And today was just another one. Not bad, mind you. In fact, we had some sunshine and blue skies for a change. It made my walking routine a little more pleasant.

It is getting to be my Saturday morning tradition to hand out some candy to the kiddies in the squatter village right outside my subdivision. I know they look forward to it, and it is a cheap price to pay for all those smiles. Hell, I guess I look forward to it too.

I changed it up some for my afternoon walk. I’m wanting to Hare a trail out Calapacuan way, so I did a little scouting. I’m still not ready to go up into the mountains in unfamiliar territory on my own, but I explored the streets in between the two mountains I have in mind. That was its own kind of scary. Once I left the highway the neighborhood looked a little dicey. Well, dicey is unfair. It looked very poor and I stood out like the white man I am in a sea of desperate young men. And yes, I am projecting. I got lots of stares, but probably only because people like me don’t normally venture out their way. I was uncomfortable, but never felt threatened.

Part of the problem was probably related to a blog I read this morning about crime against foreigners in the Philippines. Actually, it claimed that most violence and thefts come from people you know, not random strangers. So by that account, I had nothing to worry about. Still, I wasn’t wanting to pull out my phone to take many pictures. Which is a shame, because some of the shacks were built on stilts to be above the standing rain runoff, and looked quite interesting, in a tragic kind of way.

Anyway, such is what passes for adventure in my life these days.

Anyway, I’ve got some ideas now on how to connect the two mountains. I’ve just got to get up on those fuckers and find some trails. One of the veteran Hashers suggested I wait until after the rainy season because he suspects the tall grasses will make it difficult going. He’s likely right based on what I’ve observed on My Bitch.

Last night I managed a 3rd place finish in darts. Given that I can’t be bothered to practice, that’s a pretty good showing I reckon. I’m going to try again tonight. Losing games I know I should win just might motivate me to actually work on my game. Or not.

After re-reading this post, I’m reminded of the words of a wise man known the world over as “The Big Hominid”: “What a boring life you must lead, utterly lacking in nuance and subtlety!”

Once upon a time there was a tavern
Where we used to raise a glass or two
Remember how we laughed away the hours
And think of all the great things we would do

Those were the days my friend
We thought they’d never end
We’d sing and dance forever and a day
We’d live the life we choose
We’d fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way

Then the busy years went rushing by us
We lost our starry notions on the way
If by chance I’d see you in the tavern
We’d smile at one another and we’d say

Those were the days my friend
We thought they’d never end
We’d sing and dance forever and a day
We’d live the life we choose
We’d fight and never lose
Those were the days, oh yes those were the days

Just tonight I stood before the tavern
Nothing seemed the way it used to be
In the glass I saw a strange reflection
Was that lonely [old man] really me

Those were the days my friend
We thought they’d never end
We’d sing and dance forever and a day
We’d live the life we choose
We’d fight and never lose
Those were the days, oh yes those were the days

Through the door there came familiar laughter
I saw your face and heard you call my name
Oh my friend we’re older but no wiser
For in our hearts the dreams are still the same

Those were the days my friend
We thought they’d never end
We’d sing and dance forever and a day
We’d live the life we choose
We’d fight and never lose
Those were the days, oh yes those were the days

Just another day. Some rain of course, but only about another month or so to go for rainy season. I guess it’s fair to say I’ve become a creature–a creature of habit that is. In bed by ten, and up at six. Coffee and internet. Feed and walk the dogs. Eat. Take a morning hike. Have a one hour nap. And then sit down here and write on the blog. Whether I have anything to say or not.

I don’t do steaks as often as I used to, but this batch turned out pretty damn good. I sprinkled on some meat tenderizer then let them marinate in an herb and garlic concoction for a couple of days. Still not as tender as American beef, but what are you gonna do?

I also dropped into the Man Cave bar before calling it a night. I recognized a dancer there named MJ, whom I’d met once before through a friend at Alley Cats. Called her down for some lady drinks and conversation. She’s got a smokin’ hot body and an okay face. I was surprised to learn she is 40 years old. And she also has five kids. Oh well.

Here’s some stuff I found on the ‘net today:

This cracked me up:

This is funny in a scary way too:

Okay folks, that’s all I’ve got for you this afternoon. Thanks for stopping by!

It’s been several weeks since I ventured out with the Wednesday Sausage Walkers group. My primary reason is that they do intense and lengthy walks. I prefer to do my hikes in 1.5 hour morning and afternoon installments. But this week a Belgian friend from the Hash was back in town, and she wanted to join up with the Sausage Walkers, so I agreed.

Of course, it was raining Wednesday morning. I told Betty I would show up at the Angel’s bakery start point, and then see how things looked at 10:00 a.m. She’s staying on the old Navy base and had a 20-minute Jeepney ride, but was still willing to chance a trip in vain. And the rain did, in fact, stop prior to our scheduled departure. There were only five of us present for the hike. Gunter, our Austrian leader, suggested taking a Jeepney to Olongapo City and doing the “stairway to heaven” hike. I nixed that idea, saying I didn’t want to be stuck in the wilderness should the rain return. The others thankfully agreed, and Troy led the way on a mostly flat, wet, and muddy, 10-kilometer walk.

We were just under 2.5 hours on trail. The rain held off until the last 30 minutes, and then we walked in a freaking deluge to our customary stopping point, Cheap Charlies.

On the subject of hiking, this story captured my worst nightmare when I’m out on the trail alone:

Neil Parker was about 20 feet up a waterfall when suddenly he wasn’t climbing anymore. The same rocks he had scaled many times before were no longer supporting his weight. He was falling, tumbling head over heels as he bounced off the rock face.

Seconds later, the 54-year-old splashed into the creek at the bottom of the falls.

“Straight away I thought, ‘Well, now I’m in a lot of trouble,’ ” he said Wednesday.

His left leg, just above the ankle, had “clean snapped in half” and his left wrist was also broken. To make matters worse, he was alone. Parker hadn’t told anyone about his plan to take a short hike Sunday in the Mount Nebo area northwest of Brisbane, Australia, and a quick check of his cellphone confirmed that calling for help wasn’t an option. There was no service in the deep rocky gully where he was now lying.

You can read the rest at the link, but the guy wound up crawling through the wilderness for two miles before he was finally rescued. Yikes!

Anyway, I’m going to keep on keeping on, but I will proceed with caution. What else can you do?

A couple of rain free days will spoil you. Woke up to rain this morning and it hasn’t stopped. I hate being stuck in the house almost as much as I hate walking in the rain. So here I sit, alone with my memories of yesterday’s hike.

It was an interesting path I found myself on. I was following the Hash marks from last week’s trail to see what I had missed. Fortunately, the Hare had used shredded paper rather than powder so it was still mostly visible. I had a hunch where the trail was leading but I turned out to be wrong about that. I missed a couple of turns and I had to retreat and search out the true trail. I was kinda of proud of myself for being successful at that, but finally I lost the trail for good on top of the mountain overlooking Barretto.

But now I wasn’t seeing any Hash marks and it appeared there were only two options: straight down or walking the ridge line. I took a few tentative steps on the steep down path and then thought better of it. Once I committed to the ridge I noticed there was no more paper, so I had chosen “wrong”. But I was pretty sure I had been walking the trail from last week in reverse, so if it was the steep path, they had come up it, not down. And down looked “slipping and sliding out of control dangerous” to me. No regrets with my choice!

I wasn’t exactly sure where I was, but I eventually could see my subdivision below me in the distance. I found a path that led down to that familiar ground and I deemed the afternoon a success.

After a poor showing at darts last night, I returned home to be greeted by my loving boys, Buddy and Lucky.

No real progress on the weight loss to report, but I’m working hard at staying on plan.

And that’s all I got on this rainy afternoon. Well, there is this:

Peace out!

Actually, no I wouldn’t. Okay, I will. But it will take me 53 days. I just did the math. Now, Kevin Kim on the other hand, is fixing to walk from Incheon, on the west coast of Korea, all the way down to Busan, which is at the southeastern tip of the peninsula. That’s around 650 kilometers! Kevin has created a new blog to document his adventure. Feel free to join me in following along.

As a hobby walker I’m always happy to just achieve my 20,000 steps/15 KM daily goal.

It was mostly a rain free day, which helped. I also spent the afternoon with My Bitch.

If I were to do a Kevin Kim-like distance hike, I might enjoy something like these four Hashers did back in 2014: Barretto to Angeles City. Here’s a short six minute video of that adventure. Three of the guys were in their sixties, so perhaps there is hope for me yet!

Speaking of Hashers, I got a kick out of this Michelob beer commercial, which captures some of intricacies associated with Hashing. Without the perversions and un-PC songs of course! Damn it, I can’t embed for some reason, so you’ll have to click on the link below:

https://www.tvcommercialad.com/watch/KaGegkoiKBBzFSA

Sometimes this is how I feel when I’m doing a trail laid by one of the more masochistic Hares:

Hmm, better (bigger) view at the link. Sorry!

So, I kicked off my diet plan yesterday. Had a nice big three egg omelet with ham and mushrooms for breakfast. No lunch, although I did have a handful of nuts. Then I had this for dinner at Sit-n-Bull:

Four more 60 calorie beers at Cheap Charlies, then walked back home. Made a sugar free banana pudding for dessert. It’s a start!

So, my goal is to get down to 190 pounds and then maintain my weight within the 190-195 range. My big surprise yesterday was weighing in at 199 pounds. That’s less than I weighed when I left for Vietnam! Granted, I did weigh-in right after my sweaty mountain hike, so I wasn’t carrying much water weight. Still, being under 200 and appearing fat confirms my suspicion: It’s my damn beer belly that’s the problem. We’ll see what I can do about that (and for the record, I’d rather be fat than give up my beloved beer!). Regardless, I have 10 pounds to go. Let’s see how long that takes.

When I’m lonely, well, I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who’s lonely without you
And when I’m dreaming, well, I know I’m gonna dream
I’m gonna dream about the time when I’m with you
When I go out (When I go out), well, I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who goes along with you
And when I come home (When I come home), yes, I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who comes back home with you
I’m gonna be the man who’s coming home with you

But I would walk five hundred miles
And I would walk five hundred more
Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles
To fall down at your door