Up early this morning due to the birds raising a ruckus outside so I was on the road heading north by 7 AM. After 205 miles I pulled into the yard at the Bolt Hole. Taking the shortest route still takes about four hours. Since it's mostly state highways, however, there's less incentive to zoom along at 65-70 mph and that, in turn, brought my mpg down to a respectable 19.4 on this trip--village speed limits and stop lights not withstanding. Once I've got the trailer in tow I'm not likely to see those numbers for a long time.

First thing I had to do when I got to the Bolt Hole was go back down to Stewarts to get some gas for the lawn mower. I filled up the truck while I was at it so I won't have to do it int he morning. That little trip--to Stewarts and back is 26 miles. All for two stinking gallons of gas.

Cutting the grass was a no brainer. In a week and a half, it had grown six inches. It's not likely to get cut again for some time, but at least it looks good now with all the hawk weed trimmed. Some of that had started to flower. The yellow hawk week comes first then the orange. I was cutting the yellow flowers today--along with the grass and plantain. That's quite an improvement over the abandoned field of goldenrod and milkweed that we had when we bought the place back in the early 80s. The Bolt Hole (then called Little Pines) had been vacant for three years when we finally took possession.

Cutting the grass was no problem, as I said. It was warm--in the low 70s--and humid under a bright sun and I sweat off a few pounds of water weight, but the feared black flies were nowhere to be seen. The deer flies, however, were a different story.

Why do the deer flies always seem to bite on the knuckles or elbows or your ears or the nape of your neck? I must have got eight or nine bites but killed at least three times that many flies. And I mean squashed to a pulp. Merely swatting a deer fly is not going to kill it. Sure, it may fall to the ground, but that's just a ploy that allows the fly to catch its breath before jumping back into the fray. No, to kill a deer fly you must see blood. It will probably be yours, but you need to crush that critter until it pops. And then roll it into a tiny little ball of unidentifiable nothingness.

Took me three hours to finish cutting the grass as I took my time and stopped for water several times and for lunch along the way.

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Once the grass was cut, I rested for an hour and then dragged myself outside to hitch up the trailer. It was now close to five in the afternoon and the sky had clouded up some. The deer flies were gone. The black flies had come back. If they had been out in the numbers I ran into while performing my hitching routine while I was cutting grass, I would have had to don my net suit or die. They were out after blood hot and heavy. Even Deep Woods Off was no help for the little buffalo gnats seem to find any patch of skin the spray misses and should you perspire at all...well, that washes away the Off pretty quickly.

I got the job done in the face of superior numbers and I am ready to roll in the morning.

The 27' Wilderness is hitched and ready.

I had only one slight problem and that came when I went to check the lights. The running lights on the trailer were fine. Right turn signal AOK. But the left turn signal and the brake light on the left were no shows.

I checked the plug that runs from the truck to the trailer. No luck. I pulled the cover off the tail light to check the bulb and it seemed to be fine (and HOT to the touch!). I then turned the lights off, waited a few minutes--battling black flies all the while--and pulled the light out of the socket to examine it more closely. Looked OK so I put it back in. Turned on the lights and flicked the direction on and BINGO! It worked! I'm a bloody genius! Just wish I knew what the heck I did. There was lots of dust inside the light fixture and I can only assume that some of that was in the socket screwing up the connection. That was one of the reasons I pulled the plug and reattached the truck to trailer--dust, dirt, grime. Comes from living on a dirt road.

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Got a phone call from Terry. Like clockwork, I left to go to the Bolt Hole and she gets a bear at the bird feeders! At 2:30 in the afternoon. Oh well, I had finished the bag of sunflower seeds anyway and had no intention of opening another. I just hope that the tube feeders were not completely destroyed.

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Just 6 more days before we haul out of PA heading west.