Shoot me......Shoot me now!

Well.........not really. I've been shot at many times and only ever hit once, and that was not in combat, but in a field of my grandfathers during a dove shoot. Not so bad as it didn't break the skin, having been fired from half way across the field. It was about like being shot with a strong BB gun from 5 feet away. The guy (one of my uncles) didn't even know I was there, but later he picked up a big black snake and it bit him on the thumb. (Poetic justice I thought.) Still # 8 shot packs a sting.

Being shot at with hi-powered rifles and the occasional anti aircraft weapons is some what less fun, but as I think Winston Churchill is supposed to have said......."there is nothing quite like being shot at, and missed".

No, I don't really want to be shot, but I would endure a good spanking by Jessica Alba to be rid of the sinus and chest congestion that I am experiencing. It's getting a little better since I hacked up the rest of my left lung and spit it out yesterday.

I had decided to travel north to the gentle hills we here in Georgia call the Mountains to do a little prospecting in an out of the way spot where many long years ago were several gold mines.

This required a two hour or so ride which included a rugged dirt path where my forward advance was stalled by a river ford I didn't think I'd try with only a 2 wheel drive. So I backed into a turn around and consulted my map and GPS and set off for the creek I was seeking.

Just Damn! Mankinds sway over nature in this area was limited to the sometimes maintained dirt road. Once you started trying to break trail through the thick under growth you wonder how man ever hacked his way across this land. Of course the Forest Service will not use the ol' Indian trick of using controlled burns to clear out this, waiting for the right spark, tinder. This was not helped by the UP and Down terrain. It wasn't bad as long as I was going down hill, but when I started to go up and sideways my heart was pounding like a drum in an African mating ritual. (come to think of it, I've heard a few of those just up the street, coming thru car windows backed by 5 million watt speakers.)

Just damn, I am out of shape. The more my heart pounded the more my lungs labored to get air into me through all the phlegm I keep spitting up. After about an hour and a half I just gave up and used the GPS to plot the straightest line back to the road. That trip in it's self was enough to make one reconsider the wisdom of hiking in the woods. My youngest grand daughter with her short legs would have out done me by a mile. I was just damn glad that no one else was around to see the pitiful husk of the stud I once was. I don't think I'm looking forward to starting middle age here in a few years. When does that start anyway??

Still the lure of the yellow metal does call. Don't ever catch gold fever......it'll likely be with you to the end of your days, and if you try it when out of shape, that won't be long.