When tears mix with mud
And gentle winds brush her hair
She is the most beautiful
Vintage pretty: 52 Project
Bear with me as I tear a company apart. They epitomize the ignorant, inept culture of hipster psuedo outdoorspeople. I was going to write to them privately but decided it’s probably best to get some reblogs.
Let me introduce you to Salt & Steel, everyone! (tumblr and website)
Let’s break down a few of their products and their descriptions with a heavy dose of angry sarcasm:
"This classic 1 of a kind hatchet is 100% USA made and serves as the perfect weekend camping companion. Stainless Steel head with original handle. This Kinship piece has withstood the test of time and proven to be a worth adventurer. Strap it to your pack and get your buddies. No need for maps or kindling. With this hatchet you can make it when you get there. Just GO! Simply enjoy the adventure.”
That’s their description of a chunk of stainless steel (have fun sharpening it) on a cracked helve. They call it Grandpas Hatchet. Apparently, the good folks at S&S Collective haven’t taken a look at grandpa’s english textbook. Apostrophes have stood the test of time, too.
And by all means, forget the silly maps! Who uses those darn things? Probably yuppies. Just go! And when you do, you better be wearing your overpriced, cotton adventure raglan. Cotton is king in the backcountry because it’s a plant. Plants love water so it makes ya feel great when wet! Gee, I can’t imagine wearing wet wool. Sheep hate the rain so that must be a real bummer. You’ll still be warm when you’re soaking wet (which is probably because you brought an Urban Outfitters raincoat). Using your iPhone as a sundial would be awfully hard with numb, shaky hands.
And you can revert to the standard fallback if you ever get in trouble: WWMD - What would McCandless do? Oh, oh! Pick me! I know! He would be naive and die!
Don’t worry — if search and rescue ever have to rescue you
(which they will, you jejune jongs) won’t send you a bill after they have to rescue your ass. I’m sure they will understand what happened. Adventurer to adventurer, y’know?
While you’re out there you should probably have one of these pocket knives!
"Everyone needs a pocket knife if they are doing any sort of adventuring. You need to carve you name in trees, make marshmallow cooking sticks, and tent stakes. This Kinship knife has withstood the test of time. It has been loved and proven quality. It is Made in the USA and perfect to complete you weekend adventure needs.”
Perfect for scarring your, and your equally ignorant “Doc-Martens-are-hiking-boots” friends’, names in some old growth forest! And it’s going to be a breeze making tent stakes with a flimsy pocket knife. Ooo, marshmallows. Remember, they taste better if you leave the plastic packaging in the woods and start your fire on an old bed of moss while wearing a flower crown made from endangered flora!
Here’s a handy fish scale for all of your fishing forays:
"This classic Fish Scale is the final accessory needed for all fisherman and wilderness adventurers. It is a pock sized companion that will allow you to catch and eat with in the limits. Not to mention the original engraving and art of this classic piece is truly amazing.”
Alright. No sarcasm this time around. If you think that limits and slots are set based on weight, you probably haven’t ever touched a fishing rod. And if that thing is actually old, the chances of it being accurate are slim to none. Sorry, y’all.
The moral of this story:
Adventure isn’t a fashion statement. Learn your shit. Know your gear, know yourself, don’t be a liability, and most of all, respect the land.
Don’t think I’m discrediting old gear. I use an 25 year old Madden Mountaineering 100+10 pack for long trips and a packbasket for shorter ones. Almost all of my handtools are over forty years old but I know how to take care of them, and do. I don’t use old tools because old is cool — I use old tools because of the quality of the metal and level of craftsmanship.
A frustrated outdoorsman
i will bear the weight of two packs
and the canoe on my shoulders
although i know you won’t let me
so we can slip away
into the comfortable silence
that fills flickering shadows
dancing around every fire
when we wake to greet the citrus sun
we’ll follow tumbling streams
to their sacred sources
on foggy mornings
count dewdrops forming on fiddleheads
while soft smoke rolls over placid water
blending the earth and the sky
while our pastel bodies swirl
Soon a warm evening breeze will be tickling the thin drapes. Soon, a panting moon will be peaking through our bedroom. Soon, star lips will be melting over your bare body. Soon, crickets will sing a melody of ecstasy; summer’s arrived.