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Jun. 28th, 2009 10:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lenora_roseBack from Moorish Tavern. I am so glad I am not working tomorrow. i feel far more baked than I should from the drive (Short as road trips go; Lake Metigoshe State park in western North Dakota - about four hours) and the bad sleep.
(Joke told at the event: You can tell whether a person is British, Canadian, or American by their answer when you ask them the distance to a place. An American will answer in miles, a Brit in kilometres, and a Canadian in how many hours it takes to drive.)
Friday - from what i understand, Winnipeg got rained out, and the people who might ahve come from western North Dakota were told not to travel the highways due to storms and tornadoes (One person who left Grand Forks without checking a weather warning *did* have to pull over, by his description, to let a tornado pass; he didn't see it, but he stopped for howling winds, and the weather station confirmed...
However, Lake Metigoshe got about an hour's rain int he afternoon. Apparently the Turtle Mountains (Hills) are known for funnelling the weather around them. So, aside from sitting out udner a rain shelter at the archery range because we didn't want to risk abandoning the equipment, we spent most of the day in comfort. I started the morning with a mandolin practice, which drew someone (I think with the SCA name Robert) who also played. We made tentative plans to play together later in the weekend, which didn't pan out, as no bardic happened (Berwyn also mentioned he had his drum, but again, no actual music happened). We made more tentative plans to seek each other out at WW in two weeks. He remembers Abacchus, too, from when abacchus was just starting out, so this could be a pile-up of mandos at at least one bardic circle. Then I spent the rest of the day arching, except for a break around three for lunch at a restaurant just out of the park; perfectly tasty straightforward fare. The evening was stew for dinner, and sometime around an indoor campfire that was less than ideally successful; there were three logs in the cabin, and one was too big for the fireplace size, and thus smoked it up right well.
Saturday was archery until the threatening rain drove us to pack u equipment and carry it preemptively to safety. This proved wise; the rain went much longer, and included some hail. Colin did go back and spend much of the time under the rain shade at the archery range, talking to the man, HE Thomas, who was running it. A good man, as far as I could tell, and much fun to talk to. I puttered in the hall, watching card weaving, getting roped into tossing a ball to distract the small children, and various conversations. (And spending the majority of the tiem desperately wishing for a backrub. I'd picked a bunk that I discovered that night, in a brief test of Colin's, was in fact broken, not just worn. the hollow it kept rolling me into was *probably* a few snapped links.)
Then feast (Good; even the chicken, though slightly dry, was tasty). Avoiding alcohol is far from easy around these people, they keep producing bottles that *smell* wonderful.)
On both the drives there and back, I got a fair bit of writing done (Soldier of the Road, not the Serpent Prince, but at least it's the right character.) and some reading (Not that much, though; still in the midst of Whiskey and Water) and some talking.
All in all, worthwhile. Although I could *still* use the backrub. and once again, I napped in the afternoon, which is a definite sign of sleep deprivation.
And once I got back, I actually won the game of phone tag I was having with my dad (I called him for Father's Day, he called me for my birthday...) and got to talk to him for the first time in a while. it was still a fairly short conversation, but a good one.
Book reviews next time.
(Joke told at the event: You can tell whether a person is British, Canadian, or American by their answer when you ask them the distance to a place. An American will answer in miles, a Brit in kilometres, and a Canadian in how many hours it takes to drive.)
Friday - from what i understand, Winnipeg got rained out, and the people who might ahve come from western North Dakota were told not to travel the highways due to storms and tornadoes (One person who left Grand Forks without checking a weather warning *did* have to pull over, by his description, to let a tornado pass; he didn't see it, but he stopped for howling winds, and the weather station confirmed...
However, Lake Metigoshe got about an hour's rain int he afternoon. Apparently the Turtle Mountains (Hills) are known for funnelling the weather around them. So, aside from sitting out udner a rain shelter at the archery range because we didn't want to risk abandoning the equipment, we spent most of the day in comfort. I started the morning with a mandolin practice, which drew someone (I think with the SCA name Robert) who also played. We made tentative plans to play together later in the weekend, which didn't pan out, as no bardic happened (Berwyn also mentioned he had his drum, but again, no actual music happened). We made more tentative plans to seek each other out at WW in two weeks. He remembers Abacchus, too, from when abacchus was just starting out, so this could be a pile-up of mandos at at least one bardic circle. Then I spent the rest of the day arching, except for a break around three for lunch at a restaurant just out of the park; perfectly tasty straightforward fare. The evening was stew for dinner, and sometime around an indoor campfire that was less than ideally successful; there were three logs in the cabin, and one was too big for the fireplace size, and thus smoked it up right well.
Saturday was archery until the threatening rain drove us to pack u equipment and carry it preemptively to safety. This proved wise; the rain went much longer, and included some hail. Colin did go back and spend much of the time under the rain shade at the archery range, talking to the man, HE Thomas, who was running it. A good man, as far as I could tell, and much fun to talk to. I puttered in the hall, watching card weaving, getting roped into tossing a ball to distract the small children, and various conversations. (And spending the majority of the tiem desperately wishing for a backrub. I'd picked a bunk that I discovered that night, in a brief test of Colin's, was in fact broken, not just worn. the hollow it kept rolling me into was *probably* a few snapped links.)
Then feast (Good; even the chicken, though slightly dry, was tasty). Avoiding alcohol is far from easy around these people, they keep producing bottles that *smell* wonderful.)
On both the drives there and back, I got a fair bit of writing done (Soldier of the Road, not the Serpent Prince, but at least it's the right character.) and some reading (Not that much, though; still in the midst of Whiskey and Water) and some talking.
All in all, worthwhile. Although I could *still* use the backrub. and once again, I napped in the afternoon, which is a definite sign of sleep deprivation.
And once I got back, I actually won the game of phone tag I was having with my dad (I called him for Father's Day, he called me for my birthday...) and got to talk to him for the first time in a while. it was still a fairly short conversation, but a good one.
Book reviews next time.
