Nature bites back.

     This afternoon, among the red firs, I was breaking a dead branch that was in my way. Tougher than I expected, it kinda blew up in my face, dealing me a good whack across the bridge of my nose. After the pain subsided, I noticed red in my peripheral vision, where I'd been struck. Touche', Madame Nature, touche'. That little fucker did not want to stop bleeding.

     I have mastered the art of washing my hands with a cup of water, doing what bears are known for doing...in the woods, and have found just the right position for sleeping in my tent so that I don't wake up feeling like Joe Fraser had his way with my kidneys.
     Among the phrases I have learned in Lao are:
   "Hello", "Thank you very much", and "Go pick mushrooms, asshole."
  A few nights ago, lamenting the absence of a blackjack game at the noodle house, my picking partner, Ross(one of the best poker players west of the Rockies), talked me into an evening at the Kla-Mo-Ya Casino, an hour south. Cooperatively owned by the Klamath, Modoc and Yahooskin Tribes, it's slots and blackjack. "We'll kill a couple hours and be home around  midnight." We got there around 9 and I foresaw the next couple hours moving like molasses in January. I moseyed over to the six deck 21 table, cuz it's such a natural, everyday thing for me. Know what I mean? Do it all the time. Planed myself in a stool, planned to blow $100, and bought $50 in chips to start. I got about $40 ahead, lost it, and then lost that original $50, as my head and my head and I discussed how we'd just cut our losses, be wise and stop after the $100 was gone. So I bought a second $50 in chips, and proceeded to watch it dissipate. At midnight, I was not at all ready to leave, had to get back the money the casino stole from my. And then I started to come back. Well now I might as well stick around and see if I work my way back up to even. And then stop, just break even. At this point, I am well aware of the hepatitis-like infection draping itself across my brain - managable, with the potential for becoming devastating, and, either way, there for life. I can taste it, each winning hand putting my dopamine receptors on cruise-control. But breaking even just won't be fun, nothing to talk about, no story to tell. Maybe just get like 10 or 15 ahead. Here we are, 15 ahead, now 30, oops back down to 20 ahead. I got $47 ahead, asked the casino if I could borrow their crow-bar, and had a trucker from Coachella help pry me from the table. I sweartagod, it was effing hard to walk away from that damn table and call it a night. I will forever be more understanding of all addiction. Judge not.
   Here're some Red King Boletes a found today. Grilled 'em up Italian style-O.oil, salt and pepper. Probably would've been better with some Hoisin. They were a lot prettier before a day of bouncing around with dirt-covered Matsutake.

Bleeding Hydnellum:

Other treats: