Tricks of the Trade
When we arrived in Panguitch, we found the Cafe/drug store right away and went in to have a good lunch. Everyone there was friendly and very welcoming. Sandy was the woman that ran the cafe, and her food was wonderful.
It was so good that we called her out of the kitchen to tell us how she made such great tasting food, not the usual cafe fare. She was a delightful woman about my age, quick to smile, about average height and a bit on the substantial side of body weight. We had a great conversation with her and became fast friends. Her secret to cooking, she said, was to fix food just like she did at home. Hmmm? Sounds too simple, but it sure did seem to make all the meals we ate there over the months very enjoyable.
We made the rounds of the large grocery store, the hardware store, and the local satellite store of ZCMI. If you grew up in Utah, you know what ZCMI was. It was the first department store ever West of the Mississippi River. And it was founded, built and owned by the Mormon Church. Zion Cooperative Mercantile Incorporated, a real department store that had some of most everything you might need. The church divested itself of its retail holdings, including ZCMI, during the 1980’s.
Going through the stores and doing the laundry while telling our story over and over again to the curious locals took most of the day and it was late evening before we were headed back to our mountain home. This shopping and story telling journey was very tiring. It seemed to take far more energy than our normal new routine of hiking, gathering firewood, clearing brush, etc. We were very glad to be home again.
During the latter part of our first week in the mountains, I took on building a real path up and down the sides of the ravine. A shovel and grub hoe was all that I needed as I dug into the steep sides of the ravine and fashioned a path wide enough to easily accommodate at least one person carrying items up and down. It took me a day or two but it was very satisfying work. One of our many humorous experiences concerned the “camp potty”. It was one of those collapsible, or folding frames with a seat attached. It looks like a reasonable and inexpensive solution to a daily requirement.
On one of our first crisp cold nights I stumbled out of the tent and made my way by flashlight to the “relief station.” I will say that when that rather chilly breeze greets your bare bottom, it sort of stops all natural processes and makes you wonder if you really needed to answer natures call after all. So, while I was contemplating how real my need was. . .the whole darn thing just collapsed underneath me. I let out a yelp, and in the quiet mountain night the thud of my body hitting the ground seemed to echo all around. This brought Peter and Don up and out of the tent to see if I was all right! As soon as they realized I was physically okay, and were able to assess what had happened, they doubled over in laughter. I started laughing too. As much as I loved these two guys, I wasn’t sure I really wanted them to know me THAT WELL.
The next day saw me down at the old abandoned saw mill gathering up odds and ends of dimensional lumber which I took back to the campsite and built a sturdy rectangular box to attach the potty seat to and much less chance of future fall outs. It remained stable and sturdy for the rest of our stay. We laughed about my “fall from grace” many times after that.
A couple of weeks before I left Salt Lake City to go to the mountains, I had found a wonderful folksy book about old time recipes and ways of doing things. There were instructions for making a sourdough starter which I whipped up right away so that I could take it to the mountains with me and have it well seasoned and ready to go. Among the many sourdough suggestions was the great notion of sourdough doughnuts and how to cook them on a campfire. Eureka! What a find! This book was also filled with great hints like how to cook muskrat, porcupine and other such delicacies.
I was ready after nearly a month at campfire cooking to make some sourdough bread. After mixing it up using the starter as the leavening agent, making sure to put back a portion of it for a continuing starter, I set the dough aside for it’s first rising to double in size. After I had punched the dough down and another gentle kneading, I put it back in the large plastic bowl with lid to rise the second time. My timing wasn’t planned for in the most optimal way and as the sun went down, I knew that it was going to be too cool for the dough to rise properly. As my fabulous old time cook book suggested, I took the bowl into the tent and into the sleeping bag with me so that my body heat would be enough to encourage the dough to raise. Although later telling of this step in the process to uninitiated friends brought quizzical looks and plenty of laughter about sleeping with bread dough. Frankly, it did not seem so strange to me, and in fact it really seemed to be ultimately practical and an obviously great solution. Telling the story today still brings laughter and strange looks from others. Fortunately, I’ve spent a life time with strange looks, so they are certainly no deterrent to me whatsoever.
How do you bake bread over a campfire? There are today plenty of aluminum “boxes” that are termed campfire ovens, but if they existed then, I knew nothing of them. I got out my large roasting pan. . .you know, the blue speckled one. . .lined the bottom of the pan with flat hand sized stones, turned the bread dough out into a 9 x 9″ baking pan in one round ball and placed the future loaf of bread into the roaster situating the baking pan in the most even way I could, then put the lid on it and carefully tended a bed of coals. After an hour and a half and frequent checks on the progress of the bread, I determined it was baked through. . .however, it was a sickly white or pale tan color (half white and half whole wheat flour). I thought for a moment about how I could brown the top of the loaf. Oh, yeah, a large piece of aluminum foil . . .I took the pan out of the roaster, sat it at a sharp angle in the fire pit with the foil sheet behind it shaped at 35 or 40 degree angles to the sides of the pan as it faced the bed of coals. In about 15 or 20 minutes, It was a lovely dark brown color. You know how good food cooked outdoors over a fires tastes. . .and how good fresh baked bread tastes. . .yep! It was a great success. So were the sourdough doughnuts when I deep fried them in a large Crisco can on top of the fire.
Neither the bread or the doughnuts looked as pretty as those above, but they tasted wonderful.
One morning I awakened early while the guys were still sleeping and silently left the tent to start the morning fire for coffee and breakfast. WOW! I walked out of the tent to amazing clouds lying on the ground and filling the ravine. I stood in absolute awe and wonderment as I looked up towards the higher reaches of the mountain behind our campsite, then turned slowly to take it all in. There were the clouds lying at my feet then a spacious clear space above and fluffy, soft clouds overhead moving gently across the sky. I felt as if I had stepped into heaven. It was overwhelming. No doubt my mouth was open in shear amazement. It gave me a feeling that I could indeed walk right up the hillside to the mountain top and into heaven. I don’t know that I have ever experienced anything as powerfully spiritual and deeply meaningful in the visual sense any time since that morning. Whenever I happen to think of it, I can see the imprint of the view in my mind and feel the goosebumps rise up on my arms. Truly a spectacular sight and feeling unequaled in all these years. Very Mystical. The Higher Power sure knows how to put on a dramatic show.
My all time favorite moments of hilarity were those night time campfires with the hot coffee and the radio programs. We would bring in some far flung signal from Georgia, Arkansas, South Carolina, or such and there always would be some fervent and stereotypical Southern fundamentalist preacher going through his routine. I don’t wish to offend anyone, but these programs were so funny to us that it was just one giant laugh fest. The best one was some good ole boy preacher giving his pitch for donations that included this priceless gem. . .”Pul eeze write to me at Calvary Crusade Church, P O box 29, Orderville, Arkansas. . .and I will pray for you. . .and I will send you back, Ab-so-LUTE-lee Free and post paid, a Gin-U-Wine, Glow in the dark, Eyeeeees of GEEEE- ZUUUUUZ bookmark! Yes, and Thaaan- Kyew GEEEE – ZuuuuZ! Hallelujah!” And my irreverent impish self could not be contained. To this day I do a wonderful imitation of this preacher, accent and all.. . .Don and Peter and I could start up an uncontrollable laughing fit by simply saying, “genuine, glow in the dark, eyes of Jesus bookmark” as a response to anything.
We shared many spiritual discussions around that campfire and we shared our understandings of all things spiritual with each other. It was an amazing time without TV, regular radio, or newspapers. What I learned while I was there and how I grew in my understandings of life and concepts and spirit was the rock solid foundation that set me off on a lifetime of seeking the best path for me on my journey back home to Source. Where did this information come from, Don and Peter? Some of it. But most of it came from my ongoing conversations with All that Is. From the infinite wisdom of the Universe that all of us are able to tap into if we are willing to seek it, find enough quiet time to listen to it, and then allow it to affirm what we know deep within our beings.
In Part 5: Puppies, puppies, puppies and snow comes to our mountain. . .lots of snow.