If I ever fall overboard while fishing in the ocean, I hope to be wearing camo.
That way, I’ll stand a good chance of not being found, which is how I want to go.
I want to become a legend, like D.B. Cooper, but without the FBI. I want people to wonder if I’m still alive. If anyone misses me, I want them to hold out hope that I somehow made it to some remote South Pacific island, and that I’m basking in the sun, wondering who I am and how I got there.
I know that a lot of time, effort and money will be spent in trying to find me, and that a few people might even die trying. But at least I’d be spared the embarrassment of having been seen as clumsy enough or inept enough to get myself in trouble and require help from others. I’d be steadfastly self-reliant to the end, a Real Alaskan. And no one would have to wonder what to do with my ashes.
On the subject of wondering, have you ever wondered about the meaning of “nowhere”? When someone tells you that something “came out of nowhere,” ever wonder what they mean?
People who are hyping up a story will sometimes say, “We were in the middle of nowhere.” Ever wonder where they actually were?
The Beatles song, “Nowhere Man,” is about a man who is in “Nowhere Land.” Ever wonder where that is?
Well, wonder no longer. It turns out that Nowhere is in northern Spain, between Zaragoza and Lleida. You get there on a gravel road. The nearest village is 12 km away.
Nowhere is not only a place, but an annual gathering. According to goingnowhere.org, Nowhere is built on the principles of radical self-expression and self-reliance. It has been described as a festival, an arts event and a Burning Man regional. About 1,000 people, most of them 30-ish Europeans, attended last year.
Organized entirely by volunteers, events planned for this year include everything from poetry and meditation to erotic life drawing and a tribal fusion bellydance workshop. Art and artists are a big deal, and there’s even a Miss Nowhere pageant . If you want to go there, be there July 9-13.
If, instead of going to Nowhere, you’d rather be taking a photo of a trophy rainbow trout and releasing it, you might want to consider taking it home and eating it, instead. The latest AARP magazine contains a story, “Superfish You Should Be Eating,” that says rainbow trout are even more nutritious than sockeye salmon. Another strike against catch-and-release fishing, an increasingly controversial “sport.”
Speaking of controversy, as if aerial drones weren’t already controversial enough, animal-rights organizations apparently plan to use them to check on hunters and fishermen. On April 8, PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) announced: “PETA will soon have some impressive new weapons at its disposal to combat those who gun down deer and doves. The group is shopping for one or more drone aircraft with which to monitor those who are out in the woods with death on their minds.”
PETA president Ingrid E. Newkirk was quoted as saying, “Slob hunters may need to rethink the idea that they can get away with murder, alone out there in the woods with no one watching.”
PETA also intends to fly drones over “factory farms, popular fishing spots, and other venues where animals routinely suffer and die.” The group “has its sights on” — their words, not mine — the Australian-made Cinestar Octocopter.
Aerial spying by animal-rights groups oozed into the news in February of 2012, when SHARK (Showing Animals Respect and Kindness, previously the Chicago Animal Rights Coalition) wanted video footage of a pigeon shoot being held on private property in South Carolina. From a road adjacent to the property, SHARK members launched a MiKroKopter drone with a video camera aboard, but the 8-rotor craft didn’t fly far. A video of the event on YouTube shows the 8-rotor bird fluttering to the ground like a spruce grouse with a broken wing, only noisier.
Investigating law officers found no one who would admit to shooting it down. Maybe it was mistaken for a pigeon.
And maybe the animal-rights people should try painting their drones in camo colors.
Les Palmer can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.