Dicktown Road. It doesn't lead to a town called Dick, or Dicktown. It is also an unfortunate name for a manly snow camping adventure location. Never-the-less, that's just what it was.

About an hour and a half north of New York City, Dicktown Road turns right off of the Taconic Parkway. You wouldn't notice it unless you knew what you were looking for.

My friend Matt and I decided that we needed a night of outdoor fun and camping. Having recently outfitted myself with a full complement of camping gear, I was anxious to get the stuff out and test it.

We packed up "Reginald" - Matt's trusty British ex-military Land Rover (right side drive!) - with our gear and supplies. Victrola (Victor, Vic, Vikers, Vicky, etc.), the stick-obsessed border collie/dalmatian mix jumped in back and we were ready to go.

View from the cockpit. No pun intended.

Matt and Reginald take a break for beer.

Victrola races Matt to the camp site.

RUN VICKY RUN!!!

There's going to be rain/sleet later, so the tarp shelter is the first thing to go up.
Victrola finds the first of many sticks.

Next up go the tents. It's a really beautiful location, even if the trees are bare.

Get that fire going! It's getting cold.

Must have more fuel for the fire.

Cozy campsite.

Happy-time dinner time. Matt digs in. Rice, beans and tortillas. Baja-style goodness.
Oh... and lots of beer.

Victrola sees a ghost.

Warm fire and toasty feet. Victrola sees another ghost. Or is it another stick.

Fire.
Alex is starting to get drunk and play with his camera.

Casualty!
The camp chairs I got that I thought were so cool turned out to be crap. After two hours of comfort, one of them collapsed, dropping Matt on his ass. We tried to fix it with a few bungee cords, but it failed again, dumping me on my ass.

Ouch! Rough morning.
I drank too much bourbon. Not very attractive.

Morning.
Time to clean up the empties and make some coffee and oatmeal. Note chair casualty front and center.

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