When Teddy Roosevelt was in his mid twenties he spent a lot of time at his ranch near the Dakota Badlands. He kept a small boat tied up near the Little Missouri river (not that there was ostensibly much use for it; indeed, there were small scows tied up at various places all up and down the valley, but most had rotted from disuse; for most of the year the Little Missouri was so shallow that horses could gallop right through it, and in Winter it would freeze over, allowing man and beast to ride across like any highway). It was quite handy, however, during the freak weather that prevailed in March 1886. And it was then that three thieves made off with it, sailing downriver in the middle of the night.
Teddy awoke on the morning of March 24, keen to embark on a planned cougar hunt, only to find his boat missing. The rope used to secure it had been slashed with a knife. A red woolen mitten lay nearby.
Over the next few days he built a raft and sailed it downriver until they collided with the stolen boat. He then tracked down the theives' camp, accosted and disarmed them, and marched them for eight days, through sub zero nights and ice-jam that rarely shifted before noon, all the way back to civilisation to face charges.
Today I watched T.V. in my blankey and made a few snacks.