I’ve been reading lately about the Lost Dutchman’s Gold Mine, which is said to be hidden somewhere in the Superstition Mountains. The tale centers on a crusty old miner named Jacob Waltz, who lived in Phoenix and had a habit of disappearing for stretches of time, only to return carrying solid gold nuggets. 

His photograph is exactly what most of us picture when we think of an old-time prospector, which only makes the story more compelling. He appears rough, weathered, and entirely at home in a harder world than ours — someone who looked like he belonged more to the desert than to civilization. 

By most accounts, he was dirty and unkempt, spending long stretches living outdoors in the Arizona heat, where water was scarce and precious. It’s not hard to imagine he carried a scent not far removed from that of his trusty donkey — earthy, persistent, and entirely indifferent to polite company. 

Of course, Jacob wasn’t the only one who might have carried a certain … presence 

My father, “Fast Freddy,” used to say that growing up in 1930s western Kansas, bathing was a once-a-week affair, so everyone smelled and you simply got used to it. He claimed there was even one man who boasted he had never taken a bath at all — and, according to my father, no one could stand to be within arm’s reach of him. 

Having lived one winter without any running water, whenever I take a shower, Ol’ Dutch is sure to thank the good Lord for hot and running water. It's a commodity that is probably least appreciated until it's gone. What a blessing that is to both the person getting the shower and the one who has to sit next to them in a church pew, too.  

Along those lines, however, Ol’ Dutch has noticed a definite decline in the “suds-ability” of products that I use to wash with. Long a Scotchman of renowned tight fisted money pinching policy and being of bachelor mentality, I had quit using shampoo after the sheet splitting with the ex and just went with the regular blue or green body wash for everything.  

I liked the color most of all and the names of them are usually Evergreen or Blue Aspen, two of my favorite things, and probably swayed me as much as the price did toward purchase.  

But lately I have noticed that the manufacturer seems to have deleted the sudsing formulation which means Ol’ Dutch is trying to shower with blue or green water. The body wash is still slick and reminds me of real soap but it definitely lacks any of the redeeming qualities of the product I used to buy.  

When Cooper was still with us and roaming the outdoors, he would often come home reeking of fish guts, grouse feathers, elk blood and whatever else he could get his smeller into.  

This caused him to have more than his share of baths down through the years and he had some special fairly expensive Doggy Doo Shampoo. He really didn't seem to mind too much as the soap was non-tearing and would run around the RV like a banshee after he dried off.  

Ol’ Dutch found out early on that lacking any body soap of my own due to a man shopping mindset of forgetfulness, that Cooper’s special shampoo made just for dogs worked fine in a pinch on this bachelor man.  

A lot of people used to freak out when they found out we shared a bottle of doo shampoo, but I can tell you this, I never had problems with fleas or ticks while I was using that special sauce on me. And for that alone, I am thankful. 

So lately, with the un-sudsy blue bottle letting me down, I have taken to using a dab of Miss Trixies expensive shampoo from off the rack in the shower and I immediately noticed that it actually forms suds and a lather like I was used to my entire life. Smelling like petunias and lilacs from her shampoo is maybe not the best for an outdoorsy kind of man but it sure seems to work a lot better than my El-Cheapo Blue Lagoon Dollar Tree brand.  

I would appreciate it if you would not tell Miss Trixie about my use of her private cache because I am sure she is like most women and that golden nectar is probably meant only for her luscious locks.  

I’ve even thought about going back to the Doggy Doo. Might be worth it. If nothing else, I could take off running around the house like Cooper used to — clean, happy, and not a flea in sight. 

And honestly, that doesn’t sound like such a bad way to live. 

Kevin Kirkpatrick spends his days fishing, hunting, ATVing, hiking or making people laugh. His email is Kevin@TroutRepublic.com. Additional news can be found at www.troutrepublic.com or on Twitter at TroutRepublic.