A Merry Mud Bog Christmas

Those of you who follow me on Instagram may have seen an unusual photo on Christmas Eve, me and my two sisters covered head to toe in mud. And my explanation is no less unusual than your first impression. I’ve already written about it on This Is My South, but more from a guide standpoint than casual observations.

It’s a redneck tradition I’ve never partaken in until this year. My father has lived in the South for his entire life and always ran around with guys who had jacked up trucks and four wheelers. Since they’ve grown up they have fewer opportunities to behave like little boys and the Mud Bog, held throughout the year, allows them to do just that.

My whole family piled into my dad’s F250 early on Christmas Eve morning to drive up to Paulding County for the Dallas Mud Bogg. It cost us each $15, but we talked the organizers down in price. Within five minutes of entering the grounds, my dad saw the son of one of his friends, drunk at 9 am and offering us homemade moonshine from a Mason jar.

Thankfully I was given the memo about wearing grubby clothes because the mud was two inches deep before it even started raining. I didn’t, however, hear that camouflage was part of the dress code and instead wore a bright purple jacket with polka dotted rain boots.

I had enough fun watching trucks on monster tires get stuck and have to get pulled out by a crane. But when my dad’s friend offered to drive us around in his truck, things got interesting. Rachel sat in the middle with a GoPro strapped to her head with Sammi and I riding in the flanks. The girl who was in my seat before said, “Oh you’ll be getting muddy.” Great.

And she was right. I may have ingested some mud and my back will likely be out of alignment for the next year, but I can’t say I didn’t have fun jumping the hills and landing with a splat.

Have you ever been to a mud bog?