A CAMPING TALE


JB and I went backpacking up in the Olympics.

Hike four miles up the road past Staircase at Lake Cushman to the trailhead. Another six or so miles to the Flapjack Lakes, which are right at the tree line.

Although it was July, there was still a lot of snow around the lakes. There was a shelter at the lake, active word being WAS. A sizeable tree had fallen on it the previous winter, and it was pretty much destroyed.

However, a good piece of the roof was still intact, and it had a hole in it just big enough for us to crawl through. It made for a tight but serviceable place to sleep. Saved us the trouble of setting up a tent.

One of the reasons for coming was to do a little fly fishing. Therre is nothing quite like floating a dry fly on a crystal clear high country lake and watching the trout come up from about 20 feet deep in a silver flash to take the fly on the surface.

The first couple of times I am always so hyped up that I jerk the fly right out of his mouth. It isn't until I settle down a little that I can wait long enough to let the fish get it all the way in his mouth.

Right next to the crushed shelter was a snowbank, which we used as a freezer. When we had cleaned the fish, we would use a stick to make a hole in the snowbank and shove a fish in head first, cover the hole over, and then mark it with a pine cone so we wouldn't lose the spot.

When it came time to eat, we would just go get a couple of fish out of the "refrigerator", roll them in corn meal with a little salt and pepper and saute' them in butter. When backpacking I always instisted on bringing along butter. Almost everything tastes better when saute'd in butter with a little salt.

After dinner and a while sitting around the fire, we turned in for the night. Even in July it was pretty damn cold when you were up that high.

Just as I was laying on my back about to fall asleep, something ran across my face. Something small and furry with VERY cold feet. It startled the hell out of me, so I sat up very abruptly and hit my forehead VERY squarely on a pine log holding up the roof of out impromptu shelter. I saw stars, rebounded while watching the stars inside my head pulse on and off, and crashed back down on my back, semi-conscious.

Something small and furry with VERY cold feet ran back over my face in the other direction.

Startled, I sat up very abruptly and once again hit my head.

Since it was so cold, I had climbed in my sleeping bag fully dressed. The only things I had removed were my boots and belt knife.

I grabbed at my belt knife, and started stabbing the ground to my left, but of course there was nothing there.

When I lay back down, I kept my knife in my hand. A while later the perp ran across my face again. I started stabbing off to my right. Unfortunately JB was over there. I didn't stab him or anything, but he woke up with me stabbing the ground close to me.

"Albert! WHat the HELL are you doing?"

Panting and slathering, I explained to him about being attacked in the dark by vicous furry ANIMALS. I don't think he believed me until I lit a match and showed him the big knot on my forehead.

Our packs were in between us in the shelter, so we went through them to see what the ravening beast was after. We found a pack of Pilot Crackers had been gnawed open.

We took the Pilot Crackers out of the shelter and set them on a nearby stump, and went back to sleep, although I had a hard time falling back to sleep, with my head throbbing from hitting the log twice, and being all keyed up waiting for another vicous attach by rabid animals.

I got up the next morning, and there, sitting on the stump, grinning his hideous grin and mocking me, was a chipmunk.

The Airplane Flight From Hell

I was a consciencious objector from the late stupidity in Vietnam.

I was a part of a class action lawsuit that went all the way to the Supreme Court of the United States.

At the time there were a very limited number of reasons you could apply for CO status. They were all based on religious affiliation. If you were a Quaker or a Seventh Day Adventist it was OK. Philosophical objections were not allowed.

The case went to the Supreme Court, and they found that people could object to war without cloaking in it religion.

We had all been on hold by the draft board until the case was settled. The Court made it's decision, and the following week we were all drafted. I have a couple of interresting story's about all of that, but I went to basic training and AIT (Anvanced Individual Training) at Fort Sam Houston in Texas.

When I was about ready ot graduate from AIT, the called me out of class. My grandmother had passed on, and they were letting me leave early so I could go home for the funeral.

I had a ticket, but I had to go back to the barracks and pack and grab a cab to the airport.

As I pulled up to the airport, I saw my flight taking off. Shit, shit shit.

I went in to the terminal and started exploring my opportunities. How could I trade in my ticket and still get home in time for the funeral. I went to every ticket terminal.

Finally I found a redeye flight out of San Ontonio which would connect with another flight in L.A.. and take me to Portland where I would connect up for Seattle.

Way Cool.

Podunct Airlines. I didn't care.

We took off, and headed for the coast. When we got in the air and were cruising along I looked out the window. I was located just behind the wing. I looked out and saw a lot of smoke coming out of the inboard engine.

I stopped a stewardess and pointed out the window and said I didn't think it should have flames coming out of that particular area of the engine. The Stew looked and turned a couple of shades of pale. She ran off towards the cockpit.

Shortly after that the Captain came on the announcer system and said "Some of you may have noticed an unusual condition in engine number 2. We will be makeing an unscheduled stop in El Paso to address this problem. There is no reason to be alarmed."

We came out of the clouds into El Paso, and every emergency truck and the foam vehicles and all of the emergency equipment were all deployed along the runway.

I remember thinking "Oh shit, this must be worse that I thought."

We landed without incident, and the pilot came on the public announce system and said "Passengers may now disenbark to the terminal while we fix this minor problem" He was so much in control that we just disembarkes to the termminal.

We saw various vehicles come and tend the plane. Other than being a little pissed that we were sitting when we were supposed to be flying, there wasn't a whole lot of concern.

After about 20 minutes, the terminal announce systen came on to tell us that we were OK to go back on board.

We started to reboard the aricraft, when the pilot came over the announce system and YELLED "EVERYBODY GET OUT OF THE AIRCRAFT NOW!!!!"

We all ran for the terminal.

The refueling panel in the wing had dripped some fuel on the tarmac, and somehow it had caught on fire. Fire right below fuel tanks.

Not a good thing.

After another half an hour or so, the pilot came into the terminal and announced, "If the passengers of flight 5678 will follow me into the lounge, cocktails are on the company."

Although I was underage, I was in uniform, so nobody was going to refuse me service, so I had several coctails at the expense of the airline. And duly fortified, we all got back on the same aircraft and went into the air.

Every time we hit an airpocket or cloud formation. we all went "Oh shit" but we made it to L.A. As I Left the plane and transversed the terminal "Sounds Of Silence" was playing.

I made my connecting flight, and made it home in time for the funeral.

But as the Greatful Dead put it "What a strange long trip it's been."