More Weird Camping Tales

[Atehequa]

Incident at Big Meadows

Part 1 - Secret Garden




For almost an hour we descended upon a narrow winding path which forked off from the main trail near our camp at Big Meadows.

There was a fair amount of traffic upon the Appalachian Trail that Saturday morning.
And we had already passed 8 or so hikers during the first quarter mile of our hike.
The time had come to make 'Medicine', but with hikers either ahead and behind of us and no doubt more to pass, we decided to get off the trail thus finding an out of the way spot so as to spark up. In short time Flip spotted a small path opening that was barely noticeable. It forked off sharply, somewhat running parallel with Little Hawksbill Creek's down-flow. We expected this route to provide us a scenic place for bit of substance induced lofty headedness. Twenty minutes of downhill walking and we found a decent wide, flat rock outcropping to serve as a perch, allowing views of both path and stream.
Yet we could not see very far because all around us like so many dark temple columns rose a Forest of grey Tree trunks supporting late Summer's leafy green canopy. Lingering morning fog hung in dim patches along the wooded slope.

This was a shadowy place of natural beauty.

As we enjoyed our pipe the sun was just beginning to break through both overcast sky and low fog. Ghostly tendrils of mist swirled around our perch liken to curious mountain spirits.
The Whoodee was a brownish mid-grade affair, not up to my high standards but better than naught as our regular connection back home didn't pan out in time, thus we resorted to other means. But tinged with the breathtaking scenery and mountain air,things seemed to fall into place. Finishing our pipe we drank from the canteen and were off again upon this small downhill trace.

As the crow flies we were only about 2 miles or less from camp, but on this twisting path our trek seemed about twice that distance. I was beginning to think this was a deer trail as no human would blaze a path with so many bends and sharp turns.
Now the sky had cleared and sunbeams cut through the canopy like golden rays burning away what was left of morning's mist.
After several more bends we sighted what looked to be a clearing upon a level rise left of us. We left the small path and started a ascent upwards to this clearing.
Upon nearing our mark we were greeted by what smelled like a skunk's unloaded secretion riding along on a slight downdraft. We knew there were many skunks in the Big Meadows area. Often they boldly come through that campground during evening foraging or extorting tasty handouts with raise-tail threats. Although against the park rules, seasoned campers are more than happy to comply with these mustelids’ demands.
Emerging from the shadows we stood on a upland's meadow's edge and the scent was thick. Turning to Flip I said -"Don't think it's a skunk, it's not the same, it almost smells like,,"
We slowly advanced along a faint trace through prickly brush and tall meadow grass, but were halted by an unusual tangle of catbrier which Flip knocked aside with his walking stick .The thorny vines fell away like a swinging fence gate and we proceeded through this head-high natural hedge of tangled creepers, vine, bramble and brush. More than once thorns caught our clothing. There was about 20 feet of this before emerging into a smaller clearing.
Oddly enough I first took notice of the machete hacked brush clearing’s perimeter before anything else.

Flip's voice was a bit faltering - "Would you look at that"

I looked upon what he was pointing to, but had a hard time getting any words out. as we stood there gazing in wonder. Uncontrollable, my legs were shaking in the same manner as whenever I had a big trout hooked and fighting.
"Great jumping catfish" I whispered.
It resembled a strand of bamboo, but this was no canebrake. From 7 to 8’ high they grew, stretching to catch the morning sun. Thousands of delicate, dependent leaves looking like long green tapering fingers of open hands. Budding from every plant were long thick clusters of flowering tops. Hair like stigma and top leaves gave them a reddish hue, a sure sign of herbal goodness.

We were standing smack-dab in the middle of a HighTimes magazine centerfold!

Following a short period of tense silence our eyes darting about scanning the area. We listen for, but heard or saw no other large living creature there or near about. Sure of our surroundings to some degree I unsnapped and drew my little Schrade Sharpfinger skinning knife then sliced off one of the smaller tops. Cutting the 8" bud in twain I popped a half into my mouth and chewed while offering the other portion to Flip who did likewise.
"Eat it man".

Friends never enjoyed a finer fresh salad.

Marveling like men in a lost goldmine we counted 27 plants, all big females, flowering tops swollen in lustful passion waiting to catch pollen I knew would never arrive on the breeze. This was no wild-weed patch. This was a masterpiece of Whoodee cultivation, damn near ready for harvest.

Someone's secret garden !

"Who ever grew this Whoodee sure knows their shit" I said while admiring these beauties.
"Yep" returned Flip - "Grew em in the middle of a bramble, like we use to.
Yep, this is someone's crop”
My concerns were if this secret garden was in anyway booby trapped. Following bit more time of blissful staring and sniffing, we busied ourselves with the task of carefully clipping a good many sticky, pungent scented flowering tops, some almost a foot in length and big around as a standard flashlight.
Stuffing them into the pack Flip had brought along, we finished our task. The pack was now bulging and tight against the seams making it difficult for him to snap it shut. We then set about stuffing the pack’s former contents ( snacks and first aid stuff) into my outer shirt, which I tied up into a small bundle.
"Lets get moving Flip"
The Birdman however seemed reluctant to depart.
Flip and I could do no more at this place without inviting trouble to arrive unexpectedly so we booked off carefully with our loot. Twisting, turning this same small path led us back to the Appalachian Trail and now we were feeling the effects of our previous snack. Even contained in Flip's pack we could still smell the pungent aroma. After drying we were looking to have around a quarter lb of top-grade Whoodee. A sight better than what we had before.
Flip was already yammering on about unloading and going back for more.
I stopped. -"Look man, the others are surely gonna know we're holding, but we can't let them know where that patch is" And added - "The Bear can hardly walk on that lame ankle and besides, he put down the pipe after getting that city gig in fear of a piss test, but Charlie, along with those Dibble Brothers can't know, if so, things could go bad"
I went on to remind the Birdman that we had almost seven more full days at Big Meadows and having a heap of fresh Whoodee at our camp would not be a wise choice.
"Don't worry you damn pothead, maybe we'll grab a bit more just before we split next Saturday"
Having raised a few good crops in the past, I had mixed feelings concerning such acts of thievery, yet weighed out the possibility of another raid.
With all haste we booked it back to Big Meadows Campground and did our best to give other hikers a wide birth least they catch of whiff of what was in Flip's pack. The same held true through the camping area as we hoofed it back in a wide outer circle to our campsite.
Bear was the only one up while others still slumbered. Small wonder as they had drained a half gallon of Vodka before passing out.

He was hobbling about on a lame ankle, an injury which was the result of kicking out an ornate stain glass window at Williamsburg's Green Leaf Cafe/tavern. Some three months ago during a berserk moment of savage drunken fury just outside the building he put a size 16” Dingo Boot through the glass following an altercation with several intoxicated William and Mary bravos inside. After his high-kick, he came down on the other foot wrong. I still remember pulling over after our getaway then cutting the boot off his swiftly swelling foot and ankle before driving him to the ER.
"Out for a stroll I see" was the extent of his greeting then gestured us to grab some coffee he had just brewed, which we politely declined.
Nostrils expanded in a loud, long range sniff, he asked - "What the hell is that smell ?" Bear snatched the pack from Flip's hands, gazed at it's contents then stuck his furry muzzle inside taking in a long whiff. Placing the pack down atop picnic table he tilted his head and inquired directly - "Where in the hell did you come across this?"
Bear being the most trustworthy among us, we related our adventure honestly and in so many words.
"Well Charlie, and the Dibble Brothers are still in a coma, they got even more snockered than me last night" he informed us and went on - "I'd put that stuff away if I were you all, people can probably smell that Whoodee as far as Luray"

Flip made a smoky fire to mask the scent as I set about hanging the tops from what ever could be found within our storage tent. Closed up in this late Summer heat would perhaps speed up the drying process.
Although the campfire's smoke may of covered the smell from afar, we could still catch whiffs of the curing Whoodee within our camp and it wasn't too long before Charlie popped his head out of a flap and asked who was smoking hash ?
"Hash?"
We told him a polecat had passed through right at dawn.
I called Flip aside and requested he get some zip-lock sandwich bags from the camp store.
"You bagging up some sandwiches, man ?” Charlie overheard and then turned watching bug-eyed as Flip's truck pulled out.
"What kind of sandwiches ?" he asked sniffing the air. A gangling dark haired lad in his mid 20s Charlie was not among the universe's brightest stars, yet he proved to be a good angler and ever on hand for a few good laughs. A true clown most of the time his appetite for the 'high life’ never seemed satisfied. Living rent free with parents, his entire weekly paycheck went towards dope, booze and blurry bar-room belles. Many times he was broke and begging by Monday resulting from his shitting in high cotton all weekend long. Like his sisters, he too was bug-eyed or as Flip called them - 'frog-eyed'. I couldn’t say a whole lot, them being my cousins. As for Charlie, we took him for what he was. I always felt obliged to look out after him as much as possible, but could do nothing to curb his desire for hard drugs .
I half-lied to him - "No sandwiches Charlie just gotta bag up a bit of homegrown we bought from some kat down on the trail".
Then I heard -“Some kat selling homegrown on the trail ?" Pouring out of the Dibble's tent like strained peas.
"About damn time you jerkwads awoke from the dark dead !" Bear snarled, and with that the Brothers Dibble rolled out, one after the other.
Denny the older of the two, was in fact the eldest member of our company. Dark of eye, hair and complexion, he was somewhat quiet and reserved when sober, but became rather gabby after a few good quaffs.
R.W. whom we called ‘The Poodle’ appeared very different from his brother. Although of the same height and build he was more fair of skin with a poofy light brown over styled mullet-cut, quite popular among some during the 80s.
Rather boisterous, and even more so while drinking, which in his case was mostly all the time. R.W. tended to be a bit of a fussy fop. Attired in big brand name casual-outdoor duds, he never appeared un-kept. Even a small particle of campfire soot spotted some of his garb, he would quickly change that article of clothing for something spotless. He was the only kat I knew who would bring fancy suitcases on a camping trip.

R.W. promptly told the Great Bear - "We're lucky to get any sleep at all, thanks to your snoring , you big oaf, so do us a flavor and sleep in one of the trucks tonight with windows up"
"Shut the hell up and get ye some coffee, I just brewed it" Bear growled back at the dandy.
"Not touching that sludge you brew, Heir Bear !" R.W. snapped back grabbing a beer out of our cooler, popping the top and guzzling it half down.
"Yeah like that will wake you up Heir Dribble" I chuckled tapping upon his can with my finger.
"So how much Whoodee did you cop man,, any good ?" Denny asked while lighting up a Marlboro.
"Oh just a little homegrown Denny, gotta let it dry out a bit more, I think it was picked just this morning"

Denny and R.W. excused themselves, departing off towards the campground's shower/rest rooms with towels and toiletries in hand.
Slapping his hand upon our picnic table, Charlie began jabbering about heat drying some of our stash over the fire. A heavy duty Whoodee-head since he was a young boy, Charlie had a nose for good smoke and knew some was stashed within our camp. When I was growing, curing Whoodee was most often hung upside down until about two thirds dry. This made for good, slow and even burning smoke. But due to our current condition a quick-dry was well in order. There was a need to get this stuff bagged up and put away pronto. After all Big Meadows is part of the Shenandoah National Park. I really didn't want to go back for any more of the buds as the thought of it all brought on some degree of concern. Really I had no intentions ending up in the Federal joint at Petersburg with poachers, growers, dealers or the wayward Civil War artifact hunter caught a few too many times with a metal detector in National Park Lands. We had enough to see us through and a bit more, I had to weigh this all out as the drying process was putting limits upon my vacation. But what about Flip, he seemed dead set on going back for a bundle. If Charlie and the brothers got wind of this secret garden our entire vacation could be compromised

Enclosed in this hot storage tent, I anticipated maybe 2 days or less for drying time.
I entered and by this time it smelled like an Afghani hash hovel. Grabbing a couple of large already wilting buds I proceeded to roll them up in foil wrap. The result, a silver-hued tusk-like affair. I got the hell out of that sweat lodge as quickly as possible.
"You drying it in there?" Charlie asked advancing in swift motion.
"Just stay the fuck out! Don't let me catch you in there, or I'll lop your hands off !"
He backed up, never taking his large eyes from the storage tent.
“Look a magic horn" laughed the Great Bear as he took notice to my creation.
"Here" I handed it to him where upon he put one end to his lips and issued forth a strange contrived booming sound, while I grabbed a fire poking stick. I motioned for 'Heimdall' to give up his horn, then using the poking-stick as to hold it aloft well above the flame.

Flip pulled up and hopped out with a fountain drink, a Little Debbie snack cake, some heavily scented bug candles along with a box of zip-locks. He asked what was cooking.
"Brain Sausage" I replied.
It didn't take much time over our fire's heat for little jets of smoky steam to exit the horn on either end. Removed from the fire's heat it was placed upon the picnic table so as to cool a little, we waited with great anticipation. Charlie already on his second can of liquid lunch made a bold grab for the foil-horn, but this effort was thwarted as Flip put him at distance with the blackened tip of our fire poking stick. Neighbors, old schoolmates ,camping companions, they grew up together, but had little love between them. A truly strange relationship. Charlie, while in the company of kin like me, or among others who protected him, would torment Flip, often mimicking the Birdman's facial expressions, speech and body motions.
Flip on the other hand would bully Charlie whenever no one else was around.

As of yet we had no close camping neighbors and that was a good thing. I carefully unwrapped the foil horn exposing it's contents. The tops had shriveled somewhat but were still large and colorful enough to render us a bit giddy in our anticipation. I asked Flip if he was holding any papers. From his wallet he produced a pack of Jokers.
"Stick 4 of those skins together, and twist us up a jumbo"
For Flip, high bogart master of pin joint rolling, this would prove to be a challenge. I could see it in his eyes, while handing him one of the big fire-dried tops to work with. He succeeded with a finished product that had the length and girth of a large cigar.
We considered waiting for the brothers Dibble while sparking up this well twisted wonder.

The Great Bear took no part in this recreational activity, but sat back watching us with great interest, passing the burning bone around..

[Atehequa]

Part 2 - A Sense of Order

We expected it to be harsh, lung expanding and cough inducing, yet upon toking found it to be smooth, with a peppery-mint taste. Oddly enough after five hits or so I felt no effect.
Then slow and sure, like a chicken hungry fox, it came a creeping.

Little occurred for a time except that our conversation grew more lively. More rapid and amusing as the weed crept upon us. Then all got quiet. We were sitting at the picnic table in complete silence. Flip and Charlie had rather odd looks about them, their faces twisted into strange tight-lipped grins. Flip rose as to make a public announcement, then slowly re-seated himself just before bursting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
"Man you iz gone, Flippy-Dippy" Charlie barked, his large eyes crossed in mirthful mockery.
Flip's thick glasses had fogged up, and his wild laughter changed into an un-natural tittering cackle. Charlie drained a cold 12oz can of beer, belched, then issued forth a couple cartoon Road Runner meep-meeps, followed by a whole cable spool of unwinding, unintelligible gibberish.
Maybe it wasn't gibberish.
Perhaps it was just me as I was somewhat lofty-headed and in the company of an overly gleeful ,yet whacked-out laughing hyena and the temple's sacred monkey. I could hear the Great Bear's stomach rumbling like a far-off thunder boomer, moving closer and growing louder as it approached.
The moisture was running streaks down Flip's glasses as he gasped for air between outbursts of various forms of what could be took as laughter. He was a mess.
I had to stop my head and upper body from swaying along to the music that wasn't playing.

Potent Shit !

It felt as if I was getting off on a heavy-duty hallucinogenic drug, yet it differed from acid, mushrooms or mescaline.
Flip now had his face buried into his arms atop the table, now making a deep muffled humming-laughter sound akin to a mating hair-lip bull frog. He had a private party going on.
The Great Bear got up from the table, shook his shaggy head and said - "Damn, you jerkwads looked stoned out of your gourds"
"Gnawed through the noodle" I laughed, then playing it down a bit added - "I'm a little buzzed"
I started rambling out a flood of words which were swiftly forgotten. I had naught a clue of what was being said. In time my blithering trickled down to a series of low grunts as I begun to concentrate upon my own substance induced sensations.
I carried on in such a manner for a few minutes more, then told the Bear - "Think I got too much, but it's real nice up here"
He slapped me on the back and said - "Yep, it sure is nice here at Big Meadows, you should stop back by on your glorious return trip back to earth"

Flip had regained his composure long enough to take a sip from a fountain drink and watch Charlie stand up atop the bench as he went into some kind of whacky
Edgar G. Robertson impersonation directed at the Birdman - "You're screwed-up, see, a light weight, yeah. It's mugs like you who give mugs like me a bad name, see, it's curtains for you Flippy!"
With that Flip lost it again, knocking his fountain drink over in the process. I attempted to tempt Bear - “You should try some of this stuff " offering the now burnt-out # to him. He took a long gander at Flip and Charlie's antics, then looked at me and said - " Even if I could, I wouldn't" as he pulled our camp stove out of it's cardboard box.
While The Great Bear went through motions of getting himself a late breakfast going, the Brothers Dibble re-entered our encampment. Showered, shaved and deodorized they took notice of our present condition and in the jargon of our band R.W. requested - "Smooke Whoodee Skid !"
Denny joined in - "Smooke Whoodee, gurrr !"
"It's not store bought" Charlie informed them with a twisted smile.
Butane flame sparked it up again, but this time I had to pass, as did Flip. Charlie, on the other hand continued puffing with Denny and R.W.. They too became goofed to the gills and in time, just like me, had to put it down for awhile.

Our Heathen Encampment had taken up two sites, each with a somewhat level pad of ground for tents, a fire ring, and picnic table, separated by a bit of brush and several trees. Since checking in yesterday evening we had enjoyed a section of the campground to ourselves. Not odd for this time of year, after all the kiddies had returned to school, after Labor Day.
Before then Big Meadows was usually packed all Summer. One has to make reservations in advanced during the tourist season or for the changing Autumn colors, but this time of year one can find vacancy at all the Blue Ridge Campgrounds. Big Meadows as the name applies is a huge natural grassy-weedy highland meadow, a short walk away -Dark Hollow Falls. The area provides a campground for tent campers and RVers, camp store, a beautiful old lodge/dining hall, guest suites and breakfast-nook/fast food stand.
Deer, skunks, bears, birds, highland amphibians and insects, Big Meadows was usually teaming with all kinds of wildlife as well including several whacked-out, under the influence, yet over the clouds campers. A bit off the beaten path, indulging in high adventure, but still friendly and courteous to some degree.
Being way too bombed to attempt any cooking the five of us watched Bear scarfing down a hearty breakfast consisting of four fried brown country eggs, a whole pack of bacon and campfire toast, while we munched upon jerky, chips and whatever else that could be ripped open and consumed. At one point Charlie perched squirrel-like upon the bench next to the Bear's plate begging for a bacon slice, until the shaggy giant growled, then brandished his yolk covered fork dangerously close to the lad's face thus backing him away.

It was then we heard the sound of tires turning gravel.

Heads turned as we looked on with blank facial expressions at the slowly passing station wagon pulling a pop-up, with occupants inside the vehicle and waved. Still feeling the effects while giving our crew the once over I thought - 'We can only hope they'll move on down a good bit, for their own sake and have a wonderful yet sane camping experience'
That was not to be the case as they halted and then started to back up their rig right beside our encampment“
Put away the fun stuff and cup yer hard drink !" The Bear's booming voice broke the spell and spurred some of us into action. He was correct. We were on Federal Lands and with the Reagan administration’s 'Just Say No' policy directing both heads and law enforcement agencies into new, different directions, we decided to play it as safe as possible for the likes of us.
Hard drink was another matter as in most campgrounds, private, federal or state park as long as you don't display the original containers, quaff from mug or cup, along with not letting anything get out of hand, the rangers would overlook such public social drinking in public infractions.
But with unknown neighbors beside us meant some sense of order had to be kept in our encampment, especially with six hardworking blue collar kats retreating from the rigors of the weekday round, the polite gentleness expected in domestic life and same old patch of ground forever roamed over by too many feet, it would be hard to keep a handle on all of us. On this type of vacation we sought to escape any civilized sense of order.
With a storage tent loaded with hard spirits, beer, ale and a goodly amount of high-grade Whoodee, things could get a bit out of hand.
The Bear placed his empty plate upon our table, got up and called me aside. His reason was one of serious concern - "Hey man, I really don't want to spend my vacation awaiting trial in some small town pokey" Continuing he discussed options - "Charlie, we can pass off as being special, but since the rest of us didn't come in a bus, we cannot all plead not guilty by reason if some major fuck-up occurs"
I thought - 'True, rangers and the rest of the National Forest employees would not let this many unattended crazy people have a campfire, but sometimes as in our present state, it happens'
" Charlie being special ?" I asked somewhat taken aback.
"Just look at that whacked-out bastard" The Bear returned with a snarl.
Charlie had discovered some of Flip's young daughter's Mr. Potato Head plastic parts that had managed to get into the camp stove box, and was currently with unblinking large frog-like eyes getting together his own creation with a large camp spud.
Inserted plastic potato-man eyes uneven, off -line, one a full two inches below the other. a single arm sticking from the groin area, and a funny plastic mouth where a hat should be. It looked to be a Picasso potato head. I could appreciate it in my state. The Dibbles burst into loud snickering after Charlie presented to Flip and declared - " It's suppose to be you Flippy"
The Great Bear mentioned - " If we got him one of those padded helmets, other people won’t get too curious"
"Hey man, dig yourself, that was cold " I objected.
"Keep a sharp eye on those Dibbles, you know what happens when they get too snockered" Bear advised.
True, only a month earlier they all but destroyed R.W.'s apartment in yet another bout of drunken brother against drunken brother brawling. The Bear and I let them go at it until both were winded and bloody, then we raided R.W.'s fridge for some grub before splitting the scene.

We heard the cheerful sounds of our neighbors making camp, but they were soon drowned out following Denny flicking on our boombox was lucky enough to find a radio station playing some old Leon Russell.
Everything stored somewhat out of sight we began to get into the spirits. No sightseeing today as five of us had poured ourselves a strong one, while The Bear guzzled Ale from his drinking horn, given to him as a gag present last year and brought along always for campground quaffing. Over a head taller than the rest of us and packing a good 250 pounds or more, he was a good fellow to have around during a hassle. Not being able to partake and ready to cut loose he proceeded to pour large amounts of the cool amber ale down his gullet.

We more or less put him in charge for the time being.

I guess we were all aiming at getting a bit loose, or sociably tanked if our new neighbors decided to dare a friendly visit.
And visit they would.
“Well at least they waved at us" Denny said while attempting to peer through the greenery at our new neighbors. He was right, they did in fact waved and were smiling while doing so.
The six of us with bloodshot eyes, long hair, armed with an array of sheathed hunting knives, displaying a snapping turtle skull and osprey feather banner of sorts lashed to a sapling could be mistaken by regular run of the mill campers as being crazed doped-up members of a killer hippy-like cult.
By making camp next to us could mean these folk are also ready to throw down, they're oblivious or could be anthropologists here to make a documentary, perhaps with the college or maybe even PBS.
In no time it seemed they were popped-up and geared down. Above the music I heard a car door close. They started up their station wagon and pulled out.
"Going out for supplies I'd suspect" Denny stated as we watched the red glow of tail lights disappear around the bend.
Again the sound of wheels turning gravel got our attention. We expected to see either staff, rangers or campers passing by, but it was our neighbors again, driving slow even for a campground, barely creeping. I guess they did the loop and were coming back for perhaps a cooler. This time they braked in front of our camp, waved again and shouted friendly sounding greetings from the open window of their vehicle. We all waved, raised cups and issued our howdys. After this initial meeting they drove off once more.
From 20 or so feet at a stop we got a better look at our neighbors. There were three of them and they appeared to be somewhat older than us, perhaps in their 60s. By the looks of it there were two older ladies and a man. It may have been the Whoodee, but I thought to have saw the backseat passenger’s eyes glow in a weird way like a wild animal’s when reflecting light.
We really didn't need anyone having a heart attack at 1:00 AM because of Charlie or somebody else stumbling into their campsite to take a drunken leak.

Well we have had closer calls in our encounters with the older generation.

Hard spirits had taken the edge off the power-puff, we talked about getting an early supper started. There was meat in the cooler which had to be grilled tonight, before going into town for more. With little effort we had coals glowing in our two Weber Grills. Flip started some camp beans and taters, while the Others pulled raw rib eyes from the two family packs purchased at Waynesboro yesterday.

Soon the aroma of sizzling meat drifted through our Heathen Encampment. I watched Bear carefully tending a slab of meat upon one of our grills. The man could eat his way out of a shark's belly and demand seconds.
Like me he did not like his steak swiftly seared on both sides, bloody and put on the plate, as did Charlie and the Dibbles. Approaching The Great Bear at his work I said - "Shit man, you just ate enough breakfast for three full grown men, and now you're licking your lips over a rib eye"
Straightening up to his full height then regarding me with serious grey eyes and pair of metal tongs in hand, he asked - "Can I help you with something ?" I told him as long as he was tending grill - "Make mine medium-well".
Charlie along with the Dibble Brothers had already got theirs off the coals and placed them on paper plates where they lay in a puddles of warm red gore.
A little more time and several more turns and Bear was finished with our steaks, yet Flip toiled on.
Camp taters and beans completed he turn his attention to burning a good cut of meat into charred remains. Bear wanted no part of grilling that steak. All of us shook our heads in disgust, but broke into laughter after R.W. asked the Birdman if he needed a urn for his steak.
Ale, beer along with hard spirits washed our feast down well greased gullets and there was much chomping, lip-smacking and belching to be heard at the table as there were no wives or girlfriends there ordering us to mind our manners.
With stomachs well coated there would be scant chance of spewing high-quality booze upon the good upland soil. Yet at some celebrations there was always someone who managed to puke his way through a good party.
With the stench of charred flesh hanging about our encampment, Flip had at last seated himself then neatly placed what use to be a good cut of meat beside his sides of taters and beans. The Bear commented in disgust - "It looks like an old flat roof patch"
"I can't eat my steak half-raw or bloody like you buzzards" The Birdman said, one hand gripping hard upon the fork pinning down his blackened meat-clod, while the other wielded a steak knife in a back and forth hacksaw motion.
I slapped his boney back - "You better hope that cinder doesn't rip a tear in your sphincter as it passes"
Flip paid me no mind as he crunched his first chunk of overly well-done steak then flushed the black particles downwards with an ale quaff. What a character. A lean wiry fellow of middle height, a faded red bandana knotted about his head in Apache fashion. Dark crow-like eyes above a bird-like beak nose added to his strange appearance. Those eyes darted about behind a pair of thick gold rimmed specs. But the real eye catcher was his wide collared, buttoned, short sleeved, light blue shirt complete with various antique car prints all over it. Flip having a strange sense of fashion about him considered it to be one of his favorites. Weirdly enough Flip was born on October 31, mama’s little Halloween baby.
Charlie often called him 'Gooney'. Regardless, he was a man of fair wood and camping craft, but tended to be a bit of a bogart at times.

Famished as we were, supper became all but a loud belch and warm fart.

And the celebration got underway. Mugs, cups and a bull's horn were filled, drained and filled again as we tried our best to keep open containers out of sight. Jokes, funny gestures and laughter measured our lofty condition.

Charlie tossed Mr. Party Potato Head into our campfire. Cackling with insane simian joy as the plastic parts melted over his fast baking potato body. In swift motion he knocked it out of the flames then placed it again upon our table. To him this was art.
"We are gonna need more ice for tonight" declared Denny . He was mixing his spirits and wanted to keep them cool in going down on a rather warm late Summer's early evening. We planned on taking the drive northward up Skyline Drive over Hawksbill Mountain and a few more ridges then cutting westward on Route 211 into Luray to re-supply foodstuffs and of course enough ice to see us through for another day and a bit. Knowing full well the distance between Big Meadows and nearest big grocery store we each came prepared with a huge cooler, plus two or three smaller ones. We'd top off ale and beer stocks, buy some pork chops, chicken and perhaps more beef. We also figured on getting some sausage, hotdogs and more bacon as well. We had enough brown eggs as my father-n-law owned a farm with plenty of laying hens. With that we would stay in grub and suds for a few more days. If we could just get a handle on ourselves for one evening there were plans of having dinner at the lodge. The Bear had some heavy-duty painkillers ready if Charlie had to be sedated before eating in a public place. My mind was set on quail and wild rice. For now we only had need of a few bags of ice, to keep it all cool, and us in business for the Night.
Flip and I decided to make the ice run, Bear wanted to come along too. Piling out of Flip's truck moments later we found ourselves half-crocked in the store's small parking lot. Old blurry memories bounced about within my skull.

Those memories shattered, falling into deep dark holes once again as The Birdman started jabbering away about going back for more buds and with a smirk and eyes uplifted mumbled how many bucks could be made in sales.
The Great Bear halted and turned then pointed his walking stick just short of Flip's beak ominously growling - “Do I have to knock some fucking sense into you skull,,”
I cut in attempting to quell any more talk of greedy endeavors while on vacation -"Starting on this trip we had about an oz of shitty Whoodee between us, but after this morning's walk, free and easy like, two ounces of trip-weed apiece was added to the stash. Maybe we should just leave it as is and gloat upon our small fortune already at hand"
The Great Bear lent some wisdom as well - "You greedy little fuck, you have good food, drink, plenty of Whoodee, comrades, new neighbors and mountains." He then asked slightly slurring - "Now that you have these things, why risk it all in an unnecessary
venture ?"
Flip jumped upon a curb in a effort to make himself a little taller - "But just think of all that smoke and money it could generate. It would pay for this trip and more"
Disgusted by this foolish talk, I let loose in swift sure manner - " And on this next downhill jaunt you'll of course will be taking a bigger pack, maybe two,, hell, why not just bring some big trash bags, fill em up with tops, leaves, stems and all ? I want no more to do with it ! Got enough smoke , my smoking pouch is going to be beyond full with what there already is and that suits me fine. I can't tell you what to do, but if even a mere mention of what we found is revealed to the others before we split next Saturday,, I'll nail your hide to a tree "
"And if Jim doesn’t, I sure the hell will" The Bear said still towering over both Flip and his concrete curb soapbox - "Let's not totally screw up this vacation "
Now memories resurfaced as I walked into the Store.
The Bear and I had been here some nine years earlier, tripping our brains out and barely escaping with whole skin after the clerk phoned for a ranger.

It was purely an unplanned weekend adventure gone wrong inside this small market under the influence of more LSD than we had ever done before. This weird trip started out in Newport News Virginia after The Great Bear and I picked up 100 hits of
purple micro-dot from our connection who oddly enough kept the whole lot in a Lucky Charms cereal box within his fridge.
Well to make a short story within a longer story a bit shorter Bear and I had popped two hits remembering the weak potency of the last batch we copped. A double dose should surely get us there. We decided to unload a good deal of the ‘dot’ at a party another friend was having in an old farmhouse on the edge of town some twenty minutes away. First the Great Bear wanted to pick up some mail from the post office and fill his gas tank before hitting the party. A wreck on Jefferson held us up for awhile, but the flashing emergency lights appeared strangely different and by the time a tow truck arrived to drag the crunched-up hulk of what use to be a Buick away, we had already began to feel a certain tingling in our heads. But those flashing lights provided a starting point to a different type of journey that Bear and I had ventured out upon. The post office was very bright inside and all sounds within seemed to echo. The Bear picked up his mail while I watched patterns in the floor tile form weird animated shapes. This new batch far exceeded the last in noticeable potency and swiftly did it take hold. The Bear had noticed as well and mentioned that - "We should ask five bucks a hit instead of three.
We managed to reach a gas station/mini-mart. By then the acid was taking hold but
quick. Man, was I whacking out big time. The Bear grabbed my shoulder in a savage grip and said - "Here's some money" One paw pulling out a wad of cash - "I'll pump the gas, you go in there and pay"
“Oh shit, why me ?” He just smiled and stuck in the nozzle. Things did not go as planned, but soon we were traveling northward up Jefferson making for the party.

Don't drive on acid folks.

"Oh fucking great man" The Bear growled fumbling with his rear-view mirror "I think the cops are behind us"
"Oh no !" I said - "They're gonna get us for not paying for the gas"
"What do you mean,,, not paying for the gas ?" Bear growled. After yet another failed attempt to make out who was following us because of the brightly glowing halo-like headlights of whatever vehicle was trailing behind I explained to Bear that after exiting his car how the gas pumps were melting before my eyes and upon entering the store to make payment I encountered a cartoon looking Barney Rubble-like clerk with no visible neck and only four digits on each hand. It was panic on my part prompting me to turn tail and bolt out without paying. Hopefully Bear understood my recent plight.
We veered off on Route 17 in hopes of shaking our imaginary pursuers. Ducking into a small neighborhood ultra-grit bar was not a wise choice, but we needed to gather thoughts, get ourselves together so to speak, but could not manage to finish a beer because Bear grew overly concerned thinking the bar maid to be some simian hybrid monkey woman - “I don’t want to get bit, Jim. They carry diseases”
She did have a protruding baboon-like muzzle, but so did a lot of the other patrons as well. Not wanting our skulls and shinbones cracked open for brains and marrow treats, we departed with all haste passing a female seated by the door who seemed to be grooming the alpha-male for parasites. It was like being in a National Geographic television special.

Traveling north on Route 17 was a terrible experience as once again we imagined 'stealth police' were following us, taking their time, studying our habits, keeping us on edge, before coming in for the take-down. At one point it got so bad the fear pushed us to extremes.
"Chuck those hits out the window, man !" Bear commanded.
'Damn, a 100 bucks down the drain' I thought then suggested - "Hey, lets do some more before they go out all over the road" I scooped out several more hits, handing some to Bear. He gulped them down as I did the same.
Needless to say we traveled some hundred or more miles northwestwardly still imagining that 'stealth cops’ were trailing behind until well into the morning before ending up at the very same camp store at Big Meadows. Still very much in a whacked-out altered state with a desperate need for drink, we barged in like crazed savages and made tracks for the beer cooler. Opening and guzzling bottles inside this establishment, we surely broke several state if not federal alcohol laws.

Perhaps another story.

The Great Bear and I breathed sighs of relief in not seeing that same frightened short, curly perm, pointy glasses wearing clerk who was tending store some 9 years earlier. Instead we traded with a younger woman with a weird distant look in her eyes. Flip attempted to direct a little friendly small talk her way while paying for a bag of cone-shaped corn snacks. She offered only a few vague one word replies and then finished this sale with the standard - "Thank You. Bye. Come again" The Birdman ogled her mid-section for a few pitiful desperate seconds, then turned away from the counter. Tossing bags of ice into the truck bed, we headed back to camp. But upon nearing it was decided we check out the whole campground loop. From my count it appeared Big Meadows Campground was less than half filled. I had started to wonder why those older people picked a spot right next to us.
We were here until next Saturday and really didn't need or couldn't afford any problems at all. Which meant -No howling. No dancing in leaps and bounds around the fire. No loud rock music blaring. No drunken squabbles.

The Great Bear would call a council and hopefully afterwards all should go a bit more smoothly keeping in mind we now had neighbors to contend with. With any luck at all they were only one-nighters and leaving tomorrow morning..

[Atehequa]

Part 3 - Neighbors


We rounded the loop and pulled into camp noticing that our neighbors had not only returned, but were visiting as well. ‘Oh shit !’ I thought in my dreadful wondering what sort of craziness had went down already, but my fears became somewhat quelled after seeing our neighbors laughing and carrying on in a friendly manner with the others.

Following cheerful introductions we learned their names - Claudia, Mildred and Guy, the later two being a married couple and the other a step sister. Claudia appeared to be in her early 60s yet still quite comely and well turned for a woman her age with long gray streaked chestnut hair swept up in a schoolmorm-like fashion. A pair of tortoise shell-rimmed glasses framed her strange hazel eyes. Mildred appeared near the same age only short and squat with a bad case of lazy eye. Appearing older than the others yet very spry, Guy was moving about in swift, but strange jerky manner making small talk with different members of our band. Clad in a Tshirt, khaki shorts, black knee socks, sneakers and sporting a pair of horned rimmed specs, he seemed friendly enough for this initial greeting as they all did, but in the back of my mind something wasn’t quite normal about him.
They had brought us a small loaf of banana nut bread and in the tradition of gift-giving we offered what was left of the camp taters and beans along with cooling beverage which they accepted. Watching Guy suck down a bottle of ale with great gusto, it was kind of obvious to me by now these were no 'Good Sam Club' campers. Taking notice of the wide hide covered drum and long wooden flute hanging by a leather cord from a nearby tree branch he asked - "Hey cool, are you guys musicians ?"
"No not really" I answered - "We are of different vocations, but enjoy making a little noise during these outings"
Claudia took a long draught from her red plastic cup and declared - "You are musicians then"
It sounded almost like she was labeling us as such.
True, all of us did goof around with such instruments as the drum, flute, gourd-rattle and carved antler rasp along with a bit of chanting and Charlie's harmonica we had created a bluesy primitive sound. Denny called it - 'The Stoned-Age Blues'. Perhaps latter when night arrived and after the pipe we could throw down with some funky Cro-Magnon sound, build up the fire, then revel in the wonders of nature, ever constant and all around us like a trackless great mystery.
Finishing their beverages, saying goodbyes for now and accepting our invitations to return later, our neighbors departed taking a fair amount of leftover camp beans and taters with them, pots and all. Thinking these folk were alright and not the overly complaining type, I entered our storage tent for a another 6-pack of double whack to top off my ale cooler. It was then I made a discovery - Within this scorching hot dark blue dome tent the buds had dried enough to bag-up. Truly a good sign.
Calling Flip inside we set about this task in the sweltering heat where a good sharp pair of camp scissors came into play cutting our bounty into bag-size bits. Once contained in scent-free zip-lock sandwich bags we were looking at about two and a half ounces of top-grade grass apiece, far more than enough to keep everybody very much 'up there' during our week of camping here.
Bailing out of this pungent scented sweat lodge the evening air felt a lot cooler to me. Flip made the mistake of tossing all un-wanted stems into our fire producing a large cloud of smoke which smelled like a giant exhaled bong-hit. Thinking fast, I threw in a large sticky pine knot. Hopefully it masked the Whoodee scent.
“You need to let that fire burn down some, you're stewing me in my own body
fat !" The Bear growled having every right to complain as we had a big blaze going all through this warm late Summer's day. Now that the tops were somewhat cured and sealed in for freshness, we could let our fire burn low until this night's cooling down.

As dusk was bidding day farewell, five of us entered Flip’s tent. Making sure that all flaps were zipped shut we arranged ourselves into a lose circle. While Flip turned on his battery powered lantern and placed it in the center, I removed our ceremonial pipe from it's beaded deerskin bag. Not wishing to bring about bad feelings during this ceremony I loaded the stone bowl with Whoodee from my own stash rather than having all of us experience. Pipe loaded, I lifted it with both hands and made offering to the four winds. Flip provided the butane spark-up and I drew in a large amount of the pungent smoke, then passed it in a westward direction going next to the Birdman. Passed around several times, it proved enough as we were all quite ripped and more than caught up with the altitude.
The ceremony completed and everything put away we exited through tent door flaps just as night’s darker shadows were growing wider across Big Meadows. It had grown somewhat cooler and patchy gray fog began to drift in wrapping wispy tentacles around boles and weaving through brush, but staying shy of our fire’s heat.
We could smell grilling chicken drifting in upon a slight breeze from our neighbor's camp. The Bear lifted his shaggy head and roared out - "I do love me some grilled bird!" which left us wondering if he ever had enough to eat. In one swift motion he snatched up Flip's cone-like corn snacks and proceeded to devour them. We had joked before about Bear having teeth all the way down to the first of his three stomachs. In no time he finished them off leaving Flip naught but an empty bag.
"Hey man !" The birdman hissed - "You owe me a bag of Bugles !"
It was then Bear reminded Flip of the ale he had consumed, but not chipped in for yesterday at Waynesboro. "In fact I paid for all those ribeyes, you bogarting buzzard" The Great Bear added with a snarl.
Always counting on the Birdman to be himself, we were never disappointed. But all in all, his ways in measure were part of our overall medicine. Charlie on the other hand wanted to go back in our smoking tent for a bit more until I handed him a cup of vodka thus shutting him up for now.
We attempted a go at the cards, but could not concentrate on the game and decided to devote our time in getting blissfully slammed. Somewhat young in years, and still full of party vigor all of us could throw down on a bender. This was our vacation and the rules that governed us at the usual daily round did not apply here at this particular time.

I always enjoyed the mountain fog and such weather conditions were not at all uncommon here up on the Skyline Drive. The fog’s billions of tiny floating droplets reflected lantern and campfire light, casting a strange glow. Gazing about with glazed eyes I could make out a few other fires, small partially obscured flickering lights filtering through both brush and mist.
The fog always made Bear somewhat edgy and even now he was tapping upon the stag-horn handle of his large curved hunting knife. Fishing through a cooler and finding an odd bottle of his German beer, I popped it open then motioned for The Great Bear to allow me his drinking horn for the filling.
Seated in a very nice teakwood and heavy blue canvas folding chair, with his injured leg propped up upon his cooler. He quaffed deeply, his stormy grey eyes looking out beyond the firelight, perhaps expecting an ancient horror to burst into our encampment. His reddish-gold beard sparkled with streams of what beer escaped both horn and maw. The shaggy mass of brass colored hair falling about broad shoulders only added to his wild appearance. A coat of scale mail would of suited him better than his blue denim shirt and jeans. Laid back most often, Bear had been known to ’jump time’ in a berserk fury when overly provoked.
All present here had known each other since early childhood, growing up together within a half mile's walk. In time, R.W. and I migrated to the Williamsburg area with Bear soon to follow. Others like Charlie, Denny and Flip stayed in the old neighborhood. I eventually settled down to married life in Virginia’s old colonial capitol and too much work, while R.W., living in a flat near Jamestown continued to chase younger women, mostly William and Mary gals who he impressed with his own unique brand of bar-room bullshit. For awhile he was devoted to a young college lady of the Williamsburg gentry. She paid his bills, bought him clothes, wined and dined him in lofty fashion. She had marriage on her mind until R.W. gave her the clap he had picked up from a one night stand somewhere down in
Newport News. Just another bleak outcome resulting from his drunken and caddish behavior.
The Great Bear had recently hooked up with the ex-wife of an Air Force officer. Ten years older than him, she was a Micmac from Labrador and provided my huge Teuton friend with a ready-made family consisting of three half-native stepchildren, two cats and a dog. He bought them all a house in Newport News and seemed to have happily embraced family living.
Denny after two failed marriages lived with his parents as did my cousin Charlie who had neither the sense or skills needed to live out on one's own. A block away from each other they often hung out together.
Some years back Flip had leaped smack dab into family life after knocking up a co-worker's sister on their first date. Now with two daughters he provided for his family, but had an occasional taste for nose candy, which in time would progress to the point of disaster. I tried the ‘toot’ a few times, but did not care for it’s effects which rendered me a jittery, teeth grinding paranoid bounding from my chair every few minutes to have a cautious look out the window.
Factory workers, restaurant manager, roofer, city employee and Charlie with his golf course job, we worked long hard days or nights often under rushed and stressful conditions.
These camping trips provided much needed rest, recreation and relief thus giving us something to look forward to while toiling at the daily round.
Once or twice a year, those of us with women or children, or both would take them along. These trips were fun-filled happy times with much socializing usually taken in early Summer.
Sometimes, mostly in Spring or late Summer it would be just us, the bucks, getting slammed and acting-the-fool without anybody's children to frighten, or anyone to embarrass but ourselves. This time though, we took a whole week and then some.
The fog that night was not as bad as some here in the Appalachians, yet enough for us to feel moisture as it settled in. Our sodden conversations rose, crested and fell upon our addled conditions carrying away a bit more sober sense each time they retreated .
Denny inquired about Charlie's huge mutant yellow tabby, ’McDick’ which he claimed fought with his household's gray female tabby Gaia, a month or so ago. Denny’s cat had defended her turf and sallied the brute forth. In pounds McDick was huge, nearly twenty pounds of feline steel springs, much too mean to allow any one whisking him off for a de-nutting at the vet. And what nuts they were, dragging at times over lawns, down sidewalks and across neighborhood streets. He had sired half the cats in our old stomping grounds. With one ear almost missing and the other one deeply notched, McDick wasn't up for any photo shoot at Cat Fancy Magazine. He once ruled the neighborhood streets, alleys and flower garden 'drop and scratch' zones, often defeating dogs in savage backyard engagements. But now time and old wounds were catching up with him as to be shamed by a four year old fixed female.
"He just sits under the boxwoods now " Charlie said sadly and then went on describing the crazy antics of his whacked out indoor Siamese called 'Wing'.
I had once witnessed this cross eyed wonder charge and crash against the television screen during a Huckleberry Hound cartoon. Charlie told me it was the cartoon background music that excited him into such an act.

The Dibbles along with Charlie and myself discussed if we should hit The Shenandoah River tomorrow for some fishing, before going into Luray for provisions as some of us came with rod and tackle, in hopes of catching smallmouths. Flip and Bear would remain at camp, which suited them fine. "Just don't take all fucking day getting back with our goods" The Bear who had never been much of an angler went on to remind me of the last time we left him at camp all day and half the evening while on a past grocery run, then blurted out - "Screw it, I'm coming too ! Flippy you stay here and guard the camp" at which the Birdman returned in a gargled drunken whine - "Don't forget my bag of Bugles"

Music !

The boom box and cotton pillowcase of cassette tapes were well within my reach and soon I was shifting around the mass of plastic cases looking for something good to groove upon. Finding one of my old James Brown tapes, I popped it in.

Oh how the Great Bear loathed it. Denny cared less for it. Yet some of us could get on down. It was a home made tape and as I remember correctly before it went into the low burning campfire that night, The first song on this home copied tape was 'Good Foot' and as that funky beat blared out through two large round compact speakers some of our company leaped forth into strange jittery circa 1970s Afro-American dance motions. Charlie was doing the robot as R.W.'s shit resembled something out of the old television comedy series 'What's Happening' The Bear being more of a southern and hard rock fan was not at all amused. Denny on the other hand listened to a lot of weird stuff as I remember correctly bands like Zero X or 0X and Kraftwerk. Although he was no big James Brown fan, he howled with laughter while watching these antics.
There I was swaying my head, rolling my eyes, clapping my hands and dancing to the music of the James Brown band.
While in the grip of this funky beat I failed to notice until it was too late, The Great Bear limp over to our boom box. Hitting stop and eject with two swift finger jabs, he silenced our funky party music then plucked the tape out and tossed it in the fire where James Brown melted into a black goo.
" Soul Train is off the air you jerkwads " he said while popping in some Allman Brothers, 'Eat a Peach'.
"That's cool Bear, but if you put that suck-ass bootleg live version of Skynyrd’s Free Bird again I'll melt it's wings into black splatters" Two years ago at Loft Mountain campground we had to listen to this tape one of his coworkers copied from another tape that was pirated at a concert over a decade earlier. The music was barely audible, mostly drowned out by audience noise. It should have been burned then, but Bear hid his tape away and kept it as that.
Flip enjoyed that 'lonely guy' stadium-rock ballad stuff and requested to play some Journey next, prompting R.W. to inform the Birdman he would throw that crap into the flames as well.

We could stay up all night tossing cassettes to the fire if need be.

"What in the world is that smell ?" It was Claudia's voice rushing into our camp ahead of her advance. " Goodness, I thought a tent was on fire" She appeared totally different, no longer sporting such a 'School-Morm' look, but now clad in a Levi's Jacket, low cut tank top, along with a slit denim skirt wrapped about her hips. Hair no longer confined in a bun fell down freely almost to her shapely bottom. The Dibble boys sprung forward as if by instinct bestowing overly friendly greetings.
'Not bad for an older broad' I thought while taking a long drunken gander at our neighbor.
She smiled, shook hands, received bows and any hat tipping, then sniffed about and said - "It smells like plastic burning" in which the Bear replied -
" Yeah it was James Brown, he's real hot" I went on to lie in explanation attempting to hide this previous act of sudden campground craziness - "It was A cassette tape that by the misfortune of accident fell into the fire" While promptly apologizing for the burning plastic stench I couldn't help but shoot a glare at the Bear still chuckling about his real hot remark. 'Just wait' I thought, 'I'll find that bootleg tape of his before the fire burns low’

Minutes later Guy and Mildred ambled up in a weird shuffling gate. Guy, giving us the once over, laughed and commented "Now there’s some happy campers"
While raising our cups and offering him what cheer we could manage, I noticed the weird way he kept glancing at Claudia with his constantly blinking weasel-like eyes.
Claudia assured Mildred and Guy - "Everything's okay, something only fell in the fire"
Leaving Claudia with us, the couple returned to their pop-up but in short time re-entered our encampment toting folding camp chairs similar to the one Bear sat in. Accepting a offered space between the Dibbles at our table, Claudia seated herself in poised manner. Sitting straight and tall, hands upon table, fingers interlocked, her aquiline features were beyond comely, bordering on striking. Beautiful hazel eyes which changed hues in our lantern and fire light. Even in her free-flowing evening fashion she appeared regal-like and not the type of older lady who frequented church picnics, bingo halls or discount department stores.

Still somewhat puzzled over our neighbor's choice of camping location while offering refreshment, I fished a bit - "So Guy, how's that campsite over there ?"

Guy obviously hip to the 'open container' rules, poured the ale I handed him into a plastic cup, and explained to us that they had been visiting the Big Meadows area on a yearly basis, then went on to add "We love this part of the campground and always managed to get a spot here" he went on - "This time we brought Claudia" adding she was Mildred's recently widowed half-sister. At the mention of 'widowed' Claudia displayed a mysterious little smile, which I found quite odd.
"Do you have anything stronger than ale ?" Claudia inquired. "If not I can grab some wine"
I ran down the list -
“Vodka, dark rum, Canadian whisky and a bottle of mescal.
"Well then make mine a vodka on the rocks, since I suppose vermouth and a olive is out of the question"
"You supposed correctly I'm sorry to say" I proceeded to fix her up, but in this case a tacky red plastic disposable tumbler would not do. Grabbing a finely crafted Colonial Williamsburg ceramic mug, I used it to scoop up a fair measure of store-bought ice cubes, then filled it almost to the rim with the clear liquor.
"Poured out of the bottle and over the pebbles" I said handing her the drink.
"So what kind of work you young men do ?" Guy asked perhaps in an attempt to get a somewhat sane conversation started.
I remember somebody saying - "Work ? Oh surely not here."
With the exception of Charlie and R.W. we gave them only brief descriptions of our jobs, careful not to mention company names or locations.
Of course R.W. had to tell them - “If ever in the 'Burg' "Come visit my restaurant"
He managed a cheesy Safari-themed eatery and lounge located in the basement of the big Best Western Inn. It was the site of last Winter's Bloody Mary drinking contest an event where the winner drinks free.
When politely asked our guests declined information about their vocations other than "We're retired" and left it at that by changing the subject to weather conditions.

Claudia seemed to be aglow between the now quite snockered and feverishly flirting Dibbles, who were steadily fueling that luminance , or so they thought by their extended affections. As cups were drained and refilled at a good pace Denny and R.W.'s jaunty jargon rapidly declined into slurring braggadocio nonsense. Even Charlie was keeping his act together more so than the drunken Dibble dandies. Handsome, witty and charming, neither brother could handle his hard drink for very long before becoming a total emotional mess, often falling upon each other. Both brothers of equal fighting prowess would often beat the crap out of each other until they were spent or someone pulled them apart.

The amount of liquid refreshment I had consumed thus far was weighing heavy and sloshing in my bladder. I excused myself walked a good ten yards beyond the rear of camp, stepped behind a tree for relief's sake.
The sounds of Merriment were drowned out by distance and the splashing of falling pee.
I whistled a merry tune.
Finished and zipped up I stood there enjoying my substance addled condition while watching the glow of our camp through both fog and foliage.
Abruptly the spell was broken by the sound of a slow labored tread over the leaf litter, snapping twigs and crunching dead limbs. Turning about with hand near hilt, I saw it was only Bear plodding along with his stick entering the brush no doubt to urinate as well.
"So did you miss my sweet company, and decide to come calling, love ?" I laughed.
Stepping behind a large tree he returned - "Gotta drain me lizard" continuing in mid-stream he said - " There's gonna be trouble with the Dibbles"
"How do you mean ?"
"After you left and while I was leaving, it was starting up"
Re-entering camp in and keeping my eyes upon both Dibbles with Claudia in between, I saw the situation had moved beyond a simple, fair, good natured, yet awkward contest for her affections, progressing into a duel of cock-block thrust and parry. It would no doubt get more uglier in a short time if measures were not taken swiftly.
After seating myself and throwing down a dram of straight vodka, while keeping my eyes on the brothers I heard Mildred ask Guy to walk her and Claudia to the restrooms.
They politely excused themselves while starting out for the loop.
"Don't rush off " The Bear told them as he limped into camp.
"Just off to the powder room" Claudia returned, softly stroking Bear's shoulder before re-joining her relief party.
Both Dibbles were up too, clearly ready to accompany the object of their booze addled affections down that dark and misty road. Even worse, Flip had risen from his perch as well appearing at ready to tag along.
"Shit, all of you don't need to be in this parade of lavatory guards" The Bear softly rumbled - " Piss in the woods, like me,, like a bear"
He comically paused to laugh at his own pun.
"I gotta do something else and ain't gonna be dooing it in the woods like a bear, Bear" The Birdman hissed.
"Then by all means, Flip you lead the party, show them the way, if they don't already know" The Bear ordered. With that the four of them strolled out of camp into the misty night.

"What the hell is going on Bear ?" R.W. demanded with seethed brows knotted above bloodshot eyes, followed by his brother wanting to know -
"Why can‘t we walk with them ?"
Both were intoxicated to the precarious point of being overly bold, like salmon nipping at a grizzly bear's feet.

Confronting Bear in such a manner could prove disastrous. Hearing a low ominious growl Charlie and I pulled our eyes from this unfolding scene, exchanged quick glances, then swiftly returned attention to the pre-mauling suspense and drama unfolding before us all the while expecting to hear the gruesome sound of bones snapping any second.
In an uncharacteristic move the huge Teuton calmly motioned for, then requested the brothers have a seat which they complied with some hissing and grunting.
R.W. lit a cigarette, looked up at the Bear - "What ?"
"What ?" Bear laughed and asked - "What if we don't have any of your dumb-shit hissy-fit antics this fine night ?" Moving behind the both of them seated he put forth another simple question - "What if I knock the two of you into next Saturday if you guys start up your stupid crap? " then added -" You fellows don't want to miss most of your stay at
Big Meadows, do you ?"


THEEWAACCK !

Swift as a striking timber rattler The Great Bear's hickory stick crashed upon the table between the two Dibbles causing Charlie and I to flinch as well.
"Then we're all good friends then, having a great time ?" Oh how they assured Bear this was indeed so.
Charlie looked glum, so I asked if he was disappointed by this peaceful outcome. Shaking his head and said - "Damn, I wanted to see him use one of them as a club to beat the snot out of the other one"
Smiling I reminded him - "Remember last time that happen, eh ?"
Without any disruptive person being sent to the corner or crumpled upon hard ground, The Great Bear's lesson had concluded with better than average results just as we once again heard the sound of tires turning gravel. This time something told me to turn our music down a bit.
"More neighbors ?"
"I don't think so" Bear answered, his grey eyes straining to pierce the mist.

The cruiser came to a halt.

Some yards away in front of our encampment a Shenandoah National Park Ranger was checking us out. For a tense several seconds we waved and nodded, but he did not move on. A parley would be in order so Bear and I ventured forth, slowly approaching his driver's side, hands in plain view.
We waited a half minute before he rolled down the glass.
"Good Evening Gentlemen"
Even seated in his car we could tell this kat was big and could no doubt handle most of us if need be. Clad in a neatly pressed ranger uniform and close cropped in military fashion he engaged us in some small talk concerning the weather, going on to remind us of the
10 PM quiet time.
"Before I go, just want to ask you fellows have seen anyone strange or out of place in the area ?"
“Strange ?” I asked.
Taking a good look at each other then casting a glance back at our companions we replied
"No sir". He bid us goodnight, got a good little spin in the gravel while peeling away from our encampment.
Walking back to the table I told Denny and R.W. - "You're damn lucky we didn't turn you over to the Federal Rangers, you goofs" Taking a good look at Bear I said -
" Hmmmmm, anyone strange ?" I said giving some thought to the ranger's question - “Strange enough to throw James Brown into the fire ?” Taking a good look at Charlie's scorched Potato Head creation -“Strange enough to turn a popular children's toy and harmless camp spud into such a monstrosity ?” Of course the ranger could of been messing with us.

At least for the most part we were good campers who after vigorous hike or the drowning worms in a stream, enjoyed getting lit up by the campfire. We mostly chose state or federal park campgrounds for the away from the main road feeling and breathtaking scenery.
An unexpected visit from any law enforcement official can be a sobering experience so I cracked open a fresh bottle of fine vodka and poured me a good one.
Charlie and the Dibbles wanted to know - "What did he want ?"
I informed them he was on the lookout for two unruly brothers and a potato head molesting, frog-eyed fucker on the loose and last seen in this general location. Upon hearing that Charlie pulled out a large folding knife and proceeded to cut a odd shaped orifice into his wretched creation, finishing the hole, with a sudden downward jab he pinned it to our table mumbling - "My little Flippy,, my little Flippy"
I had to down the whole cup after looking upon this potato headed thing and having one of it's misplaced melted plastic eyes trying to look into my soul.

What the hell, why tell him to put it away before our guests return ?
I must admit is was a conversation piece.

It seemed like our Flip and our Guests were overdue, but after we enjoyed a couple of more drinks and crude jokes they finally ambled back into camp. Mildred and Guy accepted refreshment and plopped down into their folding chairs, with the Bear they formed a half circle extending from beside the fire to our table. Claudia, this time seated herself next to Charlie, across from me and near Bear's kicked back position. No sooner than sitting down with an arched brow she inquired about Charlie's table centerpiece with it's misplaced melted plastic Mr. Potato Head parts, scorched sections of burnt-black peeling skin and charred potato flesh
"What do we have here ? " she asked lightly tapping the handle of Charlie's table stuck Buck knife. Raising his large protruding eyes upwards he whispered - "Little Flippy".
"Little Flippy ?" She inquired with a curious smile.
Banging my empty cup upon the table, "If I may good lady" then went on to explain that this ghastly weird thing upon our table was not only art, but a rendition of a Flip, cast, displayed and honored as a tribute to true old friendship. Flip however none too amused threatened to make Charlie eat it for breakfast.
Guy issued a weird tittering laugh and said - " I want what ever that man is drinking or smoking" pointing at Charlie who was pouring a small amount of rum over the melted plastic Potato Head mouth which was inserted where a hat should be. An act that may of been symbolic.
Claudia took a few quick sips from her drink, then turned to Bear, engaging with him a bit of flirty small talk and asked about the leg injury.
He lied - "Did it on a hike, last week" then quaffed deeply from his horn and then confessed - "No that's not what happen, I kicked in a bar window, and screwed up my ankle, but the doc says it will mend fine if I don't kick anything else for awhile" He then raised his drinking horn in the Dibble's direction with a grin.
"Are you a Biker ?"
"Nope, just somebody who doesn't like getting jerked around at a bar"
Thinking he got off with a well placed jab, R.W. blurted - "Yeah Bear’s woman didn't want him to head up here with that ankle, but I assured her we'd take good care of him” He failed to see the dangerous flicker in the Teuton's grey eyes.
"All you guys married ?" Claudia asked looking about our band.
“I'm single enough" stated Denny followed by R.W. coyly asking of her needs.
She turned to Charlie and I, "Well what about you guys, I'm sure such a talented artist and his spokesman have a good woman at home as a inspiration and driving force"
"That's me" I said, "Not even for a full year yet, but the artist here is not attached"
"To not much at all, or at least things I know about" added The Bear.
'Oh boy' I thought, hopefully she's just being friendly and not trying to hook up with none of these kats as things were not weird enough already.
Hopefully Charlie and the Dibbles were clean and disease free, and none of the rest of us would lose enough inhibitions to render loyal married men to cheating dogs.

Maybe if I stopped looking down her low cut tank top every time she leaned forward I'd be in the clear. The Bear along with the others had gave her more than glance as well.

The conversation shifted to our geographical location, as we talked of past journeys, camps and the nearby large highland meadow they were planning to visit tomorrow. "Why don't you guys come with us ?" Mildred asked, then out of the blue something totally unexpected occurred. We had either forgot or had not noticed when Flip stuck what was left of our earlier rolled wonder into a knothole low on the table's support board. Perhaps hording it for later. Anyway it had slipped everyone else's minds with the exception of Flip and one other. Either by drunken impulse or a pressing deliberateness Charlie fished the 'roach' from that knothole with a toothpick much the way a chimpanzee catches termites using a saliva coated twig. The act did not register in our substance addled minds until he exhaled a stream of smoke and passed it Claudia's way, who to my amazement said - "We were thinking about asking, but now there's no need" then double toked the large roach and passed it to me while I was in the process of getting my trusty alligator clip out of the kit-bag. Clipped up and re-lit I had a go, before passing it over to Guy saying - "You said something about wanting what he was smoking" Jerking my thumb in Charlie's direction -. "But I cannot say it'll get you to the same place."
" That far away, huh ?" Guy asked, before going at it like an old timer.
"So close, yet so far" The Bear put his two cents in.
Guy passed then passed it to Mildred who declined but said she would try some tomorrow while not drinking.
Still I was amazed watching folk a few years shy of my own parents getting stoned with us.
"So y'all smoke ?" The words popped out without a thought and surely by this time was a stupid question.
Claudia laughed - "Not us, no way !" Guy added a "Us ?" then told our band they had been smoking since the 50s Beat Era as it went well with jazz. "We didn't mess with it much throughout our careers and child raising. But now retired with baby birds grown, flying and out of the nest we and a few other friends smoke it because it makes us feel good. Besides it helps eases Mildred's arthritis" He went on to say - "We have a little at the pop-up, but I don't think it is good as this"
After blowing out what was left of his second toke I got up and tapped his shoulder - "Feeling good yet, Guy ?" He stared at our fire with his strange feral weasel-like eyes.
I could tell the weed was creeping up on Claudia and Guy as it did with us, but much swifter as they had mixed smoke and strong drink. Claudia was swaying to the music, issuing soft "weeeeeee" noises, while Guy began jabbering away a mile a minute. We could hardly keep up with him.
"Flip" I requested, - "Twist up a bone for our good neighbors, they didn't get much off that last one"
Clearly bogarting, he stated - "Mine's all packed up man"
"Well unpack some of it, we'll wait"
Looking around and seeing all glassy eyes were upon him, he got up from our table, then went inside his tent. Flip, at times was somewhat parsimonious when it came to his money and Whoodee.
"Tightwad", R.W. hissed under his breath. Some moments later the Birdman emerged from his tent, not with his usual toothpick-sized bone, but a stubby as big around as my thumb. Tossing it at me he grunted - "Here"
Catching the number, I handed to Claudia with a butane flame follow-up.
"Didn't have to go all out Flip" I stated - "Hope you saved some for yourself"
Drawing in upon this fresh one and holding it in for awhile, then exhaling she proclaimed - "This tastes like hash and kicks like a Georgia Mule" She passed it to The Bear who refused, but was kind enough to pass the burning bone Guy's way.
It went around 3 more times before it was laid down, picked up and stuffed into the knothole only to be almost forgotten again.

The fire built up, hardwood catching
Our cheerful eyes reflecting camp light
All the while mountain fog thickening
Obscuring the moon and stars from sight

Much good cheer so near, all involved
Cups clash, amber splash drenching hands
As revelry sets the mood for now
By our fire in the Appalachian highlands

"I don't even want to hear that damned name again !" Charlie's normal happy visage had turned to one of grimace thus ending a short lived political conversation. Guy had brought up the current president's name not knowing that Reagan had cut a federal funded, on the job training program where Charlie was learning national park maintenance thus shooting down one of the few good futures a man of his integrity had in front of him.
He hated 'Dutch' Reagan with a passion, and after losing this budding career took too much to the highlife for his own good. Guy promptly apologized and stated this was no place for petty politics.

Smoothing over Charlie’s uneasy feelings, we proceeded to tell stories.

Stories of ghosts, vanishings, fearsome critters, drinking bouts, fishing trips and much weird substance induced humor. The Bear even shared a couple of savage bar-battle tales along with the time over ten years ago when he saved a local police lieutenant's wayward, partied-up teenage daughters from being violated by a pack of liquored-up yokels during a large overnight camping party at Frogs Pond in upper Hampton. A teenager then and armed with a bolo knife in one hand and a beer in the other he drove them away. A symbolic standing of ground, large blade representing war, while the cold beer represented 'get the fuck gone so we can drink in peace'. None of these bravos wanted to chance a visit to the emergency room, or worse, so they wisely removed themselves from our grove.
The Great Bear gave them a choice to weigh-out in their drunken heads. As they were departing he took out his small amount of berserk fury upon a tall dead stump, hacking it into splinters while issuing savage howls and growls.
Later that night Bear and I had to take the brush when these girls’ father arrived at the pond looking for his daughters. We lost two good tents and a cooler of beer, but escaped with whole skin.
For over a decade he was still proud of his deed. I raised my cup in cheer - "After a half-night's romance with you, the thought of getting gang-raped by crazy-drunks and for all your noble chivalry Terri is living a happy life as a nurse" The Bear shifted his gaze to the ground.
"And her sister Patti is now an exotic dancer at Bucks Brand go-go bar" Flip added with a wolf-whistle.
“How in the hell do you know that ?” I asked.
"Yep, their daddy ran off good suitors that night" The Bear laughed.
Flip then informed us - "She dances on Thursdays and Fridays"
Looking at the Birdman, I asked again - “How you know that ?”
“I go there sometimes after work with the guys”
Guy Entertained us with some stories of watering-hole mayhem experienced while in his younger years down at Richmond during the 1940s

Before the party conversation turned into naught but drunken brawl sagas, I asked in a loud tone - "Anybody for some mescal ?"
Slightly shaking the bottle making the worm dance.. Claudia, Charlie and R.W. allowed me to fill their cups. But for now I was over the vodka and in the whisky.
By the guardian spirit of fools and drunkards ! We could go at it back then like well seasoned topers and still manage to walk somewhat. We knew upon standing and taking those first few steps if there was any hint of toppling - Lean backwards and fall on your butt as a large exposed rock or oak root can make a mess out of one's face.

Claudia was now wanting to dance. Flip obliged and they cut the dust to a slow song until Charlie cut in. Three sheets into the wind and light upon his feet, the two of them went swirling about in a close embrace.
At first it appeared Flip was scowling because his time in the reel with Claudia was cut short by Charlie's bold advance, but that was not the case. I could tell by his color and the grim pathos playing out in the Birdman's hard blinking, bloodshot eyes he was getting ready to vomit, hopefully not all over us. Flip slowly removed himself from between table and bench and staggered over to the edge of our camp light. Head in a downward position and still as a wilting statue, his blurry gaze was upon the ground. Perhaps the dance was a bit too long for his system to stand. Now he was 'talking to the bugs'. Getting up, dodging Claudia and Charlie I went to see if the boy was going to make it and if so, take it beyond sight and earshot.
"Problems ?"
Flip moaned - "Oooooooooowaaaaaaah !"
"Here man" I said holding my cup of whisky under his beak-like nose - "Have a drink of this and you'll feel better"
"Urrrrrroooooooh !"
Looking down I spotted a large twig-shaped insect known in this location as a walking stick as it looked like a stick with legs.
"Talking to the Bugs are we ?" Again I stuck strong drink under his snout but this time while escorting him further away from our table.
"Ohhhhaaarrrrrrg !" his torso heaved and convulsed as I leaped back just in time not to be splattered by a torrent of projectile vomiting.

Only after completely emptying out did Flip crumpled down to the ground. I was kind enough to fetch his sleeping bag and cover this ailing man up against any night chill.
Ode to the puke covered fallen, where they land is where they rest or until snacked upon by black bears or ants in the wee hours of morn. No they wouldn't mess with him laying beside a puddle of toxic spew.
As Claudia and Charlie's dance moved them ever forward to the loop-road, Mildred and Guy bid us goodnight then stumbled off towards their pop-up.
Watching them leave, then having a look at the dancing couple, R.W. rubbed an index finger under his nose thus making the 'smelly finger sign' while uttering "Mahtuteeeewah"
We lost sight of our dancing friends in the dim foggy-dark.
"Odd" remarked Denny, popping an aspirin , chasing it down with warm ale - "How she took a fancy to the youngest of us"
and I threw in - "25 going on 12, why he's just a baby"
"A backwards baby boy at that" The Bear added, laying his horn down for the night.
Although it seemed clear to us Claudia had a good head upon those smooth shoulders. She no doubt wanted to keep it simple and what better choice of close campground companionship could be found among us than happy-go-lucky Chucky. Being somewhat Bohemian, but of what good standards will allow when in the embrace of substance altered passion Claudia no doubt wanted to have a good time without getting overly involved with boozed-up married men or any weird competition trip while romping with the Dibbles.

Out of the fog we heard their laughter.

With the passing of another hour what was left of us moving and able, secured our supplies, staggered to our tents, leaving Flip upon the Earth Mother's Bosom and all others to nature's mercy and kindness.

Having the tent to myself. I fell into a deep, dark, dreamless, sodden slumber..

[saw]

this is wild, any of it true ?.......I've camped at Big Meadows along the Skyline Drive many times, as well as Matthew's Arm, done many of the trails......sounds like a dream come true, as long as there is no cartel involved.....I've been real close to black bears there, even saw a mountain lion one night, caught his eyes in the campfire watching me.....saw a ranger next morning, said I was the third person to report him.....I miss those camping days......don't go much anymore, but I was in Green Ridge State Forest for five days last October in western Maryland......camped on the very top of one mountain......few campers that week.....was actually glad to see the rangers patrolling......heard some weird noises one night, couldn't help but think of Deliverance ( that damn movie!)
have you written a book about your experiences communing with nature and the bounty of herbs she often provides ?

[Atehequa]

True ?

One thing's for sure ithere is some fine country up there.

[Atehequa]

Part 4 - The New Arrivals



I awoke to the stench of vomit, a ray of blinding daylight, something kicking my foot and yelling in a extremely loud drill instructor-like manner -

"Get the hell up !”

Rubbing sure sight back into my burning eyes, I attempted to deliver a crackling voice grumble over a parched throat and around my booze pickled tongue. " Oh fuck, I'd know that voice through all ten hells"
A hand reached in the opening grasping Flip's ankle in a hard twist, yet producing scant results. The Birdman must of crawled in while I lay in a coma-like sleep just as he did now.
The tent flap was thrown to the side flooding the tent with Day's Light until blocked to some degree by a squatting figure.
In the tongue of our people he extended greeting - "Haaauuurrrnt!"
Clad like most of us in jeans and a T shirt, but although it was not all that cool outside he wore a heavy, multi-pocketed drab green army surplus coat.
Lean, fine featured with long blond hair banged off at the brow where below burned a pair of demented brown eyes.
It was Whitey, the neighborhood maniac.

Don't walk out into the streets at night
Or traverse down wooded paths alone
Carry you a stout stick and good light
Or lock your doors and stay at home

While relaxing peacefully by the lake
He'll pelt you with deftly tossed stones
A six-pack of beer and on the make
He'll jump your girlfriend's bones -

Just ask Flip.

"What the hell are you doing here man ?" I demanded putting on my shoes, then pushing him out of the way while heading to the cooler for something cold and wet - "I thought you were still doing weekends in the county jail"
"Those assholes let me out early with time served because they needed the space for the hard cases" He returned, pulling a 16oz tall-boy Budweiser from one of his large coat pockets -
"What the hell is wrong with buzzard boy ? He looks dead" Whitey asked, swilling down his beer and tossing his empty can inside the tent at Flip. Whitey then started fishing through our cooler for something else to drink - "Damn man, all y’all got is this imported shit, not so much as a Bud in the bunch ! I guess I'll have to drink this crap" He complained, holding aloft a bottle of my fine ale.
"You no-culture piece of poop, put it back if it ain't down to your low standards !" I barked, hurling an almost empty red plastic drinking cup at him.
"No, no ! I'll drink your ale" he grunted popping the top on our table, then chugging a fair amount down his gullet.
"Real high dollar panther piss here, at least it's cold “
He guzzled the rest and grabbed another before I could even offer - "Well just help yourself "
And that he did.
Seeing his 67 Dodge pickup parked only a hair's breath behind Bear's Ford , I inquired - "Didn't you just get out of the pokey for driving without a license?"
" I didn't drive " he said pointing to the Great Bear's tent - "She's in there talking with BooBoo Bear"
"She ?"
She emerged from the tent helping Bear along as if he was a complete cripple.
"Ahhh” I said with open arms “We were just reflecting upon past shared times with you last night and here you are, like magic. It's been a few years Patti" She bounded over for an embrace.
"So good to see you ! Whitey said you guys would be up here and got me to make the drive"
Only about 5'4" yet well built, dark of hair and pale blue eyes, she had grown into fine young womanhood. A good thing for now that both Dibbles were drifting about in the misty sapphire-hued realm of forgotten dreams or else they’d be all over her.
We were told Whitey had bumped into Patti at Bucks after she had danced her last set and was counting her tips at the bar. She was planning to high-tail it out of town following the break-up with her sometimes speed-whacked biker boyfriend of the last six months. Whitey had found out by way of Charlie's folks, he along with the rest of us were camped here at Big Meadows. Being old friends and school mates, she no doubt mentioned to Whitey about needing to split the scene, where upon he hit on a swiftly thought out plan of heading up here, not a soul back in town knowing their whereabouts. Patti had packed a couple of blankets and several changes of clothing, while Whitey had but the clothes on his back and a now finished six-pack of domestic double whack. It was better than naught.

Nothing better than having the best of a Blue Ridge camping experiences. Old neighborhood friends, a topless dancer, a lame Bear, a puke smeared lightweight, crazy Charlie, the brothers Dibble and our hard-hard partying senior citizen neighbors. We were well stocked with recreational provisions. Wondering where to put our new arrivals, I asked - "Where's your tent ?"
They had no lodging other than Whitey's truck so Bear suggested we could move some stuff out of the supply tent thus allowing them a place to bed down.
Ready to move the booze into Flip's tent, while Bear started coffee, I unzipped our supply tent's door flap only to come upon Charlie and Claudia wrapped up together in a spare sleeping bag, other items moved aside allowing them a narrow bed space.
"Lookee here Bear,, at who's cuddled up and love-snuggled in the supply tent !" I laughed.
"Kinda figured they were nesting up in there after hearing sounds coming from that direction around 3:30 in the morning, by the time I got up and went out to take a leak there was no one else to be seen out and about" Bear informed me.
"Let em sleep it off for awhile" I chuckled then asked Patti and Whitey - "What about you, had any sleep ?" Whitey in the jargon of our people explained he and Patti checked in late at the Colony House Motel, yet after a waking hang-up call to their room and a long passing paranoid thought about her biker ex, the two of them checked out early heading up the Skyline Drive.
After barely excusing myself I walked out of camp for a nature break.
Finishing business, then trudging back through the underbrush I heard Bear talking about going down into Luray for supplies. Whitey said he would remain at camp, but Patti wanted to come along and chipped in a good amount of money for the cause. She handed me a large roll ones and fives - "They let me dance on a Saturday because one of the other girls had a bad rash of some sort" she continued - "Saturday evenings, not so good, most of the regulars are either tapped out, hung-over or both after Friday Night" I removed the rubber band, unrolled her takings, then counted. "253 bucks" I proclaimed.
"Yeah kinda of bad for a Saturday night" she sighed.
The Great Bear let out a long whistling note - "253 dollars, not too shabby for a few hours at Bucks Brand. Damn ! That's half a week’s wages for me "
Patti giggled, and with a quick shake of her money makers leaned over to give Bear a kiss upon his furry cheek. - "Say the word and I'll talk to Buck about letting you dance on Mondays"
Issuing a catcall I then slapped his back and called him Dancing Bear - "Shake it Baby !"
The Great Bear knew Patti, her sister and two brothers very well as did Charlie, Flip and myself. Even though her father was with the police department, he earned our respect as being a good cop, not like some of the other jerkwads we’ve had dealings with.

The shower house was not at all busy that morning allowing me to breeze through natural body functions and personal hygiene endeavors with scant disturbance. The shower was unexpectedly treacherous, changing from warm to scalding, then freezing cold. At least there was water pressure and no clogged toilets fouling the air. Sitting on a small wooden bench tying my shoes, I heard the sound of dragging feet. Looking up I beheld a hideous sight.
One side of his hair was sticking straight up, stiffened no doubt by dried vomit, the very same foul stuff which coated one lens of Flip's glasses and part of that weird shirt. Upon his puke stiffened pinnacle of hair, a bandana looped around like someone's successful ring toss.
"Thanks for leaving me in the dirt last night" He hissed, placing his shower gear and clothing change on another bench inside the stall.
"Don't mention it" I returned with a courteous wave and smile - "Didn't want to disturb anything while you were in your larvae stage"
"What the hell is Whitey doing here, who invited that psycho up ?" Flip demanded.
"Guess Charlie's folks told him we were here and so he and Patti made the drive up"
"Then he's staying with us ?"
"Yeah we're going make them room in the supply tent"
"I hope they're gonna chip in some bucks"
I looked at this puke covered mess and grunted in pure disgust - "Shit man ! Better break one of those Benny Franklins you've been bogarting ! Besides, Patti and Whitey together have offered to put 300 dollars or so into the hat and plan to stay until Thursday morning"
"Well shit man" Flip hissed - "If they're putting in that much, then we don't need to spend a lot of cash at Luray today"
"Wrong Buzzard Boy" I corrected - "You can fork over one of those hundreds now, for your share"
"A hundred for my share ?" he croaked.
"That’s right, 100 bucks, cause you ain't put nothing in yet for the eight nights here, nor the food and all that booze you consumed, then puked all over yourself last night. Besides I don't think we’ll need their whole 300 dollars, they're gonna get change back"
Accepting the hundred bucks, I told him to burn his fouled duds and walked out wondering if the Birdman could ever get over his loss. What amazed me was how swiftly he gave it up, when usually getting Flip to pitch in could be like pulling eyeteeth. Over the years it became almost a ritual always ending in Flip's symbolic handing over his share, followed by much celebration. But today the Birdman cheated us out of this ceremony. Charlie would take the news badly.

Entering our slow to wake encampment it was hard to suppress my laughter while thinking how our neighbors will interact with a fellow who in his teenage years would slip into an enemy's home when no one was there, eat their food, have a beer or two, then before departing, take a crap either on a bed chamber or living room floor completing this foul deed with a toilet paper garnish and topped off by some cherished household knick-knack. He bragged once of placing a small collectable porcelain shoe on a pile of his fecal matter in the bedroom of some kat who ripped him off on a bag of grass. He called his creation 'Shit-Kicker'.

Seemingly he had grown out of these sick pranks.

Then there was Patti, an exotic dancer, who like the others of her trade would do private shows, and perhaps turn a trick or two. But that was work and this vacation. I wondered if she really knew the true Whitey, a fellow whom even most bar wenches would stay clear of for one reason or another.
All and all Patti was a good gal, cheerful of nature and more sociable than some here in this heathen encampment. Surely things would go along fine. Claudia, Mildred and Guy had already shared our fire seemingly not at all taken aback by us. Hell, Claudia and Charlie no doubt already had overly friendly close relations.
This celebration should go beyond any strange seasonal ceremony we normally took part in. I'm sure Whitey will naught but charm our guests. With a job in the shipyard and already having his fair share of legal troubles, Whitey had outgrown most of these weird pranks of deranged youth. Yet there remained a demented gleam in his poop-brown eyes.

This would surely be a night to remember.

The Dibble brothers were still sleeping it off and there were no signs of Mildred and Guy. Our December to January lovers in the storage tent were just now stirring into waking life while I jotted down orders upon a notebook as it seemed The Bear and I would be making this supply run into Luray, with Patti coming along . Bear had no problem with this as he seemed to enjoy all the attention.
It was Sunday and that meant the local Virginia ABC packaging store would be closed, but we were still stocked well enough with hard spirits.
As we piled into the truck I reminded Bear - "Don't forget Flip's bag of Bugles"
He growled - "He'll get a drinking horn upside his peanut head"
Patti however praised him - "When I was twelve Flip fixed the chain on my bike"
The Bear issued a grunt and asked - "How much did he charge you for it ?"
Our trip to Luray was on the most part uneventful, but very scenic, driving along ridges, crossing over Hawksbill and Stony Man Mountains then past the Panorama, then heading west down into the Shenandoah Valley. Driving Bear's truck due to his injury, I passed town for a few quick casts in the river. Hooking up on a snag and losing my only smallmouth jig put an end to today's angling as I forgotten my tackle box leaving it back at camp. Turning around we headed into town.

"What does Shenandoah mean ?" Patti wondered aloud.
"I've heard it means either beautiful river at night reflecting stars, or daughter of the stars, maybe it's Iroquoian as I read about how refugees of The Erie or Cat Nation fled down into these mountains after being driven away from their Great Lake villages by their Iroquoian cousins the Five Nations during The Beaver Wars”
“Beaver wars ?” Patti laughed.
."Beautiful Star" The Bear fondly whispered while gently grasping Patti's knee. For a woman who danced damn near naked for a sweaty, stage-side gathering of drooling horn-dogs, I was surprised to see her blush.
Taking our time in the grocery store, we carefully picked what was needed to get by. More steaks, some pork chops, a couple of birds, bacon, sausage, pancake mix, a bit of milk and butter, seasonings, Lamb, rice, peas, veggies, along with three cases of ale, a few six packs of German and Dutch brew and three cases of Whitey's favorite swill. I did pick up a few bottles of wine for our neighbors, two red and one white. Patti picked up some personal items and bamboo kebab skewers.
Gathering enough store-bought ice, we managed to pack food items into our coolers then headed out eastward on Route 211 upwards onto the Skyline Drive. Having to obey the 35mph speed limit we had plenty of time to catch up with Patti's life since growing up and moving on. We learned her job not only allowed her to live somewhat well, but also paid for classes at the community college. We both asked - "You make that much at Bucks ?" Patti also told us she did well with her private parties.
With a bit of gentle prodding we found out her ex biker boyfriend was none other than Mickey Tombs an asshole from North Hampton. He had the reputation of slipping crushed-up heavy duty downers into a date's drink and later in a secluded location have his way with the poor substance addled lasses, they remembered naught the next day. He left no tadpoles as it was wrapped up against the warm moisture. We called him Slipping Mickey. I don't know how he got up with Patti as Tombs was a creep.
"He calls himself Badger now" Patti informed us.
The Bear issued a roar of laughter - "Badger ? What kind of fucking biker name is that ?"
Patti sighed - "It fits him well, he has surely badgered the hell out of me, up at the bar sometimes with his whacked-out brother Johnny and friends there every night I dance. Only reason he wasn't there Saturday was because he thought me to be off. I did have plans last night to go shopping with mom, but got called in instead" Then with a somewhat worried look she said - "He's still has a key to my place, I asked for it back but Mickey keeps saying it was somewhere at his house and would hand it over as soon as he finds it". The Bear advised her to change locks, then offered any needed future assistance.
We had fought against this Badger, his crazy brother and a couple of friends back in 1975 because they hurled drunken threats our way at Sandy Bottom Pond . A fray which went on for several minutes until Bear slammed Crazy Johnny hard against a large pine tree thus ending the fight as Badger's brother ‘crumbled-down, ‘lights-out, see ya around sometime tomorrow if you ain't in the hospital‘. Thanks to my well placed elbow Mickey would be sporting a crooked snout for the rest of his life or until surgery. We of Lynnhaven were known to leave lasting impressions upon folk, especially these North Hampton bravos. That was not enough, We were disrespected on neutral ground namely the swimming hole at Sandy Bottom.
"So you guys have been tamed by good women and settled by marriage ?" Patti asked with a giggle. In so many words Bear and I both told her we were not beyond temptation.
"Well if you guys behave yourselves I'll give you a treat"
"A treat ?"
"Yeah a treat, I'll make you kebabs"
The mere mention of it had The Great Bear licking his chomps.
"But what about Whitey ?" I asked in jest, "Is he not able to defend your honor, Miss ?"
She laid out what we already knew - " He doesn't care for those Dibbles all that much. Whitey told me they had dry-gulched him over by Lynnhaven Lake after finding out he nailed their sister Anne. Whitey is now packing some big-ass knife, a Hickory stick and a can of mace” She sighed and informed us - “I came here for a good time not to watch the kind of crap that goes down at Bucks"
"Ahhhh" I said - "So you want us to quell any drunken misunderstandings ere they turn into painful mishaps ?" And added shifting my gaze down at her well turned torso - "Who is gonna keep us two in check ?"
"Kebabs" she playfully reminded.
"Belly Dance" The Bear mumbled with a mouth full of salted peanuts.
"What ?" Patti batting eyes, tilting her head. "Yes give us a belly dance tonight and we'll keep you safe from those Dibbles"
"I got a tape of Turkish folk-music in the bag" I informed them.
"We'll see about that later" Patti returned lightly popping both of us in our arms, then went on to explain most of the bar patrons like to see her dance to Rod Stewart's 'Hot Legs'
"That's nice Patti, but I want to see a belly dance" The Bear wouldn't let such a prospect go, once he got his mind stuck on something.
Thinking it was time to change back the subject to any future security concern I spoke my mind - "Shit, we should just let Whitey have at em, they bushwhacked him at the lake, and that was years ago, now the boy has gone through his last growth spurt, he's gotten a bit bigger since then. It's not like he took Anne against her will or got her boozed-up ahead of time. Hell, what was it Bear, early last year she was hitting on us at a party, just a day back from her honeymoon ?"
"Yeah I remember" The Bear replied - "Her husband Mack was with R.W. on a beer run"
Mack was another old friend, who in one night of drunken passion had hooked up with Anne, then followed up with other such meetings until she got pregnant. Doing the right thing he married the lass having two other children. This domestic bliss lasted until the evening Mack acting on a tip found Anne in a bar parking lot doing things in a fellow's car. He later found out that only one of the kids was really his and not the one which led to marriage.
Patti attempted to smooze us - " Well you are good gentlemen who wouldn't let anything happen to me" Then went on about merit, honor and other such talk.
"Merit enough to lend fleetness to our feet as we had to make a dash from your father that night at Frogs Pond, good thing he didn't know our secret paths through the woods and brambles or this conversation wouldn't be happening now"
"Yeah " she chuckled - "Terri and I got grounded the rest of that summer and mom made us both take pregnancy tests"
"And ?" The Great Bear asked.
She rubbed my shoulder and said softly - " You have a beautiful pair of twins I've been raising without your knowledge "
My mouth flew open spilling out a gob of half-chewed peanuts.
"Got you sucker !" she screamed in delight.

Continuing on over the mountain tops, having a delightful time as we rode back to our Big Meadows camp..

[Atehequa]

Part 5 - Albinos and Former Clientele





Claudia and Charlie were enjoying a late breakfast when we returned to camp with provisions. Guy and Mildred were absent while the Dibbles had not yet risen. Washed of last night's filth Flip had door along with window flaps of the tent open in effort to air-out any lingering puke stench. His sleeping bag, he had hand washed and slung over a cord drying.
Unloading our goods Bear pulled out a large bag of Bugles and hurled them at Flip's head. They connected with a slight crunching sound.
"Damn, Whitey, pour that shit in a cup and get rid of those fucking bottles before a ranger makes another swipe through here" I complained while taking notice to the fact that for someone who favored domestic corporate swill over fine ale, he had seven empties of it in front of him. He grumbled and set about the task of trashing empty bottles.

With all packed away or on ice, Patti and Bear began preparing brunch while I pulled out a map of the area looking over hiking trails.

Counting on a at least of few more good hikes before this outing comes to a close, I wanted to explore some of the surrounding area, maybe getting a couple of others out on the trails as well, but if need be, by myself as our camp was becoming short of a drunken wallow. I had planned not to get boozed-up tonight, perhaps only having a few to toast and give cheers. There was a certain hill I wanted to skirt on the morrow and didn't want to be weighed down and hung-over on a rocky footpath.

“What the fuck are you doing here ?" R.W. had awoke and spotted Whitey now swilling his favorite beer out of a red plastic cup. R.W.'s bloodshot eyes blazed with crazy anger as Whitey waved the red cup in front of him like a bullfighter's cape, halting Dibble's advance. Whitey answered his question in no friendly tone - "What am I doing here ? I'm trying to drink myself asleep this clear, sunny day so as not to look at your stupid-ugly ass until after dark !"
Much to our surprise R.W. left it at that, his attentions now drawn to Patti making ham sandwiches. With his brother still sacked out R.W. made a wise choice in standing back. Both went through the chow line in good order and peaceful manner. R.W. did pause long enough to give Patti a good once over and extend an lengthy, overly friendly greeting until Whitey told him - "Move it Fluffy, I want some tater salad"

Energized by our repast, I allowed Claudia, Patti and Flip to talk me into visiting Dark Hollow Falls. Having visited the falls several times before, once tripping our brains out and toting a gallon of cheap wine, I knew all too well this rigorous trail along the cascades.
Going down the steep path our bodies moved with gravity seeing us down in swift manner to fall's bottom where the ladies pulled off their shoes before wading into the cool water pool. I on the other hand took a long look up at the trail we had to return upon, Never an easy walk back.
The way back was arduous, allowing us many breaks and long views of this beautiful falling stream. Claudia for an older bird, had little difficulty on this ascent.
Upon reaching the top we all required a long rest, sprawled out in the parking area . Having walked out last night's poisons down and up Dark Hollow Falls, we made our way back to camp.

Claudia and Patti gathered some gear then strolled off to the showers with R.W. following closely behind.

In our storage tent Whitey snored in sodden slumber. Of Bear and Denny, we knew not where they were until seeing pinned to the table with a hunting knife, a note which read - 'Gone up the Skyline Drive with Denny to get some pictures of the mountains' It was Bear's bold pen scrawlings.
Flip and I finished last night's number, then the Birdman set about getting our encampment ready for tonight's grand celebration. He had fashioned candle and soda can lanterns with his knife then hung them from a cord he tied aloft to tree trunks. I hauled off trash to the dumpster, then went about washing out cups and mugs at a spigot.

Seeing our Banners waving in the upland breeze brought a smile to my face.

Fasten to an oak sapling a large snapping turtle skull with trails of osprey feathers and beaded deerskin streamers. Our other banner Charlie had fashioned from a white Tshirt and colored magic markers some years earlier. Now flying again upon a gum sapling was the image of a horizontal stick figure man with a overly large Charlie Brown-like head and Xs where the eyes should have been, laying in a blazing fire. “Fall into the fire drunk" as Charlie described his flag to fellow revelers.
And a reveling lot we were, not a bit of fighting had broken out yet. We had to be respectful in our knowledge that fucking up away from home in National Federal Parklands would indeed bring about serious consequences upon us all. All was quiet now.

"What about that weird looking rise up the road a little, says on the map it's called Spitler Hill ?" I asked, then stated - "Never know what we could find there"
Both Flip and I being rock-hounds, artifact collectors ,sometimes treasure hunters, we loved roaming the highlands. Two years earlier Flip had found a silver crescent-shaped 18th century military officer's gorget near Bedford. A prize find.
Never could tell what could be found along the slopes. fossils, banded slate or pipestone. We both dabbled in stone carving and made pipes for our friends, or for trade. We may as well gather what we could in the looming fear that Reagan's Department of the Interior was going to sell off this national treasure to developers or logging operations.

Now that the ladies had returned from their showers, Flip and I decided to take a look around Big Meadows Campground for any abandoned firewood which we could salvage.

The rest of the day went by without a hitch.
Dusk was over shadowed by night and our banners flapped in the gusty uproar of Autumn's nearing. The highland air had cooled, but was comfortable. Windy enough to blow paper plates off our table until weighed down with cups. These gusts however did not overly trouble our woodland revelry.
Flip's sputtering soda can lanterns along with the fire illuminated our heathen encampment in flickering light. Upon our table lay a feast of steaks, lamb kebabs, rice pilaf, roasted ears of corn, bread, cheese and various other delectable treats. Ale and beer flowed into and out of cups like foamy waves hitting upon rocky shorelines. Clashing mugs after every pour, we tore into the food like starving pumas, except of course Claudia, Mildred and Patti who more daintily consumed their victuals, but still there was a famished she-panther look in their eyes. We ate like heathen royalty in our highland camp splendor and were wanting of naught.

Having enough to eat, we all chipped in clearing the table and cleaning of ware, putting away leftovers aplenty for breakfast. With chores out of the way we got on well into our Grand Celebration.
Claudia bounced on a bench, slapping her thighs in roaring appreciation of a short bawdy tale just shared by Denny. This man had the charm of a foreign prince, but was naught but a rapscallion tossed about by wind and convenience. He raised a cup to the lady, leaned back on a cooler, then plunged his muzzle into the frothy ale. Patti, now seated upon Bear's good knee smiled as she took in the scene A sudden bounce and sway from the woman caused Bear to spill a good quaff which splashed over the horn's rim once again soaking his beard and shirt.
She took notice to Whitey emerging from the storage tent. Yawning he asked - "Did you save me any grub ?" Patti slid off Bear's knee and grabbed a heaping, foil covered plate from near the fire then served it to him with an open beer. Raking a hand through his sandy mop and sniffing the aroma, he fell upon his food managing to get down a steak, a kebab and a roasted ear, washing it down with much well practiced guzzling.
Tonight I would stay clear of any hard spirits allowing myself a small quaff of ale every now and then to wet the whistle as there was hiking tomorrow. Flip had slacked down as well, no doubt recalling last night's experience. The others were wide open. Flip and I did see fit to roll up six good sized bones and in the tradition of our people lit all of them up at once. All of them passing around our party in short time.
"Damn !" Patti said with a wide grin "You boys sure have hooked up good"
Then she blew Claudia a shotgun.

Everyone seemed to be getting up there in a hurry, with the exception of The Bear, who in short time had become rather slammed. He began to slur and stammer out bits and pieces of tales concerning bar-fights, arrests, car crashes, travel and lost love.
And lost love there was, mostly on his part. Before hooking up with his Micmac woman, women came into his life and left like tab skippers. Fair weather short term sweethearts, one night stands which should of stayed as such, yet flared bright and fizzled out within a week or two. After the drugs wore off or ran out they usually departed, moving on to other things.
Rarely did Bear miss an opportunity to be a part of these Blue Ridge excursions, otherwise we wouldn't see all that much of him.
Now by the fire in a drunken state he had become quite smitten with Patricia and very accepting of all the attention she was heaping upon him. I think it made her feel safe, especially being among this band of wild-eyed heathens.

Why not ?

While at her regular job/s she could always depend upon the protection of Buck's brute-like battalion of bouncers or the 'outside the motel door men' provided by her agency if situations got out of hand.
And of course there was Whitey. After a night's drive from coastal plain to the mountains and a stay at Colony House Motel one would think Whitey to have a passionate interest in this delightful bouncy sprite of a young woman. I did notice the slit-eyed glares he was casting at Bear. Hopefully the combination of strong foaming beverage and heavy-duty pain medication would soon knock Bear's big ass out thus leaving one less possible drunken problem to contend with .
A long yawn betrayed an early night for The Great Bear. As for the rest of us our Whoodee smoking had brought about a sense of general goofiness.
After a few good tokes Whitey was laughing and carrying on, happy to be among old friends. Charlie and him exchanged brief ‘city work farm’ tales. Charlie had pulled a stint at the 'farm' as well after getting extremely fucked-up one night, then walking into a townhouse he thought to be a coke dealer, but turned out to be the home of a frying pan wielding elderly woman who promptly beaned him with a skillet. Charlie woke up in jail with a sore head then pulled two months on work release.

He was supposed to of gone to rehab and got off the white stuff, but we had our doubts.

Hearing this exchange Claudia asked -" So all of you are criminals ?"
"Nope, just a gathering of hard working, tax paying citizens" I informed her.
She shifted her attention to Flip as he speared large red grapes out of a bowl with a long thin double edged dirk.
"What's the deal with all these big knives ?" Claudia wanted to know.
The Bear informed her that guns were not allowed in the National Forest, then yawned again.
“For moon-shined mountain moon bats, big hungry critters, fuck-ups and bus loads of camping religious fanatics " I returned.
"Where's your big knife Bear ?" Claudia inquired. Having slipped off his big curved skinning blade earlier, he pulled out a small Swiss Army knife, smiled, then pointed to the long handled, hand-forged ax leaning against a tree. It looked more like a headsman's tool instead of a piece of camping equipment..
A very buzzed Guy issued some tittering laughter and asked me - "Bus loads of camping fanatics, what ?"

With slurred speech and many wild hand gestures we gave account of what occurred at a privately owned campground south of Roanoke several years ago. A group of us including Bear had settled in for a one night stay at this place before proceeding to the Iron Mountains of Southwestern Virginia. Although a rather crappy campground there was naught to do but make the best of things with what we had. Hot dogs, beans and a few bottles of Crown. A few sites down an old white painted school bus and a number of tents. The rest of that afternoon and into the night we were plagued by visits from their preacher in the company a few other drooling ghouls. Fruit of a branch far removed from the tree. Holy-rollers, tongue-talkers, ‘Jesus with an assault rifle’ believing whack-jobs attempting to spread a very distorted version of 'the good news' to otherwise happy-go-lucky adventurers who were now reaching a dangerous breaking point. What made it worst these crusading crazies were hopped up on moonshine and who knows what else. I remember asking them if their church condoned drinking and having their preacher explain how Jesus loved drinking, went to parties where he turned water into wine. Then his pig-like close-set eyes got as wide as they could and he hissed - "Jesus has been reborn down in Arkansas and at this time is being trained at a secluded camp and shooting range so as to take his place ridding the world of communists, pagan , hippy trash and all other unbelievers"
"Get the aFuck away and do it now !" The Great Bear roared having been troubled by this freaky fanatic a tad bit too long. They stood there with mouths agape. Seeing these folk had not made a move Bear walked over and picked up an old broad ax that I was getting ready to trash. Weapon in hand he growled - "We paid for this site and don't want to be bothered by you any more, so get yer asses gone !"
'Oh shit' I thought, seeing him advance savagely swinging the weapon above his head. Only a few feet away he attempted a wide warning swing only to have the ax head fly off the handle, passing a hair's breath away from their preacher’s skull and sticking a couple of inches deep into an oak trunk. He growled, advanced even closer with ax handle in hand.
Needless to say the moonshine-lit gleam of glory had left their eyes and they scurried away shouting "We'll pray for you brother !"
The Bear growled back at them - "You fuckers best pray I don't perform a miracle
tonight !"
"A miracle ?" I asked, somewhat interested.
"That's right " The Bear returned - "I'll sink them from the living" tapping the handle on upon a tree limb . We were troubled no more by them. Apparently they did not want cracked skulls or any attention drawn down upon their store of illegal spirits.

The Great Bear later had that ax head re-forged and reformed by a local blacksmith hafting it on the same sturdy hickory handle. A sinister looking tool, he carried it on all these camping trips.
Hearing that account Claudia said - "I just can't picture him breaking bad like that, he's so cuddly looking, sweet and adorable"
The Bear raised his horn in agreement slurring heavily- " I am rather adorable and gentle as a kitten"

We all howled with laughter.

Pointing at our primitive musical instruments Claudia raised the question - "When can we expect a live performance ?"
"Well I suppose we can get something going here before quiet time" I said - "That is if everybody wants to participate without fear of calling 'something' into camp"
"Calling what into camp ?" Obviously I had sparked her interest. She awaited an answer as I looked upon the shaman’s drum purchased at Charlottesville a few summers earlier at an upscale head shop. Stretched and lashed tight on a wooden hoop the hide head was painted with strange symbols and what appeared to be a small falcon flying into a starburst. I had tapped upon it on several occasions, each time it sounded different. Once I drummed while camping along the Blue Ridge Parkway at Peaks of Otter and a violent storm soon came washing our camp out. After that it sounded flat for awhile then dried giving it a sharper booming sound.
"I do not know the drum maker " I stated, then went on to explain that some drum making involved various magical steps. I did not know about this one’s origins or it's magical properties if any. The drumstick was my creation though as the original was weak and had snapped.
Flip made the rasp from hard mountain ash. The rattle and wooden flute Denny had picked up in Cherokee North Carolina.
We entertained ourselves by these means along with chirps, clicks, howls and poor attempts at throat singing. Charlie was blowing some decent tunes out of his harmonica hopefully balancing out any unpredictable musical medicine.

We were finally getting into a good groove when Charlie suddenly ceased his playing and loudly whispered - "What the fuck is that ?" pointing his harmonica towards the road.

In what flickering half-light there was out on the loop road I saw what appeared to be at first glance two children no more than 4' 5" tall. Rising from the bench for a closer inspection, I could see these were not children, but smallish adults, a male and female both slender with straight pale blonde or white shoulder length hair. The pair's pale skin almost matched their hair. They both had long narrow faces dominated by a hawk’s beak-like noses below slightly heavy brows. The male had a sparse and straggly white beard growth hanging from his chin. Aside from their pale skin, hawk-like faces and small stature they had regular human features. Not at all stubby like midgets.
"It's Mr. and Mrs. Edgar Winter !" Charlie blurted out as the strange pale pair stood at a distance in mute silence. Bear, Charlie, Flip, R.W and Whitey gazed at them with drunken smiles of wonderment while Claudia, Mildred and Guy seemed terrified.
R.W. attempted a greeting - "Hey, how's it going ?"
But they just stood there silently watching us for maybe a minute. Then the male issued sort of a warbling nasal whine and the both of them fast stepped it away into the outer darkness.

They were not of the musical Winter family as far as I knew, but albinos none the less. I spooked myself recalling native legends of what were known as 'little ones' dwelling in the Appalachians. There were various types of these little people, some good, some bad. One variety the Cherokee knew of, could cause death by making eye contact with the victim. Yet the Cherokee knew others who were helpful and friendly. The Monacan and Catawba knew them to be mischief makers. Some were known to the Shawnee as 'Thunders', while in Iroquoian lore there existed small sling hunting twins. All sorts of little supernatural beings abounded in legend and at times strolled through campgrounds.

R.W. made a comment concerning the outcome of inbreeding and Denny reminded "There's a lot of small isolated hill and hollow homesteads all along the Blue Ridge"
Claudia appearing somewhat shook up said - " Little people are drawn to celebration, otherwise we can only hope they mind their own. At least they were wearing human clothing"
Indeed they were. The female was clad in a loose fitting black and pink hooded sweat suit. The male was garbed in black jeans and black Busch Gardens Tshirt. Both kid-sized.

Still running with the Edgar Winter Group goof, Charlie threw down a gulp of rum and sang "Come on and take a freeeee ride, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah yeah !"
"Hush you fool !" I warned - "You don't want those critters coming back while you're dead asleep so as to extract what's left of a brain through your nostrils !"
Charlie laughed and continued singing more song verses from Free Ride.

We saw lights coming around the loop then once again heard tires turning gravel. It was a ranger cruiser and now it had stopped in front of our encampment. A quick scan of our site assured me that all questionable substances were well out of plain view and all hard drink in cups or mugs. He got out and approached us in a rather leisurely manner.
"Good evening" he said with a smile and in an accent that was not of the hills.

He was of medium height and build, not at all like the other close-cropped, bullet-headed no-necks.
"How's everyone this evening ?"
We unanimously assured the ranger all was fine with us and offered him a soft drink, which he accepted, then lit up a cigarette. Giving us all the once over he stopped cold at Patti asking her "Haven’t we met before ?"
No way knowing, he just opened a tub of night crawlers. Patti calmly answered - "Not unless you have been down to Newport News, Norfolk or Virginia Beach"
Still at a loss the ranger replied - " As a matter of fact I just transferred up here from the Colonial National Historic Park Jamestown-Yorktown" , then he announced his last name and title, but told us to call him Rob.
Patti cocked her head as if to shift memory, then with a wide smile, lick of the lips and eyes sparkling in recognition, she bounced up at the ranger taking him in a sudden embrace and kiss on the cheek - "Ranger Rob ! " she shouted in glee, "I couldn't tell who you were with those glasses on"
"Yeah, I have to wear them for driving" The ranger returned, appearing a little embarrassed.
"I remember now" Patti slurred without much thought of discretion - "You wanted me both times in a red and purple getup"
With those words Ranger Rob’s face flushed in those very colors as he nervously darted his eyes about the camp. He failed to recognize Patti out of costume and without makeup
"Red and purple ?" Claudia laughed.
"Small world" The Bear said, so reminded that this bouncy, little dark haired sprite no doubt a very bright spot in his drunken outdoor camping experience here at Big Meadows, was a professional erotic entertainer catering to a wide array of paying clientele.

It was a little rough watching the Bear's warm fuzzy little bubble of drunken disillusionment rapidly deflate down to a cold shapeless mass. With a lot of effort he rose from his squat grumbling something about a belly dance, then crawled in his tent without so much as a farewell. We all wished him a goodnight with Patti's being the loudest and added in a equally loud tone - " Well so much for shop talk, I'm on vacation now with some old friends"
I guess she felt kind of bad for what just transpired, running into by chance, a former customer and breaking some clientele-provider of service confidentiality in an hard to avoid situation. the ranger seemed a bit uncomfortable as well. "Well nice seeing you all" He said looking hard at the ground, then went on to inform us he had to go check a dog wandering about unattended report he received earlier. Charlie pointed at Flip and said - "There's the mongrel" Then Flip getting in on the fun cast a glance at R.W. and asked - "Could it be a Poodle ?"
Feigning a chuckle, then saying goodbyes again, Ranger Rob rolled out into the night. I'd lay wages we wouldn't be seeing much of him here on out, judging from his hasty red face departure and gold band upon his finger.

Her pale blue eyes sadly watching him leave, Patti seemed somewhat affected this..

[Atehequa]

Part 6 - Campfire Revelry


Albino dwarves and a ranger, The night had provided visitors which could only be followed up by a skunk boldly bobbing into our camp. We froze like marble statues and prepared for the worst as he presented himself a few feet away in our full view. Black eyes reflecting firelight, his tail half raised in a threatening manner, he appeared to mean business. I've heard tale of this before from other Big Meadows campers. Noticing leftover food on Whitey's plate I whispered - "Whitey, carefully toss him a chunk of that kebab meat" then thinking fast I added "Not at him,, but towards the road" With great care Whitey did just that. Seeing to and sniffing our offered tribute, our mustelid mugger locked teeth upon his booty then departed in the same direction of our other visitors. Making the rounds I suspect. This would not be the only time we got held up by a skunk.

Even as our four legged robber took his leave the driving wind had slowed to a gentle breeze. The Great Bear's snoring shook tent fabric leaving some of wondering how anyone could sleep through such racket. Hopefully the winds would pick up again thus muffle out this dying mule-like noise. Small wonder why we drank ourselves into a coma-like state when Bear was in camp. I'd have to gather up Bear's horn, axe, knives and put them in his tent ere early morning dew falls fouling steel.

With our storage tent now at ready to accommodate Patti and Whitey my guess was Charlie would be lodging in Bear's tent, if not on the ground, inside a truck or over at Guy's pop-up with Claudia. Placing Bear’s axe inside his tent, I wanted such a weapon near Bear if any weird happenings occurred later.
Leaving our merry table and heading out towards the loop road for a wizz, Whitey asked if we had any duct tape.
"What the hell for ?"
"Tape up Bear's nose and mouth so I don't have to listen to that shit all fucking night into the morning" Whitey replied.
I told him we had tried that before but it was a waste of effort as the tape wouldn't hold, then added - " We'll have to get him in the truck bed tomorrow night under his shell, we've did it before for quiet's sake "
First we would have to hold council with Bear, but only after breakfast tomorrow a safe time to plead our case.
Upon his return Whitey called attention to something he saw down the loop road.
"It was white and hanging near a patch of brush"
"The skunk perhaps" R.W. said.
"Bigger than a skunk's stripe" Whitey returned with a scowl.
Denny, Flip, R.W. and I walked out on the loop road but saw nothing.
"Could of been a possum or barn owl" Denny suggested.
"Build up the fire" I told Flip - "In case those bloodless ghouls who came by earlier return in full force. I'd wager they see not so well in the light"
Flip mumbled something about night creatures and added three chunks of oak to our fire.
"You burly outdoor guys can't be afraid of that child-sized pair ?" Claudia taunted, but it sounded more like a serious question.
In a low voice lacking any trace of bravado, Denny replied - "They could be a couple of smallish pale folk, fellow campers if you will, out for an evening stroll. Or they could be evil spirit beings. If that's the case, we are afraid and that's what makes us dangerous"
"What ever they are,," I interrupted - "Neither one returned our greeting, until little that Edgar Winter fellow voiced his wheeze-away. Before that, they just stood there gawking like two freezer burned freaks"
Flip then put his two cents worth in - "Gee, don't you think they were just as freaked out looking at our gathering here ?" Then made mention of Bear’s murderous looking broad axe leaning against a tree in plain sight a few yards away from our heathen banners. Not missing an opportunity to jab at the Birdman, Charlie patted Flip's boney shoulder - "Yeah maybe they got a good look at you and decided to split"
Regardless of what the pair could be I would hang some spirit traps around the camp to divert anything harmful or mischievous.
"Ahh just forget about all that creepy shit and pack a bowl there, Jimmy, let's get Up there" was Charlie's antidote. He was right as rain I thought while crawling into the tent for our calumet and a bit of our purloined Whoodee. I packed a good amount in the large bowl and emerged to a table of smiling faces. After first offering our pipe to night's starry sky, butane flame was put to the draw and it was passed in a westward direction. Three times this was repeated until all involved were somewhat above than our present lofty altitude.

Mountain grown Whoodee is the best as it offers more of a crisp, clear, upward and imaginative buzz, far surpassing any harsh lowland stuff.

Many fine conversations were started at our encampment, one topic leading into another soon to be forgotten. Nothing like a good group of folk stoned to the bone engaged in blissful bantering, general silliness, or a thousand swift passing deep thoughts. A delightful, yet somewhat ceremonial practice that has been repeated no doubt under the Night's Sky for thousands of years.
The first western account of cannabis use comes from the Greek historian/traveler Herodotus during his visit to a Scythian Camp. He reported that these barbaric horse archers would put up a tent-like structure of poles and felt mats around a cauldron, filling it with red-hot stones. Closed up in this ancient grass shack they cast cannabis onto the hot rocks thus filling their lungs with smoke. Once they emerged from their glorious 'smoke bath' they were quite joyful in demeanor.
Listening to the gleeful gibberish of my companions I pondered why no army could ever fully subdue these ancient nomadic potheads. How could such a warlike people be stoners as well ?

In my opinion everyone's spirits were as light as dove's down held aloft by the slightest of updrafts. Truth be known some of us may have overly 'puffed and passed' . Surely if sampled by some learned, professional marijuana connoisseur, say from HighTimes Magazine, what we partied with would be rated as two-toke shit. That last go-round I'd say my number was eight or nine. One of the effects I found myself experiencing was a shift in thought process. I felt overwhelmed by too many strange and fleeting ideas totally unrelated to any short-lived conversations which seemed to flower and evolve then slip away, forgotten forever before moving on to the next substance altered bit of pondering. Mildred couldn't stop her hiss-like giggling. I had a lot to say, but few of my words made sense, but tinged well with all other campfire side gibberish. Total freedom of speech.

The old Fleetwood Mac song Hypnotized playing on the radio prompted Denny to briefly hold some of our attentions with such talk which included Erich Von Daniken, Carlos Castaneda, alien gods and overlords. He spoke of the corporate stranglehold upon artistic expression, symbolism and the Abbey Road album cover, along with his theory of Karshipta being alien spacecraft instead of a messenger bird spreading the religion bestowed from an early all powerful and wise middle eastern male deity known as Ahura Mazda. We could not rule out the possibility of alien beings landing and interacting with primitive peoples thousands of years ago. Quite possible these travelers in all their advanced state were misconstrued in the minds of primitive humans to be gods or divine messengers.
What better way for ancient hunters, farmers or shepherds to describe alien spacecraft other than as being giant birds, fiery flying chariots, or dragons ?
With conversation sure-footing into the paranormal, Whitey spoke of the spook of Crawford Road in Yorktown, then R.W. mentioned a few hauntings in Old Williamsburg, Guy talked about Civil War era ghosts of Richmond. Even Flip weighed in with a scary story of what he saw while doing a hit of good blotter one night upstairs in his garage. "Yeah I saw one of them once myself" R.W. added in testament. Flip, munching upon his cone shaped corn snacks was all ears as he enjoyed listening to such talk.

"Give me some Bugles" Charlie demanded.
"No, they're mine" Flip promptly informed Charlie - "Should of put in an order for some earlier"
"Give me some"
"No way !"
This went on and on for much too long and to stop it I offered Charlie some Doritos, which he refused..
"Give me some Bugles Flippy" Charlie pushed on.
At that very moment an old familiar fire was flickering madly in Whitey's eyes. 'Oh fuck' I thought - 'here it comes' .
With a burst of speed that would of shamed a starving timber rattler, Whitey snatched the bag of Bugles from Flip's grasp, then smashed the lot of them into cornmeal before handing this violently milled grain back to the Birdman with a psychotic toothy smile -"That damned crunching and begging was getting on my nerves, mix it with some beer and make gruel if you like"
"You owe me a bag of Bugles, asshole !"
"Oh eat some Doritos, before I pound them into cornmeal too" Whitey threatened.
Pouring a goodly amount of corn snack powder down his gullet and chasing it with a German beer, Charlie set about creating again, this time with a pair of camp scissors, magic marker and a standard brown paper grocery bag.

For a short while Flip and Whitey savagely glared at each other as a possible prelude to blows. As acting hetman, I swiftly stepped between them thus to keep the peace - "Flip, that's what you get for being stingy with your munchies at a party !" then saw fit to add "Whitey, stop smashing corn snacks, I may want a chip or two here later"

Charlie was now fully engaged in finishing his project. A bag mask once complete bore the likeness of Flip on one side and on the other Whitey. Each with a breathing/talking/drinking mouth opening. On Flip's side of the bag the head was topped off with a well crafted feather crest. And on Whitey's side a beer can-like hat. No doubt about it Charlie was not just another dope off the streets. The kid was a wiz with markers and scissors. He had captured Flip's usual sour, beady-eyed look complete with feathers and granny glasses. The other side was purely a masterpiece, Whitey's bearded face in all it's psychotic glory, cruel cutting eyes that looked straight into yours, and a psychotic drooling grin.
Donning this weird mask Charlie proceeded to put on a show that swiftly had us falling out of our seats with hard laughter. Turning the bag from side to side he issued a fair amount of cawing, chicken clucking followed by a series of screams and growls. He would munch Doritos with Flip's mouth and guzzle beer through Whitey's soaked opening. Claudia kissed the bag mask leaving a bit of lipstick on the empty area between faces. We all lifted our cups and cheered.
It was like he was sort of a shaman or the tribal clown who could drive away bad feelings. Some of us took up our primitive musical instruments and chanting thus producing a strange primeval rhythm which inspired bag-masked Charlie to leaps and bounds around the fire.

Warding off bad spirits
Dancing any spells away

His stomping feet sent dust flying upwards creating a haze about our fire. Through scissor cut openings eyes weirdly blazed. Cavorting wildly Charlie had pushed his soul into this magical dance. With strange jerking motions and fantastic leaps he circled the fire and at one point almost knocking Guy from his chair. Mildred, no longer giggling pulled her husband clear.

Dum-Dum Dum-Dum Dum-Dum

My Drum sounded out in a way that lent our encampment one great heartbeat. Denny's flute issued weird loon-like calls. All the honesty of a timber rattler's warning would well match R.W.'s gourd shaking prowess. Flip's rasp charged the night air.
Charlie's movements seemed impossible as he leaped, contorted, twisted, jerked and whirled about the flames as our band emitted whoops, howls along with an occasional yip. Claudia, Mildred and Guy looked on in wonderment, while Patti laughed, clapped and at times shook her head. We couldn't help or resist abandoning ourselves to this wild rhythm.

Suddenly Charlie froze and all music ceased.

The crackle of a burning oak knot seemed to jolt our attention as all eyes were upon Charlie. He tore the mask from his head and held it aloft. The ferocious face and glaring wild eyes bore no resemblance to Charlie's usual happy visage. Mask held above our fire, he issued a few savage barks of laughter then released his two-faced paper bag mask creation. It burst into a swift-lived yellowish-green flame. Not until it had turned to ashes floating about atop the wood fire did Charlie thrust his head to the sky and sent out a weird howl-like call which seemed to shake both branch and leaf above, then bounded one last time into the air.
Mildred and Guy involuntarily drew back as Charlie walked by them returning to his seat. Offering handshakes, smiles and head nods he plopped down, finished his beer, belched, then downed a shot of Rum.
Claudia took a good look at our band and asked - "So what do you call that little number?”
Charlie shrugged his shoulders, gazed upwards for awhile then poured and passed me a shot which I politely gave thanks and quaffed before replying - "We call it nothing as it is not ours to call"
"Well it was quite different from any campfire sing-around I've ever attended" Claudia stated with a mysterious smile.
"We can always toast marshmallows" Denny laughed while cracking open a beer.
Having well experienced this Festive Night, Mildred and Guy rose, folded their chairs and bid us all goodnight.

"Ahh, it ain't even 10:00 quiet time yet" I pleaded, but they insisted so we sent them off with cheers and farewells.
"Where in the hell did you learn those moves ?" Patti asked reaching across the table and ruffling Charlie's dark shock of hair - "You gotta teach me some of that"
"Can't teach what I don't know" Charlie replied, "It just sort of happens"
"Aye Patti" I pounded the table - "You'll have to beat that tomorrow night while giving Bear his well expected belly dance. Did I mention there's a Turkish folk music tape in the bag ?"
"Belly dance ?" The Dibbles high-5ed each other, then toasted with a - "Gerrrrrr!" which in the dialect of our people means 'alright !’ The mere mention of it had Flip drooling into his Dr Pepper. We all raised our cups in show of support when Claudia requested -
"I want to try some belly dancing too !"
The question was -Would either of them dance on a Monday Night ? I realize in Patti's case it would be too much like work, but tonight Claudia had a head full of booze and Whoodee, tomorrow she may weighed down by more sober minded inhibitions. Having something like that on tomorrow night's agenda would not only be highly entertaining, but may very well render our band into lusty slobs, bobbing about like firefly lights and whimpering like lovesick hounds. It could prove interesting if not tragic.

Charlie started to pour me another but I stuck up my hand to refuse - "No I'm good, thanks anyway"
"Damn boy, you slacking off ?" Charlie asked shaking his head as in disappointment.
"Going hiking tomorrow, you can come if a hangover is no trouble"
Claudia, Patti, and the Dibbles asked to go, but I had my doubts that all would show. Whitey would no doubt sit at the camp and swill beer with Bear. He was never one to engage himself to nature walks, but after a few beers would take a nature break. Still enough freshness in that liver for a little more abuse. I did want to see the Meadows as well, perhaps tomorrow morning before lighting off to Spitler Hill.

Whitey was swiftly slipping out of consciousness and resisted but a little while Patti helped him into their lodging. After a brief period of time she re-emerged informing us all Whitey had went out as soon as he flopped down upon the sleeping bag.
"Lightweight" Charlie sneered throwing down another gulp of rum as Denny too called it a night.
"Damn we must be getting old" R.W. said in a sad tone "What happen to partying into sunrise ?"
"Tomorrow night" I answered - "We'll celebrate the good spirit of having Monday off"
"Chance of rain and thunder storms Tuesday" Flip informed us.

Perhaps a good day for sleeping it off..

[SadLuckDame]

Happy

[Atehequa]

Part 7 - A Morning Hike



It had to be the aroma of coffee brewing and the need to take a leak that pushed me out from my Topaz hued dreams.
Having little trouble getting myself into a sitting position despite a sore hip from sleeping on a rock we had missed while clearing a tenting place, otherwise I was well rested with a somewhat clear head and a good outlook. Across the tent, Flip's sleeping bag lay empty. Putting on my watch I saw it was only 6:00 AM, then caught a whiff of bacon frying. Nothing else to do but pull on my boots and greet the morning.
Crawling out of the tent I said - "Coffee smells damn good, guess Bear didn't make it" Flip turning bacon with a fork bowed and took credit. Passing Bear perched upon his camping chair I extended a 'Good Morning' to my hulking friend but was greeted by a slit-eyed stare and low grunt. I chuckled then made my way to the thicker growth.

Taking care of business and returning to camp I poured a good measure of the rich dark steaming liquid into a mug that still had about a quarter shot of last night's rum and cigarette ash laying in the bottom. Wap! I almost dropped the coffee as something struck upon my cheek causing a bit of a stinging sensation. "What the..." I shouted, my words cut short as something else hit hard upon my ear. Wasps ? Eyes darting about attempting to find the source of this assault I caught the blur of a small white object wizzing by, striking our camp coffee pot and exploding into powder.
"One lump or two, motherfucker" The Bear was pelting me with sugar cubes then quoted me -"Guess Bear didn't make it" He continued - "I'm getting a little sick of all you fucking coffee critics"
"Get bent, Bear !" I returned threatening to splash him with hot java - "You're one hell of a meat griller and cook, but face it man, you suck at making coffee" Then I put forth a question - "How can you fuck up something so simple ? Shit man even Charlie can brew a better pot, but Flip here knows what he's doing"
"It's the urine" Flip said with a coy smile.
"Fuck you Jim, I've never seen you make coffee !" The Bear growled as I ducked another incoming sugar cube that struck Flip square in the proboscis.
"You could at least put one in my cup you oaf " I requested with a middle finger raised and flying.

It was quite obvious Bear had awoke in the wrong end of his sleeping bag with a bit of a ugly hangover.
"Flip, hurry up and get some breakfast to this beast before he takes to gnawing at tree bark"
"Or your skulls !" The Bear snarled.
The bacon now ready and draining on a thick bed of paper towel, Flip went through the motions of hacking up a loogie then asked Bear how he would like his eggs.
Laughing I inquired - "Nasal oysters already in season ?"
The Bear bluntly told Flip that he'd be frying his own eggs.

After a hearty breakfast and second cup of coffee Flip and I made ready for today's hike. The small pack was stuffed with snacks, cord and first-aid kit. Our canteens filled with cold clear mountain water. The medicine pouch was full as we may have a need to catch up with the altitude at some point. We took a look around trying to figure if there was anything else left to do before hitting the paths.
With the exception of Bear, Flip and myself everyone else was still sacked-out, no surprise there. As I said my goodnights before turning in, both Dibbles were 'fall down drunk' and had to be helped to their tent. With the known liquor supplies depleted Claudia and Charlie grabbed some bedding then staggered over to Bear's truck taking abode under the camper shell. From what I gathered Patti and Flip stayed up a bit longer smoking Whoodee while talking about old times.
"Any other sign of those tiny albinos ?" I asked, packing a good morning bowl.
"Nope" he returned offering me a spark-up with his lighter - "No albinos, but some other campers walked by after we finished smoking and told us there were bears down by the dumpsters, so I locked up all the grub before calling it a night"

Hearing the racket of Bear's camper shell opening up we turned to see Claudia in disarray pouring herself out of the truck bed. "Are we still going for a hike ?" She asked, wobbling towards the coffee pot. Flip gave her the up and down then cocking his bird-like head to the side asked our neighbor - "Sure you are up to it ?"
"Sure I am" she replied, "Just let me get some coffee, a little food and take a trip to the ladies room"
Flip and I used this time to finish our pipe while looking over the map. Finishing her morning repast Claudia arose from the bench. Now somewhat more surefooted she walked over to Guy's pop-up before heading for the restroom.

"Damn, what the hell is taking her so long?" I asked looking at my watch seeing it was already 8:45. Eager to get on the trail we both agreed to give Claudia 15 more minutes before splitting without her. Within 10 of those minutes Claudia strolled into our camp showered, scented and combed out. Clad in khaki shorts with a lot of pockets and a rust colored pullover. Her feet were shod in some top dollar hiking boots. Atop her head was a straw gardening hat. She appeared ready. We noticed the large bulging backpack hanging from her shoulders.
"We're only going several miles" Flip stated, lightly tapping Claudia's pack.
"Some up-hill trekking" I added - "Maybe you might want to lighten your load"
She found wisdom in our words of advice and removed five of the six Audubon field guides, a radio, and large bottle of chardonnay along with a net and mesh bug container. Placing her wine in one of our many coolers I said - "Time enough for vino later good woman, now we make for the wilds" I also suggested to Bear that somebody really needed to make a run for either Luray or Elkton as we could use more liquor.

If it got down to the nit and grit, I had my personal emergency stash of hard spirits hidden away from these sots.

Leaving the Great Bear to his hangover healing we set out at an easy pace and in no time found ourselves entering the vast openness of Big Meadows where wild grasses predominated, yet other plant life thrived beneath the sun in rich damp soil. Here and there were clumps of brush and blueberry shrubs. A truly scenic place any time of the year, but especially Spring when the meadows are alive with a riot of wildflower colors.

After spending an hour or so wandering about under the morning sky we made our way into the upland forest upon an overgrown path through a tangle of underbrush. More than once we had to carefully pick our way around and sometimes through brambles choking up sections of this old path. Some of this brambling had been hacked away recently which led me to think of other secret gardens. Flip was already scanning the ground and undergrowth for more man-spoor.
On up, the path opened a bit making going a bit more easy. On a bare patch of red dirt I was quite happy to find a nice lump of banded slate for future carving . We continued on in hopes of other fine vistas and finds.
In a small glade beside a trickling stream we rested, took repast and burned another bowl. For a good while the three of us enjoyed this nice bit of upland scenery and nature's wild music.
Suddenly all fell silent and small birds flitted forth into the tangled shadows. Several tense minutes passed then I heard faint footfalls coming from further up the trail.
"Somebody is coming down this way" I whispered.
"I hear em" Flip returned with a slight nod.
There were two of them carefully walking down the path while keeping their eyes upon us. Both of them were clad alike in military style camouflage and shod likewise in combat boots. Packing side arms and utility belts one could rightly figure these fellows were not out for a nature walk.

The smaller one was bare headed wearing yellow tinted shooting glasses held in place by a pair of small protruding ears and pug-nose. Sporting a very neat and very narrow mustache along with a very large semi-automatic peacemaker, he seemed no one to be trifled with.
The larger one had the brutal visage of a loyal, yet vicious guard/attack dog. A small black ball cap adorned his even smaller head. More massive than the Great Bear, yet lacking the fat, this boy looked like he could chew his way through a cinderblock wall then ask for his pie and ice cream. His eyes lacked any dreamy imagination, only a cold steady watchful stare. Ready to rush forth at command. Both were close cropped in GI fashion. I took them to be cops, feds, or militants of some sort ? And here we were with a head full of whacky-weed sitting cross-legged on the ground. A fine little covey of quail we've become with them looking down on us from higher ground.
As they drew near I whispered under my breath - "Stay calm, don't panic or make any sudden movements,,, smile"
Thinking that it may be more hard on somebody when it comes to killing people who have drooling idiotic grins on their faces, I displayed such. A play upon their good human nature and moral sense, if there was any such emotion existing within those brute-like shells of well conditioned flesh, blood and bone.
Needless to say my companions and I sat still at this small streamside glade, watching them as they were watching us during their slow, but steady down path approach.
I managed a slow upwards wave and a "Howdee" as they were now only yards away, yet plodding on.
"Good Morning" The smaller one returned as my companions offered up a quick wave and "Hi" the idiotic smiles never leaving their faces.
After a strange few words of initial small talk concerning the weather the smaller one took a tooth pick from his maw, then asked while scratching a sandpaper-like pate - "Kinda off the main trails ain't y'all ?" His accent was Southern but was not that of a Virginian.
"Yeah" I responded, still smiling, still watching them watch us - "We crossed over the Skyline Drive a little while back, from Big Meadows. Just out exploring"
The smaller one turned to the larger one, smirked, then quoted - "Just out exploring"
The hulking brute issued three low barks of laughter as if cued by his partner's hand signaling gesture.
It was then Claudia grabbed her pack in a motion too swift for this precarious situation and whipped out a Audubon Field Guide of North American Birds. I looked on in horror as these armed men went for their shooting irons, but then relaxed somewhat after seeing it was only a book. Flip's eyes were tightly shut then bugged open as he heard Claudia speak in a calm, but friendly voice - "Bird watching, hoping to see some scarlet tanagers and wrens" Then surprised us even more by asking - "Who are you guys ?"
"Federal Law Enforcement maaam, looking for poachers, not bird watchers" answered the smaller one who seemed to do all the talking. He went on to tell us this area was not safe for hikers then asked to do him a favor - "If you don't mind, stick to the main trails or Big Meadows area"
We would not be atop Spitler Hill today. Denied access to our lofty destination there was nothing else to do but turn back. Behind us about 30 yards back the whole way until breaking off when we re-crossed the Skyline Drive.

"Poachers, this time of year ?" Claudia asked as we took a break back at Meadow's edge.
I replied - "Some local yokels are poaching black bears and selling their organs to Chinese buyers"
"That sucks" she said - “Wonder what the Chinese are doing with bear organs ?”
" Guess they dry them and pound it into a powder to be taken for LDS" I returned.
"LDS ?"
"Yeah LDS, Limp Dick Syndrome" Flip added drooping his index finger in a curious downward motion.
My thoughts however were of those two armed mutants and secret gardens, like the one we found Saturday as it seems there to be a rash of illegal Whoodee gardening going on at state and federal parklands in western Virginia, West Virginia and Kentucky here of late.
We made the best of our return hike back over the meadows. Finding a turkey feather I stuck it into a knothole in memory of my good buzz being killed awhile back across the road by two no-neck, crew-cut products of deep dish-southern fried animal husbandry-like breeding.
More and more these types were replacing the friendly public serving and protecting flatfoots we knew and had grown up with. Lately it wasn't at all uncommon for these new and younger militaristic, borderline psychotic warrior cops to pick up some drunk or silly pothead, handcuff and take this poor misfortunate sap down a lonely back road to be dry-gulched before being hauled to the clink, explaining any visible injuries the result of resisting arrest.
Might makes right, no matter if it's wrong. It was the way such situations were handled on this late Summer morning of 1986. Just another passing day in an age of change, a time of weirdly-bad political theatre and dismal disenchantment. An idealism drunken with desire for empire, yet already giving off the foul stench of stagnation.
Blessings abound as it could of been worse, Those two could of prodded further or even wasted us back at that lonely glade, leaving our soon to be bloating carcasses for the buzzards and possums.

The Great Bear was sitting in the same place as we had left him hours ago. In a slow, slurring manner befitting a drunken Saxon, he let us know that Patti and Whitey got showers then went down into Luray for more supplies. He also stated that both Dibbles were still sleeping it off.
"And Charlie ?" Claudia inquired while I popped open an ale to cut the dust.
"Up at the shower house" Bear answered with a jerk of the thumb, adding - "I thought y'all to be gone all day"
I trailed response close behind a soft drink belch - "So did we, but were turned back by a couple of GI Joe-looking kats ranging the paths"
The Bear gave me a serious look - "You weren't out foraging 'Whoodee' again ?" Knowing just what he was talking about I offered him an explanation in so many words and hand gestures.
"We never made it to Spitler Hill" Flip said with a mouth full of stale Doritos crumbs.
Claudia pulled a bottle of wine from our cooler swiftly applied a corkscrew then poured half of the bottle into a large red plastic cup. Chugging down a good measure she then commented in a humorous granny voice - "Oh they were just a couple of nice boys playing army in the woods"
The Great Bear quaffed deeply and tapped his horn upon an armrest - "Sounds like feds or DEA to me "
Whoever they were the experience was enough to keep me on the main trails and away from paths unbeaten.

Wanting to get back 'up there', but now fearful of doing it outside in broad daylight I invited every one into Flip’s tent for a pipe full. Claudia declined, she wanted to catch a nap in the pop-up since Guy and Mildred were out sight-seeing. She took her wine, ambled away and said something about returning this evening. Bear also turned down the offer then called me a - "Fucking pothead".
"Face it Bear, if it wasn't for that piss testing job of yours you'd be smoking like a Smithfield Ham instead of swilling beer all damn day" Throwing a bit of temptation out I added in a seemingly helpful manner - " You know, there's ways of beating those tests"
"Really how ?" Bear arched a bushy brow while pouring himself another beer, adding - 'Because I tried that golden seal shit before and it tied my lower vitals into knots"
I lit up a cigarette and took the floor - "First of all you can't be smoking Whoodee every day and expect this proven method to save your ass. Second, cut down on your eating, THC builds up in fat. Third, drink about 12 or 16 ounces of dill pickle juice, straight out of the jar or on the rocks then chase that down with a gallon or so of water. Flushes that dope right out of you. Of course it's best to fast the day of this procedure"
"Fast ?" the Bear snarled - "As in not eating ?"
"Yep fasting, no food, beer or soda"
"No beer ?"
"Yep, no beer, soda, food or anything sugary"
"Let me get this straight" Bear growled - "Gotta drink pickle juice and consume nothing but water for a whole day just so I can smoke a joint or two ?"
"Yep"
"Fuck that mess !" he blasted - "Besides I hate dill pickles" Then with a long rumbling sigh he told us he'd have to wait it out until legalization and carry on without him.
Although I frowned down upon such personal testing The Great Bear could not but help but looking out for himself by keeping a decent job in these times. How many other places in the mid 1980s would hire a guy who looked like 'Wolfgar the Berserk' ?

"You may have a long wait Bear"

While Flip and I were getting up there inside the tent, Bear got the grill ready for lunch. Through open window flaps came the smell of burning charcoal.
Just as we finished our pipe the sound of talking filtered in and jerked us out of a general goofiness which this weed produced, especially during daylight hours. I heard Bear say - "They're in there with Miss Mary Jane Jones"
Seconds later the door flap flew open - "Damn man, you bogarts couldn't wait for me ?"
Looking up at my cousin, I replied - "Don't like to do much waiting around on vacation Charlie, but Flip here can pack you a bowl" I passed our empty pipe to the Birdman -"Time to break into that stash you been hording"
With a small tight frown and knit brows he removed his large zip-lock plastic bag from a bright red luggage bag, then knocked out spent ashes and then re-filled our pipe with the weedy wonder before passing it to Charlie who first offered it upwards in a westward direction. With a flick of my Bic I soon had the lad sparked up and puffing. Flip and I took one more apiece leaving the rest for Charlie's head. Sticking around while he got cooked we cracked a few funnies and enjoyed our lofty buzz.
Charlie told us during his visit to the shower house he asked a few people if they had seen a couple of small albino humanoids.
This sparked my interest - "What did they say ?"
"This one guy with his son told me to leave them alone then hurried out"
"Oh fucking great Charlie ! Now you've got people associating this camp with your crazy ass" Flip hissed.
"It was an honest enough question for fellow campers" I protested -"You saw those two summertime snowflakes too. It wasn't like we were all seeing the same glow in the dark pink elephants out there on the loop road"

Changing the subject, which stoners often do, Charlie almost pulled the plastic tent floor out from beneath us both by coming out of the hazy blue and asking - "So anybody else tag Claudia today ?"
Taken back a bit I looked at Charlie and laughed - "Should we've ?"
He gave me a glassy-eyed stare and replied - "You should of", then went on to give a kiss and tell account of his last passionate night with Claudia despite our not asking.
From what we gathered from his substance altered story, Claudia during the heat of drunken passion had slightly berated Charlie for the intoxicated condition of his penile prowess or lack of last night while holed up under Bear's camper shell.
"She said all that drinking turned me into a one-shot marksman who missed the bull's eye"
"Ha !" Flip cackled - "You need target practice !"
Charlie said - "She told me if I get smashed tonight, I could just forget about it"
"Damn !" I blurted out - "You've only known her two nights and she's already getting on you about drinking and making rules ? Now that's a romance with a future"
"Hard to believe that she has all that gumption in her" Flip added.
Charlie waved our ribbing aside and stated - "She's taking some sort of herb"
"Herb, what kind of herb ?" Flip wanted to know.
"I can't remember what she said it was" Charlie answered scratching his head then went on to give account of what he could recall. Claudia had informed Charlie she had always been sexually active, but that had slowed down somewhat until a friend told her about some herbal concoction - "She said it allowed her to have that feeling again"
“Wonder if she’s talking about the Whoodee ?” I laughed.
"Well I'm not gonna asked her what it is" Charlie said before drawing in the last hit.
"Why don't you tell Claudia to slack off the juice herself" Flip suggested to Charlie, adding - "Hell, she's been hitting the sauce since we first met her, and damn heavy last night" Then Flip tossed an un-opened roll of toilet paper at Charlie and barked - "She's your campground romance, handle it"
Charlie exhaled a wispy jet of smoke, then proclaimed - "I'll get as fucked-up as I want, let her bed down tonight back at the pop-up or with the Dibbles. Besides, while sleeping, she moves her feet like seal's flippers. It kinda creeps me out"
"I'll bet" I laughed, then ceased just thinking of such feet flapping freakishness.
Indeed Claudia was a frisky one for her age. Hell, I caught myself looking at her in a somewhat fond light. Despite the gray she appeared some twenty years younger and although in her early 60s she had the vigor of someone our age. She kept up with Flip and I during today's hike. Being the dogs we were, Flip and I had no problem letting her take the lead several times earlier, allowing us to cop a view of well turned tanned legs and the gentle swaying motion which was her still shapely, ravishing rounded rump. It was as refreshing and enjoyable as the first cool late summer breezes. Packing our gear away before exiting the tent Flip commented - "Bet she was a knockout back in her day"

"Still is, just as the day has become a beautiful evening" I added while crawling out through the door flap..

[Atehequa]

Part 8 - Shelter from the Storm


Upon falling out of the tent Charlie held true to his word. He walked over to our cooler grabbed an ale, chugged till empty, then chased it down with the last swallow of rum. I slapped his back - "Starting off early eh ?"
All the while Bear gingerly poured one of the last beers into his drinking horn.
Hopefully supplies would arrive long before our situation becomes critical.

The wind had picked up and grey clouds rolled in blotting out all that was blue sky above less than an hour earlier. Flip was already up and about spraying scotch-guard all over the tents. Bear pointed at his shell covered truck bed and briefly went on about wet-weather sleeping arrangements - "Sorry Charlie, but I'll be sleeping high and dry in my truck, so you and your lady friend ought to look elsewhere tonight for lodging"
"At least we don't have to here you snore tonight" Flip said only after removing himself from The Great Bear's striking range.
Then doing the same, I dared a gentle jab - "Shit Flip, do you think mere fiberglass can contain such a fury ?"
With that said Flip and I went to work securing our broad tarp over camp table and surrounding area.

As the day grew evermore grey I could smell an approaching storm front upon the wind. The rumbling sound of distant thunder had us all looking ominously skyward. No doubt it was on the other side of Massanutten Mountain, perhaps over Harrisonburg. Hopefully all of it goes northward up the Shenandoah Valley into West Virginia and Maryland thus missing us all together.
"Didn't you say rain on Tuesday ?" I asked the Birdman as thunder boomed from afar. Lashing the last cord upon a Tree he replied - "Rain ending Tuesday, but arriving in the way of heavy showers Monday afternoon"
Bear cast Flip a cock-eyed look and growled - "What kind of fucked-up weather reporting is that ?" Then he quaffed deeply, pondered for several seconds and asked with a smirk - "So this storm can't move on without getting here first ?"
"Makes sense to me" I returned with a nod.
Flip grabbing a hotdog off the grill and dressing it up on a bun informed us - "Hey that's what the weather report out of Roanoke called for, I'll see if I can raise that station on the radio"

Often during these upland thunder boomers the radio air waves become bent. We managed to pick up an AM station out of Blacksburg which right before the weather wrap-up switched over to some weird call-in talk show broadcasting from Tennessee. Some poor sap blithering away for long minutes about his overbearing wife and crazy live-in mother-n-law, then asking the host - "What would you do ?" getting no answer he started screaming over the phone - "Hello ! Hello ! Are you there ?" nothing on the other line - "Hellooooow! are you there ?" the caller's screams became more frantic, then following thirty or so seconds of heavy breathing and low groans the host said - " Okay, well thanks for your call Harold, now we have to break for our sponsor"
We all cracked up listening to a Compound-W wart removal commercial and Bear roared - “Pour some of that on your crazy mother-n-law, Harold,, and watch that wart disappear !"
Bear quickly removed himself from the humor of it all and quaffed deeply. He pulled upon his beard awaiting no reply concerning warts and mother-n-laws. Scowling heavily at the camp road, he shook that shaggy head from side to side after once again looking at his watch, then towards the last full beer in front of him, no doubt in expectation of Whitey pulling up any second with much needed supplies. Waiting always seemed to ruffle Bear somewhat and already deep in the drink he disliked this wait as much as he detested the thought of an empty horn. His head already was knee-deep in beer, but we knew he could last well into the night if need be. Lame, drunk and restricted by drug testing Bear was probably suffering in his desire to burn one with the rest of us and light out in his usual long stride on a long scenic hike. But this trip he could not do so.
Though by far the biggest and strongest of our band, often the leader of such explorations into these Blue Ridge Mountains or a night out at the bar, The Bear had never been restricted thus. He was not the wisest of our band, yet The Great Bear was a man of action, never overly seeking complete evidence, or full wisdom as deep pondering either made him drowsy depending upon company and situation. Like him we were often reckless and improvident, but found ourselves slowly growing beyond such behavior. For awhile I watched his facial expressions attempting to make out where his mental workings would take him next as he nursed that last beer.

I could break out my homemade brandy stash, but not yet.
Drinking horn now empty, Bear issued a long groaning "Ahaaaaarrrrrrrhaaaaa" then rose from his chair and began to flip cooler lids searching through remaining ice and cold water for a bottle of brew, if any were indeed left. He looked like his namesake flipping over rotten logs to get at the worms and grubs. Charlie who was quaffing my last ale backed away, all the while keeping a guarding two hand grasp upon the bottle. Bear was on a drunk and out of beer. Truly a precarious situation.
Charlie now with Flip's truck between himself and The Bear, guzzled down his remaining ale and swiftly trashed the bottle. Perhaps it was time to pull out the brandy. My plans were to save the bottle for any ailments or conditions of heavy weather, but after casting a glance up at the dark and swirling sky, then chancing eye contact with Bear in his present state of being, I calmly said - “Heavy weather and painful ailments.
Hey there Bear"
"What ?" Now he was standing near the table, tapping fingers upon it's stained rough surface.
"If you're thirsty, I've got a bottle of some good Brandy"
"I don't like brandy" then he growled - "What else you sandbagging ?"
"Got some Crown Royal"
"What about ale ?"
"No more ale, you fuckers have been swilling it all down since supplies came in yesterday"
Bear informed me with a snarl -" I really don't want to drink any hard liquor"
"Oh well, more for me" I laughed
Charlie now edging his way back to the table with a wide grin asked - "You got Crown and Brandy ?"
"Yeah I got, but you can get your mind off that right now, it's my emergency stock"
"Wouldn't you say this is an emergency ?" Charlie asked while holding out an empty cup he had whisked off the table.
"Maybe for you Charlie"
The Great Bear now smacking his lips, pulling upon chin hairs and hobbling back and forth the length of our camp stopped just short of the table and asked - "Did you say Crown Royal ?"
"Why yes I did, but you don't want any of that. It's hard liquor"
"But oh so smooth going down" Charlie added now smacking his own lips, cup extended almost in my face.
"Look man, you better get that cup out of my face before,,"
The Bear had plucked up his coffee mug then requested - " If you don't mind sharing your wares with a friend, I'll have me a good slug"
Not really being overly fond of watching my personal stash getting guzzled down to empty glass bottles, I entered the tent and pulled the purple cloth bag covered elixir from a camping pack. Oh well, it was a cat that had to be let out of the bag. Perhaps these hard spirits would knock the big critter senseless.

Pulling open the blue cloth bag’s gold drawstring, then cracking the seal, I poured Bear a good measure. He lifted to his nose, sniffed a bit, his face contorted. He closed his eyes and threw the whole amount down, then issued a "Whaaaaaaaw !"
Extending my charity, I poured Charlie about a jigger, and said - "Well shit, might as well" then set myself up with one as well.
"Flip you better get in on some of this before the Dibbles catch a whiff of it in their sodden dreams" I offered throwing back a second cup full.
"No thanks, I'll pass someone has to be able to make storm medicine"
Reflecting upon Flip's storm medicine and past experiences I told him - " Useless at this point, under present conditions"
"Present conditions ?"
" Yes sir " I returned - " Do you really think the powers that be or any great spirit of the storms are beholding to sots ? " adding - "If you feel something must be done, think about it first and don't piss anything off in the process. Remember we have friends and supplies either in the valley or driving on winding mountain road"
"I'll make it quick" Flip said entering the tent, probably for his bundle. At that we all bounced away our doubts with a non-toasted quaff of the smooth amber liquid. Popping out of the tent he took off for places unknown. I didn't realize just how cooked he was on that high-grade Whoodee or never really considered his altered mindset, while trying to deal with my own.
Hearing coughing and a bit of fumbling about, we knew the Dibbles were coming to life. The Bear now feeling a lot better about things grinned and commented - " Pretty decent booze, man, I could really get down with this hooch”
Sadly looking at that big bottle now half empty I advised Bear and Charlie - "Better drink up fast boys" The Great Bear took the liberty of pouring us all a good slug.

"Oh what a sad pair of wear and tear" I raised my cup to the brothers.
"Any coffee left ?" R.W. asked picking spider web from his face and wavy locks. His brother on the other hand grabbed a cold soda from our cooler, then chugged it down in attempt to wet the dry. Denny wanted to know where our neighbors, along with Patti and Whitey were at and this we relayed to the best of our knowledge.
Charlie pointed towards the woods - "Flippy is out making juju"
"Don't joke about that" I warned while looking up at the sky.
The Dibbles lit our propane camp stove and heated up morning's brew and once again we heard the distant sound of tires turning gravel.

The weather conditions were rapidly changing.
It started with our pleasant late summer breeze ceasing to dead stillness, yet far above and to the south, but drawing ever closer, ominous dark clouds slowly began to move in. At first only a few large heavy drops struck the ground knocking up dust, or splattering upon vehicles, tents and tarps. I could feel the temperature rise and humidity thicken.
Raising his horn to the heavens Bear said - "Look now"
The grey swirling sky now had a greenish tint to it. Knowing something of Flip's past attempts at storm bending Charlie shook his head and commented - " He's pissed them off again"
Aside from fog, light dew and a few rare, short-lived thunder-boomer downpours, the uplands and valley had been experiencing a dry spell. Perhaps it was not such a wise choice to ward off or divert much needed rain water, the giver of life.

Luck was with us though, Patti and Whitey backed into the encampment with our much needed supplies. We inquired about weather conditions down in the valley and Whitey warned us - "It's coming this way. We stayed ahead of it, but it was closing in"
With that we hurried to unload our goods and had enough time to get up a couple of extra tarps as to have more shelter. As these last precautions were put into place the storm struck in a most savage manner.
Howling winds rivaled the rumbling thunder. Like the fearful flickering flames of witch fire, incessant flashes of lightning illuminated our camp and just as heavy rain along with marble-sized hail started to rake us Flip dashed in under the tarps.
He carried a couple of large pine knots
"Tinkering novice! What the fuck have you done ?" I asked the Birdman in no friendly manner.
"Nothing" he replied.
"Nothing ?"
"What about your bundle ?"
"Protection" he returned dropping the knots, then wiping dry his glasses with a paper towel - "I figured we would need some knots for the fire, that is if this hard weather quits us any time soon"
Looking over at our fire pit I saw it had become a pool of soggy black and grey muck. At least our wood was dry enough under both table and tarps.
The hail had stopped, but the torrential downpour of rain continued, at times blowing in upon us from under our tarps. Again and again white blades of lightning slashed across the dark angry sky. The wind was strong but our tent stakes and tarp lashings held fast thus far.
We had applied the third tarp in such a manner as to block wind driven rain.

Legend has it among some of the nearly forgotten hill tribes that thunder and lightening is caused by a great snake rattling it's tail. Upon it's scaly back rides a supernatural being. Other tribes attribute this phenomena with great birds or dwarf-like twins.
For another hour we endured.
Yet just as it arrived and then raged for awhile this savage storm as far as we could tell departed leaving only a gentle misty sprinkle and following wave of heat along with sticky, stifling humidity which soon had some of us changing into shorts. Bear suffered the most as he would not part with his usual attire of Levi jeans and denim shirt. Bear's shaggy lion-like mane began to frizz, then mat while sweat ran in rivulets down his face. After guzzling a horn of his newly arrived favorite German beer he rose then snarled - "Fuck this !" He hobbled over to his truck, climbed in and took off for parts unknown. I looked over at the Dibbles and stated - "He doesn't do all that well in the heat"
"No damn wonder" R.W. said - "Wearing all that thick shit in Summer, it's a wonder he hasn't had heat stroke"
In all the years I had known Bear, never was he without a shirt, or wore shorts, but would often go barefoot, sometimes up until Winter.
As Patti enlisted Charlie to go with her over to Guy's pop-up and check in on Claudia's well being after this savage storm.
"Bear's probably cooling-out in his truck’s air conditioning" Denny said lightly patting his face with a folded paper towel.
It was most uncomfortable and by now we were pulling off our shirts. As hot as it was, the sky was still dark and uncertain. Patti and Charlie returned from the pop-up, letting us know that Claudia was safe, yet out like a light, but there was no sign of Mildred and Guy. Hopefully they too were safe and in a cool place.
"Stripped down to your shorts, eh boys ?" Patti laughed, then grabbing the bottom of her tight Tshirt peeling it off upwards in a slow, practiced, deliberate fashion which commanded all of our attention. Up over her head and off, we were slightly disappointed seeing she had a skimpy bikini top underneath barely containing her bouncing bosom bounty. Still it brightened our position somewhat on this hot and muggy late Summer afternoon. We could not help but ogle this scantily clad young and beautiful dancing girl especially after she emerged from the storage tent in a pair of high cut-off jeans shorts. We eye-balled her over the rims of our drinking cups as she hung her other garments over a line.
"Oh what a treat in the heat" Charlie laughed while pouring himself a cold ale. No sooner than she turned to us and made mentioned The Bear's sudden departure we again heard the crunching sound of tires turning gravel.
It was The Great Bear pulling in. Slowly exiting his truck and without so much as a word, he began to gather up various items, loading them up in the vehicle. Three six packs of beer, a change of clothing, a carton of Marlboros and bath supplies.
"Just where in hell's heat are you making for ?" I demanded. He bared his teeth in a broad mirthless smile and stated - "Until this bloody heat passes, I'll bivouac within the luxury of an air conditioned suite up at the lodge" Bear then pulled out a large brass key which he proceeded to wave in our faces long enough for me to get a number from it.
"If you all get tired of steaming like a pot of crabs then perhaps you'll join me for refreshments" and jeeringly added - "That is if you can behave yourselves"

He then left us in the sweltering heat of our encampment.
A steamy mist hung over us as we made the best of these changing weather conditions. From the pleasant cool breezes of this morning to a violent storm and now a brutal heat wave liken to an Indonesian rain forest. We took turns with Flip's turkey tail feather fan which provided little relief.
"Hear that ? " Denny asked us while munching upon one of the deli-style subs that Patti had kindly picked up for us in town. And again we all heard the distant rumbling of thunder coming out of the South.
"Oh hell" Whitey grimaced "Here comes another one"
With that Whitey grabbed a case of beer, tucked it under one arm and grabbed Patti's hand with his free hand. Pulling her towards his truck he shouted out to us - "That's it for me boys, I'm heading to the high and dry of Bear's new lair"
"Oh fuck, not you guys too ?" I growled in disgust.
"Gotta do it man" he returned.
They jumped into the truck then drove off.
Now we were reduced to just five of us sweltering in this pressure cooker between storms.
"Fast flying wimps they are" Flip sneered before tearing into a cold submarine sandwich.
"If you can't stand the heat, keep your ass out of the kitchen!" Charlie slurred, obviously addled by booze, dope and heat - "Well it gets like this sometimes when at camp "
Some relief came in the way of a decent breeze coming out of the southwest carrying away much of the humidity. We were comforted by the light wind knowing full well it was but a messenger of what was to come.
"Might as well get some rain gear ready boys" Flip advised.
As the sky turned to darker shades of grayish blue I mentioned now would be a good time to shit, shower and shave as we had built up a bit of the funk during the course of this day. The Dibbles and Charlie remained behind as Flip and I made for the campground's facilities.
Hot, humid weather conditions combined with the usual muggy air of a campground shower/shit house and tinged heavily by a reeking clogged toilet lent speed to our personal hygienic endeavors.

Finishing up I left the fetid building and waited outside while he took a number two.
"I wouldn't breath a whole lot if I were you" was my parting remark to the Birdman as he slunk into a stall.
Tilting my head up, I looked up at the dark and threatening sky. After smoking a cigarette and several more long minutes Flip finally emerged moving in a swift, but teetering gate appearing rather green in the face.
"Methane buzz, eh ?"
"Damn, it's twice as nasty in there now" He returned while deeply breathing in the fresh air.

"I'll bet"

The air was cooling fast as winds shifted now, moving eastward instead of from the Southwest. Just as we ambled into camp the sky opened up, thus providing Big Meadows and surrounding areas with a hard, cool steady rain..
Seeing Charlie sitting alone at our camp table and puffing on a large bone, no doubt purloined from our stash, I asked - "Where's the Dibbles ?"
Not waiting for a reply Flip entered his tent probably to inspect his supply.
"They booked off to Bear's suite shortly after you two split for the showers"
"Booked ?"
"Yep, they grabbed some of their stuff and a bottle of vodka all the while yammering about the supposed comforts of 'Bear's Den'. They wanted to raid the stash, but I convinced them of otherwise, so they booked it on out of here leaving me with a message for you"
"A message ?"
"Yeah they said come on up and bring some Whoodee"
"Fuck that" I said then added -"So you waited until they departed and raided the stash yourself ?”
"I snagged it from Flip's bag" He confessed with a laughing whisper.
"In that case, give me a hit"
As he was passing the bone my way Flip emerged from the tent and informed me that after inspecting his supply - "My shit is alright"
Not detecting any acts of theft on Charlie's part he bluntly added - "He must of took it from your stash Jim"
Holding back an outburst of laughter I pretended to scold Charlie soundly - "Stay the fuck out of my shit,,, or else motherfucker !"
Flip then added for his own good measure - "You're damn lucky it wasn't my stash you pilfered from !”
Passing the burning bone to Flip I said - "Here man, have a toke on me, but you're rolling the next one" I winked at my cousin, who flashed a shit-eating grin.
Where others had fled from our ranks, I could always count on Charlie sticking close to the dope supply.

Despite the cool wind driven rain, we stayed somewhat dry and warm. Even more so after changing out of hot weather garb and into warmer duds. Flip in all his weather knowledge re-positioned the tarps as to block rain slanting down from up and East.
Charlie appeared oddly out of place wearing his dad's London Fog rain coat and crowned atop with one of those shiny bright yellow New England style fisherman's hat while Flip looked rather smart in his army-surplus poncho and pith helmet. I preferred my Beaver felt Stetson as it well shed the rain.
"You look like a perverted Gortons fisherman" the Birdman laughed.
"Trust me" Charlie countered - " You look like you should be in the jungle digging up petrified Dinosaur shit"
I cut the goofing short - "Didn't figure on the Dibbles bailing out on us"
"Poodle and the Flake couldn‘t hang" Charlie laughed after chasing a toke with a shot of whisky.
I offered - "Perhaps the allure of high and dry partying was more temptation than they could resist"
Even so, comfortable lodging such as Bear had was no cheap affair. A bit more pricey than a nice roadside motel. We were either too proud or not drunk enough to consider joining our well sheltered companions.

As this rainy day turned swiftly into a rainy night the three of us had naught to do but get slammed and play cards. With a length of carefully twisted wire coat hanger and a bow-shaped piece of foil skillfully attached to the boom box antenna, Flip had managed to pick up an FM 'Oldies' station. We grooved to the sounds of the early Beatles, Rolling Stones, Dave Clark Five and even some Yard Birds. We drank, smoked, gambled and snacked upon a pot of beans-n-weenies Charlie had whipped up. This to me, was what the whole camping experience is suppose to be - Reveling in the fair and roughing the fearful. We had no fire, yet Flip's Coleman lantern along with the whisky kept spirits high and souls warm.

Heavy rain tapered to a cold dreary drizzle
As we took in the wet mountain air
At our camp table lair
Getting much too tight
On this rainy night
Holding out where others wouldn’t dare
Stuck in our covey hole
Engaged in utter nonsense
Our damp deck could no longer be shuffled
In this drizzling rinse
It's hard to give in when you are a holdout
We suffered for a little company, as our three was hardly a crowd
Hearing not a footfall
Only her enchanting incoming call
There was room for one more
As she made us four
The woman under a bright red umbrella
"Welcome to our covey hole, we'll warm ye up some beans"
The whisky enhanced her shapely form
Had me tight against the seams
It's hard to be a holdout when while giving into
Temptation

Claudia closed her umbrella and seated herself next to me.
In jest Flip bade her - "Well good morning"
"What kind of chance does a girl have getting a hot cup of coffee here ?"
Flip said he would put on a pot. "Here let me" Claudia offered.
"Naw I got it" Flip assured her then started the brewing process with our rather tricky camping percolator, while I put the beans on the burner of our propane stove. She yawned, rubbed her eyes and asked - "What is the time ?"
Looking at the Birdman’s digital watch, I told her - " It is 7:28 here in the encampment of Flipping Bird, acting chief of this band"
"Why do I have to be chief when the Bear is away ?" Flip asked, adding a pinch of salt to the coffee.
Laughing I returned - "Because my chief, I'm on vacation"

In short time the coffee and beans were ready. Flip poured then passed her a steaming cup along with a plastic spoon, sugar and powdered creamer. Handing her a plate of beans-n-weenies I said - "Coarse fare for a lady of culture, but it'll stave off the belly growling"
Sniffing the dish she took in it's aroma and rewarded our good hospitality with a "Mmmmmmmmm" then fell upon them with gusto. In between mouthfuls she inquired - "Where is everyone ?"
"Up at the lodge in one of the suites" Charlie slurred, now obviously snockered to the gills.
"A suite ?" she asked sipping hot coffee.
"That's right" I replied - "Seems the Great Bear could find no comfort in these weather conditions and found remedy in a bit of luxury lodging. All the others were soon to follow. This is what's left of us. We are the home guard"

Flip inquired about Mildred and Guy. She informed him - "Have not seen them since last night, guess they're up there with the Bear too"
"Nope" Flip said - "Saw them splitting early this morning and they ain't been back since" Seemingly this caused Claudia to overly fret, but Flip comforted her - "Oh I'm sure they're fine, probably holed-up down in Luray or the valley somewhere, as we've had some weather through here earlier"
With that she begged a drop of whisky to go in her coffee, which proved earlier remarks true, Claudia wasted little time when it came to getting in the cup, but of course neither did we and after all this was a festive occasion.
"Might as well" Flip stated before pouring himself a good measure of whisky to sip while ignoring Charlie's empty extended cup.
"Damn boy ain't you had enough ?" The Birdman hissed as Charlie helped himself then answered while coldly looking straight at Claudia -"I'll be the judge of that"
Seemingly she pretended not to grasp his meaning.

For some odd reason I was becoming more interested in this woman and now pondering other possibilities, but somewhere inside my booze soaked head, another primal sense was attempting to sound warning..

[Atehequa]

Chapter 9 - Suspicions



This would be a good night to quaff hard spirits, get reeling drunk and experience the cheer of a rainy-night cold-camp. Loaded up with fresh supplies not long since stored, we were well provisioned to carry on for a good while. And what stores we had, plenty of ice, more meat, eggs and soda, coffee, snacks, five brand new butane lighters, five bottles of vodka, four bottles of good rum, a few cases of imported ale, German beer and Whitey's swill of St. Louis along with a good supply of Whoodee some of which Flip was now twisting up into a bone.

Blessing it with butane flame he drew in a long deep toke then passed it to Charlie who already had his hand out to receive. I could tell by the way Flip's beady eyes darted about he was on the verge of a brain fart.
Looking at our thin plastic ceiling he came upon an idea - "You know if I take that last tarp out of the truck, lash it high over the pit as rain cover, we could scoop out that wet shit and get a small fire going"
"Sounds like you're just the man for the job Flip, I'll sit here and keep watch" Was all that I could offer while passing the burning bone to Claudia.
I was getting 'up there' rather swiftly and like the others, too fucked up to fret upon this damp, dreary weather.
"Look-ee thar" Flip brought to our attention the moving flashes of distant headlights flickering through the shadows of dark Trees. Soon we heard the sound of tires turning wet gravel.

It was Bear's truck which was now backing in and as far as we could tell driving it was R.W. with Denny as passenger. After putting in park and cutting off it's engine the brothers remained inside for a short while no doubt plotting some type of scheme. Finally both doors opened and closed at once, then without so much as a call in both Dibbles entered our camp. They both offered short shallow greetings then with all the finesse of a foppish court messenger on a fool's errand R.W. shook the rain drops from his hair and spoke - "We came to get some more drink and was wondering if you guys could lay some smoke on us "
Not responding I poured me one as he continued - "The Bear wants a cooler filled with ice and beer"
"Oh he does, does he ?" I snarled out - "Well now, you can tell Bear if he wants some beer, then he needs to haul his big oafish ass over here and get it himself, but only after a formal request to re-enter the camp he left. You all split the scene, we didn't and that's the law of our band !"
"What about some rum and whoodee ?" R.W. persisted - "We have none"
"You'll have less than that if you don't get ye gone, varlet. We'll parley only with Bear from here on out"
To convince them we meant business I took up my walking stick and waved it at his floofy head in a menacing manner. Both took my meaning and promptly departed spinning tires on their way out. Flip had the trenching tool over his shoulder, while Charlie guzzled hooch.

"If I have to ask" Claudia chuckled.
"Go right ahead" I returned watching tail lights disappear into the damp dreary darkness.
"Why were you so mean to them ?"
"Custom" I replied.
"Custom ? Don't make me laugh" Claudia was now somewhat buzzed-up herself.
"That's right, custom” I replied - “Bear along with the others passed between our banners on their way out and now they have took up merriment and lodging elsewhere without proper council and if I might add, in a most rude manner assuming there would be at least a few poor damp saps left behind to stand watch over our encampment and stores. Mean ? No, they have to be made aware of their rude actions before re-entering this camp"

Perhaps in my substance altered state, I was over reacting to all of this.

"They'll be back" Flip said, already up and starting his latest project. In little time he had his pit cover up, all the wet black muck shoveled out. He had stood upon two stacked coolers to lash high the tarp as to not have it heat scorch or catch flame, hopefully. The pit now clear of most of the wet ash and coals I gave credit where it was due with a raised cup, a hurrah and a drunken sincere compliment - "You're doing a fine job Flip"
"Fuck you Jim" He barked - "Fetch me some kindling and charcoal starter before I exile your lazy ass over to Bear's hootenanny"
I downed my drink and swiftly obliged the quartermaster. We soon had ourselves a small but cheerful fire crackling and sputtering lifting our spirit’s a bit more. Even the dreary drizzle had tapered down to a light misty drizzle. Somewhere out on the edge of our camp light a toad sang happily, oddly enough in tune with the Troggs song Wild Thing playing on the radio.

"I'd thought they'd be coming sooner" Flip calmly alerted us again of distant headlight beams cutting through darkness and the sprinkling mist.
"I see em" I said, taking up my stick. Charlie grasped a large onion as if it was a weapon and again we heard the sound of tires turning wet gravel.
It was Bear's truck again, slowly rolling a few yards past our parking area then carefully backing in. No mistaking the large bushy head in the passenger seat. The Great Lame Drunken Bear. It looked to be Patti behind the wheel from what we could see through the swirling misty gloom. Now parked they both exited the truck, but did not advance.
Keeping within tradition Charlie, Flip and myself paid them no heed, continuing our quaffing and small talk.

"Haaalooooow camp !" It was Bear's rumbling voice, but we ignored him at present.

Then we heard another bellow - "Haaaaloooow to camp !"
This time Charlie shouted - "Whooooo the hell is out there ?"
"You know damn full well who it is !" Bear abruptly paused, grumbled something into his beard and then started anew in a more kinder tone - "It's your old friend Bear! I offer apologies for any rudeness on my part and most humbly request permisson to enter camp"
I welcomed him - "Well don't just stand out there in the drizzle,, come in Great Bear friend"
With Patti following far enough behind to hide her mirth The Bear limped in with whiskers bristled and his chest stuck out obviously ruffled from all the customary formalities. Casting me a glare as I was now seated in his folding camping throne, he plopped down upon the bench .
"Could I get you anything ?" I asked politely matching the hard look he gave me.
Blunt and to the point the Bear responded - "I'm here for some drinking supplies to take back"
"Take back ?"
"Yeah to my suite"
"Anything else ?" I inquired with a pleasant smile.
"What the hell do you mean, anything else ?"
Standing beside Bear, Patti brought him back to cordiality with a knee to his good leg. He cut his eyes at Patti and carried on in a more pleasant manner "What else ? Why to invite you all up to my suite for all the comfortable good cheer you can stand"
Standing beside The Great Bear like a beautiful raven-haired shield maiden, Patti issued a - "Yaaay !"
I rose, shook his paw and proclaimed - "We shall provide you with provisions and accept your invitations"
Flip and I even packed and loaded up his beer.
"I could use a decent shower, the one up there suck eggs" Claudia requested.
"Done !" The Bear happily roared - "The suite has a rather nice bathroom"
"Wait there's more" I added. Now the liquor was talking - "We shall arrive a little later, after securing the camp, and expect to be treated in a friendly manner heaped with appreciation and treated like heroes for staying with the camp through bouts of heavy weather"
"Do what ?" Bear growled, but was kneed in the thigh again by Patti.
"Woman are you trying to cripple my other leg ?"
She responded with a delightful giggle.
“Alright, well have a big cheer and hurrah for you” Bear said with a snarl.
Claudia got up, opened her umbrella, grabbed a flashlight, excused herself and pranced off the pop-up for a few things.
"See that she goes unmolested" I told Bear.
"You have my word, brother" He assured me and then extended his paw for another drunken handshake.
By the time The Great Bear gathered some more items he thought could be utilized up at his luxury lair and wolfed down the last of our beans-n-weenies, Claudia had returned and told us she would be back after a bath, then reached down planting a big wet kiss upon my cheek - "Thank you for making peace with Bear" She whispered in my ear - "You guys are something else"
"Yeah, but it's hard to tell what that something else is" I replied twirling a lock of her hair in my fingers.

Bear had his brew, however the others had to go through this same ritual before anymore supplies left our encampment.

Patti, Claudia and Bear drove off into the misty gloom. Once again there were three of us left at our heathen encampment with enough booze and high quality grass to keep us going.
There was damp deck of cards and no one willing to throw dice. Charlie got up from the table, wobbled around a bit, lit up a cigarette and slurred - "Hope she stays up there with them"
"Who?" Flip asked, knowing full well the answer.
"Claudeeeeeaaa, that's who. I don't need a lush telling me to cut back on my drinking, besides she's weird in the sack"
Perking Flip's interest he inquired - "What do you mean by weird ?"
"Do tell " I insisted.
Charlie reached into the cooler, grabbed, popped open and drained an ale before going in some detail of Claudia's passionate bedtime weirdness - " When we were fooling around last night in Bear's truck bed she kept on trying to play with and lick my belly button,,,"
"That's not weird, that's not even kinky" Flip blurted out.
"Go on Charlie" I prodded.
"Well it started with her tracing circles around my belly button clockwise, the changing to counterclockwise, all the while humming some strange song I couldn't understand"
"Then what ?"
"She stuck her mouth over my navel and started poking in with her tongue"
"Foreplay" Flip grunted.
"Her pointed tongue was jabbing it hard, it creeped me out, made me kinda dizzy"
“You were already dizzy” Flip chuckled.
Curious I bade -“Go on Charlie”
" I tried to direct her head and mouth to somewhere else, but the woman has neck muscles like steel cables, couldn't budge it at all"
Snickering, Flip asked -"Are you sure you wanted her mouth somewhere else ?"
"She then jabbed her tongue even harder into my belly button, that's when I broke free. I had to take a piss after all that tongue jabbing. I crawled out of the truck bed, but could barely walk. I felt drained. When I got back Claudia was riled up and starting in about my drinking, then without so muck as a kiss or goodnight she rolled over and went to sleep or just laid there, I couldn't tell"

"Dizzy and Weak" Flip barked - "Sure it wasn't all that booze and grass you consumed half of yesterday and most of last night ? "
Charlie rarely snapped at anyone, but with his upper curled - "No it wasn’t all the booze ! I could drink you under the table any two nights of the week, without any sleep !" Then added in a more softer serious tone - "Something ain’t quite right with that woman. Something strange "
Flip still not taking him in a serious manner said - " Ah you both were just too fucked-up for a good roll in the hay"
"Something else" Charlie added - "For an old woman she has the body of someone much younger. Not so much as a wrinkle or sag anywhere and man is she strong"
"Strong ?"
"Strong enough to hold my arms and legs down with her hands and feet. I could only break away when she let up on her grip after I cut a big fart"
"Beans-n-weenies" Flip laughed, but Charlie was not so mirthful.
"Young body" Flip said - "Maybe she works out, takes good care of herself" adding - "Maybe she's had plastic surgery"

"Maybe something else" I grimly added as strange thoughts bounced about in my skull.

As Flip was attempting to press Charlie to give up other details of his two nights of romping with Claudia, I excused myself, grabbed a flashlight and slightly staggered over to a bare spot on the ground I noticed earlier further down beside the loop road. Shining down the light beam I found what I was looking for a patch of exposed yellowish hued clay, common throughout the area. Taking out my knife I dug up a walnut-sized hunk, very moist and pliable from the wet weather. While walking back I heard Flip mumble something, followed by Charlie saying rather loudly - "Fuck you Flippy ! That's none of your damned business, you perv !"
Returning I entered the tent and pulled a few items from my medicine bag, then
re-joined my companions at our table. "What ya got there Jim ?" Flip inquired, but I did not respond and proceeded to grind a secret ingredient in my possession, with a small amount of dried spice rack garlic powder between a round and a flat stream-smoothed stones. After adding a little cooking oil to the clay, I tinged in the dried ground mixture all the while hoping any protecting spirits moving about this location would be understanding of our addled conditions thus keeping us from harm's way.

Using my knife I smeared a small gob for each of them on our table - "Here rub this into your navels"
"You got to be kidding me !" Flip cackled.
"No, I'm serious, rub this into your bellybuttons" I advised, rubbing a good portion into my navel.
"Flip's mouth dropped open - "Are you saying she is some kind of,,,"
"I don't know, could be " I then reminded them - "Mouth over navel, jabbing tongue, Up over Charlie, holding his wrist down with an iron grip, feet that turn webbed or flipper-like in bed holding Charlie's legs down. A sixty something year old woman who's built like a thirty year old, hitting on the likes of us ?"
"Hey speak for yourself !" Charlie barked.
"It smacks of the weird" I stated - "Shit, I can still feel a tingling where she kissed me"
"Yeah I bet you feel a tingling" Flip added with a wink.
After more of my urging Charlie, then Flip complied knowing somewhat of such dark matters. I carefully put the remaining mixture in a empty cigarette pack then put it in my pocket and cleaned up all traces of these doings. "What if this stuff doesn't work ?" Charlie asked with a worried look in his eyes.
"If nobody gets overly intimate with her, then we should be alright during waking hours"
"What if she bewitches us, or comes upon us in our sleep ? And what if your concoction doesn't work ? What then ?"
"Then you can always stick a sharp wooden stake into the heart, or else lop off a head " I replied, realizing this could all be substance induced imagination bouncing around in my
skull. Yet it is always a good idea to play it safe especially far from home, in our altered conditions. Already we had lost some of our own to similar creatures. The last one bewitched by an exotic dusky hued beauty that appeared from nowhere. Over the course of only two months, she had drained him of almost all of his essence. Shortly after she departed, he hung himself in his parent's garage while they were at church. His brother later told me of his wilted appearance after he was cut down.
She later hooked up with a friend of Bear's out in Oklahoma. He was reduced to a mindless mess and is now doing time in prison. Wilted and old at 25 a wisp of the man he once was. The last I heard this soul eater was slain by a biker chick with a baseball bat down in Texas.

For a short while Flip complained about the "itchy crud" in his navel, but in time we fell back into our routine of getting tight with the night. The whisky was finished, so I broke out a bottle of rum. We as pickled party people would make no savory meal for any night feeders.
Charlie and I chased quaffs with Pineapple juice, while Flip mixed his with Dr Pepper. Sipping on his drink he advised us - Sleep with a broom propped up in your doorway.

We saw the advancing flickering of headlights through the trees and as they drew near there was the sound of tires turning wet gravel. It was Whitey's truck and he came alone. He threw open the door and swaggered right into camp forgoing any formalities. His route was straight to our beer stock until I halted him - "Get your drunk ass back and ask in a meek tone to re-enter this encampment. You know the drill !"
Swearing under his breath he backed up to the edge of our camp light.

The words poured out in a rapid slurring of speech - "Ho Camp, This here is Whitey, an old friend. I'm sorry for booking off and have no worthy explanation to justify my actions, except I'm a drunk. Can I come into camp ?"

"Come the fuck in !" Flip shouted. Having none of his swill on ice Whitey begged an ale from me. "Help yourself" I offered, then inquired - "Don't tell me you've guzzled down a case of Bud already, you sot"
"Hell no" he replied - "There's a little motel-sized fridge in that place and I couldn't get a whole lot of beer in it, but I managed to get a few in that cooler you sent up"
"So what brings you this way now ?" I asked.
"Bear and the rest of them told me to tell you three to come on up"
"Two" said Flip nodding his strange shaped head over at Charlie who was now passed out, face down to the table.
"Damn" I swore - "I'd never thought to see this fucker with two hollow legs go out like this before quiet time"
"Maybe he's cooked" Whitey implied.
"Maybe something else" I said - "Let's get him into a tent before he gets splinters in his head"
Flip and I pulled Charlie off the bench and rolled him into Bear's tent. He hit the floor like a dead man.
After throwing a sleeping bag over him and zipping up the door flap Flip asked Whitey how things were up at Bear's suite.

"Well the Bear is in a better mood since he got more beer" Whitey replied smacking his lips after a good quaff of quality brew.
"Damn he left with a shit load of his beer" Flip reminded.
"Yeah, but the Dibbles helped him drink that up"
"Fuck !" I growled- "They had a whole bottle of booze !"
Yeah, but R.W. tried to do some of that fancy bartender bottle juggling shit and dropped the bottle" Whitey added - "It was almost full when it broke"
"Now it's all the way gone" I added - "Stupid drunken bastard"
"Showing off for Patti" Whitey said.
"What about Claudia ?"
"She's still in the bathroom"
"Whitey"
"What Jimmy ?"
Looking him dead in the eyes I said - "Before any more beer leaves this camp and we go off to join in this new party I want you to do something for me"
"I'm not gonna blow you" Whitey laughed.
Pulling out the cigarette pack I handed it to him and requested - "I want you to dip your finger into this and rub some in your navel"
"What the fuck ?" Opening the makeshift container he asked "What the hell is this shit Jim ?"
"Protection !"
"Protection from what?"
"It's vampire repellent" Flip informed him.
"It's what?"
"Do it, humor me Whitey, it's for your own good"
"What is it, bat poop ?"
I lifted my shirt and motioned Flip to do the same, showing Whitey the yellowish gunk in our navels. "Vampire repellent of sorts" and continued "Remember when Scotty's folks found him dangling in their garage?" He knew then what I spoke of, but issued a bit of bravado anyway - "Man you guys are smoking way too much of that shit, but I'll rub some of this slime in anyway, if y'all will come up and smoke some with us" Scooping a fair amount of the mixture with his finger he smeared inside his navel.
"Speaking of which" I handed him what was left of our earlier bone. "Say nothing about this to the others, I'll hip the rest of the band at a chosen time and place"

We finished the joint, and had a few more drinks while waiting for the fire to die down which gave me time to roll up another lunker to take along.
Whitey asked me - "So where's this vampire of yours ?" But before I could get it out Flip answered - "We think it's Claudia"
"What?"
"Could be, not sure, but it's leaning in that direction" I added, draining the cup and securing it to me by running my belt through it's handle.
Making sure the fire was low enough not to catch anything else, we piled into Whitey's truck and drove up to Bear's lair.

"I rapped upon the door with my walking stick and after a few seconds Patti, now covered, nay robed in one of Bear's large denim shirts opened up for us with her usual cheerfulness she hugged and greeted. Oh it was a grand abode, for those who couldn't hack tenting. Two king-sized beds one on which The Great Bear laid sprawled out upon his back, head propped up by a mound of pillows, kicked back and sipping on a cold one. Over by a corner sitting at a well crafted table the Dibbles were drinking beer and playing backgammon. Denny didn't travel without his board. Patti seated herself on the edge of a bed and bounced.
"Welcome to high and dry partying my heroic friends !" Bear roared, raising his bottle aloft.
"Nice pad you've got yourself here Bear, how many bucks did it set you back ?" Flip inquired.
"Don't worry about it Flipper, I put it on plastic"
Patti then bounced off the bed, taking our cups and bottle of rum over to the dresser and proceeded to pour everybody one. Denny pulling away from the game said - "Fire up a Whoodee Skid !"
"Here in a bit, Denny" I returned.
Right then a door opened and out sashayed Claudia, clad in a long slit-up the side, low-cut, thin cotton fabric, wine colored, gown-like garment. A burnished mass of rich chestnut hair, without any silver, half-dry hair fell over her shoulders and down her back. She was lithe and shaped like a goddess. Her beautiful hazel eyes shaded by lovely long lashes Those eyes were deep in strange and sensuous mystery. I had to catch my breath as all others stared as in a trance. Claudia appeared as a beautiful, well turned woman less than half her given age.
She repaid my ogling with a heart jolting smile, and greeted us, "Well hello Jim, hi Flip" She spoke in a deep rich sultry voice - "Where's Charlie ?"
Taking my eyes off her ample braless bosom straining against the thin wine hued fabric, I responded - "Passed out, dead drunk, out for the count"
With that bit of news She had the disappointed look of a hunter whose prey just bolted out of the crosshairs.
"Wow ! Look at you !" Patti exclaimed looking Claudia up and down. All were amazed and marveled at her transformation. My thought was that she had colored her hair. Claudia beamed within all this attention. Patti served Flip and I with refreshment then went on to shower Claudia with compliments. Both dropped butts on the edge of the other bed and engaged themselves in cheerful girlish conversation. I couldn’t keep my eyes off this stunning beauty.
The Great Bear was set-up good for one who could not stand the least desirable rigors of camp life, having a decent mattress and box-springs under his massive frame along with Patti or anyone else handy fetching him beers and tossing away his empties. With Claudia out of the bathroom I was surprised to see Bear pull himself up and limp in for a piss. Claudia, Patti, Whitey, the Dibbles and even Flip seem to have settled well into this comfort. Downing my measure of rum I knew it would not be long before it would be time for me to book out, back down to camp. After sometime of outdoor living, I felt boxed-in within these walls.

Whitey had now perched himself on the edge of Bear's bed across from the ladies whom he now ogled, with a slight drooling smile, while the Brothers Dibble were in a heated game, heated that is for Backgammon. The Great Bear limped out of the bathroom to the whirl-pooling sound of a flushing toilet, grabbed himself a cold one, then plopped down upon the bed.
"Drink up folks, it's on the house!" He slurred, spittle flying out of his maw. Flip and I leaned our walking sticks in a corner than copped a squat on the floor.
Everybody had something going on. Claudia and Patti jabbering away, Whitey swilling a Bud was ogling the ladies over the rim of his 12oz can. The Dibbles playing a board game and Bear blubbering away about how he fucked up his garage door. It appeared that the prescription pain killers and enough beer to bath in had rendered the large one to a near senseless mass of flesh, fat and bone. I took in the scene and engaged in a little small talk with whoever was responsive. Seeing that everyone was off on their own little set of playground swings, I motioned for Flip to draw closer and quietly told him - " Look man, I'm splitting this affair, I want you to get the others to apply the repellent" Swiftly pulling out the cigarette pack/container, I handed it to Flip advising him to catch them without Claudia's presence, and tell them nothing more, until more certain. I then pulled out the bone rolled earlier and tossed it upon the Backgammon board. The Birdman's eyes darted about in a worried manner and then proceeded to bid me to stay - "Come on man, don't book off yet, besides that's a bit of a hike back to camp"
"Yeah, don't split Skid, you just got here" R.W. begged while lighting up the bone.
"The Bear was now rambling in the unintelligible gibberish liken to a dementia patient. While Claudia and Patti jabbered on.
"Well someone has to stay with the camp" I dryly stated.
"Charlie's there" Flip reminded me.
"What's left of him" I said before swiftly bidding farewells and slipping out the door.

I set out for camp at a easy careful pace for somebody half snockered and once beyond the lights of Big Meadows Lodge my way became suddenly darker. Now there was only a light drifting mist as I went on and ahead of me the road disappeared into shadows. Those shadows became more deeper and darker as I continued. Applying what night woodcraft I could muster and with the exception of a rare foot scuff, my progress was quiet enough, or so I thought. Reaching a low dipping point down the road a shudder ran through my body for now reason than I was in a bowl-like depression. Having a swift look at my surroundings ,I bolted up to higher ground, then spun about to have a glance behind me. Being tickled by the fear along with the cool damp air had sobered me up somewhat. My hackles laying down, I continued down the darken road. From side to side to behind and ahead I attempted to penetrate the shadows while beating it back to camp.

At last, the entrance to our gravel loop campground road, a welcome sight. I'd be back at the picnic table in short time, or so I thought.

It was the faint sound of footfalls turning wet gravel which made me wheel around, ready to swing my stick. There was nothing behind me to be seen so I moved off the road into the gloom. Standing still and silently watching the road I saw nothing living moving to or fro, but thought to of heard slight rustling on the breeze. After another minute of watching I hopped back out upon the loop road, and carefully continued, but now at a swifter pace. Perhaps Whitey was correct in stating I had smoked too much. Maybe all the booze and high-quality weed had my imagination running wildly far ahead. Scant wonder, substance addled with all these thoughts of soul suckers bouncing about and a gob of yellowish gunk in my navel.
Maybe I was jumping the gun as Claudia could just be some well kept, older beauty like Sophia Loren or Ann Margret. a hot looking older woman in good health and spirits with a high libido.
My thoughts drifted fondly back to Bear's suite and Claudia sashaying out of the bathroom in that well fitting evening gown.

And there she was standing not ten yards in front of me.

Walking stick thrust out like a pike, I called out - "How did you get ahead of me ?"
"Oh put down your stick, silly man, it's just me"
Slightly feeling like a drunken goof, I lowered my stick and told her - "Never know what one will come across on a dark road" Pressing with my question - "So how is it, I left Bear's party before you, and now you stand before me ?"
She laughed and asked - "Can you not hear the night over the numb padding of your own feet ?"
"Pah !" I barked, "I knew something was trailing me before the road dipped"
She twirled her umbrella and offered explanation - " I ducked into the brush, right before you turned and left the road"
"That's why I saw no one behind me" I said inwardly cursing my drunken senses.
She continued - "While you stood in the trees, I picked my way around you"
"Well that was a neat trick to say the least" I said thinking this woman possessed uncanny woodcraft, or she was some supernatural being or, I was more snockered than previously thought. Still neither of us advanced forward to meet the other. At this distance in the dark I could barely make out her face but felt like she was silently laughing, which creep me out somewhat.
"A neat trick for you perhaps" She returned with a mocking musical laughter all the while twirling her umbrella. Having enough of that I advanced in a quick stride. Halting about ten feet away, my next question was - "Why do you trail me ?"
She now stepped in closer, tilted her umbrella back and said - "I heard you tell Flip something about watching the camp and left before I or anyone else could say goodbye" Claudia added - "For one who practices so many 'camping traditions', that seemed out of character, anyway that's alright I had to get out of there too" She went on - "After getting my stuff together, getting a jacket on and refusing the traveling company of the Dibbles and Patti, I left to catch up with you"
Claudia then informed me in a sultry voice - "I didn't want you to be at that picnic table all alone, it just wouldn't be right"
With that said she stepped in even closer, lightly tapped my shoulder and purred - "Come on Jim, lets get back to camp" So I went with Claudia, but kept her on my left side as we walked.

Stars began to blink as passing clouds begain moving out, following the distant weakening front. Branches and leaves murmured in the breeze. The front had all but departed leaving the upland air cool and fresh. As we walked together Claudia made small talk while I pondered if she was going back to finish off Charlie, or now had me on her menu. Perhaps I just needed a slug of something, a pipe full and a blazing fire, putting the rest on instinct and fate.

For now I would enjoy her company and have a good time. After all this was vacation.

We rounded the last bend and walked into camp. Flip's fire was still smoldering and with a small effort could be rekindled into blaze. First though, I lit a propane lantern before gathering some of our brought-in hardwood kindling. Once the kindling had caught I placed in a few good chunks of red oak. Claudia, standing beside me agreed that bringing in your own wood was a smart idea. "Oh yeah" I said, building up several more pieces of hardwood kindling to catch the oak - "They'll spank you for a small bundle of firewood up at the camp store"

Seeing we had a good fire starting Claudia seated herself. Folding her hands and placing them upon the table. Her face was aglow in the lantern light and I noticed her eyes were now of a golden-amber hue. Below those eyes, a slight closed-lip smile..

[Atehequa]

Part 10 - Nature's Wild Calling

The flickering friendly flames were somewhat sedating, leaping high in blazing dance.

"Oh fuck !" I completely forgot about Flip's small fire tarp cover and if not removed, say any second it would turn into a burning, melting mess. What made matters worse was the fact that one of the two sturdy enough to stand upon coolers, held cold beers up at Bear's Lair. There was nothing high enough to stand on and unlash tarp cords.
Thinking fast I hauled buns into Flip's tent, then came back out with my Khyber knife. Drawing it I cast it’s sheath aside and bounded up to slash through the first cord.
"Put that down and come here !" Claudia shouted - "Let me up on you shoulders"
Watching the loose corner waver dangerously close to the flame I quickly weighed out her words as she stood upon the bench and motioned me over. I jabbed the big blade down into soft moist dirt, ran over to Claudia and crouched down. She swiftly mounted my shoulders and I grabbed her legs in a secure manner. Claudia prodded me to each lashing where she quickly untied Flip's superb slipknots then pulled away the tarp.
With that bit of fast work out of the way, I rewarded her swift, sound thinking with a playful shoulder ride out to the loop road and down some. Her musical laughter was that of a young maiden as she rode high in the night.
She was of little burden to me. I rather enjoyed the warmth upon my back, shoulders and neck. I delivered Claudia back to the bench.
With Flip's tarp slightly scorched but saved, a playful canter about the camp and a sweet muskiness upon my nape, I figured this would be a good time for a drink.
"Can I get you anything to take the chill off ?"
"No chill here" She replied, the asked - "What do you have?"
"I ran down the list including my brandy stash.
"I would love some brandy, and maybe another ride later" She laughed.

I produced a bottle of fine homemade peach brandy, opened it and poured us both a good measure. We clanked cups. She sniffed and sipped, while I quaffed. Draining my first, I poured another. Feeling somewhat secure with a table between us I sat looking, taking in her beauty. Taking another sip, Claudia put down her cup and inquired about Charlie.
"Well" I said - "Oddly enough, only after three days of partying hard seems to have taken a toll on the lad" I then added - "He passed out awhile back, here at the table, so we carried him off to bed"
Truly it was odd, Charlie out for the count so early in the night. Pondering upon this made me become somewhat wary again. As fire's heat was carried to us by a pleasant mountain breeze, Claudia unbuttoned her jean jacket while telling me both blaze and brandy had warmed her up.
She leaned down offering me a generous view down the front of her gown and almost in a whisper asked - "Warm enough for you ?"
"Warm enough for a longer growing season" I managed to get out without a slur or stammer, then continued ogling her bosom.
With a giggle she straightened up, crossed her arms over her breasts and demanded - "Good Sir, what were you looking at ?"
Curtains drawn over my vista I truthfully replied - "Why at your nay nays, my good lady"
"What!" She playfully pretended to be taken aback.
I added - "And what a fine pair they are, here in the firelight"
With that off came the jacket and out came the boobs for a quick uninhibited shake and bounce. An unexpected display, it had me giddy enough.

It was then Flip came into the camp catching us unaware.

Claudia in no hurry stuffed them back in her gown, then slung the jean jacket over her shoulders as Flip watched the whole process before cutting his dark eyes at me. With a sneering bark of laughter he asked - "Checking the lady for ticks ?"
I quickly replied - "As a matter of fact I was. She seems to be free of parasites"
Flip continued to give me a weird look, until I slipped him a few of our band's hand signals meaning everything was okay for now.
"Have ye some brandy man", but he waved away my offer, got up and copped himself an ale instead. Seeing that we had a roaring fire and noticing his tarp, neatly folded in Bear's camp chair Flip thanked me. " I had to cut one of your cords", remembering my knife sticking in the moist dirt.
"So how's Bear's upscale party going ?" I asked pulling the blade free.
"The Bear is in and out of dozing and blabbering. He's a fucking mess"
"Narcotics and alcohol, good thing Bear usually passes out before he can go over the limit" I said while putting a dab of oil on the blade, before sheathing it - "I tried to get one of those heavy duty pain killers from him Friday night when we got here but he wouldn't give it up"
"Well he can't smoke Whoodee" Flip reminded me.
"What about the others ?"
"What others ?"
"The others at the lodge you cooked bastard" I snarled, fished an ice cube out of a cup of Pineapple juice and popped it upside his head. He flicked a burning cigarette butt at me, then responded - "Well like I said, Bear is about done in, I stuck around and smoked that bone with them, we all got kind of looped. Patti and Whitey were talking about coming back here"
"And the Dibbles ?"
"They put up the board, and were watching television when I left"
"Come up to the mountains and watch television, fucking sad" I spat in disgust.
"Yeah it's a happening scene" Flip laughed.
"Sounds like quite the bash" I snickered.
"I hate to interrupt" Claudia pushed through our general goof - "Do you guys have anything in the way of bathroom tissue ?" She snatched up our flashlight while Flip unzipped his tent.
"Here, put this in here while your at it" I tossed him my Khyber knife.
Handing Claudia the full, un-used roll he offered her a little comfort - "It's Charmin"
"Mister Whipple !" I shouted throwing another ice cube at him.

Claudia excused herself then ventured behind the camp. We watched the bouncing flashlight beam flicker through the growth, and stop, then it went out a good twenty yards back in the wood.
She had found a spot.
In a shrill whisper Flip demanded - "What the fuck are you doing man ?"
"What the fuck do you mean?"
"There you were talking all that soul sucker shit, having us put gook in our navels, which by the way R.W. did, he even smeared some on his face like war-paint, where Denny, and Patti would not. All that mumbo jumbo and here you are getting a titty show"
"I'm just studying her " I assured him.
He lit up another cigarette, scratched his head and said - " She does have some nice ones"
"Dangerous as spider webs " I warned in a whisper. Then asked - “What about Bear?”
"What about the Bear ?" Flip returned
"Did he apply the repellent ?"
"No" Flip answered, pointing to a small bouncing light moving towards us - "Bear said he has his own medicine"
" Yeah I expect she has no taste for pickled eggs with her brandy" I added then fell silent watching the light approach.
Claudia strolled in, handed Flip his roll back then kissed him on the cheek with a grateful "Thank You"
Flip's swarthy face flushed and then he gulped down his ale.
"Here let me get you another" Claudia got up, grabbed, opened and poured him a cold one, then flashed a toothy smile.

'They don't look like old people’s dentures to me' I thought.

Claudia removed glasses from a case in her jacket pocket and began to read travel pamphlet lifted from Bear's suite. This seemed to stimulate Flip as he had a thing for women wearing glasses, Something no doubt instilled in him years ago in Miss Alston's 9th grade Math Class. Like every teenage boy who ever attended that class, I loved and fantasized about Miss Alston as well. Extremely beautiful, she wore a pair of black plastic framed glasses.
Swiftly did he scoot close beside Claudia and proceeded to enlighten her with his knowledge of various nearby tourist attractions. I placed a good size chunk of seasoned walnut into our fire pit then propped it up against the burning oak with the poke stick. I stood watching, entranced by dancing flame.
"Hey Jim" it was Claudia's rich voice calling me from my fire gazing - "How do you feel about going up to Panorama tomorrow ?"
Walking from the fire pit I responded - "Sounds good, that is if we can wake up early enough" Pouring myself another brandy, I requested - "Flip, twist one up, man" figuring it would take the edge off of any supernatural situation we may be facing. If she was a feeder, a lot of intoxicating substances may just throw her game off a bit. But so far Claudia seemed every bit of the party troopers we were.

As soon as Flip crawled into his tent to fill our prescription I caught those strange but lovely amber eyes upon me. There was unfathomable intent in those marvelous eyes which regarded me from across the table. A chill of scary excitement ran down my spine when she ran the tip of a strangely pointed red tongue across her lips.
Those eyes held mine and within a minute I felt my jaw going slack. A pool of drool formed in my mouth and didn't swallow until something started moving on my leg. Leaning back and looking down I saw it was her foot, now slipped out of a sandal caressing my leg in a most pleasant manner. It was only when Flip emerged from his tent did Claudia cease her rubbing, but not before she gently toe-poked me in the crotch.

Flip handed Claudia the doobie, then flicked his Bic lending butane flame as she drew upon it. She toked deeply, passed the burning bone to Flip, exhaling she asked - "So how long you guys been married ?"
"Several years" Flip replied, then proceeded to hit the bone.
"What about you Jim ?"
"Not long" I answered, pondering - 'Why is she asking this now?'
"Oh he's been living with her for awhile, but just recently tied the knot" Flip provided extra information.
"Living in sin ?" Claudia taunted waving her finger in my face.
"Well if you must know, we got hitched to stop her parents from nagging us about living in sin along with their moral standing in the Baptist community" Then added -"A very old Williamsburg family, they attempt to run our lives and have no great fondness for me or my friends."
The brandy allowing me enough bravado to spread my tail feathers, I informed her - "But you never know, I may find myself in a mood and leave everything to nature‘s wild calling"
"Nothing like it" Flip added, before taking another hit.
Claudia had the look of a thirsty bobcat, noticing not the panther above on a branch overlooking a cool clear stream.
At that point I knew my medicine was strong. But was it strong enough ? Using our jargon as in cheer, I lifted my cup and said - "Mawtooteewah" Flip caught my meaning and flashed a crooked smile. Oblivious, Claudia raised her cup as well.
If she was bold and uninhibited enough to hit on various members of our heathen band, she could handle whatever we could come up with. Deep in the cup we were bawdy enough to fly with her. But only over the ground we knew.
Flip passed Claudia the burning bone and I raised a cup and toasted - "Nature’s wild calling !" Then hooked my foot behind her calf, urging her to go on with the leg rubbing. Flip sat close enough to tilt his head for some ogling. She seemed not to be troubled by our lewd behavior.

Then a burning walnut knot popped, and in that instant she was not sitting across from me, in her place a floating cloud of dust. I blinked my eyes and Claudia was once again sitting across from me, holding her glasses, one ear piece between those alluring lips..

[Atehequa]

Part 11 - A glimpse into another world

Maybe it was just the Whoodee and booze making my eyes play tricks. This night smacked of the weird and now I was almost beyond being surprised.
Having regained any stray composure I asked - "So what did you do to my cousin last night ? Must of been something cause I've never seen him crap out before camp quiet time" Then I reached down, grabbed Claudia's ankle and rested her foot upon my knee.
Refusing not my attentions, she replied - "Your cousin drinks like a fish and eats like a bird. That hard drinking got the best of him" She smiled and added - "He couldn't keep up"
"Up where?" I inquired lightly pinching her little toe.
"Downtown" Claudia answered with a wink.
"Downtown ?" I laughed.
Flip cackled - “All lit up at night !”
Claudia quaffed down her second cup of brandy and tapped her fingers upon the rough table surface while Flip attempted to find a decent radio station.
Claudia accepted another cup full and asked - "What is it with you guys?"
"What is what ?" I returned
"All these strange traditions, ceremonies, dialect, sign language, and a remarkable will to celebrate" She then added - "I hope you don't carry on like this all the time"
"We're on vacation" I reminded her.
"This is our way" Flip told her - "No one else will have us" Then he issued a low laughing howl.
"We are who we are" I informed her - "Except for Whitey. He's a cracker"
"Cracker ass cracker" Flip added with a chuckle.
Flip re-lit the bone and took a couple of good tokes, passed it forth asking Claudia - "So how long you, Mildred and Guy going to stay at Big Meadows ?"
"Till Wednesday morning" She replied - "Guy wants to camp in Fort Valley"
"Elizabeth Furnace Campground ?" Flip asked
"I think that's what Guy said"
Flip went on - "Been there once, a couple of years ago,, half way decent trout waters, and some nice trails"
"That sounds nice" I said - "Wouldn't mind getting in a bit of fishing before we head back"
I had never been to Fort Valley, but what I'd gathered from maps and talk it's about a twenty mile long hollow inside of Massanutten Mountain with a large stream called Passage Creek running through it. A large fort-like hollow walled in by the mountain.
Looking at Flip and thinking about fishing, I stated - "Sounds like a cool place to spend our last few highland days and nights"
"Why don't you guys head out with us ?" Claudia offered, swirling the brandy in her cup.
Flip asked -"What, packed it up day after tomorrow and head for Massanutten ?"
"Well this place is nice, but maybe at Fort Valley there won't be any law enforcement brutes ranging the woods and turning hikers back"

The prospect of moving camp seemed to excite Flip somewhat as he liked going to different places, but seconds later his dark eyes darted about. A sign he was pondering deeply. I could almost tell by his body language, Flip was thinking about the secret garden. He would always pick his teeth while in the grip of greedy thoughts.

"Something to discuss with the others tomorrow, providing we can get them all together at once" I said. We could not just pack up and go without proper council. Charlie would go anywhere the party was heading, no doubt the Dibbles as well. Moving camp always aggravated The Bear and he would growl and grumble through the whole process, but come along as long as he didn't have to expend any effort. Patti and Whitey on the other hand were leaving Thursday morning. Perhaps they would not want to travel the distance, just for one more day. We would ask them anyway.

Enchanted by a lovely guest
As the tree frogs sang that evening
Days away from the coming Fall
Engaged in highland revelry,
Beholding to not much at all

The tree frog ceased their shrill night songs as headlights flashed from across the loop. Soon there was again the sound of tires turning gravel.

It was Whitey's truck.

As it backed in we saw there were three people inside, but really couldn't tell who they might be until it was jerked into park then Patti, Whitey and Denny piled out. Denny did have enough of his senses about him to offer an apology and then formally request entry into our encampment.
Flip extended welcome - "Come on in !"
Denny told us that R.W. was going to be crashing up at the suite.
"Hope he has some damned earplugs" Whitey hissed, before guzzling down a beer.
"Patti approached Claudia and asked - "Any sign of Mildred and Guy ?"
"Not yet" Claudia sighed, then swiftly changed the subject to a possible trip to Panorama tomorrow. Shifting the subject back to Mildred and Guy, Patti offered - "I hope they're alright"
"I'm sure they're ok and will be along sometime soon" Claudia assured Patti.
Whitey was quite bombed, slurring heavily, staggering somewhat, yet still pounding down brew. Denny went to the coolers and rifled around for some cold leftover grub.
"So what brings you back to such crude accommodations ?" I bluntly asked Denny who was now munching upon a hunk of cold, grilled meat.
He wolfed down his snack and informed me - "The Bear is passed out, snoring like a turbine and R.W. is watching some stupid movie, so we booked it back to camp"
Denny then helped himself to a bottle of my ale. He happened to catch my eye long enough to nod his head towards Claudia, then a placed a finger to the navel area, without no one but Flip and I noticing. My response was two quick head nods.
Denny firmly believed in the supernatural, but like Bear, trusted in his own Medicine, where R.W. would go along with most anything as a gag perhaps, especially when he was lit up.

"Burn a bone, Jim" Whitey requested, popping open another red, white and blue can of his favorite swill.
"Yeah Skid" Denny added - "Smoke Whoodee"
I called them both - "Fucking druggies" , then invited them all into Flip's Tent for a few rounds with the big pipe.
"But it's so nice out here" Patti protested.
"About time for a ranger to make a round" I informed her - "Better to keep it all out of sight"
With that we entered our 'grass shack' and formed the circle. Pulling out my stash and a small pair of scissors I selected a good sized top, then proceeded to snip it into small bits for the bowl. After loading our pipe I offered it to the winds, then drew upon the mouthpiece while Flip sparked me up. Toking deeply I then offered it to Flip, having to re-fire this half-dry weedy wonder. Flip handed the pipe to Denny who in turn toked before passing it around to Whitey then to Patti. Claudia hit it rather lightly, before handing off to me. With a second re-load we repeated the process two more times.

Putting our gear away, we crawled out of the smoke filled tent. A fucked-up mess we were.
Patti, Denny and Flip became consumed in a fit of laughter while Claudia got very quiet and to herself, staring at the dark leafy boughs above. Whitey on the other hand had been reduced to a state of substance induced slack jaw retardation. General all around substance induced goofiness throughout our encampment. It had packed a wallop on me as well. It almost felt as I was getting acid-like rushes off this smoke. The blazing fire made my head whirl as Denny started in on some fishing tales. He was bragging about his secret Crappie hole at Queens Lake.
"Speaking of fishing" I mumbled - "Flip and I have been talking about moving camp near a decent trout stream up at Fort Valley"
"Fort Valley?" Denny inquired
"Inside Massanutten" Flip stated, helping himself to my ale.
"I'm cool with it" Denny said - "As long as we can catch some fish"
"It's worth a try Denny, that is if everyone wants to throw in and book"
"When are we going ?" Patti eagerly asked.
"Wednesday morning,,," Flip extruded upon a belch.
"That only leaves us a day there" Whitey interjected before Flip could continue.
"Not if I can make a phone call" Patti proclaimed
I asked her - "What do you mean?"
"I'll call 'Cheyenne' and see if she'll take my sets Thursday and maybe Friday Night" Then she asked Whitey - "You don't have to be anywhere in the next few days, do you ?"
"Not till Monday morning Bay-beee, then it's back to work"
"Don't speak of such a horror" I laughed
Claudia cast me a strange look - "What horror ?"
"Monday morning my lady,, Monday morning"
Denny, Flip, Whitey and I grimaced at the thought, then quickly went back talking about Fort Valley.

Denny was up and foraging again for more camp treats. "Don't mess with my Bugles" Flip warned Denny, but the Dibble had found other fare in our fruit stores. At the mere mention of Bugles corn snacks there was a wild flickering in Whitey's shit brown eyes. With one hand upon his hilt, Flip's head shook from side to side while waving a talon like finger in Whitey's face - "Don't even think about it ! I'll open you up like a bag of potato chips"
"That crunching bugs the shit out of me" Whitey slurred spraying Flip with a few good spittle droplets.
"Hey you fucking psycho, if I wanted a shower I'd go up to the shit-house and take a hot one !" Then he asked for Claudia's umbrella.
"Start that damned crunching and I'll turn those Bugles into cornmeal" Whitey threatened.
"Fellows, please !!" Claudia pleaded.
'Oh shit !' I thought - 'She's opened up a tub of night crawlers'.
Claudia's plead into matters she scarcely understood would no doubt hoist her into a high-chair position in a strange little ritual I call - drunken camp court. As I said a strange ritual where both parties(Flip and Whitey) would plead their cases before Claudia as well as the rest of us.
"It's simple Claudia" Whitey began with a burp - " I hate Flip's fucking corn snack crunching, and if he does it tonight, I'll pound those Bugles into dust !"
Kind of caught off guard by this new development, Claudia threw back a slug of brandy then asked - "Well how do you feel about this Flip ?"
Flip rose from his seat and blasted into a rumbling rant - "He's a fucking psychopath, especially when drinking. He likes to destroy things. He shot up all my dad's spare florescent lights upstairs in my garage. He once loaded several BBs in the chamber of Crossman air rifle and shot Charlie in the head. He did it right out my bedroom window. We had to pick BBs out of Charlie's skull. Caught him making time with my girlfriend upstairs in my own garage on the pool table. He put firecrackers in my Starship Enterprise model and blew it to bits, inside my bedroom, while I was taking a dump. He knocked Wade off his bike breaking one arm, then caught him a week later and broke the other" Then added with a sneer - "I could go on and on about this mad dog"
"All that shit happened quite awhile back, Flip !" Whitey objected, flipping Flip the bird then went on - "Yeah and I paid your dad for those lights, and gave you twenty bucks for the Enterprise !"
Flip called him a -"Fucking Klingon !"
"Yeah, well you better scarf those Bugles out of earshot, you goon !"
At this point I had enough of this back and forth drivel. Getting up I walked over by our fire, picked up the poke stick, returned to the table and threatened to beat both of them into bloody pulps if they didn't -"Shut the fuck up!"
Claudia handed down a judgment - "Flip, try a more healthy non-crunchable snack, like fruit" then asked - "Whitey ?"
"What ?"
"Why all the anger ?"
"Stop it right there Judge Claudia, or we'll have to listen as they spew more shit !" I demanded pounding the poke stick upon our table.
Claudia seemed somewhat surprised by the brief stormy display of substance addled behavior. The rest of us had experienced these little outbursts many times before. In fact, Flip and Whitey's emotional exchange was somewhat mild and short lived.

We use to be a tight knit group but time, employment, domestic life, divorce, exile had spread us out and away from the area we grew up at - The once semi-rural North Hampton area, so close to the salt we often caught it upon the morning breeze.
All of us had went to the same schools and lived through the same times. Some of us were babysat by each other's mothers during the Eisenhower and Kennedy administrations. We went through the same cold war bomb drills knowing Hampton Roads would be one of the first places vaporized if it came down to a missle shootout. We grew up with segregation. We lost our kin and friends over in Southeast Asia. I remember seeing a bumper sticker back in the mid 60s that pictured a pregnant Black woman, barefoot, belly extending, many ribbons in her un kept hair, lanky arms upon her broad hips and words that read 'I went all the way with LBJ'. Yes some of us were taught hate as well. Crosses were burnt by some in North Hampton. More than once our area saw racial tension explode into violence. Most of us were not racists, but knew where not to be late at night.
Whitey's Family had moved up to Hampton from a central North Carolina clan of Anglo-German stock. His father found work in the shipyard while his mother worked at the local DMV and raised two boys. Whitey's dad would take his mother down to North Carolina for the birth of each brother as he did not want his children born in Virginia. An abusive man with a short temper, Whitey's Father came from a long line of old southern racists. He hated Black People and cared less for anyone who did not look pure white, which put me on his shit list and very well may of been the first to refer me as a breed. He did not like the Bear because of his wild appearance and had a dislike of the Dibbles. Although these types called people like the Birdman and I breeds, he tolerated Flip. I remember him telling me to stay out of his yard and later would blame me for his son's chronic alcoholism. One day they up and moved from Lynnhaven to York County. There were rumors of Whitey's dad being caught having an affair with his neighbor's 17 year old daughter. Never reported to the police as not to bring about any more shame, the girl's parents handled matters in a personal manner and shortly after Whitey's father, bruised, bloody and battered sold out and bought another place a good distance away. In those days many of those cases never went before a judge because of embarrassment and shame. Whitey’s father got off easy as sometimes these types were beat to death or gunned down.

Crimes of passion.

Whitey was a binge drinker and would sometimes swing into savage, destructive moods, but with age those traits slowed. Now his spare time was mostly devoted to guzzling and chasing what women he could catch up to. He drank before, during and after work, not many sober moments in that life. By way of a few good connections upside his head Whitey now had sense enough not to fuck up at one of these outings. Still he like to push it near the edge.
Sometimes it came to blows, yet almost always all was forgiven by the next weekend if not sooner. Even now, shortly after such a heated exchange of words, Flip and Whitey were engaged in humorous conversation as if nothing ever happened.
Again I felt Claudia's foot caressing my leg and once again we saw the flickering beams of headlights.
With the sound of tires turning gravel came Guy's station wagon, driving slow then coming to a stop in front of our camp. We heard a couple of -"Heys" followed by -“We're turning in, goodnight and see you in the morning"
Flip, Denny and I rose to greet them, got about halfway to the road only to have station wagon pull away towards Guy's pop-up. Being in the lead of this welcoming party I caught a quick glance of Mildred and Guy. From what I saw of them they appeared shadowy, without any facial features other than eyes that seemed to reflect our camp light in a wild animal-like fashion. Oddly enough Claudia only offered her companions a short wave and - "Nite".

Perhaps it was the excess of high quality booze and weed affecting my sight, but I could feel my hackles rising. I looked across at the woman who was foot stroking my leg and felt the cold sharp seriousness of the situation at hand. Matters had to be settled, but not yet. There surely would be a sign when the time was right.

As we overly refreshed ourselves Denny entertained us with jokes and brief tales of his wayward exploits. We hung upon every other word as he gave account when him and his brother were in love with and dating the same young lady - "I think she got off watching R.W. and I stomping the shit out of each other"
I laughed and told him - "She wasn't the only one" As sometimes their strange little feuds would spill over into band gatherings or a night out at the bar. Both divorced these cut-rate playboys thought themselves to be rounders. More than once he enjoyed an ogle at both ladies in the camp, but as Whitey became more sloshed, Patti drew his attention.

Then it happened.

Whitey had tilted his head back to guzzle his beer and fell backwards off the bench. He hit the ground with a dull thud. I knew Whitey was out of action before he touched dirt. The ladies swiftly came to his side while Denny, Flip and I quaffed our drinks.
"Two possible four down for the night" Flip said as we raised cups to our fallen.
"Are you going to just set there and drink ?" Claudia demanded and added - "He may be hurt !"
"Yeah but he won't feel it till tomorrow, say sometime in the afternoon " I informed her while motioning for the help of my companions so as to drag Whitey into our storage tent.
"He's alright" Flip assured them - "He once did the same thing, only off a horse he had borrowed without permission from the James River Hunt Club's stables. The Horse found it's way back long before Whitey woke up in a fallow field a half a mile away"
"The ticks had about sucked him dry" I chuckled - "They no doubt got snockerd as well"
Patti fluffed up his bedding and removed his shoes before we laid him in to rest.
"I hope he isn't injured" Claudia expressed with some concern.
"All the alcohol cushioned his fall " I stated - "He's survived much worst"
"Shit man, what do you expect" Flip said - "He's probably put down way more than a case of beer, maybe two, I've seen him passed out before in the woods behind a 7 Eleven store surrounded by a heap of empty Bud cans. That swill is gonna kill him one day"

Perhaps having hopes of winning her favor, Denny swiftly seated himself beside Patti and wasted scant time exhibiting more of a wolfish demeanor.
"Could one of you brave gentleman escort a Lady to the Restrooms ?" Claudia asked lightly kicking my shin while looking directly me - "Jim ?"
Now other all eyes were bouncing from Claudia then over to me and back.

I remember rising, taking up my walking stick, offering the lady a hand and after a short - "See ya, be back soon" walked out of camp. We were followed by the jeering howls and cat-calls issued forth by my companions at the table.

Claudia and I strolled slowly up the loop road and with the exception of a family returning from the showers there was no other traffic. We walked by several other wakeful camps, their fires burning bright enough to lend us a little light in our passing. Fellow campers talking in lowered voices, some falling silent as we passed by. Because of the firelight and shadows beyond we could see them better than they could see us. I made sure to kick up some gravel and extend a friendly - "Hallo" while walking by these camps. Who knows, they just may be the last folk to see me alive and in good health.
I kept Claudia to my left as much as possible, but from time to time she would halt for a good look about our surroundings. Rounding a bend she slipped her hand into mine then turn her face to me it was then I saw her eyes burning in a golden glow. Old fears, dim doubts and shadowy suspicion plagued my mind. I snarled and mentally scolded myself for being such a drunken lustful fool allowing this person of question to take me into the darkness and whatever that would soon follow. At least I had my hardwood walking stick and a bit of good steel hanging off my belt. If Claudia was indeed some supernatural creature, then perhaps a crushing blow or a good slash would allow me enough of a start to beat a retreat back to camp and company.

We arrived at the shower house without any fell incident. Somewhat lit up it made me feel a bit more secure and that was odd as I usually enjoyed walks in the dark. Claudia gave me a strange little smile then entered the ladies-room. I then walked into the men's side and relieved myself at the nearest urinal. Finishing with a flush and hand wash I exited the building. Claudia was still taking care of business so I waited outside biding my time watching moths and other night insects flutter around an outdoor light. Below as if in the spotlight a trio of gluttonous toads were scarfing down anything that crawled near or flew low enough within range of their sticky tongues and wide maws. At the edge and beyond the light, bats flittered and swooped down hunting insect prey on the wing. A pair of severed Luna Moth wings drifted out and downwards with the breeze, testimony of the bats hunting skills. As one of those powdery green wings landed beside my foot I heard a door open and out sashayed Claudia.
"Were you lonely ?" She asked, advancing towards me.
"I had company" I returned.
She looked around and not seeing a soul, inquired - "Company, who ?"
I pointed my stick at the life around the light and replied - "Bugs, bats and toads"
"Throw in a few newts and you have a stew" She laughed, then swiftly stepped in and threw her arms around me.
Expecting something like this would happen at some point during our walk, it still jolted me a bit. Should I stand there like a pine tree, arms hanging to my side like wet branches while she held me tight, or return her friendly affection in kind ? Trembling a little inwardly, I pulled Claudia even more close to me. She seemed to writhe and purr in my arms. Funny, upon leaving our encampment I told myself to keep both eyes open, but now with her nibbling my ear, they were closed tight while in her passionate embrace. Then her hot kisses fell upon my lips, face and neck. Almost smothered within this heated bliss, I tilted my head back so as to get some air. With blood pounding my temples and heart thumping hard I looked upon her beautiful face, already soft, smooth and fair, but even more so beneath the glowing light. My will was all but captured by those strange eyes. I strained to turn my own away, but could not.
I don't know if it was the approaching elderly couple or some primitive instinct that allowed me to pull away. Stepping back a couple of paces all I could manage was a shaky - "Good Evening Folks" and a tip of the brim, all the while contemplating the tightness at my fly. I was kind of a mess.
The older couple responded to my greeting with mute cow-like stares, then swiftly made for the doors. Claudia smirked at them as they hurried by. With her hand upon my shoulder she prodded me forth.
My head swam with swirling and conflicting thoughts. Thoughts that were not blending smoothly. Vampires, beautiful evil supernatural creatures, extra-marital campground romping and how she would look laying upon her belly, naked, stretched out upon a sleeping bag, with morning's light passing through the window flaps.
Claudia pouted her lips, then offered me a sympathetic smile and rubbed my shoulder as if she knew there was a struggle of sorts thrashing about within my skull.
"A little friendly affection never hurts" Claudia stated, then asked - "You've never had an affair before ?"
Somewhat thrown off by her question, I answered rather sharply - "I have not made it a point to do so as of yet"
Looking down at my crotch, she asked - " And you were not at a point back at the shower house ?"
"Pointing in that direction" I replied. Then in a bit of lewd bravado, I reached around and down, giving a pinching grope to her shapely rear.

Was I fooling myself thinking Claudia was just as much in my power as I was in hers ?

The closer we were to camp the safer I felt until the sound of rustling leaves and underbrush halted us in our tracks. Following the noise we looked up a gentle roadside rise and spotted two ghostly white blurry shapes moving swiftly uphill. Within seconds they vanished up into deeper darker shadows. Claudia clung to me and for the first time her eyes blazed with fright. She shook with fear and begged for us to get going.
I cocked an ear attempting to hear any other sound. Hearing nothing else out of the normal, With a dry mouth I stated - "Those little pale hobgoblins, I'll bet. We'll have to scout out where they are lodging"
Enduring all of this lustful bliss and way-out weirdness, I needed a good belt of strong drink, along with perhaps a Whoodee puff..

The glow of our camp was indeed a welcomed sight. Claudia and I watched for a short while at the goings on. Flip was trying to find something on the radio while Denny was hindered by our damp deck as he attempted to entertain Patti with card tricks. All three appeared rather deep in their cups and were unaware of us watching them from the shadows.
"Coming in !" I yelled.
"Well come on in !" Flip shouted in welcome returned. The Birdman continued playing with the boom box tuning knob finding nothing but a Wayne Newton call-in interview and a jazz station. We opted for the jazz.
Patti started giggling and pointing at my face.
"What ?" I demanded. Calling me aside, Flip informed - "You got lipstick smeared on your mug"
Snatching a paper towel off the roll, I swiftly wiped my face. All of them cackled like school kids until I scooped up a hand full of cooler ice and pelted them soundly with a shower of frozen missiles.
Flip barked -"Just for that, you ain't getting none of this"
"None of what ?" I inquired.
Flip reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a decent-sized joint then went on to tell me he had rolled up all the leftover roach Whoodee he had been saving.
"Well fire it up " I suggested. Flip stuck that beak-like nose into the air then rolled his beady eyes downwards at me and softly asked - "What's the Majeeek word ?"
Giving in, I answered - "Please"
"Good enough" Flip said, then put butane flame to the bone.
It had cooked our gourds and pretty much kooked us out. Claudia's mouth was drawn in a tight grin as if she was trying to suppress laughter, but some of it slipped through her nose resulting in a snorting nasal chirp. Patti on the other hand could not stop laughing. Denny, stoned beyond any smooth moves for the ladies rambled something about Ahayuta Achi and doorways. Flip continued to fiddle with the radio, zipping back and forth through static and garbled noise. That last one had knocked my noodle to the stars. For now the effects of that potent Whoodee seemed to have expelled any bewitchment or psychic philter that may have influence my behavior earlier.
"Hey Flip !"
"Yeah Jim"
"Stop playing with that fucking boom box for a bit"
"Why?"
"Goblin hunting"
"Say what ?"
I told Flip of what Claudia and I had saw further up the loop road, then requested his help in finding where these critters were lodging. Always up for a hike, Flip agreed.
Again I felt Claudia's caressing foot. Smiling she said - "You don't need to go looking for them now"
Rising from my squat I replied to her - "I heard no one else say otherwise" With that said, Flip and I took up our walking sticks then departed into the darkness.

We quick-stepped it about a 150 yards up the loop road, well out of sight and earshot from our encampment before I called a halt.
"We're not looking for albinos are we ?" Flip asked lighting up a cigarette.
Bumming a smoke from him, I answered - "No we're not"
Flip leaned his stick against a Tree trunk, exhaled a smoke ring, then inquired - “Vampire, witch, or something else ?"
"Maybe all rolled into one" I replied catching a light up from Flip's smoke.
"She carries on like a human" Flip stated - "She eats, drinks, sleeps, has body functions and from what I've seen likes to get frisky"
"That don't mean shit" I snapped, then added - "But you may be on to something"
"Oh yeah, what ?"
"She may be a Witch, maybe red, maybe black?"
"I don't think she's black " Flip returned - "They don't carry on in such a manner and not nearly as pleasant as what we got back at camp"
"Maybe red" I said, still not ruling out various types of soul eaters.
"You realize the reds feed as well" Flip reminded.
"Not if we taint the stewpot"
"What is there to do Jim, kill it ?"
Taking a long drag from my cigarette and exhaling a stream of smoke, I informed Flip - "I'm no witch hunter or devil slayer"
"Your grandfather was"
"Was !" I growled - "Look what became of him"
"Yeah but he took out 'Ma Slate' before taking his leave"
"His terrible end" I corrected - "Wounded beyond all healing" then insisted he not bring up my grandfather's demise again.
"So we lay like treats on a platter ?" Flip asked and added - " She could very well be feeding off us now, even with this itchy crud in our navels"
"She could be part of the food chain herself" I said leading Flip into a vacant camp site.
We seated ourselves at the dark, rough hewn, bare table. "Food chain,, what would be eating that ?" Flip wondered aloud.
"Big fish, eating the medium-size fish that prey on the small-fry" I replied, laughing at my own words. Then I continued - "Perhaps our two little white visitors from the other night"
"Hunting ?" Flip asked.
"Why roll a drunk for his bottle, when you can knock over the liquor store ?" Then I went on telling Flip how frightened Claudia was seeing those two white shapes take to the rise.
"So you think they're hunting her?" Flip laughed out still very much 'up there'.
"Maybe, maybe something else as well"
"Like what ?"
"Protectors " I returned, flipping my cigarette butt into the wet fire pit.
Flip reminded me - "But we're not locals"

Too long on a damp bench, I rose and mentioned to Flip - "Earlier Denny jabbered something about the Ahayuta Achi, which got me thinking"
"He always jabbers about weird shit when he's fucked up"
I agreed - "True, but some years ago when Denny first got back from the southwest we were getting fucked up together down by Lynnhaven Lake and he told me something about the Ahayuta Achi"
"The Oheyuda what ?"
"The Ahayuta Achi, powerful spirit beings of the Zuni and other Pueblo People. Hunters,
war gods, they are also the protectors of revelers, gamblers, fools and mischief makers" I then went on - "Appearing as small but powerful twins, they are said to be the destroyers of evil beings and monsters"
Flip objected - "But we ain't in the Southwest"
"True, we're not, but there's lots of legends throughout the Americas of similar beings. Pint-sized monster killing twins"
"And we're caught in the middle" Flip said with a sigh - "Like the small-fry"
"Some way-out crazy shit, huh ?"
"I hear ya" Flip replied - " I don't think it's the weed doing all of this"
"How mean you ?" I asked.
Flip cleared his throat and answered - "I noticed those little white folk, didn't show up until Claudia's crew had settled in,, "
"Yep, go on"
"And Claudia, she looks to be getting younger by the hour"
"Tamping the ground with my stick, I responded - "Weird huh ?"
"Well" Flip began - "She was a nice looking older bird to begin with"
"And now she's a knock out " I said, my thoughts drifting back to when she emerged from the bathroom in Bear's suite.
"Not too shabby" Flip added.
"Not too shabby indeed, almost, if not inhuman beauty and it's highly possible she's gonna want to bed down over here again tonight" I told Flip while making a motion to get back on the loop road as this vacant site gave me an uneasy feeling.
"Yeah, seems like she's has taste for you on this early morning" Flip said smiling, but with a serious look in his bird-like eyes.
"You don't rekkin ?" then told him I had a plan.
"I'd love to hear this "
"It's all rather simple Flip, we’ll outlast her"
"Outlast her ?"
"That's right, for tomorrow and tomorrow night, then she's off to Fort Valley with Mildred and Guy"
"Then we're not going to Fort Valley ?"
"No. We'll head South and make camp either at Lewis or Loft Mountain, maybe even beyond. Get a good distance away"
Flip asked - "Why not just stay here and tell her to get lost ?"
"Because if you sting somebody's or something's emotions, there's always the devil to pay" I replied, knowing there was a chance of her taking some ghastly form and tear us into shreds, or cast terrible spells.
"How are you gonna keep her off in the mean time ?"
"I'm not"
"Make it where she wants to get off"
"I hope you know what you're doing, don't want to see any of my friends turned into mudpuppies or spring lizards"

Over shadows and through the dark Trees I saw our fire's friendly glow as we neared camp.

"Coming into camp !"

"Come in !" It was Patti's ever cheerful voice calling us in. Flip and I ambled to our place at the table. Being messed-up it took me a few seconds before noticing Denny was absent.
"What happen to Denny ?" Patti pointed over to the Dibble's tent - "Said he felt a little woozy and called it a night"
"Fine home guard he is " Flip sneered.
"We did just fine out here on our own, thank you" Claudia informed us with a smirk, then was curious to hear of our scouting mission.
"Couldn't find any trace of them, but you never know, there could be some caves around here to hide in"
"Cave dwellers ?" Please ! " Patti laughed then asked if Flip and I checked the RV section.
"Yeah there's probably a whole family of em vacationing up the way in a Winnebago" said Flip while Patti poured him a slug of rum.
"They're up to something " I stated accepting Patti's offer to pour me one as well.
"Like what ?" asked Claudia, now sipping on an ale.
Pulling my right hand away from the left one as if drawing a bowstring, I answered - "Hunting perhaps"
There was a flicker of fear in Claudia's strange eyes and attempting to brush this boogeyman business aside, she stated - "Flip is probably right,, they're probably just some family staying up at the RV section"
"Yeah, but roaming through the brush at night" Flip countered while swirling the dark rum in his cup.
"When would you expect an albino to be outside ?" Patti asked while tapping her fingers upon the table.
I reminded them - "They only come out at night "

It was sometime after midnight here at our Big Meadows encampment. Four of us were still awake and celebrating. Radio volume down low Flip finally managed to find a classic rock station that was playing some really lengthy Emerson, Lake and Palmer weirdness. Claudia's eyes scanned the outer darkness as did mine. I halfway expected at anytime for some horrible battle to be joined. Flip appeared a little nervous as well, but was soon soothed by Patti's ever cheerful demeanor and a quick pull off the rum.
The music ending for a commercial break, some hair lip trying to sell discount mattresses, followed by a weather report from the DC area, then static again. Flip threw out a few choice words, got up and turned the boom box off.
"I could twist up a wee morning bone" I offered. Flip nodded his head in approval, while Claudia shook her's and asked - "Don't you guys ever get enough ?"
"Claudia"
"Yes Jim"
"Can I tell you something ?"
"Go ahead"
I took down a good quaff of rum and reminded her - "This is vacation and we have been known to carry on in such a manner till after dawn and beyond, or else hitting the dirt like Whitey" Cup raised, I then toasted my three companions with " Troopers go on !"

Getting to my gear I rolled up a small one which allowed us a few tokes apiece. Between the drinking and smoking Patti was just about all the way up there. Strangely enough, if the night couldn't be anymore strange Patti had taken an early Tuesday morning shining to Flip. She heaped him with praise and rambled some slurred compliments concerning his camping prowess, this tinged with a fair amount of giggling. He beamed, rose from his seat, entered the tent, then crawled out with a small cushion for Patti to sit on as a reward for her kind words.
'What a charmer' I thought. In a voice that was half purr and half slur, Patti thank him again for fixing her bike chain all those years ago then leaned in and planted a big wet kiss full on his lips. 'Holy shit' I thought 'She must either snockered or in love, or both'

Maybe until the booze wears off or by the first light of day.

It must of been the magic of a dark highland early morning that brought the four of us together at this small quaint picnic table gathering. Flip and I, old traveling companions enjoying lively conversation, sharing good cheer along with fine distilled hard spirits and the company of beautiful women - An exotic erotic entertainer and a ageless vampire vixen. Many miles away from home, somewhere in the scenic Shenandoah National Park. We appeared no different from any other two couples camping in the woods, tanked up, buzzed out, not the way most people would be in the wee hours of a Tuesday. Unless they were on vacation. Even Flip was getting a bit deeper in the cup.
"Careful" I warned - "You don't want to be sleeping in your own puke again, do you ?"
"I'm pacing myself Jimmy" he said on a belch.

We were zonked. A good time for some scary tales. Flip turned low the lantern light and spoke of the ghost horse that haunted James River Hunt Club's show grounds near the Irish jump. He also talked about 'The Follower', an entity that either trailed off to the side or behind travelers walking upon lonely trails. One could hear it's footfalls, but could never see it. I brought up the haunted Old House Woods near the Chesapeake Bay in Mathews County where there have been many sightings of ghostly Native Americans, 16th century Spanish conquistadors, pirates and 18th century British red coats.

I mention creatures such as the wurm-folk who lived in caverns, emerging at night to rend, slay and feed. Flip added - "And there's Mountain Devils too"
"Mountain Devils ?" Claudia asked with a giggle.
"Big hairy fuckers who roam the ridges and remote hollows" Flip replied - "Never seen one, but my Uncle Billy knows someone who did down in the Smokey Mountains"
I asked - "Was Billy’s friend smoking that whacky weed ?"
" No more whacky than your wurm-people" Patti laughed then brought up - "What about the spooks of Crawford Road in Yorktown ?" Growing up in such an old and historical area Patti had knowledge of these local mysterious goings on. Listening quietly, Claudia added very little to the conversation. Her glances into the darkness beyond our camp light, had the Birdman nervously looking about as well.
"What's the matter Flip ?" I inquired.
He lit up a cigarette and replied - "Guess I kinda got a little creeped-out thinking about those cave dwellers you were talking about, sounds like the type of critter that would kill people in their sleep"
Pouring another measure of rum I informed him - "Heard talk of em being in Wythe and Tazewell counties dragging hill folk and livestock down into their holes" Then added - "You never know, the hills around here could very well be honeycombed with caverns"
Flip downed a good measure of rum, chased it with some ale, and then tapped upon the Puma hunting knife at his side. Like me he believed in and feared such things of the night.
Patti taking notice of Flip's seemingly worried condition, placed her hand over his in a comforting manner and spoke to him as if he was a tiny toddler - "Oh Flippy, do I need to hold and protect you tonight ?"
Flip's thin face split in a caddish smile - "That would be comforting" he said. With that Patti got off the bench, walked over to Flip's large dome tent, unzipped the flap and crawled in. For a short while there was a glow within, she had found the small lantern. Her head then popped out of the door flap and she bid us a goodnight.
The Birdman gazed at his tent in what looked to be dropped-jaw, glassy-eyed bewilderment. I was somewhat surprised myself - "Damn boy, she sure has took a shining to you" I then asked - "Did you slip something in her drink ?"
"I heard that" came from inside the tent.
Flip gave me a rather odd look then told me - "Turn off everything and store away any gear before you turn in, where ever that might be"
"In my bed, you cur, so y'all are gonna have to scoot your asses over !" I growled. Flip nervously picked at his teeth, bade us a goodnight and entered the tent.
“Awwwahh, isn't that so sweet ?" Claudia said with a big smile.
I replied - "Like a melted, ant covered candy bar on the sidewalk"
"Are you going to sleep in there too Jim ?"
"That's where my bedroll is" Then I inquired about her arrangements.
"After those spooky stories and those albino pygmies running around the campground, I'd like to stay with you, if that's alright" She cast me a doe-eyed glance while awaiting a reply.
Knowing I was forking off onto a dangerous path, my response was - "No trouble, but mind you I toss and turn in my sleep"
From within the tent there was a bit of laughter and we heard Flip's voice - " More like you toss off and then turn over and sleep"
"The wurm-folk are gonna grind you into hamburger" But I knew that a divorce lawyer could make a worst mess of him.

Allowing time enough for Patti and Flip to settle in, I poured me another good measure of rum, then proceeded to engage my beautiful companion in conversation. Claudia lightly danced around any questions concerning her past, but instead talked about how she looked forward to camp at Fort Valley.
"You guys are going ?" She asked with a flash of amber fire glinting in her eyes.
"Still have to talk it over with the others" I reminded her, glad there was no need for falsehoods at this point in time.
As the rum sloshed happily within my skull, I once again felt drawn to Claudia. Her face was a hazy glow of timeless beauty. Her lips red, full and inviting. She was a sober man's lovely uncertainty and a drunkard’s dream darling. Hot racing thoughts and mental images shook in my pickled brain matter. Her luminous eyes held me fast. I became lost in her gaze and the world seemed to get a lot smaller.

With those eyes she took me on a strange and erotic journey into worlds within worlds. Eyes locked, my hands sought something real and solid. I fumbled for my cup and knocked it over spilling out several good drops while looking upon a strange vista.

A wattle and mud hut village overlooking a huge placid lake that reflected a weird violet hued sky and the countless glowing stars. Between the village and I, approached a beautiful young woman with a pantherish stride. With the exception of painted swirls, a string of beads around that trim waist and the foamy mass of chestnut hued hair falling over her shoulders, she was quite nude. She advanced and then halted only inches away from me. Her eyes blazed like twin sunrises as she spoke in a long forgotten tongue.
In this dream-like state I demanded - "What the hell are you saying girl ?" Not knowing if I said it or thought it. Her laughter was like sweet music. I felt a drinking cup being placed in my hand and with an tremendous effort of sheer will, I turn my eyes away from Claudia's.

What a fucking rush !
For a minute or so it felt as if I had been spun around on my head like a top.

Seeing that she had poured and handed me another rum while I was away, I thanked her and threw it all down my gullet. It would do me no good to overly react to what just occurred, so I carried on as usual by pouring me another. Then up out of the early morning's gloomy dark, Claudia asked, batting her lashes - "Do you find me attractive ?"
I couldn't tell if she was vainly fishing for compliments or fucking with my head. Trying hard not to slur or blather I replied - " I thought you were rather comely, when y'all first visited our camp," Now the rum was lewdly talking - " And frankly speaking, I've imagined how you'd be on a wild romp, but keep in mind I've been on a three night throw-down and care not if I make good sense of matters"
"Claudia burst out in laughter and quoted - "Romp ?" Then said - "You are a smooth talker"
"I was being polite" I returned - "How else could I put it, especially after you bounced your bounty in my face and after our time in front of the shower house ?" Then added "Yep, romping, what were you thinking of, crossword puzzles ?"
"Well I'm no common campground cozy" Claudia proclaimed, then wiggled her breast. She then casually rose from the bench, took off her jean jacket, wiggled out of her gown. I lit up a cigarette and ogled her as she strolled over to her shoulder bag and removed a saffron colored nightshirt. Taking a good drag from my smoke and realizing I lit the filter end did nothing to embellish this special moment. I had became lustful, yet remained fearful. Oh what a terrible mix. It was while she donned her shift did I recall seeing the string of beads around her waist.
Walking over to me, Claudia tapped my shoulder and said - "Let's go to bed" grabbing a flashlight from our table, she sashayed over to Flip's tent, unzipped the flap, then crawled in after showing me a fair amount of her well turn legs. I sucked in a breath of hair, looked up at the stars, checked the fire, stored all goods and turned off the lantern before calling it a night and hopefully not a morning after.
Upon entering the tent Claudia gave me some light, then put a finger to her lips and issued a - "Shhhhhhhhh" She then cast the beam at Patti and Flip, all snuggled up in sleep together like baby squirrels, well Flip looked more like a sleeping baby possum.
Claudia had spread out my sleeping bag to accommodate two and was half under my down filled quilt. I pulled off my shoes, jeans and shirt stripping down to a pair of drawers. A good way to sleep, but I had mixed feelings about the Khyber knife beside me.
"What's with the knife ?" Claudia asked out of concern.

"Goblins, beasts,, crazed inbreeds,,, and such" I replied on a long yawn before being swept away by what was left of this strange night..

[Atehequa]

Part 12 - A Brief Morning Council



With head whirling and gullet parched I awoke. My last conscious memory was that of pulling off some clothing, stretching out and exchanging several whispered words with the woman laying close beside me.

I either had fell into a deep sodden slumber or else blacked-out and did things that were far beyond my recollection.
Checking myself out, I found out it was not the latter.
It was early, no one lay close beside me and after a bit more focusing I saw Flip was absent as well. Patti was still asleep and uncovered atop Flip's sleeping bag. Her back was facing me as she lay on her side. Rubbing night's grit from my eyes I could see a little better in the tent's semi-gloom. Patti's Tshirt was hiked up almost to her shoulders exposing a shapely bum and a pair of well turned legs. I could of set there a lot longer as this view seemed to ease the pain, but it felt as if my bladder was about to burst. Swiftly putting on my duds and shoes I crawled out of Flip's tent making way to the trees passing Claudia, Charlie, Denny and Flip at the table. Smelling breakfast, I was aware of intense hunger pangs. In spite of my hurry it would of been impolite of me not to offer at least a - "Morning" before hitting the woods.

Once in the woods I was greeted by three of Big Meadows half-tame deer. It wasn't at all uncommon having them bed down near people's campsites. They watched me while I took care of business and were not at all bothered by my soft whistling.
Returning into camp I snagged a cold soda, popped it open and drained it. The cool wet drink put out most of the fire in my gullet, and now was ready for coffee.
"Sleep well" Claudia asked with a questionable glint in her eyes.
"Well enough I suppose" Then I inquired about her. Claudia issued a "Hmmmm" for an answer, then added - "Well you didn't toss and turn, in fact you did not move at all. Pity" Her tone seemed a little sardonic, so I turned my attention to the huge skillet full of scrambled eggs and pile of bacon resting upon a greasy paper plate.

"Hurry up with those eggs, I'm famished !"
"Get your mind off that !" Flip barked, smacking my hand with a spatula as I attempted to filch a piece of bacon.
"Would you let a comrade perish of hunger ?" I asked, brushing egg off my hand.
"Fuck yeah, you lazy bastard"
"Lazy ?"
"Hell yeah, you've hardly helped out with the cooking or any other camp chore since we've arrived here" Flip hissed.
"That's why you're doing it" I said, swiftly making a grab, snagging my bacon slice a split second before Flip's spatula hissed down through empty air before connecting with our friendly table.
"Doing what ?" He demanded waving the kitchen utensil inches away from my face.
With a mouthful of delicious crispy bacon, I answered - " Why working off your ale tab of course, as I recall you've been knocking back my ale for quite sometime now, not to mention the hard stuff"
Flip's face turned a shade or two - "The hell you say Jim ! I gave you a hundred bucks !"
"And I still have that note on my person" I informed him.
"What the hell are you holding it for ?"
"Remember that fifty I loaned you last Winter ?"
Flip's eyes darted about the camp.
"Said you straighten me out after the holidays" I reminded.
"Yeah what of it ?"
"Consider it paid off"
"What about the other fifty ?" Flip asked as if waiting for change.
"That Flip, is going for fees, food and beverage"
"What ?"
"Come on man, we've all threw in a good chunk of change, Patti and Whitey got all that stuff last night, so you may need to throw another hundred in the hat or else cook breakfast and put up tarps" Flip grumbled and turned off the heat to his eggs.
"Stop all this haggling, it's making my head hurt" Denny complained as he rubbed bloodshot eyes.
"Now there's a sensible man" Claudia agreed. I noticed she was sitting across from Denny and thought with a grin - ' There goes my morning leg rub'

Flip backed it up thus allowing me to fill a paper plate. Munching on another piece of bacon, I wanted to know - "What no fucking biscuits or toast ?"
Flip hurled a slice of bread at me then barked - "Here ! Make your own fucking toast !"
"Damn Flip, I guess there ain't no fried taters either, huh?"
"You're about a breath away from getting beaned with a spud" Flip warned.
Claudia's voice cut the upland morning air - "Why don't both of you knock it off ?"
Flip and I both cast her a sideways glare and she quickly turned away to jabber at Denny, so there was no need to tell Claudia to mind her own.
Although sometimes we tended to be in ill moods during a morning hangover, we still remained comrades. Not pushing it any further I forgot about the potatoes and toasted my own bread over a new fire. Appreciating a full plate I heaped compliments upon the Birdman then told him to fix us up with some Bloody Marys.
Charlie clapped his hands - "Yay Bloody Marys !"
"It'll kill the ill" I said.
"No thanks" Flip replied - "But since I'll probably have one later it'll be my pleasure to hook y'all up"
"Why thank you my good friend" I slightly bowed with a smirk.
In short time Flip produced vodka, V-8 juice, pepper and various other ingredients - "Any body else ?" Flip offered.
Charlie and Denny wanted one, while Claudia did not, enjoying her coffee instead.
Tending the breakfast beverage bar, Flip stopped long enough to give me the smelly finger sign while bobbing his brows in a manner of asking if I made it with Claudia last night. With a slight shake of my head I told him - “No, don’t think so” I then asked the same of him and Patti.
Flip flashed a crooked smile. I would find out later that Patti passed out shortly after entering the tent with Flip soon to follow.

"What no fucking celery stalks ?"

"Put a pine cone in it for all I care" Flip hissed. Claudia gave us a glare, but held her tongue. It seemed she had her own special Tuesday Morning feeling going on. I shrugged my shoulders and enjoyed a hearty breakfast.

Charlie had been somewhat low key, but after a couple of Bloody Marys he seemed to liven up a bit. He had very little breakfast.
Flip told me to rouse Patti and Whitey so as to feed them too. I entered Flip's tent first and with some effort whisked Patti from the dream world. At first she didn't want to get up mumbling something like - " Alright Donny, in a few minutes, ok"
'Who the hell is Donny ?' I thought as Patti rolled over back into sleep. Time for another approach. A hard pinch to the buttocks soon had her up and blinking in no time.
"I had the strangest dream" Patti said stretching her arms.
"Oh ?"
"I dreamed Donny Osmond was here"
"Spare me" I laughed then said - "Rise and greet the sun my little butterfly, we've got eggs, bacon, coffee, Bloody Marys and mountains to climb”
"Oh good god, don't even mention booze" Looking at her sweet sleepy face, I informed Patti - "I watched you for awhile earlier while you were sleeping"
Pulling down her nightshirt she asked -"Was my shirt pulled up ?"
"Why yes it was" I replied
She stated that she always did it in her sleep, a habit so to speak.
“Well if that’s the case, you can sleep next to me tonight”
"Checking herself Patti asked - "You didn't get anything on me, did you ?"
"Not me, but I can't vouch for Flip"
"Damned perverts" She laughed. Even with a hangover Patti was as bubbly as ever.
"Miss let me assure you I would never take such lewd liberties with the un-conscious unless having permission and instructions before hand" and added - "Here after breakfast you could shoot some ideas my way ?"
"What ever floats your boat, just don't get anything in my hair"
With that bit of crude humor out of the way Patti pulled on her shorts, while I emerged into the morning sun, then offered Patti a hand up and out.

Waking and feeding Whitey would prove to be a different matter. Patti and I decided to carry out this task.

How we placed him last night is how he still lay. On his back, chin jutting upwards as if in the stiffening of death. At first we were gentle, a soft tap and shake.
"Whitey, get up"
Not a stir. Again Patti tapped upon his shoulder, but Whitey lay still. Checking his breathing we saw his chest rise and sink ever so slightly. His mouth drawn tightly closed, yet we could hear breath being drawn in and exhaled out from one clear nostril.
"At least he's alive" I said, then advised Patti - "You better get out of the tent"
"Why"
"Cause here shortly it may not be befitting and safe for a young talented lady such as yourself"
"Safe ?"
"Some of these fellows come up swinging, especially after a night of revelry"
Patti went out ahead of me as I moved a few hard surfaced items away from this sleeping person. Crawling out the tent, I took up my stick. Returning I stood just outside our storage tent, leaned in and gave Whitey several sharp jabs to his ribs.
Whitey's eye lids slid open , in the shock of pain he blew out whatever clogged his other nostril. His body shot upwards into a sitting position.
"Huh ! What the fuck ?"
"Get the hell up and get some breakfast"
Holding his side he asked in no friendly tone - "Fuck man, are you trying to break my bones ?"
"Only trying" I replied.
Rubbing the back of his head he wanted to know who hit him last night.
"The ground did, you damn sot, you're lucky it wasn't asphalt or concrete"
Within clear earshot of this extended 'rise and shine' morning moment, Flip informed Whitey of what occurred - "You toppled backwards off the bench, so we drug your drunk ass into the tent" then added - "Get the fuck up and get ye some vittles !"
Staggering out of our storage tent, face twisted, blood red eyes squinting against the Morning Sun, he headed for the back of camp and beyond, almost tripping over an exposed root in the process.
"That's what he gets for guzzling a pond full of that swill" Flip said, having very little sympathy.

Whitey loped back into camp and headed straight for the cooler, plucked out a can of beer, popped it open, then threw all 12ozs down his gullet. After releasing a comical over extended belch Whitey told us he need someone to take him back into town for more beer.
"Fuck that !" Flip barked.
I told him that he needed to use better judgment when at the store stocking up, or else - "Slack down on your fucking drinking, Otis"
"Don't look at me" Denny said, not caring to drive anywhere.
"Recalling the storm on their heels last night, Patti said - "Me neither"
Crushing the can in his hand, Whitey disposed of it before hitting the cooler again. I inquired about his situation - "How much of that crap do you have left ?"
"Less than two 6packs" There was grave concern in his bloodshot eyes.
"Oh that sounds critical" Flip snickered. Denny reminded Whitey that the camp store sold his brand of beer, but probably had limited supply.
"Shit man, their beer is overpriced !"
"What would you expect at a tourist spot ?" Denny laughed, scooping up some eggs.
Then I threw in for good measure - "I must admit they will gouge a person for a cold one, but how bad do you need to stay juiced-up ? And pour that mule piss into a cup before a ranger passes through”

Invoke no names.

No sooner than the words left my mouth, we heard tires turning gravel. A national park cruiser, We could not make out any features other than a large head that nodded to us, a wide brimmed ranger hat and sun glasses as he slowed down. We smiled and waved as he looked straight ahead, moving on to finish his morning round.
"See, what did I tell you ?"
Popping open another beer Whitey plopped down on the bench and proceeded to put a pile of bacon and eggs between two slices of bread. He tore into his breakfast sandwich, consuming it in about three or four bites, washing the whole affair down with a long guzzle.
"Coffee ?" Claudia offered the pot with a smirk.
"No thanks", Whitey returned - "I'm not driving"
It was then we heard a gurgling sound coming from Charlie's belly.
Charlie's face had a grayish tint to it and his bugged eyes blinked rapidly as the gurgling grew louder.
Claudia asked - " Are you alright ?"
"Fuck no, he ain't alright" Whitey said, shaking his head.
For some of us it was a hangover cure, or so we thought, Charlie however had just finished his second Bloody Mary. He was on his way to getting started before the coffee cooled. Half falling off the bench into a unsteady zigzagging run Charlie made for the brush.
"There goes breakfast" Flip laughed.
As the tell-tale sounds of spewing vomiting flowed into camp, Denny with scrunched up nose and knotted brows commented - "Puking after two drinks ? That's not like Chucky at all"
Patti stuck fingers in her ears. This was not a pleasant morning sound by any account.
Whitey returning from his truck with a pack of smokes, heard the sickening sound and inquired - "Damn ! Is that Chuck ?"
"Well it ain't no woodchuck" Flip replied.
"More like upchuck" I added.
The sound of vomiting had stopped, we heard a bit of trampling through the underbrush. An "Haaaaaaaaaaagh !" boomed into camp followed by - "Mah name is Chuck and I don't give a fuck!"

Charlie came out of the trees at a more steady gate, but with a couple of long, thick gooey drips of vomit tinged drool hanging from his mouth and chin. With a vile smile he proclaimed - "Damn, I feel better now !"
"You look a lot better" I replied, watching one of those slimy puke-goobers drip down on his shoe.
"You look fantastic" Flip added, handing Charlie a paper towel - "Now clean that shit off your face, we got people trying to eat here !"
"Don't want to start a barf-a-rama" Patti added.
Whitey laughed and called Charlie a lightweight. Flip pointed a finger at Whitey - "He went out the same way you did last night, but had not the sense enough to fall backwards!"
I went on to remind Whitey - "Seemed to me like you were laid low so early in the night, where I was the last man up"
"Not for long" Claudia said.
"Anybody going to the showers ?" Flip asked, finishing up his breakfast. I counted myself in and told Charlie - "You're going too"
Charlie protested this - "I don't need a shower, I need a drink"
"You need a fucking shower ! You smell like behind a fucking 7-11 Store at 2:00 in the morning !" Whitey blasted.
"How do you know what that smells like ?" Claudia inquired
"Ever pissed behind a 7-11 Store ?" Whitey asked, popping open another cold one.

In short time we cleaned up our breakfast mess, gathered up bathing articles, then Flip loaded Patti, Charlie, Whitey and myself into his truck. We were off to the showers. Claudia and Denny remained at camp drinking coffee.
The ride to the campground's facilities was short and uneventful, but we did plan to give Bear a wakeup call before heading back to our camp.
This Morning the shower house was clean with no clogged toilets. Yet issues concerning water temperature and pressure abounded. More than once we screamed as shower water turned from warm to boiling hot. It was soft water, taking us longer than normal to rinse soap and shampoo away. Not at all uncommon at these mountain campgrounds. Drying off and dressing, I had to remove a grand-daddy long legs from the small bench before sitting down to pull on my shoes. Placing the creature down, it scampered away on eight hair-thin legs only to be ambushed by a rather large wolf Spider.

To our surprise Patti had already finished her shower house business and was waiting for us outside. She wanted to visit Bear's suite and use the phone. So we made way to Big Meadows Lodge.
Pulling up we saw R.W. standing out at the parking area in the company of a flaxen-haired lass who looked to be no more than 18 years old. As Flip parked and we piled out R. W. pretended either not to know or see us. As we approached R.W. he suddenly gave the smelly finger sign in attempt to ward off our advancing company. Needless to say we all ambled on up, heeding not his signal.
"There's breakfast back at the camp" I informed R.W., blowing whatever cover he had. Turning to the young lady I offered a " Good morning Miss, my name is Jim"
Instead of returning response to my morning greeting she gave R.W. a rather odd look. The young lady then gave us all a haughty once over before turning her button of a nose up in some symbolic display of disgust. Scrambling for an introduction R.W. told us - "Everybody this is Yvonne"
Together like a group of 3rd graders we all gave greeting - "Good morning Yvonne !"
She did manage a shallow - "Hi" then told R.W. she had to get back with her friends, but before departing, Yvonne invited R.W. up to their RV later.

We all bid her goodbye as she bounced away in a half- skip like walk.

"What the hell man, you ashamed of us ?" I demanded pointing the end of my stick at his poofy head.
"Oh no, it's not like that at all " R.W. stammered, thinking he was about to be jabbed. He then went on to tell us that Yvonne along with three of her high school chums were slumming for a year before going off to college -"Rich kids from Fredericksburg, they're borrowing Yvonne's grandparents RV"
"Doesn't mean she has to act like a snot" Whitey bluntly said, his eyes focused on the young lady walk up a rise in the road. By now we were quite use to this as for some reason young comely women of gentry status seemed to gravitate to R.W. After that these relationships would turn bad because of either he would fall back to his heathen roots or brother Denny attempted to 'snake in' on any current lovely R.W. was courting.
"Did you see those clothes ?" Patti asked, adding - "That girl ain't slumming"
R.W. stepped back and said - "I don't think she's use to people like you"
"Like us,, what the fuck are you trying to say Poodle ?” I demanded pointing my stick a hair’s breath away from his nose.
Taking a step forward Whitey gave R.W. an ominous look, then turned to us - "I guess that this fluffy poodle is much too over-cultured and dandy to sit under the trees with us for food and drink"
Without his brother here to back him R.W. stepped back and kept his tongue sheathed.
The morning sunlight glittered off a large diamond stud in his ear as I asked - "Where is The Bear ?"
R.W. jerked up a thumb at the lodge and replied - "Inside, getting ready"
"Ready for what ?"
"Ready to check out or register for another night, seems his decision rests upon getting today's weather report"
"He needs to shed both pounds and that hot clothing" Flip stated, adjusting his head cloth.
I informed R.W. - "Well Patti needs to use the phone in his suite"

Door unlocked, we filed into Bear's suite and a voice boomed out through the bathroom door - "Who's there ?"
Patti put a finger to her mouth in telling us to hush then in a disguised voice loudly answered - "Housekeeping !"
The bathroom door flying swung open and almost off the hinges, Bear barged out while saying - "But I didn't call for a maid,,," Seeing it was us he first bared his teeth in a menacing manner, but that swiftly softened into a wide friendly smile. Patti then ran up to Bear and threw her arms around him.
Walking around, looking at the suite's lay-out, I commented - "Figured you to be still sawing logs here in the lap of air conditioned luxury"
"Nope I'm checking out, gonna hole up with y'all, suppose to cool down some today and tonight"
"Shit man, so we got to listen to you buzz-saw timber tonight ?" Flip hissed, well out of Bear's arm reach.
"Stuff some ear plugs or else, put down the bucks for a suite" Bear replied. Plopping down on one of the beds I admitted - "Damn, this is comfortable"
The Bear, checking the chain on his wallet, said - "Yeah I would of still been asleep, but R.W. woke me up going out about an hour ago bringing back some coffee from the lodge restaurant, pretty damn good, you should try some"
"Since when did you know about good coffee ?" I asked
R.W. fluffing his wavy locks in front of a large mirror wanted to know - "Denny still crashed-out ?"
"Back at the camp with Claudia" Charlie answered, standing behind R.W., mimicking his grooming efforts.

"So what was all that weird talk of soul suckers and evil spirits last night ?" R.W. inquired and then complained about the ointment he applied the night before "It stained my face and navel, I couldn't get it off, no matter how hard I scrubbed" Sure enough there was faint traces of yellow streaks on his face and upon lifting his shirt, we saw the navel was stained as well. Flip, Whitey and myself then lifted ours, seeing our navels dyed in the same mud-yellow color.
"Strong to last long" I told them.
"The Great Bear watching all of this issued a low rumble of laughter - "What's next, a string of dried raccoon turds around your necks ? That'll keep em away for sure"

Gathering up his belongings, The Bear left a sizable tip and suite's key on the table then limped forth and out behind us.

While Flip took Patti and Charlie with him to get a few bags of ice from the camp store, the rest of us held council in the parking lot.
I talked about plans to leave Big Meadows and split off from Claudia's party.
"Why not tell her straight-up ?" The Great Bear suggested.
"Because there's something wrong with that picture" I replied. After informing them of Guy's plans of leaving tomorrow for Fort Valley and reminding all that meant one more night here with Claudia's party, R.W. laughed and said - "I don't believe she's a vampire in the traditional sense or else we'd all be dried jerky by now, but there is something strange about her, Mildred and Guy"
"How mean you ?" I asked, wanting to compare thoughts.
"Well to start with, she has more or less hung with us the whole time, while Mildred and Guy have been mostly absent since they have arrived"
"You find that odd ?" The Bear asked then slapped R.W. on the back with such force it almost sent him to the ground, then went on to say - " Can't blame her for wanting to be in the company of such nice and well groomed gentlemen"
"Well that's to be expected" R.W. replied - "But there is something afoot"
"Of course there is" The Bear said - "She's a witch"
Whitey gave Bear an odd look - "A witch ?"
"Maybe a Sorceress" The Bear answered, then added - "That doesn't mean she is not drawing power from either this place, us or both. At least she's more pleasant than some I've encountered"
"Pleasant or not she could very well be stealing our life force and that makes her vampyric" I stated - "Maybe an old one"
The Bear tugged upon his beard - "An old one, then what the fuck is she doing staying at a campground, instead of sucking souls at some upper crust black tie event, or the top floor of some corporate office ?"
"She may be an outdoor lover" R.W. replied with a grin.
"She may be hunting for fresh meat" I said.
R.W. grabbed at his crotch - "Fresh meat, eh ?"
"That too, as a way of drawing in prey" I returned.
"Witch ?" Whitey again asked, shaking his head "Last night she was a vampire, and you had me put that crap in my bellybutton. How long before that stain wears off ?" Giving us all a cock-eyed look he added - "I think y'all have lost your fucking minds, especially you Jim !" Over the past several years Whitey had been growing apart from our band and although on rare occasion he got up with us for outings such as this, he mostly socialized in a different circle. Whitey now on the most part ran with more of a redneck bunch which included his new York County buddies and a few others who were a bit too gritty for my liking. Mostly they were hard drinkers, that had a fondness for car racing, television wrestling, violence, prostitutes and whoring. Long haired rednecks, suburban crackers and greasy guzzling goobers. He was sinking further into obscurantism, more and more drifting away from the mysterious and magical, towards sodden nothingness, liver disease and probably more jail time.

Bear, Charlie Denny, Flip, R.W. and myself were all pagans of sort and the supernatural world was very real to us. A world that included sorcery and witchcraft. Most if not all of us have had past encounters or experiences with witches and sorcerers of sort.
Then there were what we called critters, vampires, were-creatures, ghouls and hags. Up until now. I've never encountered one like Claudia, but heard tales of such around past campfires.

Some referred to them as reds.

Powerful, beautiful, wise, manipulative and could no doubt charm the spines off a porcupine, then make him roll over belly-up. Often they were rulers, high counselors of emperors and other powerful people, but in many cases ruled through puppet ruler spouses and lovers. Among this breed there are those who sell their services to the highest bidder, taking to either side of the field as long as the wages are ample enough. Within their numbers they include the ancient pure stem ruling class to the hybrid pledges and human wannabees, along with all in between. Concerning these old ones we had our suspicions and were not sure if they were even human. We had heard The old ones were just that - Old, some thousands if not millions of years in age.
From what we had been told, these old ones when not in guise ranged in complexion from an old ivory, to a golden brown. All were said to have either yellow, amber or hazel slightly slanted eyes and red to rusty hued locks. Their tongues, long and pointed like a skink's. Among humans they take on a more comely form, Once they were more numerous and controlled large areas of land, tribes, nations, kingdoms and empires. Now there remained only a far scattered few. Through time, acts of malice or unnatural breeding with sapiens their numbers were in decline. It was said that their bodies could be killed, but if their spirits were not dispatched as well they could just leap into another's flesh, organs and bones. We only knew of one shaman a couple of hundred miles away who could be up for the task, but he was currently journeying. No telling when he would be back,

Purebreds, hybrid relations, pledges and slaves, they all filched personal power, from whomever they chose to make prey, mostly unsuspecting, lust-addled fools. They dream of growing powerful enough in numbers to hold sway over a vast empires again.
Rarely did we talk about such creatures, yet the Great Bear and I once sat in on a debate between two of the elders engaged in an interesting exchange concerning the old ones. Were they an ancient, almost extinct variety of advanced sapiens, or else something all together inhuman ? Oh the tales, the graybeards could tell, especially after a few good puffs and quaffs.

We remembered these stories.

"Vampires ,huh ? If that's the case, what comes next ?" R.W. wanted to know, showing slight concern.
"This is their last night here with us" The Bear stated, then went on to say - "If this is an old one, or close kin, she probably knows we suspect something"
“Then again, maybe she doesn’t” R.W. returned.
Remembering more of the old stories, I warned - "She may turn into a wild dangerous animal this last night"
“Did she in the tent with you last night ?” R.W. laughed
“To my knowledge, no, but one can never be sure"
At that Whitey laughed, then swore at us - "Shit ! Just listen to your crazy-ass selves ! Y'all sound like a fucking Saturday morning cartoon !" After lighting up a smoke he continued - " Vampires, witches, drunks and a crazy Bear,,
oh fucking my ! "
"Crazy?" The Bear growled, with a dangerous glint in his gray eyes.
"Just listen to yourself" Whitey said with a scrowl - "She's probably some bored, foxy older rich broad, out and about, looking for some strange. Just do it and send her down the road"
"Hmmmmmm" R.W. responded, then put forth - " What better place to hook-up, than some out of the way tourist spot and adjoining campground ?"
Whitey added - "Check in for a few days, get's all the pud she wants, then go back to her hometown without a worry of ever seeing any of us again. As far as we know, she could be married or somebody of high standing somewhere"
He sounded sure of himself, yet the look in his eyes did not match the words he just spoke.
Getting back to the subject and attempting to take the edge off this matter, I said - "If indeed Claudia is an old one, it's doubtful she is a pure-bred. More than likely she's a hybrid daughter or grand-daughter. Maybe a prodigal wild child, banished from her kind. Exiled if you will"
"What about Mildred and Guy ?" R.W. asked, in which the Bear responded -
"Personal servants or slaves"
"Or familiars in human guise" I added.
"What about the pop-up and station wagon ?" Whitey inquired.
"Real" I returned - "A carriage, driver and attendant. A rough ride and crude accommodations, but reliable enough to serve worthy during hunting season"
"A lot of campgrounds up and down the Blue Ridge" R.W. reminded us
"A lot of drunken campers in those campgrounds" Bear added.
"Speaking of which" Whitey brought to Bear's attention, then requested - " Do you mind swinging by the camp store on the way back ?"

The Great Bear issued a low rumbling growl then asked Whitey in no friendly tone - "What the hell for ?"
"More beer" Whitey said paying no mind to Bear's tone.
"Well shit man !" Bear snarled - "Flip went to the store, you should of rode with him !"
Whitey pleaded his case - "I wasn't thinking about it at the time"
This was odd, I thought, usually for Whitey beer was a top priority. The very fact he stayed with us, listening to talk concerning the supernatural instead of leaving with Flip was strange enough in itself.
"That swill has eaten away at what brain you had" The Bear scolded. He grumbled a bit but agreed to take Whitey to the store.

Waiting for Whitey to get his Beer and R.W. taking a wizz, The Bear wanted to know if the little white twins played into this strangeness. "Well Bear, they could be either inbred albino hollow folk or supernatural beings"
Bear grunted and asked - " What, is this when all the ghoulies go on vacation ?"
"They could be supernatural hunters" I replied. The Bear lit up a cigarette and said - "The more the merrier"
"One thing's for sure" I stated - "None of us are qualified to hook, reel-in, net, clean and fry what we got here hitting top water"
"Not any one of us alone,," Bear returned, then added - "Or together for all that long"
We agreed to play it by ear and instinct while carrying on as normal not to have situations getting out of hand back at camp. "We'll just tell Claudia we're still thinking about fort Valley, and give them the slip tomorrow.
Our talk was cut short seeing R.W. and Whitey exit the store with hardly an arm-load of beer between them.
"The fucking beer truck won't be here until tomorrow. This is all the Budweiser they had, two six packs and four cold singles" Whitey sneered before climbing in the back.
"He may be able to ration that until lunch" The Great Bear chuckled, then pulled out of the parking area.

Arriving back at camp the first thing we noticed was Flip draining water out of one of the coolers near the loop road. Dragging it back near our table he packed it with fresh ice. We were pampering ourselves as there had been other camps in the past where there were no camp store or shower house. We cooled ale and beer in cold highland streams, sometimes bathing in the same chilling waters.
"We're good on ice for awhile" He said as we piled out of The Bear's truck.
"Here, put these in" Whitey requested handing Flip his limited supply.
Patti was hanging some articles of clothing on the line and humming a cheerful tune while Claudia sat at our table in a fresh change of clothing watching Charlie drink himself silly as he had got into the vodka again. Denny was no where in sight.
"Where's Denny ?" R.W. asked.
Flip pointed over at the Dibble's tent - " He crapped out again not five minutes before you guys pulled up" hearing that, Bear, Flip, R.W., Whitey and I shot each other fleeting glances. Neither Dibble was the 'go back to bed' type. Looking over at Claudia's mysterious smiling face I felt a chill go down my spine. Whitey dismissed any spooky stuff by calling Denny a lightweight which was often true his case. Still it smacked of the strange. Charlie paid it no mind in his usual ascent to higher elevations.
Casting another glance at Claudia, I inquired about Mildred and Guy
Claudia sat her coffee down - " They went to Sperryville to do some shopping, they'll be back later today" Changing the subject she wanted to know - "Are we still going up to Panorama?”
"Not today" I replied - "We figured on getting on The Appalachian Trail here in a bit" At the very mention of this there was a questionable gleam in Flip's eyes. He swiftly took up the task of filling canteens and making ready his hiking packs. Casting a glance at Bear with his injured leg propped atop a cooler, then watching Whitey chugging down yet another beer and Charlie, now three-sheeting in the wind , I asked -
"Who's up for a hike ?"
"I'm going to hike it over to that cooler" Whitey responded with a lopsided grin.
"Gonna stay here and keep watch" said a very relaxed Great Bear.
Claudia accepted the offer - "I'll go" she stated - "Give me a little time to get a few things" She got up then jogged it on over to the pop-up.
"Count me in, Skid" R.W. said strapping on a canteen.
"Me too" Patti added, no doubt ready for some exercise. I looked down at Patti's flip-flops and advised her - "You'll need more than them" As everything was moving so fast I did not overly notice The Birdman's second empty pack along with the brief exchange of whispering that passed between him and R.W.
Whitey and Charlie were deeply engaged in near drunken gibberish. No where near lunch and these two were already well on their way of getting totally slammed. I asked Bear - "Any other plans than sitting on your duff all day ?"
Taking a break from building his huge breakfast sandwich he answered - "Nope, gonna take it easy today. I'd like to attempt a little walking tomorrow where ever we may be" Ducking into the tent to roll a couple of Whoodees I praised him - "Well I‘ll be damned, you're finally gonna get off your ass and do something"
"I can do something right now that you may not like " I heard The Bear growl from outside Flip's tent.

Everybody going was at ready, Claudia was walking in, all geared up for the go. Gone were all traces of silver in her hair which now under the morning sun had a chestnut hue. Claudia seemed younger, trimmer and more fit than she did less than twenty minutes ago. Again there was that soft hazy glow about her face.

Looking at Charlie and Whitey I told Bear - "Have fun babysitting" and with that we were off.

In front of our encampment Claudia had to stop and adjust a pack strap. "Hope you're not overloaded with too many Audubon nature guides" I taunted still marveling about her youthful transformation.
"Just my bird and plant book" She replied - "I'll manage" Flip slowed down, turned and asked me - "Where are we going, man ?"
"I was thinking about going up as far where we'd be in between Hawksbill Mountain and a knob called Naked Top, about two miles and a bit away as the trail winds, probably five miles altogether to and fro"
Patti emerging from the storage tent proclaimed - "I've got my sneakers on ! Let's do it !"

In short time we were making for the trail..