CAMPING IN 23,000 EASY STEPS
DISCLAIMER: The names of people and the events in this book may or may not have been changed. In some cases a lot.
Chapter 1
THE CAMPER IN ALL OF US
The Alaskan summer sun shone brightly in through my window. I rolled over and looked at my alarm clock. 4:00am glowed back at me in subdued hues of red. I eagerly jumped out of bed.
“This is the day my buddies and I go on that big camping trip that we’ve been planning for weeks.” I said happily to myself.
I picked up the phone and dialed Darren’s number. The plan had been to call him about nine, but I knew that he would be so excited about this trip that he would be awake.
Ten rings later Darren answered. There was a long pause as he fumbled around with the phone while bringing the receiver up to his ear.
“Thhhiiiisss haaaaddd betteeerr bee goood!!” he sleepily groaned into the phone, sounding a lot like Dirty Harry.
With cat like reflexes I slammed the phone down.
Five hours later, I tried again.
“Mike? Oh, hi! You’re not going to believe this, but some nut called me about four this morning and hung up before I could ask who it was.” Darren said.
“Hmmm, probably a wrong number.”
“Yeah, Strange thing though, I could hear a cuckoo clock in the background. Hey! Don’t you have a…”
SOOOO! Are you all set for the big trip?”
“Big trip? What big trip?”
“The big camping trip that we’ve been planning for WEEKS now, REMEMBER!”
Something in the icy tone of my voice jump-started Darren’s memory banks and we quickly hammered out the final details. It seemed like an eternity but it was only an hour before Darren swung by my house to pick me up.
Darren, God bless him, had remembered to bring coffee. I sprawled out in the back seat of the Blazer with a nice steaming cup of java and a good book.
The next stop on our journey was Shanon’s. Like Darren, Shanon was also a long time friend and enthusiastic participant in many outdoors adventures. Next we went over to pick up Jeff.
For some reason I never really trusted Jeff, maybe it was the way he never seemed to blink quite enough, or the way that he always seemed to be looking at something that no one else could see. When you talked to him he would stare at your forehead without blinking, which was very unsettling.
Now that I think about it I suppose it could have been because he always wanted to use up valuable sprawling room in the back seat instead of riding on the luggage rack. Whatever the reason, the other guys liked him and we usually brought him along to fill out the group. Of course we did not know that it was going to backfire on us in a big way this time.
During my teenage years, our stomping grounds of choice were an area twenty miles out of Fairbanks. A little place that we fondly dubbed “The Island” actually, it was more of a peninsula, however, “The Island” always seemed to sound cooler. Besides, calling it “The Island” made it seem more like our own secret place, after all, ANYone could know about “The Peninsula.”
The fact that you could drive all the way to our island without being cut off by a lot of water never really bothered us all that much.
On the way to the island the road crossed a wide shallow stream with a gravel bottom. As we were crossing the stream Darren stopped and leaned up against the steering wheel while looking downstream.
“What?” Shanon asked.
“I was just thinking, we have never been down that way.” Darren said nodding downstream.
“Yesss.. and?”
“Let’s explore downstream and see what is down there.”
“Hmm, sounds cool. But the trees are growing too close to the bank for us to walk downstream.” Shanon replied looking out the side window.
“Walk? Who said anything about walking?” Darren asked.
Shanon looked at Darren. Darren grinned. Understanding dawned on Shanon’s face.
“You mean, you want to drive this Blazer downstream?
Darren winked.
“Awesome!”
“Sounds like a blast!” I said from the back seat.
“What?” Jeff snorted. “You guys are all crazy! How do you know that the stream doesn’t get a lot deeper just around the corner?”
“Jeff does have a point there.” Shanon said.
“Yup, sounds like we just got a volunteer to walk downstream in the icy water to make sure that it doesn’t get too deep.” Darren smirked as he glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the look on Jeff’s face.
“Aw shit! Fine! Move your ass and lemme out!” Jeff blustered.
“And get MY feet wet? No way pal, you climb out the back window. And watch out that you don’t break anything in my pack on your way out.” Darren said while he hit the switch to roll down the back window.
“I’ll break your mumble grumble mumble.” Jeff muttered as he clambered over the back seat. A second later I heard a splash and a yelp as Jeff hit the glacier fed stream. Jeff splashed his way over to the driver side window. Darren looked at him expectantly.
“Well?” Jeff said
“Just waiting on you.” Darren replied.
“Waiting on me to do what?”
“Walk in front of the Blazer so you can look for drop offs.”
“Oh NO, I am NOT walking out in front of you again.” Jeff said.
“Hey! That only happened once and I already told you it was an accident.”
“An accident between you and a redhead you mean.”
“Sheesh, lose your concentration while driving and getting a blowjob ONCE….”
“NOT going to walk in front of you EVER again.” Jeff folded his arms and looked away.
“Be reasonable Jeff, the water is muddy enough to where you can’t walk over on the side and see drop offs in front of us.” Shanon said.
“I can see just fine from here. And the chances of getting run over…”
“Are getting better every second if you don’t shut up and move it.” Darren mumbled.
“What’s that?” Jeff asked “Never mind, I don’t want to know. I will walk on this side. Or I will meet you guys at the campsite. Your choice.”
“Fine!” Darren put the Blazer into gear and with Jeff scouting for us we started driving downstream.
Ten minutes had passed and I was stretched out in the back seat with my head against the window enjoying the ride when all of a sudden the front of the Blazer dropped and I was thrown out of my seat and smacked up against the back of the passenger seat amid a flurry of activity and shouted curses.
Shanon was doing most of the cursing since the seat back latch was something that Darren was going to get around to fixing “One of these days.” And a couple hundred pounds of me was smashing a hundred pounds of Shanon up against the windshield.
My position from on top of Shanon gave me a world-class view through the windshield of the water rushing over the hood to envelope us in its icy embrace. It was one of those moments where time slows down. I looked to my left and through the drivers side window could clearly see Jeff watching helplessly from the shallow water as we did a Titanic into a deep hole that he had not seen.
Darren slammed the Blazer into reverse and floored it. At that very moment the front tires hit the slope and found traction.
I offer up stunning proof that god does look after fools and children. We managed to pull back out of the hole. One second later the engine sputtered and died. I got off of Shanon and collapsed in the back seat. Without my weight on Shanon’s seat back it fell back into place and he slumped against it.
“Darren? You allright?
“Did you see that?” That was cool!”
“Shanon, you all right?” I asked.
“Grfflr.” Shanon replied.
Shanon weakly clawed once for Darren’s throat and missed by a couple of inches before letting his arm drop limply to his side.
“Guys? You allright?’ That was Jeff looking into the driver’s side window with a very concerned look on his face.
“Yeah! Did you see that? That was great!” Darren enthused.
“Where were you on that one dumbass?” I snarled.
“Grrrfl!!” Shanon weakly tried to claw for Jeff’s throat but missed by several feet and let his arm drop to his side again.
Darren popped the hood and got out of the Blazer. I pushed his seat forward and followed. I looked back in at Shanon.
“You just relax here for a couple of minutes until you get your wind back buddy.”
“Grrrfl.” Shanon weakly tried to claw for my throat but couldn’t reach and let his arm drop to his side again.
Darren and Jeff were looking at the engine and scratching their heads when I walked around to the front of the Blazer.
“Whatcha guys dooooin?” I asked.
“Trying to figure out why the engine died.” Jeff said.
“Oh, that’s easy, you probably got water in the distributor cap.” I said.
After cleaning the water out of the distributor cap with a towel. The Blazer fired right back up and we decided to get on with our camping trip.
While driving on the narrow path through the woods toward our camping spot Darren drove right into a mud hole. All four tires were spinning as the Blazer fishtailed and slammed headfirst a grove of trees, I slammed up against the back of the passenger seat, and Shanon smacked into the windshield again.
“Dammit Darren! Can’t you drive today?” I yelled as I scrambled back into my seat.
“Did you guys hear a snapping sound?” Jeff asked.
“Just my spine!” Shanon seemed to be in a bad mood for some reason.
“Do you want to drive?” Darren snarled looking at me in the rearview mirror.
“Yes!” The answer came back in three-part harmony.
“Tough” Darren backed the Blazer out of the trees and back onto the trail. It was about half a mile later when we reached the clearing at the end of the road. We all piled out of the Blazer. Jeff leaned up against the fender and watched the river. Shanon was rubbing his neck. Darren walked around to the front of the Blazer.
“Hey guys! Look at this! Darren was pointing at the license plate on the front bumper of the Blazer. It had been hit just right by a tree and bent up to make a small table.
“Allright! A table to rest the beer on!” Shanon enthused.
“Umm…Darren?” I said.
“Yeah! Great idea!” Darren said.
“Umm…. Darren?” I said again.
I was staring at a willow tree that was unusual for two reasons. First, it was stripped clean of all bark. Second, and most importantly, it was sticking straight out of the radiator.
“Seriously though, how are we going to straighten out this license plate so my dad doesn’t notice?” Darren scratched his head.
“Umm, Darren? Was that tree sticking out of your radiator earlier?” I asked.
Darren’s response caused a flock of birds to explode out of the trees around us.
Jeff came running around the front of the Blazer and joined our frozen tableau of horror. Shanon was the first to act. He ducked down and looked under the front of the Blazer.
“No coolant on the ground.”
“That’s a good sign. Should we just leave the willow in the radiator until we get back into town?” I asked.
“Do you think it will hold like this for three days?” Darren said.
“We are twenty miles outside of town. We shouldn’t take the chance.” Jeff said.
“No coolant running down the front of the radiator.” Shanon was looking up at the radiator from underneath.
“Yeah, but we have been planning this trip for weeks. What are the chances that it will leak later if it isn’t leaking now?” Darren asked.
“Twenty miles is a long walk if you are wrong.” Jeff said.
“It looks alright.” Shanon was looking in through the grille. He straightened up and grabbed the end of the willow.
“What are you doing!?” Darren asked.
“I don’t think it punched a hole in the radiator.” Shanon replied.
“What if it did?” I said.
“We can pound a potato into the hole to seal it.” Shanon started pulling on the willow.
“Did we bring a potato?” Jeff yelled.
But it was already too late. Shanon pulled the willow out, taking the grill out along with it. Shanon tossed aside the willow as we all ran each other over trying to look at the radiator. The cooling fins were bent but there was no hole.
“Thank you Jesus!” Darren yelled.
“Now, how do we put this back on?” Shanon asked while holding up the grill.
Another minor miracle had occurred. All of the screws holding the grill on had been snapped off but there was no damage done to the side of the grill that Darren’s dad would see.
“Just put it back in the hole.” Darren said.
Shanon put the grill back in place and it promptly fell back out.
“Hand me some string please.”
Jeff handed him some twine and Shanon did a passable job of tying the grill back on.
“Are you sure that will hold?” Darren asked.
“It will hold long enough for you to go to a mechanic and get it fixed more permanently.”
“Do you think a mechanic can fix that grill without having to put in a new one?” Darren asked.
“Piece of cake.”
After we got back from the trip Darren would drive the Blazer over to a mechanic shop to get the grill repaired. The grill fell out just as he was pulling up and he ran over it right in front of the mechanic.
“Can you fix this grill?” Darren asked.
“Piece of cake. Yup, that’s what I WOULD be saying if you had not just run it over with your truck.” The mechanic sprayed Darren with tobacco juice as he howled with toothless laughter.
One hundred dollars later Darren would be on his way home with a new grill and a newfound hatred of smart-ass mechanics. But that was all in the future.
For now… it was time to camp!
Chapter 2
Camping Sites and other matters of important cosmic significance
There were two really good possible camping sites within easy hiking distance. One was called the “first sandbar” since it was the first sandbar that you come upon when you are walking along the river.
There is a bigger sandbar just up around the bend. We called it the “bigger sandbar” because it was the second and last sandbar that you would come across.
Now that I think about it. We really should have called it the “second sandbar.” But at that point logic was something that we had just read about. We decided to keep it simple and camp out on the “first sandbar.”
Once the campsite had been chosen, it was time to make camp. This trip was going to be different because this was going to be a “survival trip” you know, kind of “living off the land.” We had agreed to leave our tents at home and build survival shelters when we got there.
Shanon and Darren went to great lengths to make sure that their survival shelter was perfect. Heads huddled together they scratched out plans in the sand of the sandbar with sticks. Then scouted for the best location that would balance sunlight, convenience to the water, and just enough wind for proper ventilation.
Darren walked up the sandbar to gather sticks of driftwood for the shelter while Shanon started mixing water with sand and also some gravel from the floor of the river to make cement. By the time Darren came back with the first load of driftwood the foundation had already been poured and Shanon was looking around for something to use as a skylight.
As late morning turned into afternoon Shanon and Darren worked diligently. About three in the afternoon they took a break for lunch. Shanon came over to where I was sitting on the bank of the river watching the water roll by.
I looked at his shelter.
“Nice job, which one of you is going to build the stairs leading to the second floor?
“I will.” Shanon stated.
“And the third floor?”
“I’ll let Darren handle that part of it.”
“Is the deck going to extend around the shelter?” I asked.
“Maybe, it depends on if we have enough materials to build the hot tub.”
“Ah.”
“You should get started on your shelter.” Shanon said. “We’re going to done with ours pretty soon and you don’t want to be working on yours while we are having fun tonight.”
“Don’t worry about me. I have it covered.”
“You sure?” Shanon asked.
“Yup, got it all squared away.”
Jeff was working furiously to build his shelter. He had started about the same time as Darren and Shannon. All this time he had been digging and finally all that could be seen was the tip of his shovel coming into sight every few seconds as he threw dirt out of the hole. Finally, all sound of digging stopped. A small voice came out of the trench.
“Darren?” Darren was too busy to respond, he was putting shingles on the roof of their survival shelter.
“Shannon?” Shannon was planting a garden on the other side of the shelter and could not hear Jeff.
“Mike!?” I lay back in the sand so I was staring at the sky.
“Yeah?” I yelled back in Jeff’s direction
“I’ve run into a couple of problems with my survival shelter.”
“Whazzat?” I replied.
“Well…. I dug the hole too deep and can’t get out.”
“What’s the second problem?”
“I just hit water.”
“Ah. Hate that”
“Mike, do you think you could help me get out of here?” Jeff asked.
I lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. “Is the water getting deeper?”
“Yes.”
“Fast?”
“It’s already up to my knees.”
“Fucking cold too I’ll bet.”
“Very.”
“Hm. You CAN swim?”
“No!”
“But you can float?”
“Float…Float? FLOAT?! Get off your fucking ass and help me out of here!”
I sighed and put out my cigarette.
After I helped him out of the hole Jeff started shoveling dirt back into the hole until he was left with a shallow trench about two and a half feet deep and six feet long. He built little walls out of driftwood and stretched a tarp across the top in case it rained. Jeff walked over to where I was laying in the sand with my hands behind my head.
“Thanks for helping me out of that hole Mike.” Jeff said. “Do you need any help with your survival shelter?”
“Nope, got it all squared away.”
“Where is it?” Jeff asked.
“Haven’t built it yet. But it won’t take me long.”
As afternoon turned into early evening Darren was just finishing up the drawbridge for his and Shanon’s survival shelter. He walked down to the rivers edge where I was busy sailing a little boat that I had made out of a piece of driftwood and a square of birch bark for the sail.
“We’re almost done with our shelter.” Darren said.
“Yes, It looks nice.” I replied while studying the way the sunlight glinted off the parapets on their survival shelter.
“When are you going to get started on yours?”
“Hmm, yeah, I guess I should get started on it.” Ruefully I watched my little sailboat drift away on the river.
I reached into my pack and removed my “pre-made survival shelter.” Assembly only took a few minutes, and then I was free to do other things. The other guys got mad at my ingenuity.
“That’s not a survival shelter!” Shanon had the gall to point out.
“That’s right, it’s a Pre-Made Survival Shelter.”
“It’s a two-man mountain tent!”
“True, but I dug a little trench around it to keep the water out thereby making it an honest to god, me against nature, survival setup.”
“You bought it at a sporting goods store! It’s a two-man mountain tent! No work or effort went into that!” Shanon sputtered.
“Just cause you didn’t think of it….” I stuck my tongue out at Shanon.
Shanon’s face reddened with suppressed rage but he didn’t say anything else. He just turned and stomped off.
“Wow. He looked pissed.” Darren said.
“He’ll get over it.” I replied
I retired to my pre made survival shelter for a little nap. Shanon returned to camp about half an hour later and showed his respect for my ingenuity by cutting the ropes holding up the poles on my pre-made survival shelter. The whole thing collapsed on me.
I always enjoy a good practical joke even if it is at my expense.
I was explained this to Shanon while chasing him through the woods with a womping stick. He didn’t seem to grasp the concept.
“Mikey’s mad and I’m glad! Mikey’s mad and I’m glad!” Shanon yelled as he sprinted up a wooded slope with me hot on his heels.
Just as he got to the top of the ridge he suddenly yelled and threw himself to the ground. I was close enough to where I couldn’t stop in time so I jumped as hard as I could. I sailed over Shanon with room to spare and went sailing over the side of the sheer cliff that Shanon had been trying to warn me about. Fifteen feet later the glacier fed river broke my fall.
Shanon looked over the cliff at me as I bobbed in the river.
“You alive?”
“I’m too fucking cold to be dead.” I yelled back up.
“Want me to grab a rope and fish you out?”
The river current was swiftly carrying me away from Shanon.
“Naw, the river is flowing toward camp. I’ll float down. See you at camp. Build a fire!”
Shannon was a little dot on the horizon. Suddenly he started jumping up and down and waving.
“Hey! What about the rap-“
I couldn’t quite make out what Shanon was yelling over the roar of the river.
“Rap? What the hell is a rap?” I muttered to myself.
I was still trying to figure out what Shanon was talking about thirty seconds later as I was sucked into the rapids.
I dragged my sodden corpse out of the river and into camp.
Darren, Shanon, and Jeff were kicked back in front of a roaring campfire.
“Must be too ugly to die.” Shanon said, nodding at my carcass.
“You allright?” Darren asked as he fitted a marshmallow onto a willow stick.
“Grrrfl.” I said and weakly tried to claw for Shanon’s throat but couldn’t reach and let my arm drop to the sand.
I really couldn’t stay mad at Shanon long. He had been a great friend for a long time. I will never forget the first time that laid eyes on him.
We were in gym class on the first day of eighth grade. Everyone else was already sitting on the floor for roll call. Suddenly there was a stirring at the back of the gym and this blond kid wearing a pair of Levis came walking in. The gym teacher looked up.
“Sorry son, you can’t wear jeans in gym class. I am going to go easy on you today but you have to have sweats by tomorrow.”
Shanon stood his ground. He cocked his head to the side and took his time studying the teacher.
“No, these are allright. They aren’t jeans. These are dungarees.”
“Either way, they are not sweats. Get some before tomorrow.”
“These are comfortable, I think I will continue to wear them.”
“According to the school rules you have to wear sweats to gym class.” The teacher was getting a little mad now but was working hard not to show it.
“According to school rules I cannot wear JEANS. These are DUNGAREES. Next time read the rules before you quote them.”
There was a sharp intake of breath from all the students around me as I appraised this blond kid and wondered just how crazy he really was.
“What’s your name kid!” The teacher thundered.
“Shanon McGee.”
“Shanon McGee. You are going to give me twenty laps DOUBLE time while I go to the principles office and get a copy of the school rulebook for you to read out loud to the class.”
Shanon started running around the gym. The second that the teacher was out of sight he stopped. He sauntered back over to the class and dropped into a sitting position next to me.
“Hi, Shanon McGee.” He said, extending his hand.
“So I heard, Mike Bigge.” I shook Shanon’s hand. Aren’t you going to get in a whole lot more trouble if the teacher comes back and you are sitting down?”
“It takes four minutes to walk from here to the school office. I paced it out this morning. Course, he’s pissed so he’ll make good time here and back. Say… Three minutes each way and a couple more while the secretary hunts down a copy of the rulebook. It took her five this morning. So we are up to ten minutes minimum before he returns. Now…. It takes the average American student forty seconds to run a lap around the gym. But he did say double time didn’t he? Yes, that’s what I heard. So, at twenty seconds per lap it would take me… about seven minutes. Which means that there is no reason on god’s green earth that I should not be sitting here talking to you when he comes back.”
“Shanon… I like your style. One more question though. If you run 20 laps at double time wouldn’t the teacher expect you to break a sweat?”
“Good point. Back in a jiff.” Shanon jumped up and walked over to the drinking fountain in the corner where he started to liberally douse his hair and shirt with water. When he was done he came back over and plopped back down in the same spot.
“How’s that look?”
“Looks cold.”
“It is, but I’ve felt colder.”
Shanon and I kept up our conversation until we heard the gym door open, in a flash Shanon was on his feet and walking in place. The teacher glared at Shanon as he walked in. Shanon shrugged.
“Lost count so I ran a few extra laps just to make sure. Doing my cool down right now.”
“Yes, hate to have you cramp up on your first day. Let me know when you are ready. Nothing pleases me more than holding up the class just for you Mr. McGee.”
Shanon kept his cool down going until he was certain that he had pushed the teachers patience to its absolute limit. Then added ten seconds for good measure before he stopped.
“Are you finished?” The teacher asked.
“Yes” Shanon replied.
“Are you absolutely certain that you are finished?” The teacher asked in the sweetest voice that I have ever heard come out of anyone.
“Thank you for asking. Yes I am.”
“Excellent, then perhaps you would be so good as to come up in front of the class and read in a loud, clear voice what the school district has to say about you wearing dungarees in my gym class.”
Shanon accepted the proffered book and with a flourish opened to the exact page.
“Ahem, during gym class the recommended student attire shall consist of sweat pants or shorts, sweat shirts, and gym shoes with non-marking souls. Jeans and street shoes are strictly prohibited.”
“There!” The teacher said triumphantly. “Mr. McGee has told us in his own voice that gym students can only wear sweat suits..”
Shanon broke in. “I believe the exact wording is RECOMMENDED. Not REQUIRED. Only jeans and street shoes are specifically forbidden.”
“Yes, your pants are strictly forbidden. Be sure to have sweats tomorrow.”
“I don’t think so. These are not jeans they are Dungarees!”
The teacher’s mouth dropped open, then shut of its own accord while he tried to come up with anything that he could use to argue against that. Finally he threw up his hands.
“Very well Mr. McGee! You can wear your dungarees. Now take a seat so I can finally start this class.”
Shanon came back over and sat down next to me.
“So Mike, you like to camp?”
Shanon was always interested in survival, which was fine with me because surviving has always been near the top of my list of priorities too. Shanon inspired me to new heights though; we took some Wilderness Survival courses together. Devoured books on the subject, and now I’m reasonably certain that if I were to go into the woods with only a knife, a car, and a map to the nearest McDonalds, I would make it back out of the woods alive.
Speaking of alive, I was recovering nicely from my run in with the “rapids of imminent peril” thanks to a nice warm fire and a cup of coffee.
Chapter 3
Time marches on
The next day I was out for a walk by myself. I was walking on the bigger sandbank along the rivers edge when I came across a little cutout that the river had scooped out along the bank. The water level in the river had dropped overnight, which created a small pond about six feet wide, fifteen feet long, and a few feet deep. The river was still slopping fresh water into the pond but driftwood had created a dam of sorts that separated the river and the pond.
“Wow, that will make a nice little swimming hole when it gets warmer this afternoon.”
Right then I caught some movement in the deeper part of the pond.
“What the hell?”
Shading my eyes from the glare of the sun I Looked closer and could just make out the form of a King Salmon floating on the bottom of the pond. While I was trying to decide if my eyes were playing tricks on me a second salmon swam lazily past the first one.
“Holy crap!”
I ran around the edge of the pond trying to get a better look and finally counted three King Salmon that were trapped in this pond when the water level in the river dropped. Since it was in the middle of spawning season I was overjoyed.
Salmon don’t live long after they spawn and these particular salmon were sitting around a card table playing mah jong with their pants hitched up to their chests. So I decided that a salmon dinner sounded good for tonight.
I excitedly took off for the camp on the first sandbar to share my news with everyone.
“Guys! You have got to see this!” I said as I burst into camp.
“What?” Darren asked.
“Never mind! Just follow me!”
I ran to the bigger sandbar with Darren, Shanon, and Jeff in tow.
“Look at this pond!” I said.
“Nice, it will make a great swimming hole.” Jeff enthused.
“But why did we have to run here to see this?” Shanon asked.
“Look closer.” I replied.
A few seconds passed. Darren leaned forward and pointed at the bottom of the pond.
“Is that?”
I nodded.
“What?” Jeff asked.
“Look along the bottom.” Darren said
“Wow! Look at that!” Jeff was visibly excited.
“King Salmon! That’s some mighty fine eating!” Shanon smacked his lips.
“MMM boy! We are going to be eating tonight!” I said.
“Yeah, but how are we going to get them? We didn’t bring along any fishing gear.” Jeff pointed out.
“That’s easy! I just need a safety pin and some dental floss.” Shanon said.
“What if we didn’t bring those either?” Darren said.
“Aw crap!” Shanon kicked a stone into the pond causing the salmon to dart around.
“No problem, we just go with plan B.” I said
“Plan B?” Darren looked blank.
“Plan B.” I hefted my shotgun, flicked the safety off, stepped right to the edge of the pond, and sighted at the largest one.
“Say your prayers Salmon!” I said and started to pull the trigger.
“NO! WAIT!” Shanon yelled.
The little physics teacher in my head was in the middle of a lecture.
“Two pieces of matter cannot occupy the same space at the same time. If you drop, throw or shoot a solid into a liquid then the liquid becomes displaced. So if you were to fire a large amount of shotgun pellets into a pond at point blank range then the water in the pond would naturally become very displaced. Of course, everyone knows that.”
The sound of the blast rolled off down the valley. I looked up and saw a solid wall of water rushing down at me. Shanon, Darren and Jeff were already pounding sand for all they were worth. With the quarter of a second that I had left before being washed into the sea, I idly glanced down at the pond and noticed that the water level of the pond had dropped by about half.
The physics teacher continued his lecture.
“Which brings us to resistance. When a solid enters a liquid the resistance of the liquid causes the velocity of the solid to drop rapidly in a short period of time. This is why you don’t try to shoot salmon with a shotgun. Any questions?”
“What were you thinking!?”
I was sitting by a warm fire and wringing water out of my socks while Shanon held forth.
“Shut up.”
“Not to mention that if you WERE able to kill a Salmon with a shotgun the pellets would ruin the meat.”
“Shut up.”
“Lamest thing I have ever seen in my life.”
SHUT UP!”
“Does anyone besides Mike have any ideas for catching these salmon?” Darren asked.
“We could just dive in and catch the salmon in our teeth, then get nekkid and dance around on this sand bar waving the fish over our heads before sacrificing them to the sun gods.” Jeff ventured.
This earned him a couple of long sideways glances.
“Fish wheel.” Shanon stated.
Now it was my turn for a little payback.
“Fish wheel? You mean the SIXTEEN FOOT tall fish wheels?”
“Shut up.” Shanon said.
“You mean the fish wheels that use the current from the river to turn?”
“Shut up!”
“You mean the fish wheel that is way too big for this pond and won’t work because there is no current to drive it in a pond?”
“SHUT UP!”
“The fish wheel that would take long to build and would do us no good at all. Is that the fish wheel that you are talking about?”
“How are your socks Mike? Are they dry yet?” Shanon smiled.
“Shut up.”
I know that not all of you are from Alaska so I thought
I would take a moment to tell you what a fish wheel is.
Imagine a double-ended tennis racquet attached in the
middle to a pole so that when one end of the racquet is straight down the other
one is straight up. Now imagine that they are both eight feet long and the ends
of the racquets are actually scoops. When a fish wheel is put in the water and
set into motion the water causes the scoops to rotate constantly. On the down
stroke they scoop up any fish that happen to be swimming underneath them and
deposit them in a lock box mounted on the side of the fish wheel.
Now back to our
story.
“Drain the pond!” Darren said.
Shanon and I looked at each other, then at the river slopping water into the pond and decided to take the high road and not point out the problem with that suggestion.
“Dynamite!” Shanon said.
“Why didn’t we think of that sooner?” I slapped my forehead.
“I’ll run back to camp and get some out of the packs.” Jeff returned in no time at all.
“What do you think? Quarter stick?” Darren asked.
“Hmm, we want to make sure to do this job right. Better go with a half stick.” I said.
Shanon lit the fuse on the half stick of dynamite.
“Run like hell!” He shouted and tossed the dynamite in the pond.
I was already well on my way to the next zip code by the time that Shanon said that.
Phoom!! Whoooeeee! We came back towards where the pond used to be.
“Nice!” Shanon said as he admired the King Salmon sizzling on the fire.
“Yeah, I can’t believe that they got blown out of the pond and right into the frying pan that we had sitting next to the fire.” I said.
“Mmm, smells great!” Darren yummed.
“The most amazing part is that the concussion from the dynamite also cleaned the salmon and separated them into juicy and delicious salmon steaks in mid air before they dropped into the frying pan that we had sitting next to the campfire.” Jeff said.
“No, the most amazing part is that the blast got the attention of the Swedish bikini team that was camped just up the river and they came over in their boat to see what was going on and brought a cooler full of beer.” Darren grinned and put his arm around the stunning Nordic blond in a bright red bikini that was snuggled up against him.
“Oh yeah!” Jeff saluted with his beer.
“It just doesn’t get any better than this!” I glanced over at Björn.
“Mik-ey? You promised that you would rub oil on my back. Björn pouted prettily. “Don’t keep me watink Mik-ey… Mik-ey? Mike?”
“Mike! Come back to us! Man, when this guy daydreams he really heads off to a different planet.” Darren was shaking my shoulder.
“Eh? Oh, sorry guys, what were we doing again?”
“Trying to come up with ideas to catch the salmon.” Jeff said.
“Oh, that’s right.”
“I know! I brought along a trident head in my backpack.” Shanon started walking back toward camp.
“Cut a willow down to use as a handle. Make it about eight feet long.”
Darren headed off into the woods to find a suitable spear handle. By the time he came back Shanon had returned.
“Is spear fishing legal in Alaska?” I asked.
Shanon looked at me for a moment. Then looked around in a circle.
“That’s funny, for a moment there I could have sworn that we were out in the middle of nowhere.”
“Riiiight. So if we see a game warden boat coming…”
“The trident head gets thrown deep into the river and the handle goes into the woods.”
“Gotcha.”
The first rule of spear fishing is that you have to look the part. Shanon stripped to the waist and tied a bandana around his head. He pulled on his dark shades and waded into the water. Finally he was ready to begin fishing.
“Should we get them all at the same time or save a couple for tomorrow?” Shanon asked.
“How hard is this going to be?” I asked.
“Nothing easier.”
“Cool, get two and we’ll leave the other for tomorrow then.”
“You got it, stand by to grab these fish as I flip them onto the bank.”
Shanon took his time choosing his prey. He lined up the shot and with a grunt threw the spear as hard as he could down into the water.
“You missed.” Darren said.
“Warm up shot, no problem.” Shanon countered.
A few minutes later Jeff spoke up.
“I just remember that water has a refraction effect. That means that the fish are not where they appear to be. Aim eight inches above their heads.”
Minutes pass.
“Or was that eight inches below their tails?” Jeff looked thoughtful.
As afternoon turned to evening we had a merry little gathering down by the river, a fire lay smoldering on the beach and we all lounged around contentedly picking bits of dinner out of our teeth while watching Shanon still trying to spear those! @#$ Fish!
Don’t laugh. Have you ever tried it? In the films of the Polynesian fishermen it looks easy when they do it. This is because of trick photography. Come on now, who has ever REALLY seen a Polynesian fisherman? I think that Wild Kingdom hired them from Central Casting in Los Angeles.
One of the problems that we had to contend with on this foray into the wilderness was one of natures most territorial and feared predators. The Seagull!! Don’t believe it? Neither did we.
Let me tell you the story. Night had fallen on our happy gathering by the fire. Night of course is a relative term in the middle of Alaska in the middle of summer...It don’t get dark, it just gets late. That’s right, the sun does not go down until, um let us say....
August.
So I was walking around in broad daylight at eleven o’clock at night cutting across the bigger sand bar and looking for a quiet place to hang a whiz. As I was walking, I kept hearing this strange noise, kind of a whoosh sound.
It took a while to work its way into my mind as something that I should be concerned about.
Whoosh (Mike stops and looks around, sees nothing and starts to walk again) Whoosh! (Mike stops and looks around, sees nothing, shrugs and starts to walk again.)
WHOOOSH!!! CAWW!!!!(Mike stops and looks up)
Two beady black eyes and a long shark pointy beak pointed at my thorax!
“EAAAUUGHHGH!!!” The sound that leapt out of my throat caused my friends to levitate and start trying to run on thin air at the campsite.
I took off running as hard as I could for the campsite while the seagull did its level best to peck my eyes out. Just before I got back to the campsite the seagull broke off the attack and decided to regroup two hundred feet away at the top of the tallest tree it could find across the river.
“Bleaaahghgghhgaaaaaa!! Seagull!! Yibba!!! Attacking!! Eeep!!! HELP MEEEEEE!!!” I screamed as I burst into the campsite causing what could almost be mistaken for concern to cross Shanon’s face.
“Sea-gull?” Shanon stated with a Mikey’s been working much too hard lately look on his face. “Cute little harmless seagull. Attacking? You? Reeeeaaaaalllllyyyyyy...”
I quickly explained the situation by drawing illustrations in the sand and through the liberal use of sock puppets. Their disbelief slowly turned to sarcasm.
“Giant, Radioactive, Fanged, Blood Sucking, Seagull?” Jeff snorted. “Yeah, right. Look at me! I’m Mike and I’m scared of a cute little seagull.” Jeff took off running down the sand bar. “I’m Mike! Come and get me seagull! I am sooooo scared!”
“Bwahahahaahahaa!” Shanon said.
“Oh my god! I cannot believe that you came running back with a bullshit story like that.” Darren added.
The seagull took flight.
Five seconds later.... EAAAUUGHHGH!!!!!!! Jeff came running back swatting at the back of his head. The seagull flew back to the top of the same tree across the river clutching a hunk of Jeff’s hair in its beak.
Shanon’s mouth dropped open, Darren’s eyes widened.
“Look at me! I’m Jeff and I’m a DUMBASS!” I did a little dumbass dance around the fire.
“Allright Gentlemen! This means WAR!” Shanon was always the take charge with the most violence that could be mustered type. He set Jeff and I to work fortifying our position by banking sand and trees and had Darren run a reconnaissance mission to determine enemy strength and size.
Darren disappeared into the woods with a pair of binoculars. Forty minutes later he came creeping back into camp staying low to the ground to avoid being attacked. He breathlessly made his report to General Shanon.
“It’s a seagull sir!!” Darren reported.
“Dammit soldier! I need troop size and movement information!”
“Oh… It’s one seagull sir, and it’s pretty much just standing there.”
“Thank you soldier. At ease.”
By this time Jeff and I had a pretty good trench dug and we all dove into it.
“What do we do now sir?” Jeff asked Shanon.
Shanon got a faraway look in his eyes, lit a Marlboro, and took a deep drag.
“Sergeant Mike!” Shanon commanded.
“Yes sir!”
“I have a mission for you. This mission is strictly voluntary.”
“What is the mission sir?”
“We have a Giant, Radioactive, Fanged, Blood Sucking, Seagull that must be neutralized to ensure the security of this territory and all its inhabitants. Are you willing to proceed with this mission?”
“Sir! Yes sir!”
“Very well, do you have the proper equipment to carry out this mission?”
I patted the rifle that was slung over my shoulder.
“Have you been properly trained for the mission that I am asking you to do?”
“Yes sir! I have been fully trained on the operation of this weapon and have eleven years experience with it!”
“Very good, prepare to carry out your mission.”
I braced my rifle on top of the wall of the trench and opened the action.
Shanon pulled a single .22 caliber shell from his pocket and handed it to me.
I placed it in the chamber, and gently closed the action.
Shanon raised the binoculars and peered through them.
“Do you see the beast?” Shanon asked.
Through the scope I could see the Giant, Radioactive, Fanged, Blood Sucking, Seagull.
“Yes sir!”
“Do you have the beast in your sights?”
I centered the crosshairs right between the Giant, Radioactive, Fanged, Blood Sucking, Seagull’s eyes.
“On target and awaiting final orders sir!”
“You are weapons free.”
“Acknowledged.”
The Giant, Radioactive, Fanged, Blood Sucking, Seagull looked steadily at me with a little smirk on its beak totally clueless as to what was about to happen.
I exhaled slowly, gently squeezing the trigger as I did so.
Crack!
It was a very somber moment. Darren slumped against the trench wall. Jeff studied the horizon. Shanon lowered his binoculars.
“Good work soldier. Now get out of there and let someone who CAN shoot have a chance at finishing the mission.”
“Dammit! I can kill that thing! Lemme have another bullet.”
Shanon gave me an appraising look.
“I think the wind did come up suddenly on that last shot.”
He reached into his pocket and ceremoniously handed me another bullet.
Crack!
“Newly promoted Sergeant Darren! Prepare to complete former Sergeant Mike’s mission!”
“This scope is sighted in wrong! I get a do over!” I said.
“Here!” Shanon shoved a fistful of bullets at me.
Three crew changes and three hundred rounds of .22 ammo later the score was seagull 2, us 0.
Shanon was sitting in a pile of brass casings.
“Normally in the field the commanders word is law. However I am open to suggestions. Shanon said.
“Now that we have him on the run I say that we wait until morning to finish him off.” Darren coughed into his hand.
“Yeah… that sounds like a good idea. I intently studied the stock on my rifle.
“Give him time to think about the heinous crime that he committed before we… umm… finish… him… off.” Jeff said while casually looking at the sky.
“Erm, yeah. What you guys said.” Shanon said while looking at the toe of his boot.
Around nine am the next morning, my dad came strolling out of the woods
along the sand bar. We saw him and started yelling for him to get under cover
because of the Giant, Radioactive, Fanged, Blood Sucking, Seagull, which was just lurking and waiting to
attack as soon as his back was turned.
Dad stopped right in his tracks, looked around.... spotted the Giant,
Radioactive, Fanged, Blood Sucking, Seagull at the top of the tallest tree across the river. (I did mention that
it was two HUNDRED feet away from us right?)
“Is that seagull bothering you boys?” Dad squinted up at the seagull.
“Yes, every time we walk out on the sandbar alone it attacks us.”
Darren said.
“Bet you a box of oatmeal that I can hit it with one shot.”
“What? Are you fucking crazy? No way you can do that old man.” Shanon
snorted.
“One shot.”
“Give it up! We have been shooting at that thing all night.”
“Are you saying that you don’t want to bet?”
“I just don’t want to see you embarrass yourself like that since I will
personally never let you live it down when you miss.”
“One shot.”
“You got it!” Shanon tried to hand him a rifle.
“No thanks.” Dad pulled his pistol from its holster and chambered a
round. Then grabbed his cigar out of his mouth and used his cigar hand to
steady his gun hand as he aimed.
Shanon turned to me.
“No way is he going to hit anything with that little pistol. We have
been shooting at that damn thing with scoped rifles all night long.”
Crack!!!
Two hundred feet away at the top of the tallest tree across the river
there was a puff of feathers and the seagull fell over backwards and crashed to
the forest floor.
I looked around at Shanon, Darren, and Jeff. All three of them were
staring slack jawed at Dad.
Dad grinned and stuck his cigar back in his mouth.
“Did I ever tell you boys that I shot expert on both pistol and rifle
in the army?
Shanon looked like he was going to explode. He kept looking at the
seagull, then at Dad, at the seagull, at Dad, seagull, Dad, Seagull, Dad. A
thin whining sound came out of his nose.
“Nothing like shooting one bullet to really work up an appetite for
breakfast. Think I am going to have myself some of the sweetest tasting oatmeal
I have ever tasted. I don’t suppose you know where I could get some do you?”
Dad wiggled his eyebrows at Shanon.
“HERE! Take all you want!” Shanon started throwing oatmeal packets at Dad. Dad grabbed up the oatmeal packets and walked away down the sandbar. We could hear his laughter long after he got out of sight.
Chapter 4
Later
that afternoon....
Shanon, the great lone rider of the plains stood on the great dusty sand bar. His hat pulled low on his forehead, the hand rolled cigarette dangled out of the corner of his mouth, his cowhide glove encased right hand rested near the polished nickel six-shooter on his hip. After months of following the masked potato through this desolate wasteland, he could sense that his prey was near. Shanon was out for revenge. The final showdown was at hand.
Shanon looked around. Everyone else in town had taken cover when he had come riding in. The only person in sight was his sidekick who was lounging against a tree trunk.
“Poncho… I mean Mike, if I don’t live through this avenge my death.”
“Sure thing lone rider.”
Shanon stepped out from behind the screen of bushes. The masked potato was leaning up against a sand bank. No doubt busily plotting his next heinous act.
“I’ve waited a long time for this, turn around and face me! I have never shot a man in the back.” Shanon snarled. “You burned down my homestead, killed my wife, SKINNED my DOG, AND RAPED MY HORSE, you are the lowest, dirtiest, scum suckingest scoundrel ever to walk the planet. FILL YOUR HAND YOU SON OF A BITCH!!”
Shanon tensed, his right hand preparing to slap for the nickel-plated six-shooter at his hip.
“OH NO! That’s it for you Mr. Potato Head!!” I yelled from behind Shanon.
The effect was immediate. Shanon’s shoulders slumped; the cigarette falling from his mouth, his right hand missing the pistol handle by a good three inches. He turned to face me.
“What did you say?” Shanon said he asked me but the roaring of everyone’s laughter drowned his question out.
Since we had still not caught the Salmon that were practically throwing themselves onto the beach and building a fire themselves, we decided to start thinking about some alternate meal plans. I went off into the woods with only a pack of Marlboro cigarettes and a rifle to search for something shoot able while Shanon went back to working on the fish problem.
As I strolled past the little pond on the way to the woods, I saw that Shanon had already put his plan into affect. He was standing in the pond with the sun between him and the fish so he would not throw a shadow. (Years after the fact I still get a laugh out of thinking about poor Shanon being so careful not to throw a shadow all the while thinking that the fish would not notice his LEGS and FEET mere inches from them. But Shanon was so intent on his quarry he had little time to ponder such things.) Suddenly he pounced! His hands flashed into the water with a mighty splash! His fingers closed on…empty water.
Leaving Shanon to his splashing and cursing I headed off into the woods to find a clearing with a fallen tree.
Hunting the mighty Alaska squirrel has been described as “Challenging.” “Frustrating.” even “Annoying.” I on the other hand describe it as “Boring.”
Squirrels in Alaska are tiny little creatures, no bigger than a mouse really. They just do not have the growing season that other squirrels have so nature made them small. It takes many squirrels to fill up a stew pot here. I have never had all that much trouble collecting many squirrels though since they are curious little busybodies.
I just find a clearing with a fallen tree in it, sit with my back against a handy nearby tree, prop the rifle on my legs, light up a smoke and in no time at all a curious squirrel would appear on top of the fallen tree in front of me.
“Whatcha dooooin Mister?” The squirrel would ask.
“Getting ready to shoot some food.” I would respond.
“Really? where?” the squirrel would say while looking around.
Crack!!
Do that for a couple of hours and you have enough meat for dinner.
On my way back to camp, I passed by Shanon. He had fashioned himself a bucket out of birch bark and was using it to bail water out of the pond while crying and swearing.
My triumphant return to camp was greeted with unanimous apathy until I threw ten squirrels down in front of the campfire and announced.
“I killed em. Someone else can clean them.”
Shanon was notably absent during our squirrel and beef stew feast. We could hear the sounds of splashing, screaming, and (electricity arcing?) down by the river and almost wondered what he was up to.
After dinner, with the sun getting lower on the horizon and all of us feeling mellow with our bellies full of nature’s bounty we were thinking about what to do next.
“Let’s build a bonfire!” Jeff said.
“Bonfire?” I said.
“Sounds good. How big should we build it?” Darren asked.
Jeff thought for a moment.
“Hmm, it’s about seventy above. Just four of us are here. Thirty feet tall should be plenty.”
On sand bars there is always a hearty amount of old trees that are pulled out of the bank and stranded when the river level drops so we got right to work on pulling some huge trees around and stacking them like teepees. In no time at all we had the makings of a bonfire of truly heroic proportions.
“We should go get Shanon so he can see this.” Darren said.
“Good idea!” I said. “Wait right here!” I ran off to get Shanon.
As I rounded the corner of the sandbank, I slammed on the brakes and dug furrows in the sand for about three feet.
There in front of me was the most incredible sight I had ever beheld.
Where the pond had been was tall fence made out of peeled logs with sharpened points sticking straight up in the air.
Between the fence and me was a line of sharpened stakes sticking out of the sandbar and pointed outwards. And between the line of stakes and fence was Shanon! He was walking back and forth with a shotgun slung over his shoulder. Shanon stopped and looked at me, a crazed fire burned in his bloodshot eyes.
“They thought they could get the best of me! They were wrong! Their little salmon laughs as they darted between my legs. But I showed them!! I showed all of them!! NO WAY THEY ARE GETTING OUT OF THIS!!!”
O.k. that didn’t really happen. It was a lot more entertaining than me telling you that Shanon had a big club and was bashing the water with it while screaming.
“Fornicators!!”
I wisely decided to quietly leave Shanon to what he was doing and returned to the bonfire. Jeff had dug up a five-gallon can of white gas from somewhere and was liberally spraying the “potential bonfire material” with it.
“Better not use all of that gas.” Darren Said. “We might need some of it later on.”
Oh, if only Darren could have looked into the future and known…He would have insisted that Jeff use all of it right then. But, I will get to that one later on.
We were faced with the same problem facing all massive 30-foot tall bonfire builders. How to light your magnificent, towering, gas soaked edifice without losing eyebrows or friends in the process?
After some thinking, we built a little catapult out of willows with a little string basket to hold a wad of toilet paper. Darren put a match to the toilet paper and nodded to Jeff who pulled the string that released the catapult.
Shoom!
“WOW! That thing flew forever! How did you get the toilet paper to hold together long enough for it to get to the bonfire Darren?” I asked.
“Oh, it was simple.” Darren replied. “I just soaked the toilet paper in water first…Aw shit!”
This time we soaked the toilet paper in white gas. It was beautiful! The flaming ball of toilet paper arced up towards the top of the bonfire and got caught in a strong wind blowing it back towards us before finally dropping it right on our camp.
A flurry of panicked activity later….
“Fire resistant material my ass.” I said, forlornly holding up the charred remains of my tent.
“Third try is the charm.” Jeff said, while reloading the catapult. “What are you doing? Nooo! Don’t throw my catapult in the river Mike!”
We all sat around the still unlit bonfire pouring sand through our hands.
“How the hell are we going to light this bonfire?” Darren asked.
“Mike can run in there with a match and lose his eyebrows for all I care after he broke my catapult in half and threw it into the river.” Jeff whined.
“Yeh, I should have just lit it on fire and thrown it in the bonfire.” I growled.
“What?” I said to Darren who was making a surprised face.
“Could you say that again?” Darren asked.
“I should have lit Jeff’s catapult on fire and thrown it into the bonfire…. where are you going?”
Darren was already on his feet and bounding down the sandbar and around the corner. A few seconds later we heard Shanon’s voice screaming.
“What! What are you doing? No! NOOO! GOD NO!”
Darren came running back with Shanon’s club. Jeff and I looked at each other and shrugged. It was the work of a few moments to soak one end of the club with white gas, light it and throw it into the bonfire to be.
Wooomph! Sweet merciful jevus I think they saw that one go off in NORAD. The temperature on the sandbar shot up about two hundred degrees in the vicinity of where we were standing. I say were because the three of us were already in the river trying to put out our eyebrows. The ball of flame shooting into the sky was so big that it almost got Shanon’s attention as he searched for a new and larger club.
This part will
actually appear later on in the book. But my muse never seems to hit me in
sequence so enjoy.
The Great Four By Four Adventure Number One.
Darren had “liberated” his dad’s 76 Chevy Blazer (I really should tell you at this point that we were both a skosh under the legal driving age for the state of Alaska. A skosh being a unit of time measured in years.) And after picking up a mutual friend by the name of Cris we went out Four-bying on some local trails.
One of the nice things about the North Pole area is that there are all kinds of former military installations with all kinds of washed out roads leading to them. Just the kind of places that you would want to take your dad’s freshly liberated (vive la resistance!) Blazer! We went to a place that does not exist now but existed then and was known in local lingo as the white house. It was a former Air Force Radar installation a couple of miles back off the beaten path and the place to go if you wanted to party on the weekend.
The road leading to the white house was a long, long stretch of straight road going back for almost two miles before it came to an open area where the white house used to sit. At two points the road crossed long ago dried up streams and the military had built sturdy bridges going across. We knew that they were sturdy bridges because even after thirty plus years with no maintenance they were still standing and you could even still drive across the first one going in. The second one was called “The Bridge Of Doom.”
Thirty years of Alaskan winters had taken their toll on the Bridge Of Doom. More boards were missing from the top of the bridge than remained. The support beams were leaning almost to the point of falling down. It seemed that only the “No trespassing” and “Structure Unsafe” signs that the Air Force had nailed to it were keeping the bridge from becoming kindling. The only way to go around the bridge was to drive down the bank, across the empty streambed and up the bank on the other side.
I told you all that so I could tell you this.
We had a fun afternoon of driving around in our stolen blazer and buddy bonding with many adventures large and small, such as when the road turned and Darren did not. What a lot of fun that was, Darren threw the wheel hard over to the left narrowly avoiding the trees and the short wheelbase of the blazer kept us from slamming into the stand of birch trees. We had to jump out and look at the tire marks on that one. Cause it was cool and we were happy to be in one piece. Did we need another reason?
As we were heading back to civilization that afternoon Darren had us wrapped up to about 80 on the road leading out. Cris and Darren were in the front seats and I had the back all to myself. Cris and Darren were busy reliving the narrow escapes and cool adventures that we had shared on this trip and Darren was thinking that Cris was on bridge watch, Cris thought I was on bridge watch and I thought that Darren was on bridge watch.
As a result none of us took notice that we were roaring up on the bridge that was ready to fall in under it’s own weight at anytime. Eventually. I looked up and noticed that we were drawing closer to the Bridge Of Doom...Closer.......Closer, I found myself thinking, “Darren had better get on the brakes if we are going to make the turn to get around the bridge!”
200ft........150ft.........125ft.....100ft......90ft..70ft......”Um, Darren...D-DArren? DARREN!!!! THE FUCKING BRIDGE!!!!!!!!”
Darren looks up sees the bridge coming closer, stands on the brakes, white knuckles the steering wheel and starts screaming, Cris makes a grab for his seatbelt and HE starts screaming, I had no seatbelt so I just joined the scream-fest. (Bad pun coming, cover your eyes.) All four tires locked and digging furrows in the gravel the front tires hit the bridge, bounced up into the air, came down, got traction and brought all of us to a screaming stop on the second board of the bridge.
Silence descended on the 76 Chevy Blazer that was perched precariously on the Bridge of Doom. Darren slowly put the Blazer in reverse and backed away.
It was a few minutes before any of us could talk but when we realized that we were still alive and in one piece we just had to get out and look at the tire tracks.....c’mon now, we had to get out and look at the tire tracks! That was cool!! And we lived through it. Of course we did not get out of the Blazer until after getting our balls back into the proper place. Cause I don’t know about Cris and Darren but mine were so far up in my throat I was choking on them.
The Great Four By Four Adventure Number Two
The statute of limitations has run out on this one I thought I would share with you another one of our great adventures.
Darren had talked me into “liberating” my dad’s old Ford truck for an afternoon of “safe” four by-ing on well traveled hard packed trails. I have already mentioned the former military installations with formerly maintained roads that we would take.
The objective of this day’s journey was an area not far from our houses on Army property where there was a lot of jeep trails laid out for no apparent reason. We picked one at random and drove back into the deepest, darkest part of the forest. All had been going well and we were about a mile back in the woods when we topped a little rise and the trail just stopped….literally! We were staring out the windshield at the box canyon of trees on this perfect, well-used jeep trail. The trail had been progressively narrowing for the last few hundred feet and the trees were too close to allow us to turn the truck around and drive out straight.
As I was assessing the situation, I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw something that stopped my heart in my chest! Outlined perfectly to my growing horror were the tire tracks that we had left coming in…and they were filling with WATER!!! (For those of you who do not live in swamp prone areas. It is possible to drive or walk out onto seemingly solid ground and have that ground turn to mud under your feet or in our case tires.) I slammed the truck into reverse and floored it hoping against all hope that I could beat the water that was rapidly turning our solid trail into a mud bog.
I didn’t.
Motor screaming and tires spinning we shot back ten feet and just when it looked like we were getting out of this one alive the mud grabbed the truck and would not let go. Darren and I piled out of the truck and assessed the situation.
“We are so fucked!” I wailed.
“What do you mean WE?” Darren asked, turning to leave. “I have never seen you before in my life.”
“Where do you think you are going asshole?” My icy voice stopped Darren before he could move more than a couple of feet. “You are staying right here and helping me figure out how to cross the border into Canada so that I can seek Asylum from my Dad!”
While I set about getting tree branches to stuff under the tires, Darren had a brilliant idea and jumped in the truck. The sound of the engine revving brought me running out of the nearby woods.
“What are you doing!?” I yelled.
Darren’s answer was to pull the truck into reverse and slam the gas to the floor. The engine roared and the truck started spinning all four tires, sinking the truck deeper into the mud. I jumped for the drivers side to grab the key out of the ignition just as the truck caught some traction and heaved backward leaving me to land on the hood and cling desperately to the windshield wipers as the truck pulled itself onto dry ground.
Darren was very proud of himself.
“Score one for the Zukester!” He bubbled, raising his hand for a high five as I climbed down off the hood.
I straightened my jacket out, went to slap him a high five then saw something that changed my mind at the last minute and left him hanging.
“You get five points out of ten for getting the truck out of that mud.”
“What do you mean FIVE?” Darren snorted. “That was a ten pointer any day of the week baby!”
“It’s only a ten if you remember to close the doors.” I said, looking at the three inches of solid mud splattered all over the inside of both doors. Darren’s mouth dropped open.
We took the truck back to Darren’s house and gave it a cleaning that it has not had before or since. I think Darren’s dad is still wondering what happened to his toothbrush. When my dad came home I presented him with an early birthday present of a thoroughly detailed truck.
Remember what I said about my muse skipping around? Here is another story fragment.
The property that I grew up on had a slough running through the back of it. First off I should tell you that there is a huge difference between a slough and a stream.
A stream brings forth thoughts of crystal clear refreshing water with trout happily playing in it. Stream water is what you find in the bottled water section of the grocery store or roaring in a waterfall. If you fall in a stream you jump up with a “thank you sir may I have another?”
A slough is the polar opposite. A slough is a stagnant body of water with a funny odor, tons of mosquitoes, and swamp grass. No matter what else you do you do not want to fall into a slough.
This particular slough ran through the back of just about everyone’s yard in the neighborhood. So it was natural that as soon as we were old enough to start building rafts that we would. My first raft was made out of Styrofoam and plywood. It took most of the morning to drag the materials down to the waters edge and assemble them into something that would float. It was small enough to maneuver around but big enough for three of us. I was so proud of it. I rafted the half-mile down to Darren’s house first thing. Darren saw me walking up to his house through his backyard. So he met me at the garage door.
“How did you get here from the back yard?” Darren asked.
“The slough.” I casually mentioned.
“The slough? How?” Darren responded
I took a moment to study my fingernails before replying.
“With my raft.”
“Raft! What raft? You have a raft?” Darren was off like a shot in the general direction of the slough before I could say another word. By the time I caught up with him he was standing on the shore and jumping up and down with excitement.
“You built a raft! YOU built a raft! This is a really neat raft! Can I go for a ride?” Darren said.
“Of course you can! Let’s go!” I responded.
After about five minutes poling around on the slough Darren looked at me.
“I want to be a sailor just like my Dad was when I grow up!”
“ Not me! I wanna be a drifter!”
“A drifter? What does a drifter do?”
“Lots of things, but mostly what they do is go exploring!”
“Neat! Can I be a drifter too?”
“Yes you can.”
“How do we get started being drifters?”
“You just hafta explore places I guess.”
“Explore where?”
“Oh, anywhere that needs to be exploring.”
“Like this slough?”
“This slough?” The light began to dawn in my eyes.
“Do you know where this slough goes once it gets past your house Mike?” Darren asked.
“No, never been down that way.” I said
Explorer Darren looked off into the distance. The great beyond. The uncharted territory.
“Let’s go explore it on your raft.” Darren intoned.
“YES!” I said.
We knew, even at that early age that exploring the great-uncharted Alaskan wilderness was no simple undertaking. No sir, we had so many things that needed to be taken care of before we embarked. Good thing the sun never sets during the Alaskan summer cause we were going to need all the daylight we could get.
“First we need to get us some vittles.” Darren declared.
I nodded wisely. “Yes, it wouldn’t be much of an expedition without vittles now would it?”
“Nope, some things you just have to have.”
“Very good Mr. Darren, get us some vittles and I will meet you back here.”
“You got it.” Darren started running across the backyard to his house.
“Don’t forget to get the best vittles that you can find!” I yelled at him.
“Are there any other kind of vittles?” He responded.
I returned to my house to grab all the important things that two seven-year-old wilderness scouts could possibly need.
“Where are you going with all that stuff?” Mom asked as she saw me piling stuff into our wheelbarrow.
“Darren and me are going to be drifters and raft down the slough until we reach the ocean.”
“That’s nice, you boys have fun and don’t forget that dinners at seven.”
I loaded the raft with all of our supplies. Then I jumped aboard to go back to Darren’s. The raft began to sink with me on it.
I knew just what to do. I had read once that the captain always goes down with the ship. I drew myself to attention and held a snappy salute as the water closed over my ankles, then my knees, and no higher. A couple of minutes passed before I realized that the raft had already hit bottom.
“Cool! Wait till I tell Darren that I went down with the ship!”
I stepped off the raft and the raft promptly bobbed back to the surface. I wisely decided that we did not need as much equipment as I thought we did and started running over all of my equipment.
“Sleeping bags… Check, tents… Check, matches… Check, maps… Check, spare clothes… Check. There that does it for all the non-essential equipment.” I piled all of the non-essentials on the bank.
I poled back to Darren’s house.
He was waiting for me on the bank of the slough with a pile of supplies that he had procured.
“Ahoy the shore! Did you get us any vittles?” I yelled.
“No, Dad was fresh out of vittles. But I brought plenty of food and water.” Darren replied.
“Darn the luck, this expedition just won’t be right without vittles but I guess we have to face adversity. What did you bring for food?”
“Two cans of Spagetti-o’s, two cans of Vienna sausage, a bottle of Perrier, and I could not find the can opener.”
“Excellent! Remind me to put you in charge of supplies next time also.”
We quickly loaded the raft and set off with determination into the great beyond.
“Now the most important thing to remember about being drifters is that we have to avoid being attacked by savages.” I said.
“Are there savages in this neck of the woods?” Darren asked.
“Yes, I think they moved into the house next door.”
“Do they attack people?”
Of course they do! They lie in wait in the bushes and attack people as they come by.
“Why do they attack people?”
“Cause they are savages. That’s what savages do!”
“Oh, we should watch out for them then.”
“Just keep your eyes peeled and give the signal if you see any.”
“What’s the signal?”
“Do I have to tell you everything? You whistle like a blue bird.”
“How did you get to know so much about being a drifter Mike?”
“I read a lot of books.”
We polled along in silence for a while. Then Darren spoke up.
“How far do you think we have gone into the uncharted wilderness?”
“Bout twenty miles I reckon.”
“Are you sure?” Darren asked as we poled our way upstream.
“Course I am, I have the compass. I’m the navigator, and if I say that we are twenty miles deep into uncharted territory then we are deep in uncharted territory.” I growled.
“Isn’t that your house over there?” Darren asked while pointing to the back of my house.
“No, it just looks like the back of my house. It’s a trick that the savages use to try and catch you off guard. Now shut up and paddle harder.”
Just past my house there was an area where a grove of willows had bent over and was drooping down into the slough, which created an impenetrable forest.
“How do we get past this?” Darren asked.
“Easy! We just need to think like the drifters that we are.” I said.
“Sooooo?”
“So, one of us jumps into the water and pushes aside the willows while the other one poles the raft through.”
“Good idea!” Darren said.
“And since it is my idea I think that you should be the one to jump in the slough.”
Darren looked at a bit of slime floating by on the water.
“Yeah, there is one thing about that Mike.”
“What’s that?”
Darren pushed me. I teetered on the edge of the raft for a moment with my arms wind milling furiously before crashing into the slough. I came back up spluttering while Darren grinned at me.
“While you are down there could you move the willows? Thanks.” Darren snickered.
“Some pal you turned out to be.” I cleared a path through the willows for Darren to take the raft through.
After fighting our way through the willows for about five minutes we finally broke into clear water and Darren helped me back up onto the raft. I tried to show him that there were no hard feelings by trying to push him into the slough.
Darren was quick enough to jump off the raft and onto the bank of the slough. He danced around with his fingers in his ears and his tongue sticking out.
“Mikey’s all wet!”
“Come back here and say that!”
“Make me!”
I tried jumping from the raft onto the bank of the slough and discovered that Darren could jump further than I could. I also discovered that the slough was a little deeper than I thought it was. I grabbed onto a tree and pulled myself out of the slough.
“You allright? Uh, Oh!” Darren turned and ran off through the woods with me close behind.
“C’mon Mike! I thought we were supposed to be drifters!” Darren said from his perch high up in a birch tree.
“We can be drifters in a few minutes.” I said while I poked at him with a stick. “I just have a piñata to break open first.”
In due course we got everything sorted out and returned to the raft.
“This is it fellow drifter. The uncharted wilds! Come wild beasts, savage attacks, sickness, famine, we are on our own. Our mommies won’t be here to help us with the obstacles that we must overcome. We must do it all ourselves. But together we can win out over any obstacle that lies in our path, high water, shallow water, trees, bears, and wolves. We laugh at all of them. Hah!” I said.
“What about bridges?” Darren asked.
“WE LAUGH AT…umm…you did say…bridges?”
I looked at where Darren was pointing.
Fifty feet away completely blocking the slough was a bridge.
And so our great expedition into the uncharted wilds ended about fifty feet past the charted wilds. The only thing we could do was throw the Vienna sausages into the slough and go back to Darren’s house to hole up in our tree house fort and regale all our friends with the tales of our adventures on the slough.
A few years later I was walking along the slough and found half of a wing tip gas tank that had been sunk in the slough and forgotten about. I waded out, grabbed it, turned it over and discovered that it made a passable canoe. I went right home and grabbed a paddle and was having a marvelous time paddling around in the slough in back of my house.
Darren came over, he knew just where to find me.