Wingless in P.V.

How did you meet? Your kids may have asked . Mine have. Ours usually bring it up during long car drives. Attempting to alleviate the current overwhelming boredom producing lameness of going any where with their parents.

Shirley and I met in passing at work and Gray Stone Racket Club on Walker Rd. that's now a Off Track betting facility . The official answer is we met on a ski trip to Lake Placid.
That produces a drop mouth gasp of incredulous disbelief from the boys!.. Apparently it really stretched their envelope of reality. Two little boys growing up in North Alabama who had never seen snow. Have a hard time wrapping their heads around that Mom and Dad met skiing.When they had to beg for a trip to Chucky Cheese.

Way too exotic for the profile they developed on us You'd think the four pairs of skis collecting dust in the garage might add substance to the story. .

Our mutual interest, mine at least, was aroused on the way home while talking about what we were doing next week end. I think she was going to do laundry and I was going climbing at Seneca or the New river Gorge in West Virginia. That's when Shirley mentioned her grandparents lived in Clay, W.V. only forty five minutes from The New. A penitential shower and if not a bed at least a floor to sleep on near the New. Potential she had. Little did she know then in the near future she would at least belay 5.12.

This was late 80s or so . I've been going to the New since the mid 80s when it was still something of a adventure finding the way to the crag and a place to camp. There were Hotels which made a $400 dollar tent seem less cost effective and necessary. The campgrounds were run by the rafting companies and full of, ..well rafters. which the climbers and paddlers refer to as tourrons. The rafters usually spend the night having a kegger to celebrate a day bouncing down the river in over sized inner tubes ( I've done this ,it's fun ) plowing over kayakers who consider them selves real paddlers. Real paddlers only plow under fly fishers. " It takes precise skill" some of those guys are quick, even in waders!

Now Cheyenne told us that Hugh Herr told him, The New would never be a world class climbing area. To which we asked . " Why".. There's no coffee house. answered the pony tailed one.
This was in the dark ages before Starbucks and phonetic texting like WTF or OMG. so, our reply to Cheyenne and the future M.I.T. researcher http://http//en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hugh_Herr prediction. Was limited to: What in the wide world of sports does a coffee house have to do with climbing. More then you might think. Randy Travis warned us but at lass even I grind my own coffee and employ a French coffee press.


Now days Fayetteville has a coffee house, gear shops and one of Out Side magazines top 100 bars in the country. Back then it was the Pancake House and camping down in the Gorge under the bridge. Which is a pretty nice bridge . One of the largest single span bridges in the world. Rumored you can now even get quiche in town.

There's a official climbers campground. Which is nice to know, but we have family to stay with. And we did quite often.We would drive down Friday night and Saturday I would head for the New and Shirley would hit the yard sales with her grandmother. Sometimes a friend would come along to climb with me. They would be amazed by the view from Toodie and Horneys front porch. For miles, you can see the top of the ridges poking out of the morning mist. Like islands in a vast inland lake !

Shirley's grandparents Naomi aka Toodie and Earnest aka Horny lived in a small house high atop Triplet Ridge. Earnest was quick to tell you they called him Horny due to catching a Horned Chub when he was a child. Everyone was was welcome there . Shirley's parents would drive in and other members of the family too. Everyone was welcome and some week ends the house was pretty full.Now Mr. Rush , Horny was one of West Virginia's if not the countries great orators. He was also a dedicated conversationalist too. You could go to the restroom and he would stand out side the door and keep on talking. Just throw a yeah buddy his way now and then and he was happy.

Earnest enjoyed talking about thing when he was younger. One evening the subject turned to. If I ever skinned a cat when you were a kid. You know. Climb a tree and one of your friends cut it down. You take a ride down then as it falls!... Well... yeah, ....yes sir we did . Something like that.

I remember it well like it was yesterday, maybe it was? Kind of a coming of age thing . New Age maybe. Ed Bair, Jim Dailh and I were wondering along an overgrown road that starts at the northwest end of Spring Run and runs into the seasonal creek bed on the west side of the picnic woods. Jim and I would be starting 7th grade in the fall and Ed was a year behind us. Unknown to us then we were just like everyone else, killing time between kinder garden and social security . We thought we were on a mission of sorts. Or as our mothers would say. Looking for something to get into. More often than not we were successful at getting into something.

What would you expect. For instance. How did Jim get from Dry Run To Spring Run? His mother dropped him of at the store (Bairs). No calling ahead. He would hook up with Ed or me or walk home.

Having no set plan we improvised and started climbing trees. Experiments in gravity. Having more small trees than large we gravitated toward bending them over. Then jumping off. Some of them were one kid trees other all three us had to climb as near the top we could and swing back and forth. Sometimes the trees would sway gently to the ground or at least close enough to jump now and then one would snap and drop us in a pile. Not knowing if and when one would snap added to the fun.

In every sample lot there's a few anomalies. Not that we new anything about anomalies or outliers. At the time we would fiquare there's one in every bunch.

Jim climbed up what appeared to be a puny little tree. Barely had any effect. I climbed up and bowed it a little. Ed joined us. With Eds added weight the tree bowed , well loaded might be more accurate or went to full draw.

Our science education so far had been Dean Fetterman and Star Trek. We thought cosmological physics had something to do with too much make up. Stephen Hawking could still walk back then. This little tree must occupied at least two planes of existence. On one of the planes it was a catapult or rocket launcher.

The angle of the trunk was too steep for us to climb back up. We were also dangling on the down slope side. Too far to comfortably drop to the ground. It became kind of obvious our ability to maintain position was limited. Being men or at least boys of action. Group consensus, actually at the time we never came to a consensus . But we did agree.

It seemed better to drop in a controlled fashion then to fall screaming one by one. Lemmings of the world concur. So on the count of three we would all let go and drop, most likely in a pile. Some times the line between self rescue and self destruction blurs.

We need to step aside for a second and discuss common knowledge. Knowledge common to you. You my believe it to be common to everybody. Both Ed and I were about to be surprised by Jimmeys lacking in common Knowledge .The plan: count to three, and on three let go. Well , who doesn't know when the let go command is three. To avoid personal injury you let go on two. Both Ed and I knew this. There appeared to be a gap in Jimmys education.

Our focus had been picking out a spot to land and trying to avoid a major pile up under the tree. The first moment or so we were each occupied with personal systems check. After assuring our own arms and legs were intact. we turned our attention to each other. If not immediately, Well soon after a couple quick head counts we noticed Jimmey was missing.

Jim had disappeared. He wasn't up the tree or in the surrounding corn field. He vanished. Now days it would have been a obvious case of alien abduction. If the History Channel had only been around to teach us about them. We did hear a faint scream in the distance. Only later did we realise it had been Jimmy.

Ed and I had a set protocol for situations like this. Vanish and purge all knowledge of Jim and deny we even new of him or his where abouts. And hope for the best . At least for us ! Maybe Jim would turn up OK too. Seemed like a logical coarse of action. A coarse our side trips seemed to steer towards. A lot.

Jim actually did turn up a week later at the picnic. ( If you're from PV you know the picnic. If not you've been missing it.) While tossing ping pong balls at colored gold fish bowls Jim filled us in on his flight home. The tree had flung him in a low trajectory in the direction of Dry Run. His skipping rolling skidding landing started in the corn field behind Egolfs and ended bouncing off the backstop on the ball field behind the Fire Hall. He had survived pretty much unscathed. Most the skid marks were in his underware.

Well nothing ever goes unnoticed in Path Valley. Some times there are a lasting and unfore seen consequences. Jims low altitude flight went right over the Stolfuz farm. While the children were playing in the yard. Abey (4 ) the youngest was found later that evening hiding under his bed. For a week or two later Mrs Stolfuz had to watch for the older boys trying to jump off the porch roof. " Trying to fly like the inglish boy. Even now the Amish in the Valley use the story of the Flying Inglishmahn to scare the kids back in line.

Ticked Off!

Went to Yellow Bluff last night. While taking a rest I noticed a bug on the ground crawling towards me. The bug was a tick. Being a Marty Stouffer groupie. I've read a few articles and also watched Nature. They sense heat humidity & odor. During peak infestations when you walk through the woods there's a wave of ticks moving towards you. So keep moving. That's exactly what I did.
I got up , moved behind the Tick. It stopped then moved in my direction again. I repeated this a couple of times with the same results. It was neat to witness the phenomenon first hand.
As a side note the best way to kill a tick is to drop it in alcohol. I've tried using a hammer ,not very efficient. Oxy acetylene torch is just too cumbersome to carry around. Flushing will not do the job. They can crawl back up the drain. Now there 's something to think about.

Laura, Lucky and the Skunk

Laura Rosenberry lived across the road from us in Spring Run. Now the north end of Hardware store formally the sewing factory which used to be a feed store. Now theres nothing left to show she ever existed. Except a pair of old reading glasses my mother s squirreled away some where.

Laura lived in if not the largest house in Spring Run it certainly had the most rooms. Not counting the barn that butted up against Rt. 75 There must have been at least seven out buildings. It was like a small compound or village of its own with cement walks to them which was kind of rare ..Due to arthritis Laura did not exactly ramble around the big old empty house. She did get around well enough to make candy eggs. I liked the peanut butter.

Laura was not exactly alone , she had lucky. That's about all she had. A mid sized border collie mix nearly as old as she was.

It was a Saturday night we returned from picking up groceries visiting my grand parents and made the trip back over the mountain.

We were in the kitchen putting the groceries away when the knocker on the front door went wild along with a panicked stricken Laura calling Mr. Hilden ,Mr Hilden.

Dad turned on the porch light and opened the door. There was Laura practically dancing a jig on the front porch. I was around ten at the time and found it kind of surprising Laura who had trouble walking could dance not to mention scream at the same time.

Lucky had been in a fight with a skunk and wanted to know what we should do? Now I could tell you what Dad s thought was at the moment. But we walked over to Laura's anyways.

Now just as we started down the steps when my Uncle Wayne ( aka Pete , Dud ) rolled in the drive way. Uncle Wayne my mothers brother was divorced and lived with us off and on. What he was doing home early on a Saturday night hard to say. He came from the Legion and may have been on the way to Fannettsburg when he saw our porch light on. Or might have decided to call it a night. Wayne slightly was inebriated to pretty well lit. Even so Uncle Wayne new a lot about dogs and I figured him to be a welcome asset.

We walked over to Lauras back yard and there poor old Lucky was cowering in what could be best described as a very rich and fragrant bouquet of skunk. Lucky was currently not living up to his name.

Dad started to ask if Laura had any tomato juice to bathe Lucky when Wayne offered some advice. "We have to shoot him. " Roy go get the gun." Now Wayne called me Roy as in Roy Rogers. When I was 2 or 3 years old my mother would put me in a little cowboy suit which I guess was in style at the time. We visited Charlie and Annie McGee who lived where Gary and Kathy live now. Charlie started calling me Roy Rogers..Now this was the original Charlie McGee not the current one. Mostly referred to as C.M. one of the original occupiers of the bench out in front of Bairs store. That was back when gas stations pumped the gas for you. The bench sat about where the double doors are now. So you had a good view of the pumps. C.M. was among those who made sure George always had a abundant supply of good advice and instruction. Which to this day is still no doubt grateful for.

Well upon hearing Waynes remedy. Laura began to sob and wail. " You can't shoot lucky." Now this was one of the first and few times I have actually witnessed heart felt sobbing or wailing.

Now Dad calmed Laura and reassured her no one would shoot Lucky. Just when Dad would get to the point of asking about the tomato juice Wayne would go off about having to put Lucky down. Laura would start sobbing and wailing. After the third round of this the only one in danger of being shot was Wayne. Dad then asked Wayne to walk me over to the house. It was late and I should be in bed. Even I saw through that ploy. Wayne took me home home and found some tomato juice to bathe Lucky with out any shots being fired.

Laura sold her place a few years later to Ennis Byler and move in to the nursing home on second street in Chambersburg. I stopped in and visited her a couple of time. Never did ask what happened to Lucky. There just some places I don't go if I don't have to.

The Great Spring Run Kidnapping and Shoot Out.

In his book The Tailsman a story of transcontinental and inter dimensional travel. Stephen King refers to the leg across Northern Pa as " A place where they eat what they find laying along side the road for breakfast in the morning." The stories main character would have had easier going if his trek had been through Path valley. A place a lot like Garrison Keillor Lake Wobegon. Only what we lack in in walleyes and that cool Norwegian accent. we make up for with the abundance of road apples.


Growing up in Spring Run you could easily imagine the world was just marching right by the front door and not bothering to knock. Not much happens around here seems a common phrase . Now after living in several different places . I'll tell you a lot of nothing happens all the time everywhere. But every now and then something does happens. Anywhere !

That was our backyard summer of 73. I 'm not actually sure of the year . Harla missed it due to staying in State Collage for summer classes. So it had to be prior to 74. Not sure of the date but nothing like this happened at our place since the skull in the tater bin incident.

You can drive around the back of the property into the back yard which is kind of terraced. The section that runs along Ferrys field was secluded by a bank full of roses and other bushes gone wild on our side and trees on Ferrys side. We set up a 9 man tent there for a couple of summers and us kids lived in it.

It was late August and the fog rolling off the spring Spring Runs crick . Now the Conococheaque is a loose rock stream but the Spring Run crick is a true limestoner fed by several small springs keeping it at a pretty constant temp some where in the fifties. (I've actually checked.) Which gives off a nice layer of mist on the ground. Adds a nice erie touch to the atmosphere while searching for kidnap victims.

My brother Kris and a few of his friends decided to spend the night in the tent. I am not sure of the complete roster but it had to be more than just Brooks. Keeping with our safety in numbers policy.


I would have been in the backyard with them. Except Mom wanted to run to town for some reason and I had to help Mart with the milking in the morning .



We all were in bed after a what seemed like a normal day in the valley not knowing the rude awakening awaiting.


Around mid night we were awakened by the back door flying open and my little brother running up the steps screaming ( a word has been replaced to maintain our P.C. rating. It was not a common word in our house but Kris used it repeatedly in the following 5 min.) Daddy , Daddy get the gun , apples , apples in the back yard! That s all we could get out of him for the first couple of minutes.



My parents and I met Kris on the landing at the top of the steps at the same time. They always left the back door unlocked and the light on at the top of the steps in case of late night bail outs. There er had never been one of this magnitude or urgency before. I can still see it in my minds video. Kris bent over at the waist , knees to his chest, arms stuck between his legs past the elbows, jumping 2 to 3 feet off the ground. Screaming. Daddy, Daddy, get the gun, Apples ,Apples in the backyard. Now Apples were and still are rare in Northern Franklin County. Having anyone show up in your back yard around midnight, Apples or not. Is reason to be concerned. Witnessing my little brothers unique display of terror. We were getting kind of concerned .


A few years later I read in a psych book when young boys are extremely terrified they will bend over and protect their groin. My little brother must have been on the verge of wetting his pant. He definitely had our attention at the time.

Dad told me to walk out on the rear balcony and see if could see anything. I did and trust me that was a quick trip. I actually attempted to check things out, but did I mention it was dark, real dark.

It took a minute or too but Kris calmed down enough to answer some questions. Like , What happened. The answer Kris gave grabbed our attention in more than one way. " Ex convicts have escaped from Franklin County Prison and are looking for hostages." Roll that around a few times in your mind. It sounded odd then too. I guess if a convict breaks out of prison , technically he's an ex convict. Always seeking clarification Mom asked." Who told you that? " "Ed Bair" He replied and started the apples in the back yard Daddy get the gun dance again.


Things may not be making sense but they were starting to adding up. The mention of Eds name lowered the threat level a few notches. Still . Someone had to go sort things out in the backyard. There were neighbors kids that we needed to account for. And at least in Kris s opinion we should go well armed.



Thus a family conference convened. Dad "Get the pistol Marc." Mom." Don't you dare take a gun out there." They went back and forth while I retrieved a 22 cal revolver and started looking for shells in the gun case. I had to tell Dad what I already new. I'd used up the last of the shells on ground hogs and had not replaced them yet. This was 1973 or 74 a 15 year old could run around with a pistol. Even go in the IGA and buy shells! Had I known we were having a home land security drill I would have. I gave Dad the revolver and my explanation for no shells. Dad said." Well I can always throw it."


Then he said. " Come on Marc." Off we went into the dark. We had n't gotten off the patio yet when we heard Jeff Niel. " Don't shoot Marcus don't shoot!" Not everyday conversation but when you're standing in someone elses back yard at midnight . Jeff no doubt felt it appropriate
he then started explaining.



Jeff ,Ed and the Brown kid paid a visit earlier warning their younger friends of the break out of ex convicts. Brown and Jeff returned later that night and started speaking in their best stereotypical ex convict apple voices. At which time Jeff said" The tent exploded!" The results of their prank gave the pranksters a pretty good scare. Jeff then wised up and went home before mom found out it was save to leave the porch.



Mom came out and we started counting heads. Brooks was missing and mom was sure he was in Ferrys hay field. There I was, walking around Ferrys field in my bare feet calling for Brooks. I eventually realized everyone had gathered in the front yard under the porch light. Where I was alone in the dark barefoot in a hayfield. Search called off. If I had shoes on I would probably have ran. Safety in numbers rule.


I'd just about reached the backyard when a came car creeping across the intersection. It looked like Harvey Hockenberry. Now the Hockenberry s live about a 1/4 mile away. In Spring Run that put two creeks a house and one graveyard between us. Most of the down town area.


At the time Harvey worked second shift at Letterkenny Army Depot and had just got home . When Brooks came running through the his door announcing someone had been shot over at Hildens.


Brooks had run barefooted from our backyard through the old Away soon to be a sewing factory now a hardware store gravel parking lot. Down route 75 through Bairs parking lot to the only house with lights on. His neighbor Harvey.


You might wonder why Harvey did not call the police. Even today in Spring Run you're pretty much on your own. Years later 611 came along but then you had to look up the State Polices phone number or call the Fire company or dispatch direct. Also it was only a couple years after the Shade Gap kid napping that made the cover of Life magazine, national news There 's a book and a movie. It took place across the mountain. Response time from the State Police was ,well not good. Some people thought they lacked enthusiasm.




Gun play out side of of the odd ground hog and New years was rare in Spring Run. It was also late at night in August. No one had central air , everyone had their windows up. If shots had been fired Harvey and others most likely would have heard them.But, Something had scared Brooks into his kitchen. Harvey no doubt felt obligated by the good neighbor policy to check things out. Now 40 years later I'm wondering if he came armed.


Walking across our backyard I saw Harveys car creeping across the bridge. Which was odd. There may not be much traffic in Spring Run but no one drives slow. I arrived in the front yard about the same time Harvey came to a stop under the street light. We had a couple lights in town back then. I really suspect Harvey did not put it in park right away.



Now consider a neighbor boy comes running into your kitchen terrified. Telling you of a shooting over at a friends. You drive over to your friends and see him standing in the front yard. With a gun.You may just bump the odds of a shooting upwards a few notches.


I still remember the sound of his voice as he leaned over to the passenger window and said. " Everything O.K. Marcus?" I think Harvey suspected maybe things were not just O.K.. After all He'd just been told some one had been shot over at Hildens. There dad was with a gun in his hand. No , I don't think Harvey put the Chevy in park!


Dad must have realized how things appeared. Looked at the gun in his hand and started to laugh. Gave it to me to put away. Harvey got out and we had a neighborhood meeting out on the road under the street light ( in the late 70s given the choice of higher taxes or no street lights a, all seven, Spring Run chose no lights.) Harvey told us Brooks was safe at home. Mom started looking for some one to reprimand or whoop on ( verbally ). Fortunately the culprit's were home by then so no one was actually harmed that night.


It was certainly a event of unexpected outcome . The instigators never expected things would escalate to being held at gun point and a neighborhood search party.

We think certain words or phrases are unique to .us Some may be more prevalent in one region or the other, ( yins may be just a central Pa. thing) But people up north do say y'all and southerners say you guys. Most likely due to cultural pollution spread by mass media. One phrase I've heard used more in the south and more appropriate to the situation that night. " Bowed Up" As in Momma was all bowed up.She sure was. Those escaped ex convicts were lucky to get away.

Leaning to the Left

I received my REI rebate check earlier this month, spent it on a combo mug and coffee press something I always wanted but due to the faltering economy last year I only purchased necessities like a new climbing rope and slings . This year I'm splurging a bit so I added a pair of running socks which put the order over the rebate checks value so I planted some rebate seeds for next year. ( I realize this is like over paying your income tax, but I get toys) Number 2 son thinks he needs an auto lock belay device which would have planted even more rebate seeds. Being a knuckle dragging retro Trad climber I'm reluctant to trust auto lockers and most things refereed to as a Gri Gri , specially at $100. a shot. Then again he mainly belays me so I may reconsider.

The mugs on back order like most objects of our desire. Socks came unexpectedly early which was nice , like they were trying to make up for depriving me of my mug a few days. I went to throw them in the laundry I noticed a capital L on the inside of the sock. Boogers , what is this? My mind was aflutter with the possibilities and ramifications.

Had REI copied Nikes redundant and predatory marketing techniques of designating left and right socks. As offended as I am by such practice if for no other reason not being able to handle that much organization in my life. Especially in my sock drawer. Sorting by size and color is enough to stress me out most days. Admittedly I would derive some joy and satisfaction by wearing the socks on the wrong foot. Never missing a chance to stick it to the man!

Well, I checked the other sock and found a capital L on it. Which kind of made sense . Since I had ordered large. But never take things at face value. Always ask how can this be? What if they sent two lefties by mistake. Admittedly on most things I lean to the right, two lefts could move me towards the center if I wanted to go in that direction.

I felt a need to clarify the situation. Also REI being the socially responsible corporate citizen deserves the opportunity to correct the situation if they had mistakenly sent two left socks or assure a customer he received a matching pair of large socks. Make sure they hadn't sent some one else a pair of righties or regulars. The sock industry must have some uniform code applicable to to size and foot designation. I needed to make a phone call or take a trip to Fort Payne Al. Sock capital of the World. If nowhere else the Sock Museum would hopefully have the needed info or maybe the appropriate Mil-Standard or ASNT doc.
Before I expended resources on a trip. I decided a phone call would be more expedite and environmental responsible.

REI deserved the opportunity to correct the situation. Either send two socks for my right foot or a free pair of similar value socks to make up for the duress and confusion they caused . A free pair of socks worth a try.

One of the nice things about REI , Some one answers the phone when you call. Even if it may be monitored four quality assurance and home land security purposes.I've found it helpful refer to the customer rep. by name once they get through the intro. I was fortunate to be talking to Sandy. It also helps if you have some inside contact to give a tad more incentive to assist you. I am fortunate to have Stan Schoonover as a friend. Stanley s member ship card is hand written. During check out after making the pilgrimage to REI in Collage Park the cashier would go spastic. Never saw a piece of cardboard that old. Companies value customer loyalty. Not only have I supported REI over the years. I'm buds with an original plank holder.

You could almost hear Sandy warming up as she prepared to bend over backwards and help me. This call would no doubt be used in future training courses.

Sandy seemed sincerely pleased on a personal level that Mr Schoonover was still an vibrant , active member of our outdoor community. She even sounded sincere when she thanked me for offering REI the exclusive distribution rights to autographed copies of both our Guidebooks. I haven't discussed this with Stan yet but I figure after the first royalty check came in He could buy a rubber stamp.
Well Sandy would have her supervisor elevate that request to the board members. Then she tried her best to assure me I had received a matching pair of large socks and they would fit on either sock. REI does not designate socks left or right. Even their toe socks, they previously believed their customers were smart enough to which sock was left or right or for both. I would never have suspected that myself. Sandy thanked me for the opportunity to clear up the confusion concerning my order hoped I would participate in the customer service survey I would be receiving via email and there 's still free shipping on orders over sixty dollars.

Well this is not over yet. The family has never been to the Sock Museum. Summer vacation needs to have some educational theme.

Stories?

Everyone has a storey or two. Don't you? Sure you do!You may not want to share or think anyone would be interested. Something I've never dwelled upon . I ve got tons of stories, some even resemble the truth or what may have happened. The best I can remember . Not that I would wreckless with the truth.


Many cultures pass down a oral history. Our's does the same. Not as formal as others. We all seek sense of roots. Family or community anecdotes and actual history. I remember setting on the front porch on summer nights. watching the moon rise over the knob. listening to my dad and who ever dropped in. Mostly Merrile McGee or sometimes Raymond Rhine or Chester Perry.
Spring Run didn't have a large selection of neighbors to choose from. They would talk about the current event like the Apollo program and going to the moon or when they were young.

My dad a pretty good story teller himself. But , I also spent countless evenings at the store/post office/garage known as Bairs. Where Sam Stuart and Walter Groce held court. Two lovable curmudgeons and masters at spinning a yarn held court. I'm not sure either Sam or Waldo have ever been described exactly that way. Those are not the exact words I've heard my mother or Clara Bair the matriarch of the fine establishment use. I'm sure it's what they meant.

I've always been conversational. While in the Navy I honed my story telling while on long watches or boat runs. A little later on long car ride to climb or ski. Most of those with Tim G. enough that one of us could start a story and the other on finish it. I wrote monthly for the Pa Mountaineering News letter and actually had a few articles published by a regional magazine.

I really came into my own with bed time stories! I started reading to the boys from my collection of Patrick McMannus short stories. Some how through no fault of my own. They thought McMannus wrote all the stories about Ed Bair and me. You see. One of the main characters and best friend in real life was Crazy Eddie. Seldom have I referred to Ed as Eddie and never called him crazy. Now our parents may have tossed crazy and a few other adjectives the grand kids need not hear in our direction. We were always as serious as can be. Even when we repelled off the route 75 bridge. ( we called it the new bridge.) Using binder twine and old ropes we found and tied together. we were not even teenagers yet!

The boyze will ask even now. Tell us about you and Eddie Bair when you were growing up?

What a loaded question that is. First , not that much happened in Spring Run. Especially when left up to our own imaginations. What did happen. Even if the statute of limitation has run out. It should be need to know only. What happened in the Valley should stay in the valley.

Still there are a good many stories left only slightly embellished and based on fact. As few and far between as they may be. I also warned Ed. Nearly all injuries happened to him. The boyze know I have no glass eye Vienna Sausage Can. Or scars from a grizzly bear tearing off my leg. Old Doc Whitt fixed him so you can hardly tell. Warned the boyze not to stare. Eds still kind of sensitive. Also I assured Ed in my stories! We both come away better looking and smarter than we actually were. maybe. Better than some of our friends anyway.
Like Jimmy D. on one of our first real camping trips back along the knob. Jimmy and I were in 5Th grade Ed in 4Th . A noise woke Ed and I. After much whispered speculation about who or what may be circling the tent. We felt the need to know. So just like on Star Trek. We launched a probe. A probe named Jimmy. The following commotion can be best described. As the only time Ed and I have both at the same time spoke the same word " tar nation" We yelled! Jimmy awoke some what alarmed as he left the tent. Being in a sleeping bag and a smaller than Ed and I. All he could do was . Scream he did . You would have thought Jimmy had never seen a skunk before! Now it is possible the skunk had never seen a flying boy in a sleeping bag. Which excuses its next action. Y0u would have thought the sleeping bag would have soaked up more of the spray.

Our parents may have expected us to bugout before the night was over. Jimmy's parents living 4 miles farther up the road did not expect him to be busting through the door. t Well the route Jimmy took across the mountain, it was only 2 mile . later we found out they were actually awake in bed wondering what that Oder was a few minutes before Jimmy arrived.

All this occurred a week before school started. Mrs. Gingrich made Jimmy set out side the window the first two weeks of sixth grade. Fortunately it rained a lot . By thanksgiving with a little bit of Avon behind his ears and Jimmy was back in the class room. Now worse for the experience.

Sleeping Around

Getting enough sleep is my life ambition. The proper amount of rest is vital to our mental and physical well being. Least that's what they say. Those perky well rested looking people on T.V.. The older I get, the less I view perky as a positive characteristic in anyone. Napping gets a lot of props for its health benefits too. Which is one of the few things I learned in school and still find useful. Might add it was not considered healthy at the time.

I have slept in some varied environments and slept pretty well at that. Even on the hose bed of 12-1. Back when Company 12 didn't have a bunk room.
If you have never slept anywhere more exotic than on the couch or the window seat of a long flight. Don"t fill too deprived. Getting to some of the places took some effort. It was also an effort to sleep at some of them too.

Many of us have the shared experience as children on a family trip of sleeping on the floor of a 50 or 60s era car. Using the transmission hump as a head rest. Come to think of it. I think the only car seat I had was one to give me a better view. Not to mention a better chance to launch through the windshield on impact.
Some places I've slept have been spectacular but safe. Like the Upper Saddle of the Grand Teton. Or high risk but common like Dick Millers study hall. As kids we liked too sleep out. We started with modest expeditions to the living room then to back yard, Where we could at least see the mountains. We gained a lot of experience in the backyard. Like sleeping on the actual slope of the hill. Don't work. Gravity does. Hardings port a ledge was not in production yet and we had little big wall experience. we eventually pushed to the knob and the crick. Then there was Boy Scouts. Our troop actually had a cabin. On the Gingriche farm.The first time I slept on ply wood was there. More notable was our Troops and the councils weather policy . Or lack of. It could not rain too hard or be too cold. I remember one Winter camp o ree sleeping in our 9 man army surplus filled a foot deep with straw. I doubt the guide to Safe Scouting would sanction this or that our Troop ever had a copy.

Which brings us to the one place or actually a method of bedding down I have not employed. Spruce boughs as a matress. Being a product of the 60s era Boy Scout handbook and several fine publications like Wood Craft or Wilderness survival. Real campers sleep on spruce boughs.Not a Therma rest or Ridgerest who must have spent long nights in anguish, praying Leave No Trace becomes a federal law. Stan S. still opines how great it was winter camping in the Adirondacks. Stack the boughs two foot high for the floor, after a night or too it compacts to around 6 inches. That would be a capital offense today . Being a Leave No trace trainer even if I got permission on private property to wack a few trees. I would feel guilty, after awhile I'm sure. Maybe.

When we slept over as kids we never actually roughed. Even on the living room rug we had sleeping bags and what ever weapons we could get. As an adult or semi adult being able to improvise came in handy, a lot.

While in the Navy . I slept on beaches ( sounds cool. not! ) steel decks, on top of wall lockers ( better to view the rats. ) aft compartments of landing crafts, The steps of several building. Then there was John boys floor.

John, can't remember his last name but like nearly all young men who grew up in the 70s is now forever known as John boy. Thank you Richard Thomas who also played Hank Jr in Living Proof. John and a constantly changing group of shipmates rented a house in Summersville S.C. Johnson another shipmate whose family has a farm in Columbia S.C. could get a pig to roast if we picked it up.

The following friday afternoon Johnson, Rick Denton and I left for the Johnson families farm. John boy and crew stoked the fire. I should mention this was February and cold. Also it was 1978 and there was a so called gas shortage. We skipped gassing up to beat traffic. I had a 1/4 tank which is more than enough to get to Columbia in a Datsun 200sx. It was leaving Columbia we noticed all the gas stations were closed at 7 P.M. I. 26 was dark and cold that night. How far will the needle drop past E before the big sputter started. We found a Shell station in Santee open. Not sure of the mileage. But it was a long way past E. I had visions of us setting along I 26 froze to the pig. As it was. Johnson s the only one who slept in the backseat with the pig.

Later that night we stuck the pig on the fire. Johnboy said he was going to bed and we could crash where ever we liked. I did not expect a bed and knew it was too late for the couch. I had hoped for a blanket. SURVIVAL TIP : KEEP SLEEPING BAG IN TRUNK. I slept on the hallway floor. Crawling back and fourth depending on the heater out put .

Climbers identify themselves with themselves by the major climbing area they frequent. Seneca Rocks W.V a 2.5 drive from Chambersburg , Pa was mine. According to local Seneca icon and purveyor of gear,instruction and B.S.. The average climbing career or obsession at Seneca lasts 5 years. John should know he started climbing at Seneca as a W.V.U. student in the early 70s. Soon after started selling gear out of a V.W. van. Then moved up town to the chicken coop behind Buck Harper's store.. I was working on my 16 year or there about when the move south happened. When it was warm enough to climb, at least semi dry and 40F. Seneca was a monthly, bi monthly or every week end depending on motivation and availability of partners. Tim G. and I made enough trips his wife became a competent outdoors woman and trail guide. This was back when we had to ford west branch of the Potomac . Now days Seneca has a genuine Forest service spec camp ground , visitor center and trails. Brand new in the 90s thanks to a couple floods, arson and Friends of Seneca.

In 82 you camped on Roy gap road where you could pick corn and use the restroom simultaneously. At least Roy Gap road got flushed at least once a year by the spring flood . Unlike camp slime the Gunks unofficial climbers camp ground near New Paltze N. Y. The only place I've seen brush wired and staked to the ground. To help the grass grow.
When you think climbing and camping trips. You imagine scenic I pristine sites. More commonly rock jocks flop along side the road where ever might be close and cheap.
late in the game I had a dodge grande caravan. Yank the rear seats out and instant camp ground anywhere. That was late in the game , first ten years or so I drove a Volkswagen.
V.W. s are THE two man climbing mobile. They haul gear, plow through the snow, good mpg. You can also sleep upright or semi reclining. I remember on night at the Chapel Pond Slabs parking lot. Pulled in 0230 A.M. The weather called for a high of 13 F. earlier that day. Then a big cold front would move in and drop the temp big time. It was 10 F then which would be the high for the week. I remember Larry setting there in his wool knickers stomping his feet every 5 min. Saying " I can't believe its this cold". It hit -30 F the next day. Pay back earlier that year Larry drove his vintage Scout on a gunks trip. Room for him to sleep in the back. I slept underneath it. In the rain. He did put the tailgate down. We took Jim Ruffs new Subaru wagon on a Ice climbing trip to the dacks. Jim slept in the back. I slept in the snow bank. Which was fine until Jim cranked up the wagon at 0500 AM and started filling my bivy sack with exhaust.
The Wallface trip would be one of the more unique experience. After the 5 mile hike in after dark under the lush forest canopy which blocked the light of a very bright full moon. Tim and I passed the time pondering what the guide book meant by camp at the height of land. Not a phrase you run across in guides everyday. Our guesses were correct and self evident when we reached the height of land and stepped out from under the canopy of the forest, and instantly staggered backwards. The moonlight illuminating the 800 foot rock face literally in your face. The guide reads camp at the H. of L. across a small valley from Wallface. Its more like a deep narrow ravine less than a 1/4 mile from the rock. Spent the rest of the night watching a light flicker in the center of the face. We thought some one must be doing an aid route and were spending the night on a port a ledge. No bear bag or bears to mess with. but , there wasn't any one there the next morning. Read Legend Of Wallface , Tales of the Adirondacks.
I remember in High School on a fishing trip to Delaware with my father and friends. The Captain of the charter boat also ran a bed and breakfast. How quaint. I shared a single bed with dad. No small guy. Around 2 A.M. the slats finally gave out and the mattress dropped. I decided then Holiday Inn or at least Super 6 was the way to go. Well I spoke hastily or thought to my self again with out thinking.
There are to many places to go that are no where. The more places I check off the list the longer the list gets. Some destinations have no creature comforts but plenty of creatures Sometimes you have to sleep amongst them. May not comfort you but it ma be comfortable if you work at it.