Story Market Day
- Thread starter ComCamGuy
- Start date
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
“So, like I was asking Sam, what’s with all the ‘instant’ this and ‘dehydrated’ that? You always said the canned stew tasted better than the instant dehydrated stuff.” Gabriel asked Stephen as he crammed packets of instant soup mixes and pouches of meat into a plastic tub.
“Cans are bulky and heavy.” Stephen answered as he was packing large containers Gabriel couldn’t identify from where he was.
“Yeah, but we are taking the truck, so…”
“You got to remember. At my job, I spend anywhere from two or three days to over a week living out of my pack in the backcountry. All of this is a lot cheaper down here in bulk than where I’m at or bought on-line.”
“And what about all the health food supplements?” Sam asked from the kitchen where she was filling some more bins with cooking tools and dishes.
“Things like protein powder I can add to something helps me make the most of a meal instead of just doing double portions. That way two soup packets are two meals. The other powdered stuff lets me doctor the instant stuff into other things. That’s why …” Stephen stopped for a moment before he started up again. “Look, I can take a packet of the powdered milk or a couple scoops of the dehydrated heavy cream, mix it with a packet of alfredo sauce mix, and add a tablespoon or two of the bacon bits and some dry fettuccini noodles all into a zip-loc bag. When I get to camp, dump them into some boiling water. I can also add a packet of the chicken, then poof! I have a good chicken alfredo sitting by the fire next to a babbling brook out among the forest. Even if I don’t add the chicken, I can add a scoop of the egg protein powder, and it will still give me a great meal.”
“So, I guess that’s why there are about a thousand zip-locs over there.” Gabriel added.
“Yup. Most of this stuff was to do things like that. The other bulk stuff is to augment what I already have stockpiled for all of us this winter at the cabin. You know, more beans, rice, stuff to make sauces.”
“What about meat?” Gabriel asked.
“Barb and I were going to do some hunting and fishing to take care of that. There’s plenty of nuisance pig in the forest that need removed, and the small ponds and lakes up there have plenty of fish, even in the winter since they aren’t big enough to attract many fishermen.”
“Sounds like you have it all figured.” Sam said.
“Yup! It will all be ok. We just have to get there.”
“Cans are bulky and heavy.” Stephen answered as he was packing large containers Gabriel couldn’t identify from where he was.
“Yeah, but we are taking the truck, so…”
“You got to remember. At my job, I spend anywhere from two or three days to over a week living out of my pack in the backcountry. All of this is a lot cheaper down here in bulk than where I’m at or bought on-line.”
“And what about all the health food supplements?” Sam asked from the kitchen where she was filling some more bins with cooking tools and dishes.
“Things like protein powder I can add to something helps me make the most of a meal instead of just doing double portions. That way two soup packets are two meals. The other powdered stuff lets me doctor the instant stuff into other things. That’s why …” Stephen stopped for a moment before he started up again. “Look, I can take a packet of the powdered milk or a couple scoops of the dehydrated heavy cream, mix it with a packet of alfredo sauce mix, and add a tablespoon or two of the bacon bits and some dry fettuccini noodles all into a zip-loc bag. When I get to camp, dump them into some boiling water. I can also add a packet of the chicken, then poof! I have a good chicken alfredo sitting by the fire next to a babbling brook out among the forest. Even if I don’t add the chicken, I can add a scoop of the egg protein powder, and it will still give me a great meal.”
“So, I guess that’s why there are about a thousand zip-locs over there.” Gabriel added.
“Yup. Most of this stuff was to do things like that. The other bulk stuff is to augment what I already have stockpiled for all of us this winter at the cabin. You know, more beans, rice, stuff to make sauces.”
“What about meat?” Gabriel asked.
“Barb and I were going to do some hunting and fishing to take care of that. There’s plenty of nuisance pig in the forest that need removed, and the small ponds and lakes up there have plenty of fish, even in the winter since they aren’t big enough to attract many fishermen.”
“Sounds like you have it all figured.” Sam said.
“Yup! It will all be ok. We just have to get there.”
223shootersc
Veteran Member
Thanks, CCG!
Cedar Lake
Connecticut Yankee
''It will all be ok. We just have to get there.”
Hmm.......sure.
Hmm.......sure.
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Even in RL that's worthy of a chuckle and notice.
In this world our author and his valiant Editor have created?
It is to guffaw!
After watching everyone and their drives back home from northern VT and NH after the eclipse I’m laughing so hard… that was such a cluster and people weren’t cranky or scared.
Literally 6 hour plus traffic jams where people were mellow. Now add in catastrophe and …
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Roger that - there was a clip on local CBS AM News showing I-40 heading East across the Bridge; apparently it was60 minutes just to clear the bridge to I40 East on the TN Side. TDOT traffic cams pointed East showed 2-3 lanes of Tail/Brake lights going home. Jackson TN is about 90 miles east and I saw a post on another forum about it taking some one almost 3.5 hours to get from Memphis to Jackson -that's about 90 minutes anytime we've gone there.
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ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
At the Cabin
Benjiman came into the kitchen area where Barbara was filling the water bottles from the side of her small pack.
“The ones on the bike not enough for you?”
“It’s an old habit. Clean water is better than shitting your guts out uncontrollably.” She said as she tucked one of the shiny metal bottles into the side pocket of her canvas daypack.
“Isn’t that a lot of shit to take, just to bring it right back? We’re just going to get your car.”
She smiled up at him.
“How many times have we all just sat and watched those survival shows and bitched about how stupid they were to not have this or that with them when things went shitty?”
“Plenty, but they did stupid things once things went wrong.”
“True, but I don’t want to be the subject of next year’s ‘dumbass in the woods’ special. Water, shelter, food, tools. All the time, every time. It’s just a matter of scale and distance.” She held the pack up. “See? It’s almost half empty, even with my rain gear in it.”
“I know, but I’ve been trying to get my gear load smaller and lighter. When I get the jump job, I won’t have a lot of extra space and weight left over. I got to get used to going fast and light.” He smiled at her.
“I know, but you’re not a Smokejumper yet so there’s no reason to punish yourself just to prove you can. No need to saw the handle of your toothbrush for the extra two ounces just yet.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know one of the first things I would do if I was you. I would go nylon instead of all that waxed canvas and leather gear you use.” Benjiman shot back.
“True, it would be lighter, but I can repair this stuff in the field easier. I’m not going to be jumping out of planes anytime soon.”
“You ought to. I’m sure you would like it.” Benjiman said, not knowing how to interpret the change in her expression at his comment.
“Let’s not worry about that right now. We have a supply run to make.” She said as she turned back to the refrigerator.
Benjiman came into the kitchen area where Barbara was filling the water bottles from the side of her small pack.
“The ones on the bike not enough for you?”
“It’s an old habit. Clean water is better than shitting your guts out uncontrollably.” She said as she tucked one of the shiny metal bottles into the side pocket of her canvas daypack.
“Isn’t that a lot of shit to take, just to bring it right back? We’re just going to get your car.”
She smiled up at him.
“How many times have we all just sat and watched those survival shows and bitched about how stupid they were to not have this or that with them when things went shitty?”
“Plenty, but they did stupid things once things went wrong.”
“True, but I don’t want to be the subject of next year’s ‘dumbass in the woods’ special. Water, shelter, food, tools. All the time, every time. It’s just a matter of scale and distance.” She held the pack up. “See? It’s almost half empty, even with my rain gear in it.”
“I know, but I’ve been trying to get my gear load smaller and lighter. When I get the jump job, I won’t have a lot of extra space and weight left over. I got to get used to going fast and light.” He smiled at her.
“I know, but you’re not a Smokejumper yet so there’s no reason to punish yourself just to prove you can. No need to saw the handle of your toothbrush for the extra two ounces just yet.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know one of the first things I would do if I was you. I would go nylon instead of all that waxed canvas and leather gear you use.” Benjiman shot back.
“True, it would be lighter, but I can repair this stuff in the field easier. I’m not going to be jumping out of planes anytime soon.”
“You ought to. I’m sure you would like it.” Benjiman said, not knowing how to interpret the change in her expression at his comment.
“Let’s not worry about that right now. We have a supply run to make.” She said as she turned back to the refrigerator.
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
On the Walkway of the Tower, Moments Later
Barbara stood there looking over the railing, hoping the cold wind would clear her head, but instead it just brought back more memories, and the bitterness that went with it. Her internal monolog was acidic, and she knew it. That’s why she came up here to avoid taking it out on Benjiman, who didn’t know, and didn’t deserve to be the target of it.
Benji was right. Sport jumps were fun. What he didn’t understand was he had in front of him. He wanted to be a Smokejumper. That was a lot different. That was jumping with hundred-plus pounds of gear tied to you, often at night, into the middle of a forest fire, miles from any help or backup.
She didn’t know about the jumping into a forest fire part, but jumping with that much gear, at night, when you had no real idea where you were? Yeah. The other guys would clip one or two extra three-day-packs full of water or some other gear they would split up on the ground to her harness. Otherwise, even when she jumped first, she was always the last to land.
She stood there leaning against the rail, tears she didn’t want to shed drying on her cheeks. She needed to finish her gear and try to get some sleep. She had a lot to do tomorrow. She needed Stephen here. He helped her keep things in check. The anger told her to go down and hit the treadmill, she might be mad enough to make the times, but she feared the blow to her psyche when she wasn’t fast enough.
The debate in her head seemed to last forever until she got control of herself and went inside to finish her preps.
Barbara stood there looking over the railing, hoping the cold wind would clear her head, but instead it just brought back more memories, and the bitterness that went with it. Her internal monolog was acidic, and she knew it. That’s why she came up here to avoid taking it out on Benjiman, who didn’t know, and didn’t deserve to be the target of it.
Benji was right. Sport jumps were fun. What he didn’t understand was he had in front of him. He wanted to be a Smokejumper. That was a lot different. That was jumping with hundred-plus pounds of gear tied to you, often at night, into the middle of a forest fire, miles from any help or backup.
She didn’t know about the jumping into a forest fire part, but jumping with that much gear, at night, when you had no real idea where you were? Yeah. The other guys would clip one or two extra three-day-packs full of water or some other gear they would split up on the ground to her harness. Otherwise, even when she jumped first, she was always the last to land.
She stood there leaning against the rail, tears she didn’t want to shed drying on her cheeks. She needed to finish her gear and try to get some sleep. She had a lot to do tomorrow. She needed Stephen here. He helped her keep things in check. The anger told her to go down and hit the treadmill, she might be mad enough to make the times, but she feared the blow to her psyche when she wasn’t fast enough.
The debate in her head seemed to last forever until she got control of herself and went inside to finish her preps.
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223shootersc
Veteran Member
Thanks, CCG!
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
Late Night in the Garage
Stephen had carried the last of the boxes out to the growing pile in the garage, where he found Gabriel cutting and sewing a pile of canvas.
“Don’t stay up too late. We want to get up early and get on the road as soon as we are loaded in the morning.”
“I need to get these last runs done so I can pack the sewing machine first thing up near the cab.”
“Is all the rest of your stuff ready?”
“Yup, all the bundles of material and stuff packed other than the blankets going into these.” He gestured at the piles of canvas. “I already got the tool rolls done and packed into a bun we should put near the back in case we need them in a hurry.”
“Good point. I set aside some trashed towels to wrap the gas cans in. That way if we have to pull one out, people don’t see us with a huge stash.”
“That’s smart. It’ll also soak up any spills from those cheap ass cans I bought.”
“Well, until things stabilize those might start looking like giant blocks of gold to some people.”
“You think so?” Gabriel looked up from the machine in front of him.
“Definitely. When I was still down on the coast and we got hit with the Hurricain leftovers, we heard stories of people selling bags of ice for a hundred dollars a bag.”
“Damn!”
“Yeah. Now see why I just want to get us out of here and up north where things will be less crazy?”
“I know, but it’s easy for you to talk about packing up and heading out. You don’t have that much here to pack. Shit! I think all you still had here was that trunk in the attic space and your carry-on you flew here with. You’re trying to get back to where your stuff is. We are trying to figure out what stuff we can bring and what to leave behind forever.”
Stephen could hear the harsh edge to Gabriel’s tone, but knew there wasn’t anything he could do about it right now.
“I forgot about the trunk. I guess I better get it.” Stephen said as he walked to the rear of the garage where a tiny narrow staircase led to the second floor of the garage.
Well, second floor was an over-exaggeration. It was about three feet high in the middle and sloped steeply from there. At one time, there were a ton of boxes and stacks of stuff his father had stored up here. All of it was long gone now. No reason for instruction manuals for a milling machine when you no longer have the machine.
Now, there were a few older boxes of Christmas trees and ornaments, bins of clothes that no longer fit anyone and should have gone to charity years ago, and in the back corner still where his father marked off a spot, sat an old wooden trunk. It was made from a leftover crate to some machine, and his father had broken the box into panels to get it up the narrow stairway, then reassembled it.
As Stephen got close, he could see the red paint with his name had faded but was still crisp in it’s outlines. The lock was still in place in the hasp. He was sure the only reason it was still here was no one had enough reason to break it back down to take it out of here.
The lock’s combination dial was stiff as he turned it. He could hear the disks turning inside. He remembered the numbers and soon the lock opened. He lifted the lid. Inside, his headlamp played across all the treasures a recent high school graduate would want to squirrel away that weren’t important enough for him to pick up in subsequent trips.
The first things he saw were the backpacks. There were two of them in here. Old-school external frame packs, they showed signs of wear. Each he knew too well, having rebuilt them on the trail many times. The green one was his first. He took it to Philmont and later used it for his first massive hike, the Appalachian trail. He had to do it over two full summers, but he was hooked.
By the end of the second half, he was committed to upgrade to a ‘better’ pack and got the red one. That one was with him for the two consecutive summers it took him to do the Pacific Crest Trail and all the other hikes preparing for it.
All of that experience he used to outline his needs and wants in his third pack selection. That was to be the most important one. It was his high school graduation present from his mother and the focus of all his energy for the summer he finished high school. That was when he was finally able to commit to do a real through-hike, start to finish. The next summer he did the Continental Divide trail.
It was during that hike he knew his path was the right one. His first year in college was spent getting all his core classes finished up so he could focus on his degree in Forestry. His career path was fixed in his mind. Scouting embedded the core belief of helping others, and his love of the environment dictated the place.
He looked at the backpacks in his hands. These were the seeds that made him the Backcountry Ranger he was today. They would go with him and hang on the wall next to the third already in the cabin.
He looked below them and rummaged through the stuff. Some old clothes he wouldn’t fit, and some old, worn-out sleeping bags he would leave behind. A few other treasures were here though. The first one he saw was his old Whisperlite stove.
It was state of the art when it came out in 1984, and real long in the tooth when he got his second or third hand at a garage sale, but it still worked and did the job for him on hundreds of trips. When he bought a newer model as an upgrade, he still kept this one, a reliable backup. Now here it was again, patiently waiting to go back to work. He even left a couple of the fuel bottles here.
There were other Boy Scout branded things in the box he would take as well. The cook set, pocket knife, small axe, small fixed blade were here. There was even a pair of the tall skinny aluminum canteens still in their protective nylon covers. Barbara would get a kick out of those. They were a lot like her own metal canteens, just about a hundred years newer. All of this rounded out the camping kit, and that was most the treasures from the box he would bring North.
He did another sweep. There was one last thing he knew was in here. A small jewelry box. He opened it. Inside was the St Christopher’s medal his father used to wear. He pulled it out and looked at it in his palm. He never wore it. It was too precious to him. He left it here to keep it safe. That wasn’t an option now. He slid the chain over his head and tucked it under his T-shirt.
His headlamp swept the low-hanging rafters one last time.
“Come on, Dad. Let’s go.”
Stephen had carried the last of the boxes out to the growing pile in the garage, where he found Gabriel cutting and sewing a pile of canvas.
“Don’t stay up too late. We want to get up early and get on the road as soon as we are loaded in the morning.”
“I need to get these last runs done so I can pack the sewing machine first thing up near the cab.”
“Is all the rest of your stuff ready?”
“Yup, all the bundles of material and stuff packed other than the blankets going into these.” He gestured at the piles of canvas. “I already got the tool rolls done and packed into a bun we should put near the back in case we need them in a hurry.”
“Good point. I set aside some trashed towels to wrap the gas cans in. That way if we have to pull one out, people don’t see us with a huge stash.”
“That’s smart. It’ll also soak up any spills from those cheap ass cans I bought.”
“Well, until things stabilize those might start looking like giant blocks of gold to some people.”
“You think so?” Gabriel looked up from the machine in front of him.
“Definitely. When I was still down on the coast and we got hit with the Hurricain leftovers, we heard stories of people selling bags of ice for a hundred dollars a bag.”
“Damn!”
“Yeah. Now see why I just want to get us out of here and up north where things will be less crazy?”
“I know, but it’s easy for you to talk about packing up and heading out. You don’t have that much here to pack. Shit! I think all you still had here was that trunk in the attic space and your carry-on you flew here with. You’re trying to get back to where your stuff is. We are trying to figure out what stuff we can bring and what to leave behind forever.”
Stephen could hear the harsh edge to Gabriel’s tone, but knew there wasn’t anything he could do about it right now.
“I forgot about the trunk. I guess I better get it.” Stephen said as he walked to the rear of the garage where a tiny narrow staircase led to the second floor of the garage.
Well, second floor was an over-exaggeration. It was about three feet high in the middle and sloped steeply from there. At one time, there were a ton of boxes and stacks of stuff his father had stored up here. All of it was long gone now. No reason for instruction manuals for a milling machine when you no longer have the machine.
Now, there were a few older boxes of Christmas trees and ornaments, bins of clothes that no longer fit anyone and should have gone to charity years ago, and in the back corner still where his father marked off a spot, sat an old wooden trunk. It was made from a leftover crate to some machine, and his father had broken the box into panels to get it up the narrow stairway, then reassembled it.
As Stephen got close, he could see the red paint with his name had faded but was still crisp in it’s outlines. The lock was still in place in the hasp. He was sure the only reason it was still here was no one had enough reason to break it back down to take it out of here.
The lock’s combination dial was stiff as he turned it. He could hear the disks turning inside. He remembered the numbers and soon the lock opened. He lifted the lid. Inside, his headlamp played across all the treasures a recent high school graduate would want to squirrel away that weren’t important enough for him to pick up in subsequent trips.
The first things he saw were the backpacks. There were two of them in here. Old-school external frame packs, they showed signs of wear. Each he knew too well, having rebuilt them on the trail many times. The green one was his first. He took it to Philmont and later used it for his first massive hike, the Appalachian trail. He had to do it over two full summers, but he was hooked.
By the end of the second half, he was committed to upgrade to a ‘better’ pack and got the red one. That one was with him for the two consecutive summers it took him to do the Pacific Crest Trail and all the other hikes preparing for it.
All of that experience he used to outline his needs and wants in his third pack selection. That was to be the most important one. It was his high school graduation present from his mother and the focus of all his energy for the summer he finished high school. That was when he was finally able to commit to do a real through-hike, start to finish. The next summer he did the Continental Divide trail.
It was during that hike he knew his path was the right one. His first year in college was spent getting all his core classes finished up so he could focus on his degree in Forestry. His career path was fixed in his mind. Scouting embedded the core belief of helping others, and his love of the environment dictated the place.
He looked at the backpacks in his hands. These were the seeds that made him the Backcountry Ranger he was today. They would go with him and hang on the wall next to the third already in the cabin.
He looked below them and rummaged through the stuff. Some old clothes he wouldn’t fit, and some old, worn-out sleeping bags he would leave behind. A few other treasures were here though. The first one he saw was his old Whisperlite stove.
It was state of the art when it came out in 1984, and real long in the tooth when he got his second or third hand at a garage sale, but it still worked and did the job for him on hundreds of trips. When he bought a newer model as an upgrade, he still kept this one, a reliable backup. Now here it was again, patiently waiting to go back to work. He even left a couple of the fuel bottles here.
There were other Boy Scout branded things in the box he would take as well. The cook set, pocket knife, small axe, small fixed blade were here. There was even a pair of the tall skinny aluminum canteens still in their protective nylon covers. Barbara would get a kick out of those. They were a lot like her own metal canteens, just about a hundred years newer. All of this rounded out the camping kit, and that was most the treasures from the box he would bring North.
He did another sweep. There was one last thing he knew was in here. A small jewelry box. He opened it. Inside was the St Christopher’s medal his father used to wear. He pulled it out and looked at it in his palm. He never wore it. It was too precious to him. He left it here to keep it safe. That wasn’t an option now. He slid the chain over his head and tucked it under his T-shirt.
His headlamp swept the low-hanging rafters one last time.
“Come on, Dad. Let’s go.”
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223shootersc
Veteran Member
Nice, Thanks CCG!
Knighttemplar
Veteran Member
Very well done, Thank You.
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
Morning, in the Woods
Barbara was glad they would be driving back to the cabin instead of riding back. It was a healthy ride from the trailhead parking lot Stephen had them use whenever they would come up here without him. They had a route they would normally take, starting with one loop, then cut over to another, then finally end up on the closed, park personnel only road out to the cabin.
It worked well to keep others from knowing they were out there, but it also meant they were off the nice, well-maintained trails and instead were on some animal trails, abandoned fire access roads and long-overgrown old hiking trails from before this got called a wilderness. It was going down one of the crossover points coming in that Barbara’s tire got ripped open on some rocks, forcing them to stop and use a bunch of duct tape and most their patches to fix. At least Benjiman had moved the rocks while Barbara and Randolph fixed her tire.
Going back towards the car had it’s own challenges, primarily finding the right places to change trails. Even though it was a little harder keeping on course, it was easier as far as peddling effort, being generally downhill. They also weren’t burdened with bags, packs and panniers full of supplies for the cabin.
Benji was in the lead. He was their personal crash test dummy. He was still holding onto his youthful invincibility with both hands. Randolph was next behind him, trying to be the voice of reason, while Barbara brought up the rear. She knew all too well the dangers of false invincibility.
All told, it was a beautiful early fall morning for a ride. They were mostly riding along in silence, each in their own heads trying to think ahead to the next things they had to do. Each had made lists of supplies to extend their stays at the cabin, along with what they would need to account for the added people Stephen was bringing. They knew it would be a long day, but the divided up their tasks to make the most of things.
Barbara would run them over to Randy’s apartment down by the airport, where Benji left his truck. Then it was split up, gather as much as they could, meet back up at Randy’s apartment, then head back the next morning. It was going to be a lot of work, but they were up to the task.
Barbara was glad they would be driving back to the cabin instead of riding back. It was a healthy ride from the trailhead parking lot Stephen had them use whenever they would come up here without him. They had a route they would normally take, starting with one loop, then cut over to another, then finally end up on the closed, park personnel only road out to the cabin.
It worked well to keep others from knowing they were out there, but it also meant they were off the nice, well-maintained trails and instead were on some animal trails, abandoned fire access roads and long-overgrown old hiking trails from before this got called a wilderness. It was going down one of the crossover points coming in that Barbara’s tire got ripped open on some rocks, forcing them to stop and use a bunch of duct tape and most their patches to fix. At least Benjiman had moved the rocks while Barbara and Randolph fixed her tire.
Going back towards the car had it’s own challenges, primarily finding the right places to change trails. Even though it was a little harder keeping on course, it was easier as far as peddling effort, being generally downhill. They also weren’t burdened with bags, packs and panniers full of supplies for the cabin.
Benji was in the lead. He was their personal crash test dummy. He was still holding onto his youthful invincibility with both hands. Randolph was next behind him, trying to be the voice of reason, while Barbara brought up the rear. She knew all too well the dangers of false invincibility.
All told, it was a beautiful early fall morning for a ride. They were mostly riding along in silence, each in their own heads trying to think ahead to the next things they had to do. Each had made lists of supplies to extend their stays at the cabin, along with what they would need to account for the added people Stephen was bringing. They knew it would be a long day, but the divided up their tasks to make the most of things.
Barbara would run them over to Randy’s apartment down by the airport, where Benji left his truck. Then it was split up, gather as much as they could, meet back up at Randy’s apartment, then head back the next morning. It was going to be a lot of work, but they were up to the task.
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
Down South, on the Road
It took most of the morning to jigsaw the boxes, bags and all the other bits of their lives into the truck. As soon as the last item was in, Sam and Gabe both hopped into the seats. They had to go. They knew if they didn’t do it in a rush, it would just get harder, with more ‘just one more thing’ delays and it would get harder and harder to go, until…well until it didn’t happen.
They stopped at a couple of the smaller gas stations they passed on the side streets on their way east until they found one with both fuel left and some power for the pumps. When Stephen found they would still take a credit card, he didn’t feel as bad about buying gas from the guy. All he could think was ‘good luck getting his mother to pay her credit card bill.’ This opportunistic ass deserved it. He was charging thirty-five dollars a gallon.
While Gabe was pumping the tank full, Stephen went in and raided the shelves for a bunch of over-the-counter meds and a bottle of lighter fluid to refill the Zippo he had packed with his old camping stove.
Sam was trying to think of any last-minute items of her own to grab. Stephen gave her a funny look at the register when she plopped down a fist full of Kool-ade packets and a couple boxes of feminine protection. Stephen looked at her, then the counter again and added six pairs of sunglasses.
The bags got dropped into the back seat of the truck beside Samantha as they hustled out of there, having spent the better part of a thousand dollars. They had to get moving. They knew they would have to hunt and peck side roads, canyons, and streets to make it to Palm Springs and their road north.
It took most of the morning to jigsaw the boxes, bags and all the other bits of their lives into the truck. As soon as the last item was in, Sam and Gabe both hopped into the seats. They had to go. They knew if they didn’t do it in a rush, it would just get harder, with more ‘just one more thing’ delays and it would get harder and harder to go, until…well until it didn’t happen.
They stopped at a couple of the smaller gas stations they passed on the side streets on their way east until they found one with both fuel left and some power for the pumps. When Stephen found they would still take a credit card, he didn’t feel as bad about buying gas from the guy. All he could think was ‘good luck getting his mother to pay her credit card bill.’ This opportunistic ass deserved it. He was charging thirty-five dollars a gallon.
While Gabe was pumping the tank full, Stephen went in and raided the shelves for a bunch of over-the-counter meds and a bottle of lighter fluid to refill the Zippo he had packed with his old camping stove.
Sam was trying to think of any last-minute items of her own to grab. Stephen gave her a funny look at the register when she plopped down a fist full of Kool-ade packets and a couple boxes of feminine protection. Stephen looked at her, then the counter again and added six pairs of sunglasses.
The bags got dropped into the back seat of the truck beside Samantha as they hustled out of there, having spent the better part of a thousand dollars. They had to get moving. They knew they would have to hunt and peck side roads, canyons, and streets to make it to Palm Springs and their road north.
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
Late Afternoon, on the Road
The traffic was horrible. Between fires, downed trees, and roads that had just gone missing, the way to Palm Springs was a brutal mess. Even though they thought they had left early enough, now their biggest hope was to get to somewhere to cross the ruins of I-10 by dark. The backroads got them as far as the Air Force base, but then it got trickier. They had to keep working down smaller and smaller streets until they finally found a small canyon road Samantha swore would get them across the ridge and closer to the 10. All of this because the main highway they wanted to use was closed and or collapsed.
On and on they went. This wasn’t good. There were announcements of curfew and no movement after dark, but there was nowhere to go at this point. Stephen had Gabriel and Samantha scouring the maps and their memories, looking for something or somewhere they could lay low once it got too dark for them to be moving around. He couldn’t trust his own. It had been years since he spent time down here and even longer since he was wandering around this part of Southern California.
The traffic was horrible. Between fires, downed trees, and roads that had just gone missing, the way to Palm Springs was a brutal mess. Even though they thought they had left early enough, now their biggest hope was to get to somewhere to cross the ruins of I-10 by dark. The backroads got them as far as the Air Force base, but then it got trickier. They had to keep working down smaller and smaller streets until they finally found a small canyon road Samantha swore would get them across the ridge and closer to the 10. All of this because the main highway they wanted to use was closed and or collapsed.
On and on they went. This wasn’t good. There were announcements of curfew and no movement after dark, but there was nowhere to go at this point. Stephen had Gabriel and Samantha scouring the maps and their memories, looking for something or somewhere they could lay low once it got too dark for them to be moving around. He couldn’t trust his own. It had been years since he spent time down here and even longer since he was wandering around this part of Southern California.
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
Late Morning, Trailhead Parking Lot
The three of them broke out into the parking lot with Benji power sliding in the loose dirt next to Barbara’s huge boat of a car. He was already off his bike and pouring half a water bottle into his mouth when Randy pulled up next to him.
“Shoot, at this rate, we could have a late lunch at my place before we go shopping.” Randy said as he stood there straddling his bike next to Benji. They both looked over at where Barbara pulled into the lot. They both knew she might not be the fastest one of them, but she was damn near tireless when she had to be.
“What do you think Barb? Do up some Chili-Mac when we hit my place so we don’t shop hungry?” Randy asked her.
Barbara was about to answer him when something caught her eye. She looked down at Benji’s feet as she coasted up to them.
“Hold this.” She said to Randy as she stepped off her bike. She looked down to see what it was, then immediately started walking around the car. When she got to the front, she stopped walking and instead started looking around like crazy.
“What’s up, Barb?” Benji asked.
“Shhhh!” She snapped back, waving her hand for them to be quiet. She walked back to the passenger door and looked through the window. She looked a moment or two like she was searching for something.
“What’s going on?” Randy asked her.
“Shut up! She said in an emphatic stage whisper, walking back towards them. She used the key in her hand to open the trunk before turning to them. Her voice was a quiet but forceful whisper.
“Guys, grab the two packs in the here and get ready to ride out of here right now. Somebody shot up the car and took the campsite paperwork from the dash. We need to leave right now and not let them know we are here in case they aren’t too far away.”
“What the **** are you talking about Benji asked, too loudly for Barbara’s liking. She pointed down at his feet, where half a dozen AK casings were on the ground.
“Grab the bags, I’m going to get a few things from inside the car, then we ride. We go straight down Green Creek loop, then go through Cooper’s gap to the old firebreak, then follow that till we can hit another trail back to the cabin.”
“Why go twelve miles the wrong way? Why not just buzz back down the trail we just used. It’s faster and we get away from here quicker?” Randy asked.
“She’s right. Because we don’t want them to follow us to the cabin.” Benji said before turning back to Barbara. “Right?”
“Right, and they took the false projected camp paperwork from the dash so they might have gone that way looking for us. That’s why the run all the way to Cooper’s gap. After you get the bags, don’t slam the trunk closed. Quiet is the key now.”
“You got any idea what the hell is going on?” Benji asked her as he pulled one of the day packs from the trunk.
“No. but we aren’t going shopping today.” Barbara said as she grabbed some items from inside the car. As she pulled the climbing hex nut hanging from her rearview mirror, she once again saw the dozen or so bullet holes in the hood of her beloved car.
Two minutes later, Benjiman was leading them fast and silently down the trail, hopefully away from danger.
The three of them broke out into the parking lot with Benji power sliding in the loose dirt next to Barbara’s huge boat of a car. He was already off his bike and pouring half a water bottle into his mouth when Randy pulled up next to him.
“Shoot, at this rate, we could have a late lunch at my place before we go shopping.” Randy said as he stood there straddling his bike next to Benji. They both looked over at where Barbara pulled into the lot. They both knew she might not be the fastest one of them, but she was damn near tireless when she had to be.
“What do you think Barb? Do up some Chili-Mac when we hit my place so we don’t shop hungry?” Randy asked her.
Barbara was about to answer him when something caught her eye. She looked down at Benji’s feet as she coasted up to them.
“Hold this.” She said to Randy as she stepped off her bike. She looked down to see what it was, then immediately started walking around the car. When she got to the front, she stopped walking and instead started looking around like crazy.
“What’s up, Barb?” Benji asked.
“Shhhh!” She snapped back, waving her hand for them to be quiet. She walked back to the passenger door and looked through the window. She looked a moment or two like she was searching for something.
“What’s going on?” Randy asked her.
“Shut up! She said in an emphatic stage whisper, walking back towards them. She used the key in her hand to open the trunk before turning to them. Her voice was a quiet but forceful whisper.
“Guys, grab the two packs in the here and get ready to ride out of here right now. Somebody shot up the car and took the campsite paperwork from the dash. We need to leave right now and not let them know we are here in case they aren’t too far away.”
“What the **** are you talking about Benji asked, too loudly for Barbara’s liking. She pointed down at his feet, where half a dozen AK casings were on the ground.
“Grab the bags, I’m going to get a few things from inside the car, then we ride. We go straight down Green Creek loop, then go through Cooper’s gap to the old firebreak, then follow that till we can hit another trail back to the cabin.”
“Why go twelve miles the wrong way? Why not just buzz back down the trail we just used. It’s faster and we get away from here quicker?” Randy asked.
“She’s right. Because we don’t want them to follow us to the cabin.” Benji said before turning back to Barbara. “Right?”
“Right, and they took the false projected camp paperwork from the dash so they might have gone that way looking for us. That’s why the run all the way to Cooper’s gap. After you get the bags, don’t slam the trunk closed. Quiet is the key now.”
“You got any idea what the hell is going on?” Benji asked her as he pulled one of the day packs from the trunk.
“No. but we aren’t going shopping today.” Barbara said as she grabbed some items from inside the car. As she pulled the climbing hex nut hanging from her rearview mirror, she once again saw the dozen or so bullet holes in the hood of her beloved car.
Two minutes later, Benjiman was leading them fast and silently down the trail, hopefully away from danger.
Last edited:
223shootersc
Veteran Member
The times they are a changing! Thanks, CCG!
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Time for my afternoon meds (BP) anyway.
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
Late at Night, Somewhere Near I-10
“I still think we should press on and get across.” Gabe said.
“Everyone is tired, stressed out and I don’t want to get more turned around and screwed up in the dark, especially with a curfew. That’s how someone gets shot as looters. We stay put, try not to attract too much attention, get some zzzzs, and press on at first light.” Stephen said.
He was hoping he sounded a lot more confident than he was. They had been down so many dead ends, backtracked and drove round and round, each detour spinning all their frustration and anger higher and higher as the light faded.
It was a snap decision when he saw the small building with the ‘for lease’ sign. It looked like it’s last occupant was a Barber. Either way, probably no clients tonight. He pulled in and drove around behind the building and parked. This is what prompted the conversation.
“So, what’s the sleeping plan?” Samantha asked.
“You two sack out on the bench seats in here, and I’ll be out on the bed of the truck.”
“Doesn’t sound too comfortable.” Sam said right away.
“You or me?” Stephen asked with a smile.
“Neither, but worse for you.”
“It won’t be bad. Gotta remember, I sleep on rocks and dirt for a living.”
“What about a bathroom?” was her next question. He knew she wouldn’t like the answer.
“Pick a spot of parking lot you don’t like and let it out. I recommend between the truck and the building. Less chance being seen.” Stephen tried to smile through it. The hardest part was not laughing at the expression on her face.
What followed as about ten minutes of activity as everyone got adjusted, watered the parking lot, and settled in for sleep in the truck. Stephen walked around the parking lot some, trying to get a better feel for their surroundings while Sam and Gabe got themselves settled down.
He wasn’t looking forward to his sleeping spot, but he was the best equipped to make the most of it. He didn’t tell them the other reason he was out there. This way he could be more alert to anything going on, and intercept any law enforcement arrival. He saw enough news stories about the tragic end to people sleeping in their cars doing dumb things when startled by the police.
He crawled into place on top of the canvas tarp, his pack with him to use as a pillow. He zipped up in his jacket, slid his tube scarf onto his head as a hat and proceeded to get comfortable. He had his pistols on him under the coat and out of sight and his credentials in his hand in his left pocket. He could identify himself as a federal law enforcement officer quickly and smoothly without having to open his coat or make any sudden movements.
As he dropped off into a fitful sleep he wondered how Barbara and the guys were doing. Probably pushing giant flatbeds through one of the stores loading up like some apocalyptic prepper book. The thought made him smile. He could see Benji loading up two dozen flats of Spagetti-Os, Barbara loading up on salt and spices to make squirrel Biltong, and Randy trying to get both of them to be more practical and just get real food components. God! He wished they were already north with them.
“I still think we should press on and get across.” Gabe said.
“Everyone is tired, stressed out and I don’t want to get more turned around and screwed up in the dark, especially with a curfew. That’s how someone gets shot as looters. We stay put, try not to attract too much attention, get some zzzzs, and press on at first light.” Stephen said.
He was hoping he sounded a lot more confident than he was. They had been down so many dead ends, backtracked and drove round and round, each detour spinning all their frustration and anger higher and higher as the light faded.
It was a snap decision when he saw the small building with the ‘for lease’ sign. It looked like it’s last occupant was a Barber. Either way, probably no clients tonight. He pulled in and drove around behind the building and parked. This is what prompted the conversation.
“So, what’s the sleeping plan?” Samantha asked.
“You two sack out on the bench seats in here, and I’ll be out on the bed of the truck.”
“Doesn’t sound too comfortable.” Sam said right away.
“You or me?” Stephen asked with a smile.
“Neither, but worse for you.”
“It won’t be bad. Gotta remember, I sleep on rocks and dirt for a living.”
“What about a bathroom?” was her next question. He knew she wouldn’t like the answer.
“Pick a spot of parking lot you don’t like and let it out. I recommend between the truck and the building. Less chance being seen.” Stephen tried to smile through it. The hardest part was not laughing at the expression on her face.
What followed as about ten minutes of activity as everyone got adjusted, watered the parking lot, and settled in for sleep in the truck. Stephen walked around the parking lot some, trying to get a better feel for their surroundings while Sam and Gabe got themselves settled down.
He wasn’t looking forward to his sleeping spot, but he was the best equipped to make the most of it. He didn’t tell them the other reason he was out there. This way he could be more alert to anything going on, and intercept any law enforcement arrival. He saw enough news stories about the tragic end to people sleeping in their cars doing dumb things when startled by the police.
He crawled into place on top of the canvas tarp, his pack with him to use as a pillow. He zipped up in his jacket, slid his tube scarf onto his head as a hat and proceeded to get comfortable. He had his pistols on him under the coat and out of sight and his credentials in his hand in his left pocket. He could identify himself as a federal law enforcement officer quickly and smoothly without having to open his coat or make any sudden movements.
As he dropped off into a fitful sleep he wondered how Barbara and the guys were doing. Probably pushing giant flatbeds through one of the stores loading up like some apocalyptic prepper book. The thought made him smile. He could see Benji loading up two dozen flats of Spagetti-Os, Barbara loading up on salt and spices to make squirrel Biltong, and Randy trying to get both of them to be more practical and just get real food components. God! He wished they were already north with them.
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
Late Afternoon, Cooper’s Gap
The older winding trail would have been a real workout anytime, but today the whole situation added a new level of stress and uncertainty. It all effected each of them differently. Randy wasn’t sure what was going on, and Benji was somewhere between scared and panicked.
His problem and fear didn’t come right away. At first, when Barbara said to ride right now, he just reacted, He was good at that. No, it started to hit him when he paused in a small clearing to check on the other two. Randy pulled right up behind him and they both looked over their shoulder at Barb as she came into the clearing.
“Hey Barb, you want to tell us what’s going on?” Benji asked her as she drew even with them.
She didn’t even pause as she rode right past them.
“Shut the **** up and ride.”
The older winding trail would have been a real workout anytime, but today the whole situation added a new level of stress and uncertainty. It all effected each of them differently. Randy wasn’t sure what was going on, and Benji was somewhere between scared and panicked.
His problem and fear didn’t come right away. At first, when Barbara said to ride right now, he just reacted, He was good at that. No, it started to hit him when he paused in a small clearing to check on the other two. Randy pulled right up behind him and they both looked over their shoulder at Barb as she came into the clearing.
“Hey Barb, you want to tell us what’s going on?” Benji asked her as she drew even with them.
She didn’t even pause as she rode right past them.
“Shut the **** up and ride.”
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
On the trail through Cooper’s Gap
Barbara’s head was spinning. Her legs were on fire, her lungs burned, but she couldn’t stop, couldn’t let the others stop. Not yet. Her mind was spinning, trying to examine the map of the park, looking for the worry points, danger crossings, long sight lines, where they could be observed from a distance and give away their direction of travel.
She knew they should lay up and move at night, but step one is break contact and get out of the immediate area if possible. The false paper trail was hopefully shifting their focus in the wrong location but they had to make sure to not **** it up and get spotted or heard.
Whoever did it, they weren’t just some vandals. The windows were intact, nothing taken from the inside of the car other than the campsite paperwork. This was a very deliberate, focused disabling of the car with no way to fix it in the field, like flat tires could. Why? What the hell was going on? Her mind kept asking the question until a long dormant part of her told her it didn’t matter right now.
She and her crew were on the ground. There were hostiles out there who may or may not be still actively hunting them. They were obviously not law enforcement. They knew how many they were hunting, but had a false trail and target location. No good reason for them to look north or east of Cooper’s cut and no quick way to get there other than the one she was on, and god knows this ain’t quick!
They kept climbing and climbing until they made it through the gap. This was a long ago destination for the old trail, and there was a small flat spot for picnics, back in the late sixties according to Stephen’s old maps. People would hike up to the gap, picnic, then hike back down the way they came up. This is what she counted on now.
If the people hunting them even figured out they were headed in that direction, when they looked at an old enough map that it was still on, it dead-ended at the gap. No reason to expect them to go that way, or if someone did, they would have to come back the same way. It would put that trail as a very low priority to check, if it got checked at all.
Barbara loved maps. They told her stories. They told her all about the land, and how people moved about on the land. All the V’s and arches and swirling lines painted pictures in her head of what the land looked like, even under all the greenery. It was one of the things that fascinated her when she learned about them, in the before.
Now, with Stephen, she would pour over the maps, looking for where to expect lost hikers to end up, or where were the worrisome places for forest fire, or where the weather would screw you hard unless you paid attention. All of those were happy thoughts in her head, even though they were also echos of before.
She knew the trail dropped down and twisted around after Cooper’s Gap. She and Stephen had been there a few times from that side. It was a faster route to get to the cliffs and falls by Cooper’s Gap. Stephen had to go there several times each summer to scoop up dumbasses who refuse to read the ‘Do Not Climb’ sign near the falls.
When they were up here last, they stayed overnight in a little spot with all the comforts of home, at least that’s what he said. A small seep for water, an overhang to keep most the weather off them, and a huge-ass Himalayan Blackberry thicket in front of it. The berries were huge, the bush was thick and blocked the wind, and the only way to the spot was inching along the cliff face. From below, there was no good way to know the spot existed.
They could hole up for the night and regroup. She needed rest. Hell, they all needed rest.
Wrong. The voice in her head told her forcefully. You want rest. You don’t need it. It’s a good idea to get some rest, reset, and work your next plan of action. You know the SAR Dot. You can get there. You can get them there, as long as they will listen and pay attention.
She turned off the trail next to the cliff face.
“OK, guys, I got a spot we can rest some. Follow me.”
Barbara’s head was spinning. Her legs were on fire, her lungs burned, but she couldn’t stop, couldn’t let the others stop. Not yet. Her mind was spinning, trying to examine the map of the park, looking for the worry points, danger crossings, long sight lines, where they could be observed from a distance and give away their direction of travel.
She knew they should lay up and move at night, but step one is break contact and get out of the immediate area if possible. The false paper trail was hopefully shifting their focus in the wrong location but they had to make sure to not **** it up and get spotted or heard.
Whoever did it, they weren’t just some vandals. The windows were intact, nothing taken from the inside of the car other than the campsite paperwork. This was a very deliberate, focused disabling of the car with no way to fix it in the field, like flat tires could. Why? What the hell was going on? Her mind kept asking the question until a long dormant part of her told her it didn’t matter right now.
She and her crew were on the ground. There were hostiles out there who may or may not be still actively hunting them. They were obviously not law enforcement. They knew how many they were hunting, but had a false trail and target location. No good reason for them to look north or east of Cooper’s cut and no quick way to get there other than the one she was on, and god knows this ain’t quick!
They kept climbing and climbing until they made it through the gap. This was a long ago destination for the old trail, and there was a small flat spot for picnics, back in the late sixties according to Stephen’s old maps. People would hike up to the gap, picnic, then hike back down the way they came up. This is what she counted on now.
If the people hunting them even figured out they were headed in that direction, when they looked at an old enough map that it was still on, it dead-ended at the gap. No reason to expect them to go that way, or if someone did, they would have to come back the same way. It would put that trail as a very low priority to check, if it got checked at all.
Barbara loved maps. They told her stories. They told her all about the land, and how people moved about on the land. All the V’s and arches and swirling lines painted pictures in her head of what the land looked like, even under all the greenery. It was one of the things that fascinated her when she learned about them, in the before.
Now, with Stephen, she would pour over the maps, looking for where to expect lost hikers to end up, or where were the worrisome places for forest fire, or where the weather would screw you hard unless you paid attention. All of those were happy thoughts in her head, even though they were also echos of before.
She knew the trail dropped down and twisted around after Cooper’s Gap. She and Stephen had been there a few times from that side. It was a faster route to get to the cliffs and falls by Cooper’s Gap. Stephen had to go there several times each summer to scoop up dumbasses who refuse to read the ‘Do Not Climb’ sign near the falls.
When they were up here last, they stayed overnight in a little spot with all the comforts of home, at least that’s what he said. A small seep for water, an overhang to keep most the weather off them, and a huge-ass Himalayan Blackberry thicket in front of it. The berries were huge, the bush was thick and blocked the wind, and the only way to the spot was inching along the cliff face. From below, there was no good way to know the spot existed.
They could hole up for the night and regroup. She needed rest. Hell, they all needed rest.
Wrong. The voice in her head told her forcefully. You want rest. You don’t need it. It’s a good idea to get some rest, reset, and work your next plan of action. You know the SAR Dot. You can get there. You can get them there, as long as they will listen and pay attention.
She turned off the trail next to the cliff face.
“OK, guys, I got a spot we can rest some. Follow me.”
Armadillo3
Member
Thanks for more stories!