[at-l] RE: Tunnel Brook Trail

[revmrf at kingcon.com (Martin Fors)]

Hi folks,

I shared this with Rock Dancer earlier and thought you'd all enjoy a good
laugh regarding an event which happened to me in 1999.  It's a true short
story of when I overnighted in May between beaver ponds on the Tunnel Brook
Taril, near Moosilauke:

I HOPE YOU BROUGHT A GUN!

"I hope you brought a gun!" she said.  That was Marilyn at my local gas
pump. . . . 

"I see you're going backpacking" she commented Friday at noon as she filled
my tank.

"Yep, going deep . . ." I replied [but not very deep, just to my favorite
spot between some beaver ponds in the wilderness at the base of Mt.
Moosilauke about a three mile hike in.]  It was primarily an equipment
check, as most of my gear was brand new and hadn't tasted of the real
outdoors yet.  Besides, the best way to learn the ins and outs of my new Zen
tent was to . . . well put it up and sleep in it, of course!

It was a gorgeous day, and three more were supposed to follow.  "Yep, going
deep, and staying over night," I said.  

"You are!!!?  I hope you brought a gun!" she said.  

"A gun? . . . Why?"

"Coy dogs!" she said.

"I've never heard of anyone getting hurt by a coy dog" I remarked [she was
talking about coyotes... they don't cause us much trouble around here.]
And, then off to the trail head and to my favorite spot . . .

Hiking in Spring with the absence of bugs and leaves on a clear warm day in
the White Mountains is a blessing, and I wanted to take advantage of this
gift given to us by God.  One can see far off to places on the trail
normally shielded in the summer months when the leaves are fully out.

The climb was fairly easy.  I adjusted quite well to my load and paced
myself accordingly, listening to what my body was telling me.  My past
experience as a marathon runner helped a great deal - especially when one is
not in the greatest physical shape ...

I found my spot between two beaver ponds about ten feet beside a connecting
brook among hemlock trees - likely the first person to camp there this year.
My Zen tent went up quickly... but first... I changed into a polar fleece
shirt.  My mattress awaited its final puffs to toss into my tent home. And
then followed my sleeping bag...  And, then, me for a short moment or two to
relax to let my back rest a bit.

I ate my Ramen noodles sitting on the roots of a stump that evening at the
edge of the beaver pond and watched small brookies jump at flies and watched
the darting of water spiders and flies of some sort in the air dancing in
the evening sun, and the beauty of silk threads sailing in the wind - only
visible because of the blue sky above [the threads are really from the webs
of caterpillar moths long deceased in winter.]  I watched until the sun set
over the mountain.  

At about 8 PM, I settled in, knowing that it would get cool (actually it
turned out to drop to 27 degrees.)  I was warm and comfy in my sleeping bag,
tossing and turning a bit, the initial getting used-to-the-feeling and
sounds of the wilderness as darkness set in.

I was awakened by the loud high pitched "Arooo! Yip. Yip. Arooo!"  Then a
very different sound, a loud deep warning bawl "Haarumph!"  Coy dogs...  And
the moaning warning bawl of a moose across the pond only about thirty yards
away from me!  

I remember thinking as I laid there the words of Marilyn ... and then as I
rolled over I said out loud, "Now, that's a primal sound, if there ever was
one and here I am in the safety of my new Zen tent and sleeping bag - hah,
hah."  

There were no more noises and I dozed off.  For some reason I awakened and,
to my surprise my tent seemed to be 'lit up' around me.  As it was deep
darkness earlier, I thought it was dawn and unzipped only to find the full
moon shining on me between the mountains on either side.  It was so bright I
could see the fish splash in the beaver pond.  I didn't stay out very long
[it's cold in your underwear at about 27 degrees.]

Snug in my tent and bag once more, I fell asleep only to be awaked by a loud
'CLUMP, CA-CLOMP, SPLASH, CA-SLOSH, SPLASH, CLOMP!'   It was a moose walking
up the stream only ten feet from me!  I didn't unzip to see for sure, but
what else could it have been?  Ah yes, the safety of your tent . . . 

The rest of my time by the beaver pond was uneventful, except that my stove
wouldn't light up the next morning for breakfast.  A granola bar sufficed
and, after getting the kinks out, down came the Zen, and onto my back with
my pack, and then 'home sweet home.' 

What greeted me on my way to 'home sweet home' was an experience in my local
Post Office.  As I went in, the local chiropractor from across the street
looked at me with darts of fire in his eyes.  "No more parking in my lot, no
more, NO MORE!" he almost shouted.

It was kind of embarrassing for me (the pastor of the local Methodist
Church) to be addressed this way with such anger among folks in my own post
office!!!  "Ralph," I said meekly [the name is changed,] "...can we talk
outside?"  And out the door we went....  

He'd been allowing us to park in his parking lot across the street on
Sundays, as we were having increasingly larger atendance.  And now, someone
had run over his flowerbed.  It could've been a patient of his... or it
could've been one of our worshippers.  Nevertheless, given his angre, I
explained that I'd instruct my trustees and would announce on Sunday that
there was to be NO MORE PARKING for us in his parking lot.  

Later, while eating lunch in my kitchen, I saw Ralph across the street
mowing his lawn and I said to Sheila, my wife, "I'm going over to speak with
Ralph.  He seemed more than a little overboard in his anger toward me."

"Hi Ralph," I said, and he shut his mower down.  "You seemed a bit overly
angry at me regarding what happened here.  Is their something else?  Maybe
something between us that I'm not aware of?"

Ralph got a sheepish look on his face.  Apologetically, he said, "Marty...
um... well, um... I guess you're right.  What happened was... um... just a
few minutes before you came into the post office... um well... [he shuffled
from one foot to the other] I got caught by the Post Master ungluing and
reusing some 34 cent stamps."  

And as he muttered some more, we shook hands and had a laugh together.

Do you know what?  Coy dogs or no coy dogs, it's safer in the woods in my
Zen tent than in my own post office.  

marty aka rusty


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