The Original "Camp Stories" - Aug 6, '01

Mike called the other night, I now have a new Mike story, which you probably have heard already but on the odd chance that you haven't, I will retell it again. But before I do, I can't help but recall a couple of minor camp stories, minor in that nothing can top a good "Mike Story"!

Several decades ago, we used to go camping and fishing; well, the family went camping and I went fishing. On a trip to Pine Wyoming, we drove way back in the woods to some lake and camped on Boulder Creek. After pitching our camp, we fished and did all of the usual things, finally getting the kids to sleep and turning in ourselves. Just as we were about to go to sleep, some small critter started scurrying up and down the sidewalls of the tent. Bothersome, but not alarming. Shortly thereafter, we heard thunder up in the nearby mountains. I simply commented that I hoped we wouldn't have a flash-flood and rolled over and went to sleep. Needless to say, visions of her family and herself being swept done a swollen creek by a 30 foot wall of water kept Sharon awake all night. That one little off-hand comment has caused me a lot of grief over the years.

A year or so later, we went camping in Saratoga Wyoming. Again we pitched camp and I went to try my luck fishing. Immediately after making my 1st cast, my entire arm turned black, covered by a zillion mosquitoes. With each cast, a buzzing black cloud would arise from my arm as I drew back to make the cast, only to resettle on any exposed piece of flesh as soon as the cast was completed. I was sure I was going to run out of blood before I caught my first fish. The other guys we were camping with were having the same experience so we broke camp and moved to another campground, up in the mountains, far away from the water. No mosquitoes, but we had moved into bear country. While we were in the process of pitching camp, for the second time that afternoon, Natalie wondered off by herself up a road. She had no more than gotten out of sight, when we heard two blood curdling screams. We looked up to see Natalie streaking down the road towards the camp, screaming at the top of her lungs. We quickly learned that she had come face to face with a bear cub which had turned and gone streaking up the road, screaming at the top of it's lungs. We went up the road to investigate. Apparently, the momma bear, showing more common sense than the rest of us, had collected her young and moved on. We learned from other people in the campground that the night before a bear had ripped the top off of a camper - we were in a tent. The next day the ranger showed up with a bear trap and proceeded to catch and trap a yearling cub.

This last weekend, Mike and Sue went to climb one of the 14'ners in southern Colorado, I have forgotten which mountain, it is not important other than to note that it was in bear country. After having successfully scaled the peak they returned to their camp to celebrate their conquest with a few Coronas and a succulent, aromatic, savory chicken dinner. Which I might add, was cooked in the great out-of-doors, probably in the middle of their camp. After devouring this feast, they proceeded to put the empty bottles, accompanied by the chicken bones and remaining carcass, into a plastic trash bag which then was tightly tied and placed on top of their car. (Don't ask, I don't know!)

As most of you are aware, the Stanley's have two dogs: Thor, a Pomeranian and Kulua, a friendly but no-nonsense Chow chow, a huge black dog with a purple tongue. I am told that Thor normally sleeps in the tent and Kalua normally sleeps outside at the tent's door; both raise a ruckus at the slightest sound from the dark edges of camp.

In the middle of the night, the Stanley's were both awakened by the sound of the bag of Corona bottles hitting the ground - not a sound was being made by the dogs. Susan asks, "What's that!" Mike decides to investigate, so he shines his flashlight out of the tent towards the car - towards the large black animal with two beady eyes. The beady eyes just stare at him and then move off across the road. Kulua, is just sitting there, staring straight ahead like a statue, not moving a muscle, not breathing and surely not making a sound. The low, quiet, throaty growls are coming from Thor, the pipsqueak "safely" ensconced in the tent. Susan is still unaware of the nature of the intruder, so she again asks Mike what happened. "It was nothing but a bear," he replies, trying to calculate his chances of going back to sleep. Once Sue heard "bear", all thoughts of sleep for anyone were eliminated, they broke camp and returned home. Mike reports that the long trip home in the middle of the night was totally devoid of drowsiness. I wonder why?