If you missed part 2, here is the link: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/showthread.php/1402966-Spring-Hiking-Story-Part-2-The-Storm
We spent the remainder of day and night sleeping and eating. It continued to rain all night like heaven itself was overfull of water. We had no further problems with ghosts during the night. Just at the crack of dawn, however, something shattered the window in the room where we slept! I jumped up just in time to see one of the other guys that was with me, outside the house throwing rocks. He was laughing his head off because he knew we would think it was the ghost. After all of our scares, I ran outside and chased him. His legs were longer and I could not quite get him. If I could have I would have skinned him alive!
It was only then that we got a chance to take stock of our situation. By the light of a Spring sun and a now cloudless sky, we saw that the river below was out of its banks and even the valley beyond was under water. That did not bode well. The road, where we stood, followed a ridge, so we were above the water. As far as we could see, there was water in the valley.
We decided we needed to get to a telephone and call our parents. They would be worried about us and we needed to get out of there. Since I was the youngest, the older two guys voted that I would hike the ten miles to a telephone and make the call. They would stay near the fire and stay warm. They laughed and laughed at me about it.
It had turned a bit cool, even during the day. I started walking down the road. Off on the downhill side, all was under water. After I had gone about a mile and a half to two miles, I heard a car coming up behind me. A man stopped and said he had talked to my friends and came to give me a ride. He told me all the homes and everything in the valley in front of me were under water, and the same was true behind me. The house with the telephone was situated up on the mountainside, so it was high and dry.
When I got into the car with him, I soon realized I had made a terrible mistake. He was so drunk he could not see straight. He would careen over to the cliff face on one side, then hit his brakes hard, then careen over the other side, almost going over the cliff to the flood bellow, before braking and swerving back, again. Down the road we went like that, with me praying and repenting of everything I could think of, if only God let me survive!
Finally, we reached the flooded lower road and I gratefully got out of the car and climbed up a little way on the mountain and started off on foot. I still had about four and a half miles to go. So, I took my Buck 120 out and cut a sapling and made a staff. Having a good knife with you is important. The side of the mountain was very steep, too steep for climbing, but going along its face with a staff was possible. It was grueling, hard work. Along the way, I saw a couple of two story homes covered with water till only the chimneys stood above the flood, like lonely sentinels marking an unknown grave. The water was that deep! Finally, I saw the house with the telephone, climbed the steep drive, and knocked on the door.
I knew my friends were laughing at me, thinking of how I was wet, cold, hungry, and tired, with another ten mile hike to go in the other direction, while they were warm by the fire. But, I was to have the last laugh! When the man and woman opened the door and they saw my wet, bedraggled figure, they ushered me right inside and I sat by the woodstove. I told them my tale and the woman brought me some clean clothes to put on, had me bathe, and washed and dried my own clothes. Then she fixed up a huge breakfast of bacon, ham, biscuits, and red-eye gravy. I must have drunk a gallon of coffee, too. They let me use the telephone to call my father, but he said he could not get into the area, yet, due to the high water.
When my clothes were dry, still warm from the dryer, I hiked back the way I had come. I hated leaving that warm house and especially those biscuits. That woman could cook! When I reached the high road again, I started walking, and a long walk it was going to be, too. Suddenly, that old drunk in his old white car came into view. He stopped and offered me a ride. He was drinking still, and just driving up and down that small stretch of unflooded road. I knew I shouldnt, but I got in, anyway. Back we went, careening from death to death, and me all the time repenting again of everything I had ever done and asking God to spare my life.
I finally made it back to my friends and they were some put out when I told them about how I had been treated by that fine family. They were damp, dirty, and cold, I was clean, and full, and secretly had a stash of biscuits and ham the woman packed for me. They did not look too kindly at me. I guess it was my snickering.
The next day, the floodwaters had gone down enough that my father could get to us, slowly. So, back out we went, slowly, creeping, the water half way up the car, for many miles, until we got out safely.
On another trip, we found out that a tornado had passed close to our tent on the mountain.; a near miss. I guess I will remember that hiking trip all of my life. It is not every adventure that is full of ghosts, storms, and floods, all together like that. I especially remember the kindness of those mountain folk, who took me in, a stranger, all wet and hungry, in my time of need. May God bless them richly for that, always.
We spent the remainder of day and night sleeping and eating. It continued to rain all night like heaven itself was overfull of water. We had no further problems with ghosts during the night. Just at the crack of dawn, however, something shattered the window in the room where we slept! I jumped up just in time to see one of the other guys that was with me, outside the house throwing rocks. He was laughing his head off because he knew we would think it was the ghost. After all of our scares, I ran outside and chased him. His legs were longer and I could not quite get him. If I could have I would have skinned him alive!
It was only then that we got a chance to take stock of our situation. By the light of a Spring sun and a now cloudless sky, we saw that the river below was out of its banks and even the valley beyond was under water. That did not bode well. The road, where we stood, followed a ridge, so we were above the water. As far as we could see, there was water in the valley.
We decided we needed to get to a telephone and call our parents. They would be worried about us and we needed to get out of there. Since I was the youngest, the older two guys voted that I would hike the ten miles to a telephone and make the call. They would stay near the fire and stay warm. They laughed and laughed at me about it.
It had turned a bit cool, even during the day. I started walking down the road. Off on the downhill side, all was under water. After I had gone about a mile and a half to two miles, I heard a car coming up behind me. A man stopped and said he had talked to my friends and came to give me a ride. He told me all the homes and everything in the valley in front of me were under water, and the same was true behind me. The house with the telephone was situated up on the mountainside, so it was high and dry.
When I got into the car with him, I soon realized I had made a terrible mistake. He was so drunk he could not see straight. He would careen over to the cliff face on one side, then hit his brakes hard, then careen over the other side, almost going over the cliff to the flood bellow, before braking and swerving back, again. Down the road we went like that, with me praying and repenting of everything I could think of, if only God let me survive!
Finally, we reached the flooded lower road and I gratefully got out of the car and climbed up a little way on the mountain and started off on foot. I still had about four and a half miles to go. So, I took my Buck 120 out and cut a sapling and made a staff. Having a good knife with you is important. The side of the mountain was very steep, too steep for climbing, but going along its face with a staff was possible. It was grueling, hard work. Along the way, I saw a couple of two story homes covered with water till only the chimneys stood above the flood, like lonely sentinels marking an unknown grave. The water was that deep! Finally, I saw the house with the telephone, climbed the steep drive, and knocked on the door.
I knew my friends were laughing at me, thinking of how I was wet, cold, hungry, and tired, with another ten mile hike to go in the other direction, while they were warm by the fire. But, I was to have the last laugh! When the man and woman opened the door and they saw my wet, bedraggled figure, they ushered me right inside and I sat by the woodstove. I told them my tale and the woman brought me some clean clothes to put on, had me bathe, and washed and dried my own clothes. Then she fixed up a huge breakfast of bacon, ham, biscuits, and red-eye gravy. I must have drunk a gallon of coffee, too. They let me use the telephone to call my father, but he said he could not get into the area, yet, due to the high water.
When my clothes were dry, still warm from the dryer, I hiked back the way I had come. I hated leaving that warm house and especially those biscuits. That woman could cook! When I reached the high road again, I started walking, and a long walk it was going to be, too. Suddenly, that old drunk in his old white car came into view. He stopped and offered me a ride. He was drinking still, and just driving up and down that small stretch of unflooded road. I knew I shouldnt, but I got in, anyway. Back we went, careening from death to death, and me all the time repenting again of everything I had ever done and asking God to spare my life.
I finally made it back to my friends and they were some put out when I told them about how I had been treated by that fine family. They were damp, dirty, and cold, I was clean, and full, and secretly had a stash of biscuits and ham the woman packed for me. They did not look too kindly at me. I guess it was my snickering.
The next day, the floodwaters had gone down enough that my father could get to us, slowly. So, back out we went, slowly, creeping, the water half way up the car, for many miles, until we got out safely.
On another trip, we found out that a tornado had passed close to our tent on the mountain.; a near miss. I guess I will remember that hiking trip all of my life. It is not every adventure that is full of ghosts, storms, and floods, all together like that. I especially remember the kindness of those mountain folk, who took me in, a stranger, all wet and hungry, in my time of need. May God bless them richly for that, always.
