In case you missed Part 1, here is the link: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/s...-Spring-Hiking-Adventure-Part-1-A-Ghost-Story
Part 2
Leaving that haunted house gratefully behind, we climbed the near vertical mountain side in total darkness. There was no sound but our labored breathing. As we topped a ridge, the sky gratefully began to lighten. We rested a while and then hiked on into the growing light. Dawn came gloriously. The birds were singing, there was a bit of a chill in the air up that high, and we forgot all about our stay in the house of ghosts.
We hiked on, passing through a lovely hanging valley, with a good stream of cold pure water. We startled a couple of deer and watched them bound away, white tails waving their warnings. About noon we came to an old cemetery. The mountain folk had buried their loved ones there, but the most of the graves were in the 1800s. There was one or two from the early 1900s but none later. This was a relatively open, flat, grassy area on the mountain. We moved down past it and camped in a grassy area that was nearly an open meadow. There was a good spring and plenty of firewood. We were exhausted from no sleep and the hard climb so we called it early that day. We had been hiking since 3:00 in the morning and it was now about noon.
It was a beautiful day. The sun was out and there were a few clouds in the sky. We broke out the tent and set it up. It would sleep 6 or 7 people. We dug around the tent out of habit, just in case of rain, so the water would run off and not into the tent. We also set up a 10x10 tarp at the front flap of the tent, about 5 feet off the ground. This would give us shelter and a place for a covered fire for cooking if it rained. It was not expected to rain, but one never knew. I went and cut and or broke a stack of wood, more than we would need, since we planned to hike again on the next morning to our next stop in our planned 3 day trek. I used my Buck 120 to process some of the smaller firewood, such as making kindling and fuzz for starting the fire.
We sat around the fire, telling tales and just enjoying ourselves. We cooked lunch and dozed. I used my Buck 120 to open a can of food. This was in the days before all those dehydrated or pre-packaged lightweight meal packs. Around 4:00 in the afternoon, though, clouds began to gather. By 4:30 it began to rain, softly at first, and then harder. And then, it really began to rain.
About 5:00 it started raining so hard we could not see trees 20 or 30 feet from our tent. It was as if someone had lowered a steel curtain around us. Then the wind began to blow. It bent huge trees over sideways and howled like a damned soul in the depths of a burning hell. The lightning flashed continually and the thunder rolled like some gigantic battle between artillery armies. The noise was deafening and the lightning terrifying.
The rain and lightning and wind continued far into the night. It was a night filled with terror, for even though we had selected a partially sheltered place, the wind was still strong and howled like a shrieking demon. The thunder seemed to get worse, if that were possible. The tent bucked and trembled. We had to get out in the rain a few times and re-secure the lines early on, but later, we were too afraid to worry about it.
Water began to drip into the tent from the top and the trench no longer was able to hold back the water from below. Water crept into the bottom as the whole meadow was flooded ankle deep. At about 3:00 in the morning, one of the guys decided to poke his head outside to see what was happening and when he opened the tent, I saw it! The 10x10 tarp, 5 feet off the ground, had filled with water till the middle rested on the ground! Too late, I yelled, Watch out! His head contacted that tarp, already on the brink of bursting, and it let go with a Whoosh! A tidal wave of water washed into our tent, washing us all to the back and soaking everything inside that was not already wet.
O, what misery, to be soaked, no place dry to sleep, and a storm too violent to sleep in. So, with the lightning playing over our heads and the rain lashing us like coach whips, we broke camp, and packed up. We decided that the ghost filled house was better than this storm beaten mountaintop at the moment. We needed to dry out. At 4:00 we started down off the mountain into the storm.
All the way the trail was rushing knee to mid-thigh deep with torrents of water. The lightning continuously lit up the dark sky. Out flashlights gave out and we walked in inky blackness. Since much of the trail was intersected by dry creek beds, there were times when the water was waist deep or more. Our legs would be washed out from under us and we would be torn down stream, bumping over rocks and logs for untold distances. It was a terrifying ordeal. We finally reached the bottom of the mountain, wet, and exhausted, well into the day. We crawled into that haunted house, too tired to care what we might face, and pulled off our wet clothes, built a fire to dry them by, and fell asleep.
Part 3: The Flood next week
Part 2
Leaving that haunted house gratefully behind, we climbed the near vertical mountain side in total darkness. There was no sound but our labored breathing. As we topped a ridge, the sky gratefully began to lighten. We rested a while and then hiked on into the growing light. Dawn came gloriously. The birds were singing, there was a bit of a chill in the air up that high, and we forgot all about our stay in the house of ghosts.
We hiked on, passing through a lovely hanging valley, with a good stream of cold pure water. We startled a couple of deer and watched them bound away, white tails waving their warnings. About noon we came to an old cemetery. The mountain folk had buried their loved ones there, but the most of the graves were in the 1800s. There was one or two from the early 1900s but none later. This was a relatively open, flat, grassy area on the mountain. We moved down past it and camped in a grassy area that was nearly an open meadow. There was a good spring and plenty of firewood. We were exhausted from no sleep and the hard climb so we called it early that day. We had been hiking since 3:00 in the morning and it was now about noon.
It was a beautiful day. The sun was out and there were a few clouds in the sky. We broke out the tent and set it up. It would sleep 6 or 7 people. We dug around the tent out of habit, just in case of rain, so the water would run off and not into the tent. We also set up a 10x10 tarp at the front flap of the tent, about 5 feet off the ground. This would give us shelter and a place for a covered fire for cooking if it rained. It was not expected to rain, but one never knew. I went and cut and or broke a stack of wood, more than we would need, since we planned to hike again on the next morning to our next stop in our planned 3 day trek. I used my Buck 120 to process some of the smaller firewood, such as making kindling and fuzz for starting the fire.
We sat around the fire, telling tales and just enjoying ourselves. We cooked lunch and dozed. I used my Buck 120 to open a can of food. This was in the days before all those dehydrated or pre-packaged lightweight meal packs. Around 4:00 in the afternoon, though, clouds began to gather. By 4:30 it began to rain, softly at first, and then harder. And then, it really began to rain.
About 5:00 it started raining so hard we could not see trees 20 or 30 feet from our tent. It was as if someone had lowered a steel curtain around us. Then the wind began to blow. It bent huge trees over sideways and howled like a damned soul in the depths of a burning hell. The lightning flashed continually and the thunder rolled like some gigantic battle between artillery armies. The noise was deafening and the lightning terrifying.
The rain and lightning and wind continued far into the night. It was a night filled with terror, for even though we had selected a partially sheltered place, the wind was still strong and howled like a shrieking demon. The thunder seemed to get worse, if that were possible. The tent bucked and trembled. We had to get out in the rain a few times and re-secure the lines early on, but later, we were too afraid to worry about it.
Water began to drip into the tent from the top and the trench no longer was able to hold back the water from below. Water crept into the bottom as the whole meadow was flooded ankle deep. At about 3:00 in the morning, one of the guys decided to poke his head outside to see what was happening and when he opened the tent, I saw it! The 10x10 tarp, 5 feet off the ground, had filled with water till the middle rested on the ground! Too late, I yelled, Watch out! His head contacted that tarp, already on the brink of bursting, and it let go with a Whoosh! A tidal wave of water washed into our tent, washing us all to the back and soaking everything inside that was not already wet.
O, what misery, to be soaked, no place dry to sleep, and a storm too violent to sleep in. So, with the lightning playing over our heads and the rain lashing us like coach whips, we broke camp, and packed up. We decided that the ghost filled house was better than this storm beaten mountaintop at the moment. We needed to dry out. At 4:00 we started down off the mountain into the storm.
All the way the trail was rushing knee to mid-thigh deep with torrents of water. The lightning continuously lit up the dark sky. Out flashlights gave out and we walked in inky blackness. Since much of the trail was intersected by dry creek beds, there were times when the water was waist deep or more. Our legs would be washed out from under us and we would be torn down stream, bumping over rocks and logs for untold distances. It was a terrifying ordeal. We finally reached the bottom of the mountain, wet, and exhausted, well into the day. We crawled into that haunted house, too tired to care what we might face, and pulled off our wet clothes, built a fire to dry them by, and fell asleep.
Part 3: The Flood next week
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