; Traveler-217

Chapter 217


Our hope is that every homosexual youth in this country can find a home and someone to love them as they are.
No one deserves to be discriminated against, no matter what their differences from society's norm

A tidy quote from chapter 137
"titles belong on books, not people" ©Carl Dickson—2007

Does your mother know you're reading this shit?

Warning: This story is PORNO. I have tried my hand at friction, now I'm trying fiction. This story contains vivid descriptions of sexual activity between men and teen boys.
It contains no truth, partial truth, or half truth. What it does contain is stroking material. If this kind of story turns you off, or offends you, please find something else.
The author does not encourage or condone sex between adults and underage children.

If you are underage, or if this is illegal where you are, then please go away. If you're under 18, Adios come back when it is legal for you to read this smut.
If you lied about your age in order to access this story, remember this is our story. Life doesn't always work out like a story.

A strongly worded suggestion has resulted in this statement.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either
are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitioiusly,
and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Thus said, this story is copyrighted, ©2005-2012. It is therefore illegal to copy or use any part of this story on any other web site without my written permission.

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    Two years have passed since Raven sent his sons to live with me. Raven had told me at the time that he wanted his sons to spend two years in America so that they could learn for themselves what sort of people Americans were and form their own judgements. Raven runs a fairly tight country in that the religious zealots known to that part of the world are not established as leaders and dictators over the people of his lands. Raven's kingdom is more of a democracy—with a King.
    I feared that the boys would want to return home. They have become a solid part of my house of happy fairies and are deeply loved by all of us. Some of them get really deeply loved, butt they keep turning up for more. The older boys are ready to move onto college, and I am glad to help them go. Raven told them that the decision is theirs. He told them that he misses them and that there would be dancing in the streets when they return home, but he was proud that they wanted to continue to gain a solid education.
    Anwar, Da'ud, and Hana went to Toby for advice. Toby was proud that his cousins sought him. He wants to be part of his blood family. He loves his uncle Raven and wants to help him wherever he can. He has been studying hydrology as the main focus of his civil engineer studies. He wants to find ways to bring fresh water to the arid nation of his ancestors. His main focus has been in the processes involved in desalination of sea water. That is what interested the three boys.
    Crown Prince Arif decided on a career in law. "So look, daddy, if I am going to be the king someday then I should know all about the law. A good place to start is with American law since I am here and it is available to me. Later I can go to a European university and learn about their ways of creating laws. I also want to study international law then I will have to study Islamic law. I have studied the Koran so I know a little about the law as it is perceived by the religious segment of the world's societies. I have also read deeply into the Torah so that I can learn more to the Judeo-Christian beliefs. If I know a lot about all of the different laws then I will be able to make informed decision when I am the ruler of my father's nation."
    Very smart thinking for a boy of eighteen years of age. I see a lot of parallels between him and King Cullen. I wonder if the little fop has influenced the Crown Prince. I know that he has impacted our other Crown Prince, Cory. Cory is very glad to make as deep of an impression as he can on the Crown head

    I was proud of four of the girls from BAG. The girl's school now boasts an enrollment of fifteen young ladies ranging in age from fourteen to twenty. The girls have worked hard under Sagi's tutelage and are functioning at grade level. Four of them were ready to enter their senior year of high school.
    Quemela has become good friends with all of the girls and she had learned of their most fervent desire; they wanted to attend a regular high school and go to a prom, with a boy friend. I talked it over with my wife and Sagi and we agreed to give them the chance. They had all been model students. They were drug free. They were young girls looking to get a start into a world which they had thought lost to them. They deserved the chance.
    Pam was my one stumbling block. She was twenty years old. She had dropped out of school at fifteen to give birth to her precious son, Petey. The boy is almost six and is in kindergarten each morning. After school care had been arranged for the walking, talking, energy system that keeps everyone around him on their toes. A visit to the school board and Pam was accepted, along with her sisters, as transfer students to Wilson High School

    I sent Cullen's limousine to transport Betty to her favorite spot in Tucson, my country club. I called Chrisy to confirm something that he had told me one time. He had told me how much his grandmother missed her favorite seafood restaurant in Sacramento. He told me that she loves shrimp and that the restaurant back home served giant prawns, breaded and deep fried.

    I enlisted the aid of Sagi and Quemela to get me more information. Betty has been teaching home economics to the girls for more than a year. Bonnie Ladd is now a fifteen year old girl that had called the fŗĩęñďş Çłųß hotline after she had slit her wrists. She was being regularly molested by her father and she decided to end her life rather than to do anything to stop him.
    Esther Roberts had been the supervisor on duty at the call center when Bonnie called in in desperation. Esther had recruited Dickie Heakin's mother to work at the call center, it was she that took the call. Bonnie was a frightened little girl. She hated her dad, but she had changed her mind and did not want to die. She begged Mrs. Heakin not to call the police. She was confident that she was not bleeding much at all and that maybe she didn't really hurt herself. Mrs. Heakin convinced the sparse fourteen year old to allow her to come and see her
    When Mrs. Heakin arrived Bonnie was in the house alone. She had placed large Band Aids on each of her wrists. Mrs. Heakin cradled the scared child in her arms and let her cry. Esther had called me and I had called JC. No child should ever be molested against their will. Children are curious and want to feel grown up. They sometimes allow others to do things to their bodies that they find that they do not like. That is where our family's NO rule comes into play.
    Bonnie had never consented to her father's advances, he had forcibly raped her when she was twelve. She had experienced her first period and was feeling quite grown up. Her father felt like she was grown up too and he showed her the joy of being grown up. It was no joy to the diminutive baby of twelve years of age. The abuse was not a one time thing. Her father came to her almost daily and used her body. I set out to show him the joys of grown up sex and how good a grown up cock up his ass would make him feel.
    Mrs. Heakin and one of JC's female case workers convinced Bonnie that she needed to see a doctor. The cuts on her arm were minor and JC managed to have that information left off of the medical report. The part of the report that was not left off was the six week old fetus in Bonnie's womb. Because of her size and age it was easy to obtain an abortion. The fetus was examined and DNA proved it be the father's child growing inside of his own daughter. A child that had the right to expect her father to protect her from that sort of abuse.
    The judge was lenient with Mr. Ladd. The man will only have to serve ninety six years of the two hundred and four years that he was sentenced to. By stacking the lesser charges to run concurrently more than a hundred years were taken away from the man. On the other fifteen charges he will have to serve eighty five percent of each sentence before he is eligible for parole, then he can start serving his time on the next charge. Conceivably he could be out of prison in fifty two years. He will be released as a repetitive, non-repentant sexual predator and be moved into a hospital for sexual deviants where he can live and eat for free for the remainder of his days.
    I have been told that Mr. Ladd looks good in lady's makeup. His hair is long and he ties it up in a ponytail each day, but at night he lets his hair down as he plays the part of a little girl for his celly and anyone else willing to rent the man's sloppy ass out for the night. My pen pals tell me that he is a top earner for his landlord. The celly gets to keep half of what Mr. Ladd earns. I wonder if the celly and the landlord can be charged with accepting the earnings of a prostitute? Nah, the man isn't selling himself, he is being sold. Bonnie doesn't know that, of course.
    So I got off on a tangent. I wanted you to know who Bonnie was before I told you what she said about Betty's classes on sewing. She said that now she could sew buttons on to button her father up. Not very glib, not even cute. It is just a thought from a little girl that has suffered terribly at the hands of her own family.
    The girls at BAG love Betty. They all car her grandma. The girls are required to eat what they cook, they make some super fine foods. Ugitsiha and I have eaten lunch with the girls many times. The girls enjoy our visits. They like to mother Cory Stevens and Cullen James. I believe that everyone of those young ladies will make fine wives and mothers someday.
    Ugitsiha and Sagi told me that they were talking to Betty one day at school and the subject of how to prepare shrimp came up. Betty's eyes drifted as she told the girls that she could eat her weight in shrimp cocktail served with a strong horseradish sauce. A woman after my own heart, it is not everyday that a man finds a woman that likes horseradish.
    Betty showed the girls how to bread jumbo shrimp then fast fry them in a shallow pan, or wok, with barely enough grease to cover them. She said that she really liked the larger prawns, but they are hard to find in Tucson. I had fifty pounds of the sea scavenger shipped in from the Wharf in San Francisco. They were not frozen, but packed solidly in ice. They left the Wharf at noon and lay on plates before us at six. Well, more like six thirty, Betty ate two twelve count shrimp cocktails made with cooked jumbo shrimp.
    Sage had written down the ingredients for the breading mix from Betty's class. The chef of my club was happy to prepare the prawns that way. He should be, he had a fifty pound box of prawns fresh from out of the ocean that cost him nothing. Betty and I ate two pounds, the rest were placed on the menu as the catch of the day for only $22,45 per plate. He sold out by eight o'clock. After factoring salad, string beans, and a baked potato, plus the labor to prepare the meal he made a nice one thousand dollar tip from me.
    I doctored my baked potato with real butter, sour cream, sharp cheddar cheese, real bacon bits, and chopped scallions then topped it off with lots of black pepper. Betty watched me prepare my food. "What is on your mind, Chris?"
    It was time to break the news to her. I told her that Pam, Janice, Toni, and Jean wanted to attend Wilson high and graduate from a public highschool. I watched a line of moisture collected along the bottom of both of her eyes.
    "Are you going to let them go?"
    "Oh you wonderful, wonderful man. You are so good to these children. I am going to help the girls make their prom dresses. I will take each of them shopping individually. We will look at prom dresses and find a style that is best for each girl. I will buy patterns and plenty of material…"
    I thought that she would be sad to be losing almost a third of her class. I am just no good when it come to reading women

    It seems to be inevitable that someone will wait until the very last minute to make an important purchase. It was the end of the first day of school when I heard a group of boys begging Cory to take them to the mall. I walked up to them and listened in. They had a legitimate need, it was just a need that could have been fulfilled during the many back-to-school shopping trips during the summer.
    Clark Riskind was on his knees offering Cory the sexual favors of his boyfriend, Ross Gage in exchange for a ride to the mall. Cory looked at me and wiggled his eyebrows. Ross is one hot little blonde boy, and if the rumors are true he is also a hot and ready bottom. I have never talked with the two boys and I saw an opportunity to do so.
    Brock Burke and Larry Callahan were with Clark and Ross, they too wanted to go to the mall. I have not had an opportunity to talk with Larry since Shin Seldon left him for Nicolas Lamb.
    I had spent some time with fourteen year old Brock and his father when Brock was brought to the school in late 2008. The boy had announced to all far and wide that he was gay. His older second cousin is a former child movie star that has an insatiable appetite for boi cock. Brock's father didn't want his son to share in the elder name sakes notoriety. That former child movie star has gone to far as to post a sexually explicit web-site of open sexual activities with teenage boys. Brock has adjusted well to the school's surroundings and rules. Larry Callahan may be one reason.
    I had a funeral to attend on Friday and I could use a new pair of Florsheim Shoes, I offered to take the four boys to the mall.
    Clark and Ross sat in the back seat of the Escalade wrapped up in each other's arms. One would think that they had not seen each other in a long time. Brock sat next to them and giggled at their antics. He was heard to tell the loving duo that they should get a room before they left a creamy mess on the front of their jeans. That would not do to walk around the mall with such an obvious tell tale sign at their crotches.
    Larry sat in the seat next to me, shotgun. He wanted to talk. I wanted to listen. I had made one super mistake with Larry when we had gotten our data wrong about Shin Seldon. I used the shopping trip as an opportunity to learn how the boy was doing now.
    Larry had turned sixteen on Sunday. I had missed his big birthday party because I was playing in a mountain lake with three other of my students and six hotter than hot Indian boys. Larry leaned over close to me as we waited for a light to change to green. "I'm sixteen now and I know what I want. I would like more than anything to have myself a gold pin."
    Brock leaned up between the seats and said, "Me too."
    I asked them why. They quickly informed me that the pin has come to represent a boy's eagerness and prowess. I wanted to know if it stood for anyone's status or standing in the school or in the family. They shook their heads no.
    "Dad, I have been with you a long time. You gave me a home when those people at my foster homes said I was nothing but a dirty queer. You never asked anything of me, yet you showed me more love than I ever had before. I see the boys that have their pins and they don't act any different than anybody else. There are some boys in the house and in the school that have bigger dicks than yours. That is not what anybody talks about. They all talk about how much love you make them feel. I love you more than anybody in the whole wide world and I want to be loved by you in that way. I know for a fact that you love me, you have shown that to me everyday that I have been here. I just want to feel your sexual love, just once will be fine, more often if I can."
    Simply put from a loving, trusting boy that has been tossed about by everyone in his life.
    We pulled into the parking lot of the mall and I was surprised at the large amount of traffic. It seemed as if everybody had some last minute school shopping to do. Funny thing was that public school had started three weeks earlier. An FI roving security car passed me then cut in front of me. He turned on his yellow light bar on the roof and waved at me to follow him. He escorted me through the packed parking lot to the large entrance at the side of the mall. Our security detail's office was located just inside that entrance. I was directed to a parking spot marked for police and security vehicles only. A security golf cart rolled up to the side of my vehicle and asked me where I would like to shop.
    I don't like to crowd the boys. I let our escort take us to the food court where we could part and meet back an hour later. I had the security guard drive me over to the Florsheim Shoe store. I was listening to the young rent-a-cop tell me what an asset he is to FI and how he was not being used to his full potential. A man bolted from a CD and music store across the wide span of pedestrian walkway. Close behind him was the store manager yelling for the thief to stop.
    Almost at the same time two young high school girls pushed past the store manage and ran after the first man. One of the girls had to be a track and field award winner, and one hell of a football tackle. She overtook the fleeing man and tackled him to the floor, CDs scattered from the inside of the man's jacket. My security guard continued to tell me how good he was. I got out of the cart and headed over to see the action.
    The man was a seventeen year old boy. He was dressed with a coat and tie which made him appear older from a distance. He had ten expensive new release CDs tucked into his waist band under his jacket. The two girls were looking at CDs when the boy picked up the last copy of one that our young heroine wanted to purchase. When the boy tucked the CD into his pants she started to yell for a store employee. She was calling the man a shoplifter. He bolted from the store, she was hot on his heels. A woman scorned? Don't get in the way of kids these days and their music.
    The FI job captain came to make his report. I led him over to my young driver and relieved him of his badge and radio. I told him that he should find another position to become a major asset too and left him standing there with fifty gawkers watching.
    I turned to leave and met Ross face to face. He and Clark had purchased their thong underwear and were passing by when they saw me. They wanted to go with me to the shoe store, they wanted to talk. The staff at that particular Florsheim's store know me and what I like. They brought out a selection of fashionable shoes for my perusal. I am not one to seek fashion, rather I go for functionality. I like a shoe that hides my toes and protects the bottoms of my feet from chewing gum on the ground. I selected two pairs.
    "Those are beautiful shoes. I wish that I had a pair of shoes like that," Ross said.
    "Yeah, babe. Then when we go to church we wouldn't have to wear sneakers."
    "And when we dress up in our school uniforms for concerts and other appearances we would look more grown up and look like we cared."
    "Would one of you like to ask me to purchase a pair of shoes for you?"
    "Dad, you do so much for us now that we could never ask for anything extra." I must have blanched because both boys stepped back a bit. I put an arm around their shoulders and pulled them to me for a tight hug. Both of them wore their shiny black wing tips out of the store. We met Brock and Larry and had to return to the store for two more pair of new shoes.
    The boys were excited about their grownup shoes. I called them old man shoes and they giggled at me and told me that I wore them and that I wasn't old. Sometimes even a fished for complement moves my heart. My kids keep me young and happy. It is not only sex that I seek from my boys, I bask in their happiness and feel their love as my heart moves the love within me.
    Everybody found something that they wanted at the food court and we sat together enjoying the food and the company. Okay, I had a large bowl of egg drop soup, satisfied now? I was anxious to hear about Clark and Ross and how they came to know one another. They came to the school at different times, but I suspected that they had a history.
    Ross Gage and his younger cousin, Drew Shively were pawned off on their grandmother by their queer hating parents. Grandmother found that two teenaged boys were more than she could deal with when she sent them to me to house and educate. She supports the two boys and loves them. The grandmother is outspoken. She has two openly gay grandsons that were fairly well known by the members of the church, yet she spoke up in the sanctuary against Cas living in open sin with a man that he called his husband. The congregation stood behind Cas and the grandmother. She was only voicing her feelings, not sitting in judgement.
    Ross is a very cute fifteen year old boy. I noticed that he has gotten himself a tattoo of a small blue star just behind his left earlobe. I don't like tattoos, or any permanent marks on a boy. They may grow up to hate it later when it painful and expensive to remove. I let Cory talk me into a pierced ear so that we could each wear one half of a pair of ear studs. A pierced ear can be allowed to grow shut.
    Ross and Clark are a salt and pepper team. He is a snow white blond while Clark is a dark brunette. Ross has perfect vision while Clark wears thick glasses. I have heard it said that opposites attract. I let the boys talk as all of us learned their history.
    The boys grew up next door to each other. Ross is an only child while Clark lived with his aunt and uncle, their two younger daughters and a baby boy. The boys learned everything that they know about life in the company of the other. Natural boy curiosity led to sexual looking, then touching, then tasting from about eight years of age until eleven. At that time they discovered mutual oral stimulation—sixty nine—and their lives became deeper entwined.
    One afternoon the boys were careless and loud. They were naked on Ross's bed as they enjoyed the nectar de-ballocks when Ross's dad opened the door to tell the boys that he was home. Clark was sent home and Ross received the worst spanking that his father had ever given him. Mr. Gage then went to the telephone and called Mr. Riskind to tell him what the bpys were involved in.
    Ross did not see Clark again. He had moved away. A few weeks later Ross moved into his mother's mother's home. She is old and sick, but she loves the boy and was willing to take him in from a son-in-law that made statements like, 'I'll see the little faggot dead before I'm through.' In peril of her own health she would protect her grandson.
    Three weeks later Ross's cousin, Drew, moved in with him and his grandmother. Drew needed to have a physical examination to play junior high school football. The doctor found signs of long term anal penetration, the police were called. An investigation revealed an eighteen year old high school senior that had befriended the boy. They had been having anal sex together for three years, since Drew was ten.
    The older boy was tried as an adult and sentenced to one hundred and six years for ongoing sex with a child under twelve. Drew's divorced mother did not want a fag to ruin her hopes of finding a good man to marry.
    Drew told Ross how much he enjoyed being loved. Anal sex had never occurred to Ross, he tried it. Drew would not suck him and he had a very tiny dick, but Ross enjoyed getting inside the smaller boys tight ass three times, or more, each day.
    When their grandmother informed them that they would be attending BAW they were excited. Ross is a confirmed cock sucker and he missed the sweet results and smells of a hard mouth fuck. He leaned forward to tell me that he loves to make Clark work up a sweat while he is sucking him off. He grinned as he told me that when he licks all of the drippings from Clark's crotch he gets a salty treat as well. I asked him if he liked ball sweat, and he told me that he had licked the nuts of some of the boys in the dorm and that he likes it a lot. I was so hard that I was not about to rise up from my seat.
    I asked them why Clark was trying to give Ross's ass away to Cory.
    "Because dad, getting it on with either one of you two is the main goal of every dude in the school. Some of them have done you and everyone else wants to. I never had any cock up my ass 'cept Clark and he never had none but mine either. But we both want to spend the night with you and Cory and let real men love us the way we want to be loved." It was time for us to head back to the house

    Mavis Maybelle was really the only woman that had ever shown love to Nolan. His own mother had abandoned him at an old dirty truck stop along the pre-freeway highway on the edge of Tucson when we was eight years old. Mavis had been his new mother. She nursed him and fed him, she clothed him and comforted him when he was sick, or just blue and needed a mother's touch. Her death was, to Nolan, like losing a mother.
    I flew to the ranch each day to get my business started and to help Nolan with funeral plans. The law had to make sure that there was no complicity in the death of the one hundred and four year old woman. As stupid as it seems an autopsy had to be performed. The state also required that the body be embalmed before burial, a fact that really hurt Nolan. He had buried Willie in an old pine box in the small family plot surrounded by bee hives. Festus was interred in a pine box and buried near the corral where he had worked for most all of his life. Why couldn't Mavis be buried in the same way.
    Nolan had been quietly constructing an oak casket. The boys had helped him carve fancy swirls and designs along the sides. The interior of the casket was fitted with pure white silk over goose down padding prepared by a few of the women of the tribe that lived on the north end of the ranch. The state was requiring a concrete vault so that her remains would not contaminate the ground water. That was the wrong thing to say to the old man. He loved Mavis with all of his heart and was almost inconsolable.
    I sat outside of the governor's office for almost a half an hour before she relented to see me. Our former governor had been a fair lady and one that I had been able to work with. The current heroine was not elected to the post. She was next in the line of succession when our governor resigned the position to move to Washington to become the head of Homeland Security. I had my work cut out for me with the new prima donna and her self serving agenda.
    I am tax exempt by order of the Congress of the United States. That exemption had been honored by the Congressional body of the state of Arizona. I couldn't fall back on my enormous tax payments to use as leverage. I had to talk to her compassionate side. Willis Mayfield, his wife, and their son were buried directly in the ground at the old ranch. The ranch was large enough that any contamination of the ground water would be strictly local. The ranch uses no ground water for human consumption. All of the drinking water comes from the fresh water springs in the mountains.
    I told her that the entire ranch now belonged to me and would be used as a retreat for the boys of my schools around the world. I told her that I had plans to contain the small cemetery behind a twelve foot tall stone wall so that the students would not be able to get in to decimate the graves. I turned on my charm as I asked her if she wanted to deny a stalwart founder and citizen of our state the right to be buried next to her husband and in-laws.
    Three phone calls and a half an hour and I left the state capital with signed waivers allowing Mavis to rest in a handmade oak casket as she awaits the call of our Lord Christ, Jesus. Mavis Maybelle was interred on Friday, the eleventh of September, 2009. Cory, Ugitsiha, Sagi, Quemela, RD, and Roddy attended. Of course I took her six young sons to say goodbye to their benefactress. A request was made that I was happy to fill. Paul, Phil, and Luke had spent two days getting to know the sweet old lady and they wanted to say their farewells also.
    I took Nolan back to town with the family so that he could rest. I put him in a guest room with the six boys that had been with him and Mavis for the past few years. Nolan was ready to return to work on Monday morning, he caught a hop out with me as I flew out to see about the construction that was to begin that day

    On board with us that Monday morning was the stone mason extraordinaire. I had called Petro after my trip out to the ranch with the architect. I could see a real need to close in the small private cemetery. When I explained to Nolan how some of my boys were not as respectful of the dead as the Indians that he was used to then he agreed to allow for exhumation and reburial of Festus. I promised him a place next to his old friend as a bonus.
    Two of the older Chiricahua Apache men came down in a newer model pickup truck that was just as dusty as the one that brought the parents of the boys to the last lunch hosted by Mavis. These men were expert bee handlers. They scouted the area and decided on a place at the edge of the forest that is thick with a flowering ground cover, yet still near to Mavis' large garden. They donned headgear with a net that covered the face and shoulders. With heavy gloves on the slid long poles under the edge of each bee hive and moved them, one by one, to their new home seventy five feet away. They told me that they would have a thick fence made of thorny Ocotillo erected around the hive area to discourage the boys from getting to close.
    By noon Petro had plans drawn up for in open top mausoleum with walls twelve feet high. He wanted to use the granite that had been quarried from the long tunnel between BAW and Base A. I told him to take all that he needed. I Told him that I would like to have the work done by the end of the month because I was bussing the boys from the school over for a weekend on the mountain. He agreed to that

    During the two days of flying back and forth I became convinced that the Sikorsky was not the best helicopter for me. I got on the phone and bought myself a Bell 210 helicopter—the commercial version of the old military UH-1. The airship that I purchased has four seats set facing each other in a conversational circle in soundproof cabin. There are two seats in front for the pilot and a second person, this model doesn't have the range to need a co-pilot. I had the manufacturer use the polymer composite Kevlar to skin the airship. Foss International technicians did the complete avionics and our special radio package. Now I have a private mobile communications center from which I can communicate with any FI office in the world.
    Andy turned green. He loved my personal little git about, until he bought one of his own. His oil company in Tulsa has several helicopters to ferry the executives about the country. Slower than a jet plane, but able to land in an oil field, or on the deck of an off shore rig. He asked around before deciding.
    Andy really needs a larger helicopter. The Sikorskies are a great craft, but they are really designed for a longer range flight than what I need. I can use FI-2 and arrive quicker and in comfort for anything over two hundred miles. The Sikorsky will be used when there are several of us flying out to the ranch, for just me I need less.
    Andy came up to the house to show me his answer to that little trip. He flies people back and forth from our FI offices at Tucson International Airport to Base A. The Sikorsky is a little larger than he needs for that hop, and it needs a lot of room to swing its massive rotor. He had his pilot sit his new Bell 212 down in the parking lot across the street from my house—the boys were in school or they would have mobbed him. We took a flight in his fifteen seater that was equipped with a well stocked bar and small galley area.
    We took a trip over to the work site to view the progress. I was impressed with the Sikorsky Sky cranes doing their job. I don't want any harm to come to the mountain so I have taken every precaution to protect my property. Before construction can begin on the old wooden barracks equipment needs to be brought in. The contractors will need heavy equipment to take down the old buildings and to excavate the ground for proper foundations.
    A few tons of lumber will be needed along with concrete and insulation. Several miles of wire and a few thousand feet of plumbing pipe. Don't forget the toilets and the kitchen sinks. I was told that the expense would be astronomical to truck all of that equipment and those supplies up the mountain. I was told that I would have to cut a roadway up the mountain and it would have to be able to support the weight of the laden trucks during rain and snow.
    The county would not grant me a building permit until the road was approved by the transportation department and final inspection of the road completed. When a person controls a little more than one trillion dollars in liquid—cash—assets he can move a few mountains, or politicians. Mountains are easier. I went through the moves. I had plans submitted for a possible roadway. I was told that a survey team would take a four wheel drive jeep up the mountain to make sure that the topography of the land would support the passage. A glance at the surveyor's office schedule revealed that a survey team would be available around the first of December. If there was no snow and the ground was not too wet for the jeep to get up the mountain then that would be the earliest that we could get a survey done. Of course I agreed.
    As I saw it the first thing that I needed was a staging area. I needed a place large enough for the sky cranes to sit bulldozers and front end loaders down. I needed a place to place the stacks of lumber, toilets, and kitchen sinks. What better place than a soccer field?
    An area near the barracks was located. The trees were thin and some of them had signs of the blight that has been attacking the Ponderosa Pines in the Coronado National Forest. I procured two medium sized bulldozers that were equipped with tires instead of tracks. I had them modified to accept extra wide balloon tires so that they wouldn't sink into the earth and leave permanent scars on the land.
    They had done their work. A nice and level soccer field was cleared and the day that Andy and did our fly over we watched the magic of two crews on sky cranes as they lowered full truck loads of twenty foot long lumber through the canopy of greenery and sit them down in neat stacks on the ground. We could see that the Bobcats were already on site along with a few pallets of concrete mix and a large concrete mixer. I told the construction crew to wait for the stone aggregate until after the boys came up for the camp christening in October. I don't want them throwing rocks everywhere. Boys will be boys and someone will pick up a rock and throw it, then…

So there you have it. Is your friction enhanced by my fiction?
Tell me about it at fisherman@iname.com

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