PERILOUS JOURNEY - 13



Copyright 2012 by Carl Mason


All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. However based on real events and places, “Perilous Journey” is strictly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold gradually. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at carl_mason@verizon.net


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This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both adults and teenagers. As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, mature, adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave. Finally, please respect yourself and those around you by practicing safe sex.



CHAPTER 13


(Revisiting Chapter 12)


Quickly extracting a promise from Ted to stop by for a steak and a beer before May was out, Scottie got to his feet. Rob joined him, shaking hands with the Assistant Chief. Scott was truly happy to have eyes and ears available in Lake Placid to keep him abreast of what was happening. Little did he know how important Camp Thayer would be to many citizens in northeastern New York State before the summer was out!


(Continuing Our Story: The High Peaks Region)


"Into the cars, guys! We're goin' home!" Scottie didn't have to yell twice. Indeed, they were all eyes and ears as they drove out of town, past several Olympics venues, and southeast on NY-73. Suddenly slowing down, he took a sharp right onto something that was a road in name only! More like a track through the Outback! They had only bumped along for another half hour before both Thayers began laughing. They could hear the yells and see the pumping fists from the SUV following them. Obviously, even Hunter, the Californian, was happy! And well he might have been. What had earlier looked to be rather insignificant hills seen from some distance now stood as sentinels on every side. Indeed, they looked down on them as they drove through a little valley beside several small lakes and streams. After making their way up a steep grade (strictly one rutted lane!), they suddenly came upon a small, rocky meadow that looked out over a glorious wilderness of trees, lakes, and mountains. There wasn't another human being to be seen. Stretching from east to west and as far south as they could see, the boys were looking out over the "High Peaks" region of the Adirondacks. Needless to say, Scott stopped, climbed out of the Jeep, and stood grinning like a Chessy Cat as more excited guys drove up behind him.


After a few minutes of requisite back and shoulder pounding, the inevitable question was posed. "Hey, Scottie, where's your place?" Looking just a little embarrassed, the Professor scratched at his chin before answering. "Well, guys, do you see that notched mountain over on the left to the south...the one with a lake about a third of the way up...and a smaller peak closer to us whose summit looks something like a witch's hat? Well... Much of the land in that section of the basin is part of Camp Thayer."


"Holy shit!" With variations, this comment was echoed by a number of the lads. "Come on, boss, you've got to be kiddin'!" Ross Collins yelped. "Nope," Scottie drawled, fast losing any embarrassment and really getting into the exchange. "The Revolution gave the Crown lands in this area to the people of New York State. Needing money to discharge war debts, the new government sold nearly all the original public acreage - some 7 million acres - for ridiculously low prices per acre. Lumbermen and land speculators poured in, picking up large sections of land for pennies on the dollar, pennies on which they paid practically no taxes. This process continued throughout most of the 19th century. It was beautiful country and, then as now, people wanted to make some money, as well as to get away and do a little fishing, a little campin' and, maybe, shoot at something that didn't shoot back. By 1875, for instance, there were more than two hundred hotels in the Adirondacks, some of them with several hundred rooms. Later in the century, people became concerned about what was happening to the trees, fearing that the water supply of the urban areas to the south would be harmed if denuding the forests wasn't slowed down. A compromise was accepted in which the profit motive was allowed to rule over something more than half the land while the remaining portion was subjected to controls that would keep it 'forever wild'. Should anyone be surprised that the pact has been a source of tension ever since? For example, which is more important or of higher value: an innovative new ski resort that would bring money and jobs to the Adirondacks or a magnificent mountain in a pristine setting of forests and lakes?


Thayer continued, "A friend of the family, one of the earliest Adirondacks entrepreneurs and the builder of one of the very first 'Great Camps', lost everything in one of our 'economic downturns'. My great grandfather bought out the man's holdings in the country that lies out there in front of you. As a matter of fact, over just a few years, he nearly doubled it. From the middle 1880s, these lands have been subjected to increasing public control. Today Camp Thayer lies in one of the most scenic parts of the "High Peaks" region. Under Ranger oversight, the public is allowed some controlled access to the wildest parts of our land, e.g., a major hiking trail, two mountain peaks, and small camping areas on three spectacular lakes on the most distant borders of the property. The entire property, e.g., water and timber, is subject to environmental controls. Note, however, that we pay no State taxes on this land, and the Courts have protected the family's rights. In short, the property remains under the control of the Thayer family...as long as it honors the law and customs of the Park and is passed down through members of the family who are descendants of my great grandfather. If the bloodline dies out or if a mutually satisfactory agreement is negotiated between the family and the State, it reverts to full public control."


For nearly an hour, the boys bumped along the trace. All the rumps were getting pretty sore when Scottie turned sharply towards the east onto a rough track even harder to follow! Another forty minutes or so had passed, however, before they finally turned onto a smoother stretch of road (about 1.5 miles in length) that ran along the north shore of a stunningly beautiful mountain lake. Scottie smiled and mentioned that it was named "Little Moose Lake". Shortly after passing a log boathouse, they pulled up in front of a magnificent set of buildings, the largest of which backed up dramatically to the steep slopes of a peak called "Mt. Lily". "Named after my great grandmother," their guide claimed proudly. A small, sand beach stretched between the road and the lake. Off to the side, the boys saw a dock...and the powerful looking motorboat that was moored to it! Nearby, several canoes had been pulled up on the beach. Some yards offshore an old log swimming float bobbed in the water.


Climbing out of his Jeep (rather stiffly), Scott yelled, "Welcome to Thayer Lodge, gang! Gather round!" He raised his arm in greeting to the informally dressed, thirty-something year-old man who descended the stairs of the large log building to join them.


(Thayer Lodge)


"Hi, Paul!" Scottie greeted his staff member. "Good afternoon, sir," Hampton responded in a friendly, but business-like manner. "Glad that the Spring is already giving us some warm weather!" He grinned, adding, "Nothing like a few years back when you were greeted by a blizzard!" Scottie went on to introduce Paul, first to Rob and then to the other boys, managing quietly to ask if Andy Cooper had arrived as yet. (He hadn't. Hampton might have said more if circumstances had permitted.) He quietly mentioned to Scottie that he had taken the liberty of preparing some supper - and would prepare breakfast before leaving if that were desired. He added that he could stay another day if Scott wished some help showing the boys where things were, introducing them to the motorboat, and the like. Scottie smiled and clapped him on the back.


"Ok, guys, here's the drill. Mr. Hampton will show you where the bedrooms and bathrooms are located. Two men to a room...your choice, other than Room "Z". That's been mine since I was a kid! Supper will be in about an hour and a half...in the Dining Hall, the small building just to your left. The building immediately to the right of the Lodge is the Games Room. Check it out! There's time to get your stuff together and take a shower if you wish. That's it for today. It's been a long one, it's getting late, and I'm sure everyone is bushed. After breakfast tomorrow, I'll provide more information...like how to avoid having a run in with a bear or, maybe, an angry chipmunk." Everybody snickered... some a bit nervously. Scott continued, "Oh, yeah, I'd better mention one rule tonight: Unless something special is announced, clothing is strictly optional...indoors or out. That means it's ok if you wish to wear something, and it's ok if you don't. Just don't bug the guy who's made a choice different from yours. Ok? Let's go!"


Led by Paul Hampton, the boys made their way up the front stairs onto the porch of the imposing building. "Some log cabin..." a voice said, "super Lincoln Logs!" "Yeah," Ross Collins added as they entered. "And get a load of the moose head over the fireplace! Looks kinda like someone you'd meet in a nightmare, Kip!" "Hey, man, his closest buddy fired back. "I think it looks kinda like YOUR older brother! Get the nose...the glassy eyes...the hairy face..." That crack naturally brought Hunter into the argument, especially when the other guys began laughing and snickering their fool heads off. And so it went as they passed from view up the staircase. Eventually, when relative quiet returned to the living area, Scott wandered over to a comfortable chair and slumped into it. Man... Arriving at camp had always given him such a charge! Now, he was having to keep a tight rein on his emotions so as not to cast a pall over the others. Over the last few years, he had gotten used to his parents' absence...but, given Robbie's distress, where was Andy Cooper? The firestorm that was visible on the horizon as he had flown from the State College, PA, conference to the Governor's mansion in Albany, NY, suggested an answer that brought tears to his eyes - but he refused to accept it. Violently wrenching himself from the chair, he uttered a mumbled curse and pushed his son up the back stairs to their room.


For a few minutes he sat naked on the edge of his bed, his arms around Robbie. "I know how upset you are about Andy," he murmured to the boy. "This won't make up for it, but take it with my love." With that he reached into his attache case and withdrew certified copies of two state records: the record of Robbie's adoption, and the record of his change of name to Robert Thayer. There was also one more heavy legal-sized envelope well sealed and stamped that he retained. "I was able to secure these from the municipal court in Timothy on the morning of the 'troubles'. The superior court had sent them down by messenger at my request. Know how much I love you, Muscles. Know also how much I depend on you, for the results of a crack on the head received in Timothy aren't clearing up as quickly as I had hoped. I also realize I've nearly ignored all of the work you did in getting an organized group into the Park. Robbie, I am so damned sorry!" For another minute or two, they sat, softly crying, simply feeling the love each of them felt for the other. Grumbling about "being late," Scott even initiated a "quickie". Finally, Rob set his jaw (which was a little sore after too long a break from action) and nearly dragged his love towards their bathroom.


Man, that shower felt good, even if it wasn't...adventurous! Nevertheless, Rob had to admit that he enjoyed scraping several days of beard off his face almost as much. Why in hell didn't the little hair most teens have on their bodies grow as fast as their beards? Damn! Drying off, they headed over to the Dining Hall, for they had heard the dinner bell just as Rob wiped the last of the soap off his face.


Remembering how he had been reprimanded by his father for being late to supper (on all too many occasions!), Scott was a little embarrassed as he looked through the window and saw that the boys were already seated at the table. He and Robbie took the steps two at a time - almost tripping on the top stair and falling into the traditional designs of branches and other woodwork that decorated the porch railing. Argh-h-h! Admittedly, he was breathing hard as he opened the door and stepped quickly into the room.


A tomblike silence descended on the entire room. No kidding...it sounded like the "theme song" of death itself! Then, to make his evening complete, some clown let out an ear-piercing, shit-eating WOLF WHISTLE! ('Man, that had to have been the work of some low-life like Johnny Preston', he thought later on as he tossed and turned on his bed.) What in hell was wrong? Then it struck him. With the exception of Robbie and Hunter Collins, he was the only person in the Dining Hall without clothing! And, damn it, everyone was staring at him...some in mild shock...a few others with obvious interest!


Hunter grinned to himself. Rather than on Scott (who was in great shape for his stage of life), the truth was that his eyes had been on Robbie from the time of their meeting in Ithaca! As a gymnast, he admired the care that his new friend took in grooming his body. Personally, he kept a little more body hair...but Hey! Whatever floats your canoe! (Pause...) And those legs? 'Wow!' Hunter could imagine running his hands over those classic quads...letting his fingers explore the velvet interior flesh that cushioned a long, soft nutsack, a dramatically long, thick cock, and two balls that had to carry the daddy of all loads!


Whew...



(To Be Continued)