Date: Thu, 4 Oct 2018 17:07:10 +0200 From: boris chen Subject: Camping in Kentucky, chap 2 Chapter Two. First time. Friday finally arrived, I was excited and stressed about our plans and all the unknowns. I didn't see Lee but I saw his truck in his usual spot in the lot. We were both supposed to leave the factory around lunch time. Work was routine today, I reviewed test results on a sample of recycled powdered rubber we evaluated as a supplement to carbon black. I left at 11:45am with my duffle bag already in the car. All I needed to do was shower, change clothes, and stop for ice, sandwiches, and six water bottles. At 12:28pm I slowly drove into the trailer park to a spot beside his truck. Lee stepped outside with a big smile on his face. He had on his usual, jeans, boots, and a faded black t-shirt. From a distance he said, "Don't need to lock yer car here," I saw why. There were four Ohio State Police cars parked at nearby trailers. His gear was also packed in an army surplus duffle bag that went in the back seat of the truck, I put mine behind my seat too. When I opened the front door I noticed the top of his dashboard was at my eye-level, he's serious about the ground clearance thing. We literally climbed-up inside the truck, he twisted the key and the engine rumbled to life. We both cranked down our windows, it looked like we were ready to go. I still had some low level anxiety about every aspect of this trip. Within minutes we were on I-75, it was smooth sailing the rest of the way. The further south we went the better I saw the Kentucky hills in the hazy distance. It was a beautiful day, the sun felt warm on my right arm as we motored down the highway. About two hours later we crossed the Ohio River and entered Kentucky. If we had taken my car instead I would have had the AC turned on, windows closed, and the radio on NPR. Inside Lee's truck the roar from the knobby tires was loud, we couldn't talk without shouting. If someone asked me to describe our ride to Cincinnati with one word I would say, 'LOUD!' ---- I glanced at the speedometer a couple times and saw it said 80mph which is pretty damn fast on knobby tires! We left the highway at Route-27, which went south through the towns of Cold Spring, Alexandria, then Claryville. Lee said we made great time because we got to Route-27 before the hurry-home traffic started. We drove across Claryville which was smaller than I pictured. He waved to some old guy in town, then we turned by his high school onto a small paved road where the signs said, `Pleasant Ridge Road,' and the one below it said, 'Visalia 12.' This narrow paved road snaked around between the hills, up and down, sort of like a 45mph roller coaster track. I saw homes back in the trees, some looked very nice. My ears popped as we went higher into the hills. Lee waved to an older couple near the road. I heard her yell, "Hi Lee," as we rumbled by. I was surprised by how many people lived out here, far from town. After about twenty more minutes going uphill Lee pointed to a small house, the yard overgrown with weeds, he said that was where he grew up. Soon, we turned left on a dirt road that was just two tire tracks. The trees were cut way back but I heard the tallest weeds drag across the bottom of his truck. Maybe another half-mile more and we slowly turned left again onto a curved tire-rut trail but it only went a couple hundred feet and ended at some tall pine trees. I looked at my phone, the time was 3:05pm. The signal meter had no bars, so I shut it off and put it on the floor so it wouldn't bake in the sun. He asked me to roll up the window but I didn't need to lock the door. He shut off the truck but left the key in the ignition. We both climbed out and removed our duffle bags. The first thing I noticed was how quiet it was here. I heard an occasional bird call in the distance but that was about all. Maybe I'm a bit deaf from that rather loud, two hour ride down I-75. We pulled our duffle bags on our backs and met in front of his truck. My ice chest has wheels and a long handle, it's designed to be pulled along like a suitcase. I should know fairly soon if it's tough enough for this type of use. The bad news is if the wheels break it may be painful to hand carry it all the way back to the truck. Lee said, "Come-on now, the campsite's on the other side of this hill, it ain't far." I smiled and followed him up a crooked narrow footpath. I kept one eye on the ground to avoid rocks that stuck up from the trail. While we were still on the uphill side the handle from my cooler suddenly twisted in my hand. "Crap!" I complained loudly. Lee stopped to see what happened. My cooler got rolled by a rock on the trail but luckily the lid was latched shut so I rolled it back on it's wheels and looked at Lee. "Crisis averted sir," I proclaimed. Lee smiled and turned to resume our trek. My lower back was sore by the time we reached the top. The foliage was so thick you couldn't see very far in some places. There were lots of huge oaks, pines, maples, and cottonwood trees. The ground had a thick layer of undergrowth too. I never got buzzed by insects during our hike. Over to my right I glimpsed some enormous granite slabs that formed part of the valley wall, but not to my left. Even this late in the year most of the growth here still held onto their leaves, even if they were brown and dry. We finally arrived in an open area, the trail beneath us suddenly ended. It took a few seconds before I recognized where we were from the pictures I saw on his cell. ---- When we arrived I was thirsty and needed to rest. My lower back throbbed and I wanted to see if the wheels under my cooler existed any more. Lee pointed to a spot where the ground was sandy with some tall weeds. It looked like a mini beach beneath a canopy of tall trees. "Pitch your tent on the sand, put your stuff on that bench." He pointed to a chunk of wood I could only describe as a bench. I've seen these in photos before, they're usually made with a chain saw from a thick section of tree trunk. Lee had three of these bench-shaped things here. And in this part of the country they're almost always made from Cottonwood trees, usually ones that are over 150 years old. They are more accurately called a 'chain saw sculpture,' than furniture. He also had a collection of tree trunk slices, maybe ten of them. They were cut from a tree trunk maybe a foot in diameter and eighteen inches long. You could prop your feet on one or use them to sit on. They could be stacked and used like a wobbly ladder too. I saw a fire pit formed by large rocks that looked like an ancient ceremonial spot. The place resembled a terraced rice farm in some hilly country like Viet Nam or Korea. I counted four ground levels separated by three foot high walls of rock. We were on the side of a hill near the north end of an bowl shaped valley. I could see blue sky through the trees but it looked like it was much sunnier further to the south. In the center of the highest terrace was the tent site. There was a three foot step-down to the second level. This second terrace was crescent-shaped, about forty feet across and went out about fifteen feet. On the lowest terrace I saw nothing but grass and some small weeds. Below that was the valley floor which was also covered with dead grass and tons of brown, red, and yellow tree leaves. Lee had steps made of flat rock going from terrace to terrace or you could just jump down. The bench things sat around the fire pit on the second level. Two benches were on one side, one sat alone on the other side. I pitched my tent near the steps which put me fifteen feet from the nearest bench, the one that sat by itself on the east side of the fire pit. The fire pit matched the terrace walls. But the sides were only two feet high. It was a ring of large rocks with a three foot open circle in the middle. I think the rocks were cemented in place like parts of the terrace walls. I dumped my gear on the bench while Lee ventured off to check out the area for alien shoe prints. He said he'd be back in about ten minutes. I saw him take off running to the south. The area for tents was maybe twenty feet on each side but behind it was a somewhat open field heavily shaded by some pretty substantial trees. About a hundred feet to the north west I saw a nearly vertical granite wall, which is probably where all the sand came from. It looked like there might be another terrace at the bottom of that wall but I'm too low to see the ground up there. This place looked very rustic and natural. The facility appeared well designed but also suffered from a lack of upkeep. While Lee was gone I used a shovel that hung on a tree and weeded half of the tent area for us. Before he came back my tent and all my gear was set-up. My cooler (with two working wheels still beneath it) was inside my tent and I put two cold water bottles out, one for each of us. Lee returned to the valley from a different direction walking at a decent pace. Within the first hour both tents were assembled. He asked me if I'd like to help get firewood, I said I'd love to help. Near his tent was a tree that doubled as a tool shed, it had lots of long nails in it. On those nails hung about every hand tool you would ever need here. I saw shovels, axe, limb saw, rake, hatchet, a baseball bat, and two knives. He had one hand tool that's used like a weed eater but I don't know what they're called. I grabbed the axe and the limb saw. He reached in his duffle bag and pulled out a rather large black pistol. I've chopped and split wood before but never saw anyone bring a pistol along. At first his handgun made me somewhat uneasy. Lee lifted his shirt which exposed his slightly hairy stomach, then stuffed the pistol in his pants. If he accidentally squeezed the trigger when he stuffed it down his shorts it would blast his weenie right off. I looked away so he didn't see me smile. We took off towards the south. As we walked together he sort of explained the valley perimeter like a geology expert. We arrived at two downed trees but before I could swing the axe Lee fired at it to shatter the wood where he wanted it cut. I pressed fingers in my ears. With each shot a cloud of wood splinters flew into the air. I thought this was sort of odd but smart at the same time and it made the axe work much easier. No short logs for us, we cut several six foot sections of tree trunk and dragged them over to the lowest terrace, just below the fire pit. I gathered dry twigs and leaves from the ground while he positioned two logs in the fire pit. He said we had enough wood now for the entire weekend and maybe more. All my life I've had a strong love of campfires, they're my favorite part of camping. The only things that improve a campfire are a bottle of wine someone to share it with. I could actually add a few more things to that list but I'd rather not get those thoughts going while I'm with a stranger, deep in the hills of Kentucky. Lee said he made one special trip down here every winter to drop three trees and remove their branches. He knew exactly where to go to find just the right wood. The mystery about what Lee brought to eat was finally solved when he unpacked a dehydrated meal. We used my gear to boil water for him. He poured in the steamy water then waited for ten minutes for it to evolve back into something edible. I grabbed a deli sandwich from my cooler to eat. After our early supper we hiked over the hill to the east where he said there was a spring-fed stream, we both carried our water filters and collapsible water jugs. Fifty minutes later we were back at the campsite with four liters of water each, but I still had four bottles in my cooler and plenty of ice too. By 7:00pm our conversation had slowed a bit. The stars were out and the air was full of the sounds of nature. Around 9pm our fire was down to a pile of embers, Lee just stood up and mumbled 'good night' to me. I replied that I was headed to bed too. It surprised me how little we spoke after we arrived. My gut told me Lee had watched me closely for some sort of sign but I could be wrong and knew I wasn't going to take the lead on anything down here. I got into my goose down bag and wiggled onto my side and wished I had my big fat body pillow to put my arms around. I listened to the sounds of the nighttime forest with birds, bats, crickets, and a frog that croaked nearby. Being outside in a tent made me glad there's no such thing as Big Foot, but I slept with one ear open just in case. I thought about a quick wank but realized Lee would surely hear it. I fell asleep to the forest sounds. You may write the author of this book: bchen writeme com I will reply to all `nice' emails.