Notes from Brad's Land camping trip 1986 (in progress)

We drove slowly through the sandy gravelly parking lot towards a small convenient store. Beside the store was a log cabin building where a sign on the front door read: Recreation Center. Dano parked the car beside it. I leaned over the cooler and brought out three cans of Budweiser. We exited the car and opened our beers.

“So… this is it?” I asked.

“Yup… this is it. Not bad is it?” asked Dano.

“Let’s take a look around,” said Rich.

“You guys go on ahead. I want to talk to the owner and sign us in,” said Dano.

“All right. We’ll meet you back at the car in a few,” said Rich.

Rich and me sauntered into the campground behind the recreation center. Rich was dressed in stylish ripped jeans, high top sneakers and t-shirt. I wasn’t so stylish in my ripped jeans but I was comfortable in my black with white pin striped jean jacket and new work boots.

The earth was soft with sand and pine needles. Picnic tables and fire pits were crowded with parents and children; smoky scents of hamburgers, hot dogs and burning wood filled our path. Kids played volleyball and the smaller ones played cowboys and Indians. There were trailers, party tents and regular sleeping tents.

“Where the hell are we going to set up tents?” asked Rich.

I shook my head. It seemed every nook and cranny had been taken out. Behind a row of campers was a thin strip of pine trees and the road. It hopped out from behind the trees, a person dressed in a squirrel suit. He hopped gaily around, singing and throwing candy to the kids.

“Hey Rich. Check it out.”

Rich turned around and chuckled.

“Hi kids! I’m Spunky the Squirrel and what a beautiful day to camp!”

“Spunky want a beer?” Rich asked.

As the 6 ft squirrel disappeared into the campground, I noticed two teenage girls sort of giggling and smiling Rich’s way. He saw them right away.

“Maybe this place ain’t so bad,” said Rich.

We followed them. They were small pretty brunettes and looked great in their tight jeans.

“Not bad, eh, Jimmy, boy?”

“Not bad at all.”

They seemed to be leading us along, walking with a sexy strut and turning back to smile and giggle some more. We kept our distance though.

“I think they like us,” said Rich.

“It must be our Blues Brothers shades.”

Then they reached their campsight where an older woman sat in a beach chair complaining about the mosquitoes. Beside her a man leaned back on a fold up chair, staring indifferently at a small television set. I recognized the broadcaster’s voice from Channel 38. It was the Red Sox playing in New York. The girls sat at the picnic table and waved as we turned to head back to the car.

“Damn I really wanted them,” said Rich.

“Let’s go find out what the hell is going on,” I said.

 

It was getting late and Dano still hadn’t returned. I took a walk passed the store and found him talking on a pay phone. He looked pissed, his usual cool expression turned sour; but he hung up the phone patiently and sighed.

“What’s up Dano?”

He reached into his jean jacket pocket, pulled out smokes and lit one up.

“Well… we were supposed to register into the campground by six. And of course I had no idea. If we want to stay here we have to pony up 15 bucks more per person. Is it worth it though?”

“What about other campgrounds? They got to be all over the place.”

“I just got off the phone with a guy who isn’t too far from here but he wanted forty bucks a head. Another guy had no vacancies.”

We walked back toward the car unsure of what to do.

“Do we really want to pay money to camp where there are free woods all over the place?” asked Dano.

“I didn’t really come here to be with people.”

At the car we told Rich what was going on.

“There’s really no room here anyway. Tight squeeze everywhere,” Rich said, drinking a beer.

“We could drive down the road a few miles and find our own space,” said Dano.

“I really like that idea,” I said.

“Let’s do it. We should have done that in the first place,” Rich said.

“Ok It’s done then. Listen, I have to get a few things in the store,” said Dano.

“We’ll be in the rec hall, waiting,” said Rich.

The recreation room was a good size space, the floors were just basic planks from wall to wall; and the walls were logs stacked upon each other. The floor was sandy; barefoot prints traipsed in bunches around the table hockey game where youngsters flailed at the puck. Beside them was a ping pong table without net and beyond that were two pool tables. Rich wandered over to the pool rack, picked out a few and measured them for flaws by rolling them on the table to see if they spun without impedance.

“This will work,” he said.

He started racking the balls.

“Don’t worry, Jimmy-boy, I’ll end your misery in two minutes.”

To my surprise and by sheer luck, I won the first two games. Rich had sunk the 8 ball twice and in this our third and final game, he was winning again, six balls to two. Dano came in and watched the game. Rich was focused and aimed his shot.

“It’s not over til it’s over,” I said.

He shot. The cue ball hit a small piece of the target, the 4 ball, which hit the 8 ball and it slowly rolled toward a pocket, the black ball of death and it dropped into the pocket.

“Fuck me.”

“Nice. Thanks Rich. I had a ball.”

“Clever.”

“Come on boys. Time to enjoy our trip. Cold beers await,” said Dano.

Outside, night had come and we hadn’t noticed until we were back on the road. We drove about three miles south along a small curving road. Moonlight lit the yellow line and the occasional field. As we passed a cornfield and farm house, Dano had noticed a narrow inlet not far from it and he pulled over to the side of the road. Rich and me hopped out, brandishing flashlights and we surveyed the inlet quickly. There was a No Trespassing sign attached to a thick chain. Behind it, a dirt road and along the rocky banks were impassable trees. We heard the slightest murmur of a river just ahead.

“This is it,” I said. “How are we going to get by the chain?”

“Over here. Look! It unhooks,” said Rich.

He played with it a moment, untangled a wire and the chain fell with a thud in the dirt. He moved the chain to the side of the road. Rich waved the flashlight at Dano. He saw a boulder on the road and he and I moved it off into the woods. Dano crossed the chain line and I hooked the chain to the post. I followed Dano, behind the car, in case he got stuck. There were a few potholes and unsteady areas not generally user friendly for a Chevy Malibu. The wheels spun out in spots. I heard laughing. It was Rich, sitting on the front of the car, pounding the hood like a drummer. Dano hit the breaks hard, the car jerked short and Rich tumbled to the ground. Dano was laughing behind the wheel. Rich got up, smiling.

“I should kill you for that,” he said.

“I’m sorry but I just couldn’t resist.”

 About a half mile or so up the uneven road they came across another road that turned left. It was smaller and sloped downward. Dano climbed out of the car and opened the trunk now covered in fresh mud. He took out his lantern and we proceeded down the sloping path slow and quiet. The river gurgled nearby. We came across a small clearing. From what I could tell the earth was soft, dry and big enough to accompany five good sized tents. Tall pine trees shot above us, its long branches stretched over the clearing to form a rain shelter, if needed. Broken flecks of moon beams spattered through the trees. Through a hole in the branches we could see the stars, so close I felt like I could pick them from the sky like apples.

“This is it,” said Dano.

“I agree,” said Rich.

“Finally we can just drink and camp,” said Dano.

“Nature’s land is our land,” I said.

 

We sat on the hood of Betty Lou. We drank keg beer, smoked cigarettes and swung our feet. The air was swamped with mosquitoes and horseflies and if not for the repellant, we’d probably be in the car. We hadn’t set up camp yet but rather were just relaxing for a spell. I got up, grabbed the tap and refilled my beer.

“Hey guys,” said Rich. “What do you say we go back to the rec hall for a few.”

“Play pool?” I asked.

“We’ll bring a few frosties, shoot some pool and… there are chicks there.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said.

“I don’t know about that. I figure we’re here and this is what we came for. Besides its late. We should set up camp soon,” said Dano.

“Fuck it Dano. We got the whole week-end and then some. Let’s have a little fun at the rec.”

“I agree. We won’t find any girls out here,” I said, smiling.

“Aww man. Let’s stop thinking about girls for a few and enjoy life,” said Dano.

“You’re just saying that because you’re practically married,” Rich said. “You get it anytime you want.”

“Let’s just play some pool. Come on Dano!” I called.

“All right then. But let’s keep it short because we should really set up camp soon. And Rich, if you find some little Ho bag, prepare to sleep outside,” said Dano.

“Deal!”

Quickly, discreetly, the car made its way back along the uneven road. Towards the chain, we passed a Volkswagen bug, parked. Inside, a silhouette of a long-haired person sat in the shadows.

“Must be a good sign. There is life awake now,” said Rich.

“Yeah who, Jimbo! We going to have a fun night. Going to get good and drunk and camp and drink and get drunk. Ain’t nothing going to stop us,” said Dano.

“Let’s do it! Good time. No worries. No hassles,” said Rich.

“Yeahhh hooo! Live like kings in our castles!”

“More like exiled kings,” I joked.

“Yeahhh hooo!”

The recreation hall was empty. Rich and Dano played 8 Ball. I had brought along my radio so we could listen to tunes and set in on a sandy bench. The Grateful Dead came on. Dano was by the table, smoke in mouth, stick in hand when he heard Uncle John’s Cabin and he began to dance. It wasn’t really a dance but more like a grooving out, a loose tossing back and forth of his body. Rich joined him. I turned up the volume, left the hall to go to the store.

A pretty woman in her thirties worked the cash register. She had long shiny brown hair.

“A pack of Marlboros, please.”

She smiled, fetched the smokes and placed them on the counter.

“Is that it?”

“I guess so… no wait.”

I quickly surveyed the postcards on the rack and chose three mountain landscape shots, in honor of my first visit to the mountains.

“And these.”

“Are you staying here?” she asked.

“I’m visiting my cousin, Jay. He lives up in Woodstock. We’re from Mass.”

“You mean down in Woodstock.”

She laughed. I hadn’t noticed before but she had incredible tropical green eyes.

“You said we?”

“My brother and I. He’s outside.”

“And here you are,” she said.

I gave her two dollars and thanked her.

“Thank you young man. Have a nice stay.”

It confused me so much that it hurt. Why had I pointlessly lied to her? I wondered if maybe I had fallen in love with her or in love with the mountains, something— I concluded nothing and just thought it strange.

                                                                   *

I jumped out of the car and raced for the No Trespassing sign. The narrow flashlight beamed and reflected into my eye and I pulled back a moment. The thin metal sign was frayed and scratched along the top edge. The letters were partly scratched out and the black paint inside the letters was rusty and flaking. Stupid sign, I thought, it means nothing. I spit on it and watched it drip.

“Come on! Hurry up!”

As I reached for the chain, a powerful light caught me in its beam. I turned back toward the road. An unfamiliar voice was shouting. I faced the glare and could only see the silhouettes of two cars— a small egg shaped vehicle, which was right behind me and Dano’s parked behind the car along the main road. I was suddenly aware that Dano had shut off his car. I had no idea what was going on. I went to Betty Lou where Dano stood outside, arguing with a large bald man who spoke with such vitriol you would have thought we just ran over his wife. As I watched the silhouette of his head, I saw that he had hair that grew on the sides and back; and shaggy eyebrows that shook with every word he screamed at Dano. When the man settled down and there was a lull in the conversation, Dano nodded and simply said, “we didn’t know.”

Of course that set the man off again.

“God damn you! You boys can't read? Sons of bitches. This time I’ll let you leave in one piece. Damn city boys. Stay off my God damn property or there’s going to be trouble. You hear? If I ever catch you snooping round here again, I’ll shoot you.”

“We’re sorry about everything. We won’t bother you again,” Dano said.

I apologized. As we got into the car and drove off, the man stared and watched us drive away toward the campground.

“What about Rich?” I asked.

He was still up at our alleged campsite near the river.

Dano drove slowly. I rested my arm on the open window and studied my boots, thinking.

“I thought I was dead. What an asshole,” he said.

I looked at him. “If we go back up there he’ll probably kill us.”

“Well we have to go back up there and get him. I just hope that old grizzly bastard doesn’t find him first.”

“He probably went home. I’m sure he doesn’t think we’d come back. We’d have to be crazy,” I said.

“I’m just wondering where we’re going to camp. That place was perfect,” he said.

“I know. I wish I owned it. Did you notice that road went further?”

“Yup.”

“Well you know…”

Dano smiled. “We do have an option.”

I searched his expression and read him like a book. I laughed. He looked at me, waiting for my response to the non verbalized question. I slapped my hand on my knee.

“You bastards! I’ll shoot you sons of bitches!”

Dano laughed. “There’s only one thing we can do,” he said.

“Oh definitely.”

Dano spun the car around and we headed back to the chained road. The wind came through the window pleasantly cool, fresh like new born air. Dano relaxed and lit a cigarette.

“No one’s going to keep us from having a good time,” he said.

We drove passed the road twice to be sure it was clear. It looked safe. No cars, lights or people around. On the third drive by, I hopped out, unhooked the chain and dragged it to the side of the road. Dano killed the headlights and entered the road. Betty Lou creaked and clacked up the bumpy slope. I refastened the chain and followed Dano on foot.

At the muddy intersection, Dano turned on to the narrow descending road. He drove about fifty yards and then killed the engine. We got out. In the darkness we could hear the rippling river. A woodpecker drummed on a tall rotting tree. Moonlight washed over the car. We sat on the hood and admired the starry sky.

Suddenly leaves rustled and footsteps crunched underfoot of twigs and branches. I hoped the old man hadn’t followed us. If so, we were dead. The blackness kept us on edge. The footsteps grew loud and they were upon us. We were helpless.

“You know, there’s a river right over there,” said Rich.

“There you are,” I said.

“Where the hell were you hiding?” Dano asked.

“I heard that guy bitching you guys out and I could tell by his voice that he was pretty mad… so I figured I’d wait until he left and you guys came back. I was just doing a little exploring with this,” he said.

He shined a pocket flashlight into my face.

“We decided to stay here at least tonight. I really don’t think we’ll be hearing from him again,” said Dano.

“You mean Mr. Personality,” said Rich.

“Precisely.”

We stood there and drank a beer and were in no rush to do anything. My mind was free at last, from anxiety of daily home life. It was my first real camping trip, in fact I had never been to the White Mountains before. It was a first for all of us.


                                                                 *

I stretched my arms, yawned and wondered just how I had climbed into the tent, and when. My eyes were half closed and a fuzzy patch of sunlight through the round tent top. The atmosphere was already muggy and the sweat and dirt coagulated along my skin. I was stiffly hung-over and was pretty sure I would never get on my feet again. I rolled, slightly to the left and beneath the tent leaves crackled like dry paper. Too much whiskey; kill me now.

The river rippled behind me.

In the corner my camping bag was knocked over and stuff was spilt everywhere—socks, dungarees, sweatshirts, cassettes, poker chips and a sticky half-empty bottle of Coke. My playing cards were ripped and wet, others crumpled. The ace of spades was fine and detached from the others beside my jacket— my pillow.

I crawled toward the door and courageously unzipped the tent flap.

At once the light and air struck my face. The sun was rising over a wall of pines and the warmth began to comfort me. Shadows were cast unevenly upon the greening mossy earth, lichen covered stones and our tents. The air was alive with the sweet scent of pine.

I sat down on a tree stump and lit a smoke. I was feeling better each minute. I had no idea what time I crashed in my deflated tent. I knew I had a good time; we all did, for all the laughing, drinking even singing. I remembered Dano leading the way through the trees— a big old flashlight in one hand, a quart of Jim Beam in the other. Then he lost his footing and he slipped helplessly, his silhouette fell down into the darkness. Splash! Head first into the river. Me and Rich could not contain our laughter. It was coming back to me. Later, I remembered Rich taking a drunken spill into my tent, pulling the stakes from the earth, tearing up my tent and falling into it, writhing like an insect caught in a spider web. Another full blown laugh fest for us, especially Dano, who I’m sure, took a measure of revenge. The last thing I recalled was us singing a drunken rendition of “Friend of the Devil” around the fire. Then, nothing.

Now the river gleamed under the sunlight. I rose on wobbly legs. The ashes in the pit still smoked. I walked to the sandy tree-lined bank. The sun had already risen over the trees. I stopped at the river’s edge. Sandbanks in the river were shapely and smooth. The bottom was marked with thousands of loosely layered rocks and pebbles. Upstream, the river narrowed into a rocky channel where, I think, Dano took his tumble. I saw a large protruding boulder jutting out from the mud and I jumped up and sat down on it. A warm breeze whispered across the river and through my hair, tickling my neck.

I removed my musty boots and socks, rolled up my jeans and touched the water with white toes. The water was like ice, shocking cold. I left my feet beneath it and soon the sharp pang of cold transformed into a wet tolerable numbness. The water bubbled over shallow ground. Leaves and twigs raced by in the quick current. Flecks of yellow and orange skirted around my feet as curious fish nosed in. When I flinched my foot they scattered like smoke. A red-striped turtle broke the surface, passed me slowly and half way across vanished. River insects bounced off my face. I felt the power of nature as it lulled me to sleep, hypnotized my brain and captured my senses. I lay down. I breathed in the air, so clean and fresh, it was as if it were the first time I had ever taken a breath.

 

*sadly my journal ends here although this was just the beginning of a long strange trip. I can’t remember why I stopped writing it or why I typed it. It wouldn’t of surprised me if it was in an actual journal written in ink but it was typed, pages 9-20 (1 thru 9 missing but still may be in my large mess of papers) as if I were writing it for a reason. It ends abruptly. In the original I was thinly trying to disguise Rich and Dano as Benny and Dono and myself James. I know duh. I will try to piece together the rest with the help of Dano and Rich just so I can have it recorded. On a totally funny turn of irony, nearly twenty years later, Dano and his wife would buy a piece of property maybe two miles or thereabouts from this spot.