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10/17/15
  What we have here is typically known as "Manly Outdoor Adventure". Three men took to the forest and only one returned...that would be me. This tale from hell is a reminder of what can go wrong in the backcountry...tens of miles from the nearest human settlement. I was spared to tell this tale of hardship, adversity and rising up to the call of survival. These three hearty explorers used all their pioneer moxy and bushcrafting skills to brave the elements. It is sad that two of them could not cut it when nature threw all she had at these poor unsuspecting bastards. No wait...there they both are. I reckon we all made it back then. Follow on to hear more, but remember...you were warned.
  It all started innocently enough with a lumberjack style breakfast served up at Dewayne's in Dover. Please be a ware that this country diner is frequented by the lowliest of human scum...bikers. These were not your typical bikers that ride with arms and legs splayed out like a skier that just hit a tree. No...theses ones were...well...they were bicycle bikers. We were not about to share a meal with the likes of these, so one by one we tossed their tight britches encased asses out the front door. A couple saved us the trouble and ran out through the kitchen. It was only then that we were able to savor our eggs and biscuits and gravy and hash browns and ham in serenity. After a total of five to six cups-o-coffee each we exited out the front door with a full on fuel supply that would prepare us for whatever was to come...or would it?
  My jacked-up all-wheel drive Subaru with huge-ass tires and a two foot ground clearance rumbled into the back road parking space that was left unoccupied by the throngs of other hikers that were here ahead of us. Each vehicle received one skunk for taking all the best spots. The weather included a mostly cloudy sky with a 50° air temp, which we considered to be lovely. By 10:00 a.m. the trail was before us and by 11:00 approximately 13 miles was covered without incident. I realized we had well overshot the naturally occurring bridge and had to double back 11 miles. "Damn!" I muttered, but this was not a problem. By noon we perched our barely tired carcasses atop of the arch that bears the name of the creek we were paralleling. That would be Hurricane Creek. I just remembered the location was not disclosed earlier. It was noted that a tree had fallen onto a portion of the bridge and, well...this just would not do. We spotted someone below the bluff and accidently pushed the tree over the edge and onto this intruder. Surely he was ok, but we did not wait around to find out...for the woods called us forth.
  After what seemed hours of climbing and an elevation gain of three to four thousand feet and nine miles, the ridge top was achieved. At his point there was much rejoicing. Soon the slab of rock that would be our camp showed itself and we prepared it for the night's festivities. Sleep quarters were arranged and meals were had, and yes...a fire was started. This was done with the utmost care and measured only one foot across by one foot high. We guarded it closely and no flames escaped the well formed ring of stones. Just as we began to relax around the fire we heard a faint rustling in the forest beyond the dome of luminosity cast by the blaze. The musky smell of stinking bear hide wafted past my flared nostrils and it was then...and not until then...that the situation was deemed...not good. I suggested that we each grab a flaming log and just as we did, they were upon us. Five bears rushed forward and without time to think each of us sprang into action. The others each took one leaving me with three. With a spinning motion my torch became a ring of fire that repelled and sent the little bastards running back to their mommy. Yes...they were only cubs, but we taught them a lesson they would not soon forget.
  After the commotion we settled back and gazed skyward at the constellations and planets and waxing crescent moon. The valley below was quite dark with so little moonlight. Only crickets and an occasional screech owl and bard owl and some other owl were heard. Around ten o'clock were retired to our respective dwellings and slept with wariness, as the attackers from earlier might return with their friends, as is their custom. Well, the remainder of the night was uneventful. The low was 41° with no wind through the duration. We rose with the dawn and packed our gear into our well designed and ultra lightweight backpacks purchased at reputable outfitters. The hike back was an easy trot down the slope and over the creek and down the road. By 8:45 the vehicle was around us and the road beneath us. The total miles were originally thought to be twenty-seven but in actuality, only five. Overall their was much enjoyment on this trip.

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