Fog and
light mist greeted us in the forest;
Dew clung
to pine trees seemed scattered there for us.
Fresh
winter air filled our lungs at the trail head.
Pointing
downhill, "There's the trail," Millard said.
We dreamed of a hike certain to bring happiness,
And we
strapped on our packs with a feeling of bliss.
The group
hug was tough because we were all a yard wide;
The packs,
you see, kept us from being side-to-side.
We bounced
down the trail with gusto and vigor
Up hill and
down dale a coupla creeks we crossed over.
Galloway
Springs we looked over and paused
At the
water bubbling from an outcrop it caused.
Its
peaceful and quiet there's been no one on the trail
Surely
there are others way out here without fail.
Could it be
that the ice storm has kept them all away?
It's damp
and it's freezing, but is this a bad day?
At lunch on
a large log where the trail makes a "Y"
Millard
points where I got lost long ago one July.
And it was
nice to take that darn weight off my back
Jimbo pointed
and said, "that sure is a big pack."
Jackie
nodded quite smugly, "I see. Oh do tell."
John wanted
to know if I had brought a hotel.
No way I
could admit I lugged far too much gear,
Though it
was plain I was also dragging my rear.
Millard
hinted a camp just after crossing a creek,
I wonder,
did he know that all our boots leak?
Most
shucked off their shoes and waded ice water,
Wincing at
sharp rocks on arches grown tender.
In a place
called Cord Hollow we set up our camp,
And hoped
to dry out all the stuff we got damp.
A great
bowl of chili came from a community pot.
Who lugged
all the canned goods I really know not.
A big
crackling fire warmed heart and sole,
But a full
day of hiking had taken its toll.
Most stayed
up and told stories until it was late,
I heard next morn the yarns told were all great.
Too soon
came the new day clear, sunny and cold
But finding
ice in my boots forced me to be bold.
We soon
broke our camp to go off seeking more fun,
(Or at
least we got up on the ridge in the sun.)
I was
troubled that my achy sore legs tired much faster,
Couldn't
wait for lunch break; should I carry corn plaster?
Jackie told
me I'd soon catch on to what not to pack,
Each in the
group took from my ample lunch sack.
All covered with leaves the trail was much less used here.
Which trail
was for hikers; which trail was for deer?
Has any one
seen one of those trail marker things?
Nevertheless,
we eventually found Hellroaring Springs.
Millard
said they were doing some work on the trail,
But he
thought it was going at the pace of a snail.
The trail
disappeared - we slid down the hill on the ground;
Those
orange and pink markers are where bodies were found?
At the end
of the trail John and Jimbo were strong.
(I think
sprinting with backpacks is fundamentally wrong.)
I chose not
to show off and feigned exhaustion complete,
I made
everyone wonder, is he dead on his feet?
I have
never been out with a group so prepared,
To miss
something you need was what no one dared.
Even though
at times it seemed to be ten below,
Jimbo and I
both carried snake kits, you know!
With a
finer folks you could not choose to camp,
Or a better
woods than Mark Twain which to tramp.
Winter
trips in the Ozarks are a harsh way to train,
Give me two weeks to
warm up and I'll go out again.
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