There is a special place in our local National Forest where I like to camp. I usually go up early on a Friday afternoon, park my truck at a friend's house, load my gear on the four-wheeler, and ride in.
A couple of miles down the highway from my friend's house is a logging and forestry service road that is, for most of the year, passable with any kind of vehicle. This is especially true in the dry part of the summer.
About four miles down this road is a place that four partially overgrown narrow tracks branch off. I usually turn off early and cut through a creek bottom to avoid leaving a clear trail as to which trail I take. Camping is not prohibited in this area but it's not sanctioned either.
The trail winds through tall pines along a ridge top for about three miles and then turns down into a creek bottom. Then it's up another hill, to dead end in a large clearing. This is an old log loading area from a timber cut years ago.
If you cross this grass and scrub covered area, you will find the road continuing on the other side. Following it down the hill is a little tricky as the old road is badly washed out in places. Past this point, you hardly ever see anything but four-wheelers and dirt bikes.
Once at the bottom, I make a sharp right onto a good sand track leading through a large stand of oaks to a pond with a creek leading into and out of it. This will be home for the next couple of days. I have been coming here for years and have never seen anyone other than the two people I brought here. One was my wife, who had passed away years ago, and the other was an ex-girlfriend.
At the head of the pond near where the creek flows in, there is a shallow cave carved in the high bluff bank by high water. I usually pitch my tent here and build my fire in a pit I had dug in the base of the bluff. Several large cedars scattered along the edge of the pond make an excellent windbreak and the bluff and overhanging trees dissipate any smoke from my fire.
The creek and pond have a gravel and sand bottom and the water is always clear and cold. There are dozens of springs farther along the bluff that feed the creek and provide good drinking water but I always boil it anyway. Better safe than sorry, as the old saying goes.
I set up camp and stripped off nude to walk down to the pond to wash off the sweat and dust from the ride in and the work of setting up camp in the early spring heat. Isolation is one of the main reasons I come here, as it allows me to run around nude and get some sun without too much worry about other people.
Even with the heat of the late afternoon, the water was almost cold. Once out of the water, I spread my large beach towel on the coarse grass in the sun, and lay down to catch up on my tanning.
As I lay there, I caught the faint buzz of another four-wheeler but could not get a fix on the direction. It wasn't getting any louder so I assumed it was not coming my way. After a few minutes, I lost the sound in the wind and forgot about it.
When the sun fell behind the trees, I went back to camp, laid my fire out for later, and dragged up more wood. I hung my lantern on a piece of steel rod that I had driven into the hard clay wall years before and set about making a light meal.
During my meal, I again heard the motorcycle engine for a few moments. When I finished eating, I carried my utensils down to the creek below the pond and used the fine sand to wash them.
Back in camp, I thought more about the motorcycle motor I had heard and decided to hike around to where I could climb the bluff and see if I could hear better up there. Just for a little peace of mind, I carried a pair of nylon shorts with me.
The hike and climb took more time than I remembered and it was getting late by the time I reached the top of the bluff. I listened for as long as I dared wait before starting the climb back down. Once, as I scrambled over a rough area, I thought I heard a motor again but I could not be sure. It was almost dark by the time I reached camp.
I hurried to the pond to clean up again and got back to camp as the last red of the western sky started to fade. I lit the lantern and started my fire before going into my tent to put on a pair of sweats. Now that the sun was down the wind would get cool quickly. I put a pot of water on near the back of the fire to boil so I could make myself tea later and have water for coffee in the morning.
The wind had come up as darkness fell but I felt very little of it in my camp. I could hear it sighing through the treetops far above me on the bluff. I turned the lantern off and sat down near the fire to drink my tea. It was a beautiful night with bright stars blinking down through the trees. I had checked the weather before I left home and it was supposed to be clear all weekend.
I finished my tea, covered the water pot, and let the fire die down. When it was down to coals, I went into the tent, stripped off the sweats, and lay down on my bed. The light sleeping bag would feel good later in the night and the air mattress felt good now. It wasn't long before I was asleep.
*****
I awoke shortly after daylight with a fuzzy memory of a dream about motorcycles. I shrugged it off as a hold over from yesterday, got dressed in the sweats, and went to stir the fire. In a few minutes, I had a good fire going and the coffee pot sitting on the old grate I used for a cook top. I fried half the bacon I had brought and scrambled a couple of eggs for breakfast.
I was loading my plate, when someone clearing his or her throat behind me, startling me. I whirled around, almost spilling my plate, to see a young woman standing a few yards away near one of the cedars.
I looked around to see if there was anyone else in sight before I said, "Good morning. Where the hell did you come from? You almost scared me to death."
She made a grimace and said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to spook you. I've been here for several minutes trying to figure out how to get your attention without startling you. Do you know this area well?"
I'd been looking her over and liked what I saw. She was a tall, willowy, good-looking blond in cut-off Levi's, hiking boots, and a long-sleeved shirt. There was a jacket in her hands and a pack at her feet.
"Pretty well, since I've been coming here for a number of years. Are you lost?"
She made a face again then with a chuckle, she answered, "Well, yes and no. I know which direction to go to get out of here but I don't know exactly where my four-wheeler is."
She took a deep breath and went on in a rush. "My friend and I were riding in to camp and explore at an old Indian campground I found several years ago but we made a wrong turn and instead of going back and taking the right one, we tried to cut across and ended up in a deep creek. We could not get the bike out so we set up camp late last night and I decided to hike out for help before daylight. I know that the main road is just south of east, but there don't seem to be many roads running that way. There are some really thick woods in here and the open areas don't want to go where I do either."
I slowly nodded my head to agree with her. "Can you find your way back to the bike and your friend?"
"Sure. I'm not a total greenhorn. I've kept track and marked my trail pretty well."
"Would you like some coffee and some food?" I asked.
"I thought you'd never ask. I left all the food except for some trail bars with my friend. I wasn't sure how long it would take me to walk out and get help."
I went to my trail box on my bike to get another cup and plate as she carried her pack over and sat it down near the fire. I handed her my plate and poured her a cup of coffee.
