by Matt Musson
And that’s how the Company A of the Granite Falls Rangers met Seal Team Bravo of the United States Navy.
The mission of the Seal Team was, of course, to retrieve the insides of the big egg. It was partly a training mission. Rather than just drive up and ask if we had their Top Secret military hardware, they looked at this as an opportunity to practice their craft. They were going to infiltrate our camp, grab the egg and sneak out unobserved. It worked like a charm the night before. But, they pushed their luck when they came back two nights in a row.
The ghosts were made up of Seals from Team Bravo’s training or ‘Green’ Team. They were new to the Team and needed an opportunity to hone their skills. The non lethal challenge of our little campsite seemed like the perfect time and place. After all, the Seals saw we had prepared positions and were night vision equipped. The missions were recorded by a telephoto equipped night vision cameras on the cliff above, for playback and critique when they returned to base. (Incidentally, they had some great video of our capture of the Wampus Cat the night before.)
When Freddie IM’ed “Ollie, Ollie In Come Free” we came out of spider holes and tents to meet our visitors. Hearing the buzz of ropes and pulleys we looked up at the cliff just in time to see four more Seals repelling down the rocky face. The Seal’s training officer and the rest of the evaluation team were coming to our little makeshift party.
After introductions all around, we invited our guests over to the campfire. Hondo was already adding a few logs to build up the blaze, so we removed our NV gear. He brought out cold sodas and a cherry cobbler he had cooked earlier, in anticipation of guests.
We sat around the fire and debriefed together for about an hour. The Seal’s training officer, Lieutenant Wong, explained the Seal’s operational plan. Then, Charlie and Toby went over what we observed from their first mission and how we set our Santa Claus ambush.
After dessert was finished, we got up from the fire and walked back to the cliff face. The Seals buckled their harnesses onto the climbing ropes. After getting a thumbs up signal from his team, the Lieutenant gave a short command over his radio. Suddenly, there was a whirring sound and seven of the black clad figures launched up into the darkness, reverse repelling up the hill.
The Seal Lieutenant shook each of our hands and then rechecked the connection to his rope. Finishing his preparations he looked back to us.
“You know,” he said. “Because of your ambush, there are going to be some red faces around our command for quite a while.”
“We did not mean to cause any trouble,” Charlie apologized. “We just wanted to have some fun.”
“Don’t apologize, boys. You did these new Seals a favor. They come to our Team feeling like they are invincible. In our line, that’s dangerous thinking. I have spent the last three months trying to knock the smugness out of them. You boys did it in one night. I want to thank you for that.”
Then he got serious.
“Seals have to be ready for anything. The next mission these men go on, if they walk into an ambush they sure won’t end up sitting around the fire eating cherry pie.”
The Lieutenant smiled, “We always need good men. Be sure and look us up when you get out of school.”
He spoke into his radio and just before the whirring started, he threw us a salute. Then, his rope grew taught and he flew upwards into the darkness.
That was the night that I learned to believe in ghosts.
**********
The final few days of our expedition were wonderful. Each day we counted raccoons for Hildagrune. Then, we fished and hiked and swam and played paintball and capture the flag until late into the night. We also stopped by and visited Mr. Bart’s still.
It was just the other side of the ridge from the trout stream. He was proud as a papa as he showed off the big pot with its copper coil stretching up and over. While we were there, he heated up a batch of sour mash and demonstrated how he distilled it into moonshine. Bogdon brought out a thermometer and began taking measurements that he recorded in his blackberry.
Afterwards he and Toby went through some calculations with Mr. Bart. As a result of this discussion, the moonshiner lengthened his coil and increased its angle for an immediate increase in the alcohol yield.
Mr. Bart gave us a sample of his work to take back to our laboratory in Granite Falls. Toby and Bogdon were excited about the possibility of using it for some fuel cell experiments for next year’s Science Fair. At the mountain man’s suggestion, we also brought back a jar for Hondo to keep in his Chuck wagon, for medicinal purposes.
“I have one question, Mr. Bart,” asked Shad. “Did you make up all that stuff about the Wampus Cat? I mean the part about you hearing the snarl, smelling the foul odor and finding the shredded carcasses?”
“Honestly?” Mr. Bard answered. “I’ve roamed these parts for almost fifty years. And yes, that story is real. I have seen signs and heard things. I am sure the Wampus Cat exists and I believe it stalks the the Blue Ridge. I believe it may be the deadliest creature that ever roamed these mountains.”
We stood quiet for a second wondering about the mountains and if there really was a Wampus Cat. Toby finally broke the spell.
“I don’t know if the Wampus Cat exists,” Toby stated. “But, I do know I’ve met some ghosts on this trip. And, I think they truly are the deadliest creatures to ever roam the Blue Ridge… or any other location for that matter.”
He paused for a second, “I’m just glad they are on our side.”
And every single Ranger nodded in agreement - and smiled.
Rescue at Pickle Curve
A long time ago, I guess when I was in Kindergarten; Grandpa Gus taught me three simple rules for survival. He said when life sneaks up behind you and holds your head under water – these rules are your best hope to keep on breathing.
1. Trust in yourself.
2. Trust in your friends.
3. Whatever else you do - Don’t Panic!
Oh. And, then there is point number 4 which is not really a rule, but more like a Cosmic Observation.
4. When you get swept away in the uncontrollable flow over Niagara Falls, you might as well enjoy the view on your way down.
***********
It was a beautiful Saturday morning in late spring, and the whole Ranger Club was taking part in Charlie Sinclair’s latest community outreach initiative. He volunteered us to spruce up the hiking trails in the more remote sections of Memorial Park. A reporter from the Granite Falls Gazette was supposed to come take our pictures for one of those ‘Teenagers Doing Good Deeds’ stories that the paper likes to feature on the back page. But, at the last minute we were bumped when a local Brownie Troop decided to have a hop scotch marathon to fight world hunger. (How are you going to compete with that?)
Anyway, our mountain bikes were loaded down with picks, shovels and other clean up items. So, we rode them around the trails of Memorial Park until we came to an overgrown or washed out section. Then we would dismount, gear up and attack the thicket or rebuild the road bed.
Team work was the key. With only hand tools and elbow grease some of the sections we came across seemed awfully daunting. But, working together, with all the Rangers pulling in the same direction, it was amazing how quickly the trail shaped up. And, when we finished a section we felt a sense of pride that our blisters and sweat yielded tangible results.
The sun was directly overhead and we’d been working for the better part of four hours. There was a chilly fog when we started around 7:30 that morning. But the mists were a distant memory now. The temperature was climbing fast and we were hot, dirty and hungry. We were already looking forward to calling it a day.
Charlie promised us that at noon we would pack up and the Club would pay for a trip to Wong’s Golden Dragon for the ‘all you can eat’ Chinese food buffet. We couldn’t wait to see the expression on Mr. Wong’s face when Shad walked through door.
Mr. Wong has a great appreciation for Shad’s ability to consume. Once he spotted us walking down the sidewalk and pretended that Shad was Godzilla coming to eat Tokyo. On another occasion he put out the closed sign and lowered all the window shades when he saw us walking by. The last time we stepped into to the buffet line, Mr. Wong came over and handed Shad a candy bar saying, “Here. Ruin your appetite.”
Charlie leaned on his shovel and pulled a red bandana out of his pocket and wiped his face. ‘Well guys, I think we have done a fair morning’s work. According to my count we have filled in three washouts, cleared half dozen fallen trees and cut back a boat load of overgrown scrub. It’s time to call it a day!”
We gave out with a grateful cheer. Work was over. We had given it our best shot and felt good about all that we accomplished. Now we could finally relax. Unfortunately, fate had a different plan in store for us. We were about to discover the reality of Grandpa Gus’ three simple rules – up close and personal.
I’ll never forget what happened next. That moment is still frozen in my mind like one of those giant Jurassic bugs preserved in amber. If I shut my eyes I can go right back there. I can still hear the crash. I can still see the pained look on everybody’s faces. I can still experience that sick feeling when the bottom suddenly dropped out of my stomach.
The funny thing is the sound was not really that spectacular. From our position a quarter mile away, it was like somebody slammed a door really, really hard. And the door slam was followed by a sound like a big metal garbage can crashing down a stairwell. Then, for what seemed like an eternity – but was probably only seconds – we heard the smashing and grinding of metal careening down the mountainside.
Finally, there was silence.
It was a deep overwhelming silence and we just stood staring at each other with blank faces. We struggled to absorb what just happened. We recognized the only possible explanation for the noise we had heard. But, I think we were too stunned to accept it.
Finally, Freddie gave a voice to what we all knew had happened. “I think someone just drove off Pickle Curve.”
**********
Pickle Curve is a deceptively sharp bend on Mountain Trail Road, just Northwest of Memorial Point. As you travel North on Mountain Trail, the curve is on a down slope just after a little rise. You can’t see over the rise, so the combination of the sudden turn and the quick decent comes as a real surprise. It got the name Pickle Curve because in the early sixties a delivery truck for the Mt. Olive Pickle Company took the turn too fast and rolled over, spilling several tons of pickles all across the roadside.
For my whole life every time I ever heard someone speak of Pickle Curve they always finished with the sentence - “Someday, someone’s going to get killed driving off that road.”
So without consciously thinking about it, I was not surprised when the words just rolled out of my mouth. “I guess Today’s the day.”
********
Our Mountain bikes were the perfect vehicle to get us over to the accident site and we were there minutes after the crash. We came tearing up an old game trail and we could see the wreckage lying off to the right just the other side of a patch of Mountain Laurel. Charlie is the fastest cyclist and he got up the trail first. He did not even slow down as he approached the Mountain Laurel. If anything he speeded up as he left the path and plowed directly into the bushes.
“Follow me guys,” we heard him yelling. “Just blast on through where I did. There’s nothing but a few branches in the way.”
Thor got their second and he smashed through like a stunt junkie. I made it through in third place. Toby, Bogdon, Freddie and Shad came through behind me in that order.
What we saw was not very promising. It was a small black four door sedan. Now, it was a smaller black four door sedan. The top was pan caked down and the car was much shorter than it had once been. It must have been traveling at a high rate of speed because it had careened a good hundred yards down the side of the mountain through some very thick brush. We could actually see tire tracks running almost straight down the hillside for a good fifty yards. At that point the car must have hit a boulder or a deep gulley because that’s where it flipped and turned sideways. From there it must have rolled over and over dropping several hundred feet in elevation. It finally came to a stop against a massive white oak, upside down and with an avalanche of debris covering the up slope side.
The car’s radiator was still hissing when I got to the scene. Charlie was already trying to get into a window. He was leaning over, digging through the loose dirt like a dog. With a rotating motion, he shoved his hands into the ground and spraying the dirt out between his legs. It was not long before he removed the debris around the collapsed passenger door. Getting down on his stomach, Charlie reached through the six inch opening that had once been much larger.
“I can feel someone,” he shouted out in excitement. “Hello? Hello? Can you hear me? Are you all right in there?”
We held our breath and prayed silently, until we heard small pained female voice. “Help us! Please help us! It’s dark. I can’t move. I think my Mom’s hurt real bad.”
“Don’t worry,” Charlie assured her. “We are getting help. Just hang on.”
“Please hurry,” said the girl.
*******
By that time everyone had arrived at the crash site and we huddled up around our club leader.
“We need to get help right now,” Charlie commanded. “We must contact 911, and get a wrecker and an emergency medical team. And, it looks like it will take the Jaws of Life to cut through the wreckage.”
“Bad news,” Toby replied. “We are out in the sticks and behind a mountain. My cell phone is not getting any signal at all.”
Without missing a beat Charlie made a presidential decision.
“Someone is going to have to go for help. Thor, you’re the fastest. Do you have your cell phone with you?”
“Right here,” Thor responded holding it up.
“Good,” said Charlie. “Take your bike and push it up the mountain to the road. I know that’s almost impossible terrain. But, you are going to have to do your best. Lives are depending on you… When you get to the road, see if you get a signal. If not, then you’re going to have to bike your butt down the road towards town. Then, after you make contact, ride back to the curve so you can direct the rescue party to our position.”
“Now go!” Charlie said, slapping Thor on the back.
Thor never even hesitated. He ran over and picked up his heavy mountain bike. Holding on to the handles with two hands he pushed it on a diagonal, full speed up the hillside. Within seconds he crashed through another set of Mountain Laurels and disappeared into the brush.
“You realize it could easily be an hour before help arrives?” said Toby.
“And, it could be another hour cutting into the wreckage to free the victims,” Bogdon added.
“Do you guys have a suggestion?” Charlie asked. “Cause right now, I cannot think of any way that the six of us can manhandle that car back over on its bottom.”
“Well,” said Toby. “I think Pythagoras said ‘Give me a lever long enough and I will move the world.”
Shad interjected, “Actually, Archimedes said that. And, it would work. But, we would need at least a 20 foot steal lever to get that car over. And there’s nothing like that lying around here.”
“What about block and tackle,” asked Toby?
“If we had four pulleys and some strong rope, I think have enough muscle power,” Bogdon surmised.
“I have an idea how we might be able to get some steal cable,” I suggested.
“If you can get the cable, maybe we can rig up some pulleys,” said Charlie.
Freddie suggested, “You know, there’s that old cedar choppers cabin about a quarter mile north. Maybe we can find something useful there?”
“Good idea,” said Charlie. “Freddie
, you and Shad head over to the cabin. Bring back a crow bar, rope, medical supplies. Anything that looks like it might be remotely useful, bring it with you.”
Charlie continued, “I don’t have to remind you that time is of the essence. Be careful. But, be quick! Toby, Bogdon and I will stay here and work on our pulleys.”
“Now, let’s go!” Charlie ordered. And we broke up our circle and each went about our assigned tasks.
“Just a minute, Shad,” I said before he and Freddie could rush off. “Have you still got those leftover fireworks in your saddle bags?”
“Yeah,” Shad replied. “I’ve been have been hauling them around since New Years. Are you going to try and use them to signal for help?”
“No,” I replied. “But, I may need them to help cut some cable.”
“I don’t know how you are going to do that. But, you can have them if it will help.”
Shad unsnapped the saddle bags from the back of his bike and tossed them over. Then he and Freddie mounted up and road off. They quickly disappeared into the forest to the North.
I threw the saddlebags over my shoulder and ran over to my bike and unstrapped my Pulaski axe. With the axe and the fireworks, I jogged off on foot climbing strait up the mountain.
********
I think I am in pretty good shape for an average kid. I mean, I am tall and trim and I get a lot of exercise. But, trying to run up that mountain was a bitch! (Pardon my French.) I remember just trying to keep my feet moving. I held onto my equipment with my left hand and with my right I kept grabbing limbs and roots and bushes. I grabbed anything I could get a hold of to pull me up – or in some cases keep me from falling back down.
It was not long before I was huffing and puffing. But, I just kept moving. And under my breath I was praying the whole way.
Once, about five feet up a steep rock stretch the small bush I was holding on to came out of the ground in my hand. Luckily, it was only a five foot drop to a nice strong ledge. Thank you, God!
I was scratched up and dirty by the time I made it up to Mountain Trail Road. But, I made it.