Chapter 7: Wilderness
Tom spread the topo map out on the matted leaves and studied it carefully.
“We are here,” he said pointing to a small intermittent blue line that fed into a thick blue line, “Just where Brushy Creek joins the Current River.” He pauses, looks at the map a while longer. “What I think we should do is work this valley north. I don’t want to have to worry about anyone getting lost, so remember, all you have to do is stay in this valley and walk down hill to get back here. I won’t leave till we get everyone back. There is a lot of ground to cover, stick together, I don’t want anyone being alone. This is about as remote as you can get in Missouri, there are still wild horses running around down here. The wild horses won’t bother you, but there is one very dangerous animal in these woods, MAN.”
There are eight guys and two women here and a few people murmur agreement. . The plan is explore some of the more remote areas looking for caves that have not been found. This area of southern Missouri was once sparsely settled but the population was pretty much completely wiped out during the Civil War. The Union and Confederate raided the farms for food and valuables. The irregular troops known as Bushwhackers, Bald-Knobbers or Jayhawks looted and burnt what was left. The few farmers who held out from that eventually went bankrupt. This land was good for timber, after the trees were felled there isn’t much you can do with this rocky soil. I don’t know when the government took it due to unpaid taxes but ninety percent of this county is owned by either the state or the department of the interior. Generations upon generations have passed since it was logged, now looking around it is hard to tell anyone ever disturbed this wilderness.
“If you find a cave make sure you get a good gps reading. “ Tom went on “If you don’t have a gps take some surveyors tape and mark some trees. Get me a rough idea where the entrance is on your topo and I’ll go back and get the lat and long and get it on this map.”
We break into teams for the hike. I am with a guy I have never met before named Alex. He seems to know what he is doing so I am not too worried. Like me, he carries a compass and a GPS. I notice he has a shoulder harness on and assume he is carrying a sidearm. This has become more and more common among the hikers as the forests become more dangerous. Meth production has become big business in these wilderness areas. The meth cookers will drive as far down an old logging road as they can and run a batch. Usually the cookers are users as well and aren’t to be treated as sane rational adults. They are wild animals who will kill in order to protect their operation. No one I know has actually found a meth site but guns have been pulled on a couple of my hiking friends and a lot of yelling went on. Figure it was probably meth cookers guarding the perimeter of their cooking site.
Tom tells Alex and I what chunk of the map he wants us to cover and again warns us to be safe. He reminds everyone to check all the exposed rock we can find and let the GPS sit for ten minutes if we do find a cave. Letting a GPS sit ensures an accurate reading.
Alex looks at his photo copied chunk of the map. “I’ll take from the 750 foot line up to the sandstone, if you don’t mind taking the valley up to that. 750 feet should be about halfway. Course if you find a cave give me a holler and I’ll drop down, will do the same for you.”
“No problem,” I reply. “I’ll give you a loud ‘HUZZAH’ if I need your attention. The farther up that valley we go I am going to get squeezed up to your level with the elevation change. So yell loud if you kick up a big rock, I don’t want it crashing down on me.”
We head off into the woods, bushwhacking through the dying brush and fallen leaves. It is late Autumn, almost early winter and the underbrush is sparse, making for easy hiking. This is the best time of year to hunt for caves, in the spring and summer the foliage is too thick to see anything. In the winter it is too hard to get a truck down the logging roads to the unexplored areas.
We scramble up and down, over rocks and under fallen trees. The eastern red cedars have invaded this area after it was logged and stands of them provide a challenge for hiking. Low branches cause us to stoop and the thickness of the trees makes us take a winding path through the woods.
After a few miles we reach our spot, Alex heads up the steep hill and I watch as he kicks rocks loose. They tumble down smashing into trees and churning up leaves. When he is about halfway up the side of the valley he turns and waves. I am guessing that is his signal that he has hit the height he wants on the valley wall. We head upstream again, him several hundred feet above me. If I look carefully I can see him moving in and out of the trees.
These old hills certainly have their secrets and lots of forgotten caves. A cave to an early settler could provide a roof over their head till the cabin was built, a premade storm shelter, even some basic refrigeration. Every cave in Missouri is rumored to have been a Jesse James hide out. Tales of lost gold, veins of silver, Desoto’s lost treasure are all said to be in these here. I doubt I will ever find anything that interesting. I am just hoping if I do find a cave it doesn’t already have a family of skunks or bears making a den in there.
I drift into my own world, making my way up and down my section of the slope checking rock outcroppings, poking my head around boulders. Then I see the sole of a boot poking out from around a tree. Before I really can register this the boot moves and a face pops out from around the tree. A guy I guess to be about 30 has his finger pressed to his lips motioning for me to be quite.
“What’s up?” I ask in a whisper.
He motions for me to come closer all the while looking over his shoulder at something behind him. “I heard you guys coming. Figured you were out here ridge walking, looking for caves. “ He said quietly.
I get closer and see that he is pointing at a cave opening .
“Do me a favor, don’t report this one right now. I am going to winter in it and then head south next spring. You can report it then. It’s not very big anyway, just one big room and then a small passage that goes maybe a hundred feet till it tapers out.”
“You live here?” I ask in amazement. “You’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“Apparently not far enough in the middle of nowhere, you found me. So is my secret safe with you?”
“Sure. But can I come back in a few weeks? I want to hear your story, find out how you came to be down here in the woods.”
“No problem. If I am not around just wait, I will be back. I’m always here at daybreak and dusk.”
“I have to go, my partner up the hill will be looking for me soon. I’ll be back in a few weeks, and don’t worry, I won’t mention you or your cave to anyone.”
I continued hiking and see Alex a few minutes later, still way up the side of the valley but directly above me. I am glad he took no notice that I had stopped hiking. I’m glad he didn’t see the squatter in the cave, I don’t want to have to convince him to keep the secret as well.
We continued the ridge walk, finding several springs and a very tiny cave opening that neither of us could fit into. Back at camp, we all talked about what we had found, no one had anything major. Leaning against my truck I realized I had found one of the most interesting things in years; a guy who had made a break from society and was living on his own in the forests of Missouri. I made a mental note to hurry back down here in case he decided to head south or move caves before winter really set in.
Bitter Fish Page 7