Bitter Fish Page 5

  Chapter 5: Night Hunt

  Slowly I slide along on my belly to the edge of the cliff. Looking down I can see tiny figures walking around. I led them into this place, one of the largest cave openings in the country, and it is my job to lead them out, in the dark. The plan is to watch the sun go down, have the bats fly out around us, go through the cave and then bushwhack back to our cars at night. I have done this a few times before so I am not worried. Funny no one on the hike seems worried either, I guess they trust me.

  I feel like god perched up here. I hardly know any of these people but like them all. Anyone who goes night hiking has got to be my kind of person. I have 17 people down there, ranging in age from the mid 20’s to I don’t know, a few are retired. You get a strange mix showing up for these things, but I think we are all drawn to the wilderness for our own reasons.

  Since coming back from Africa I have been more and more drawn into the wilderness. Before it was a passing hobby, a chance to hang out with friends and drink some beer. Now it consumes me. I joined a hiking group and was soon leading hikes. I never really felt like I had that much experience in the wilderness but if you pretend like you know what you are doing with a compass and a map people will generally follow you anywhere.

  I hear someone coming up the trail, I assume it is one from my group but am mistaken.

  “Jim, what are you doing out here?” Jim is a friend of mine, great guy, great hiker and something of a pyro maniac.

  “I brought you guys a little show, hiked in from the north so as to surprise you, didn’t think I would find you up on this cliff.” His little show was sticking out the back of his pack, a load of fireworks, the big professional kind. “Walking up here I thought you might be that Ozark Wild Man I been hearing rumors about.”

  “Never heard of him, but do tell.”

  “Rumor is that a guy gave up on society, headed off to southern Missouri, lives off in the woods somewhere.”

  “Where did you hear that rumor, or did you make it up?” I ask with a grin, Jim has some tall tales.

  “Heard some Ozark Trail Association people talk about it. They had a work party way down south putting up trail markers. As soon as they put them up someone was tearing them down. So they set up one of those automatic game cameras. They got one picture of a wild haired guy wearing buckskin tearing down the sign. Then the rest of the pictures were of his junk.”

  “Funny, my kind of guy filling up their film like that.”

  “They talked to some locals and turns out others have seen him from time to time. They are pretty sure he is camping out in the woods somewhere, maybe back in one of those caves. They contacted the sheriff and the National Forest Service, told them to keep an eye out.”

  “Over this? Haven’t they got bigger problems?” I ask. The forest service has lots of problems controlling their land. Illegal logging is rampant; misuse by ATV’s is destroying the trails. Lately meth production has moved into the area and remote sites are used to cook it up.

  “Yeah, believe it or not, over that. So now the search is on for an uncircumcised wild man, I would love to be the sheriff handling this: “Pardon me sir, but I got a pic of some guys’ junk and I need you to drop your drawers and see if we have a match.” Jeez, I say they should let it go. He doesn’t want people down there is all. I know other folks who tear down their signs, when you are in a pristine forest it should be entirely pristine.”

  “Eh, I would rather the city folk had a sign. I don’t want them wandering around lost down there. The more people we get into the woods the better a chance we can get something done about the problems and illegal use.”

  “Good point, now hows about a little show?” Jim says, as he pulls off his pack and begins removing his fireworks.

  “Let me scramble down there and tell everyone.” I climb down a side trail as fast as I can, sending a shower of rocks and debris before me.

  At the cave entrance I find everyone sniffing butts and wagging tails, what I call the idle chatter people make. There are two unattached women and that generally drives the men crazy, so the sniffing butts portion of this hike is in full gear. I wonder about these two, both of them catches in their own way, wonder why they are out here on a late fall evening, with the sun setting, a cold wind blowing, hanging out with a bunch of rowdy hikers. I say a silent prayer of thanks to the Witch Dr. At least I am not out to hump every attractive leg that comes along anymore. Watching these guys try and be something they are not makes me feel sorry for humanity.

  Before I can say anything about Jim the show starts. Jim is blasting away with rockets up there and all eyes turn towards the heavens. Everyone, that is, except one of the hikers who has brought a dog. That dog split on him as soon as the fireworks started booming in the sky.

  “I’m going to go find my dog” I am told and I am not worried, I have hiked with this guy a few times before, and figure he knows what he is doing so I don’t send anyone with him. Generally at night, alone in the forest is a bad thing, but I think he will be alright and I am not his boss.

  “Good luck Paul! See you at the parking lot.” So we are down to 16 and off we go into the cave. I am the tour guide, pointing out different formations, giving a history of this cave, the state park we are in, how this was all supposed to be underwater. I am sort of amazed that people don’t know more of the history of the Meremac, how for years there was a legal battle to build a damn and have flood control for the Mississippi and a big lake for boaters. Nothing could stop the government though. They wanted a damn and they were going to get one. Eminent domain, the farmers were run off, the land was taken over, bridges up stream rerouted.

  No one ever bothered to ask mother nature about this. The pilot holes for the damn were drilled and they kept finding caves. Caves ran everywhere under the hills. A big hole was drilled and cavers sent down to survey the size of the cave. Engineers were brought in to examine alternatives. There were none, no damn here would last, would ever hold water and would probably be a ticking time bomb if built.

  Sort of like life, the best laid plans always look good on paper. I suppose if I showed God what I had planned for my life he would get a good laugh out of it. Perhaps that is why I quit planning anything out, let the forces of nature take me where they may.

  Inside the cave my hikers oooh and ahhh. When I was caving down in central Mexico the local Indians considered caves a portal to the spirit world and held them in great respect. Perhaps these caves are a portal to another world, a world before time. These formations have taken eons to grow, drip by drip into the beautiful curtains and spires that we see. When we are all dead and forgotten this cave will still be here, growing and changing. Our time here as stewards of the land is nothing compared to eternity.

  On the way back to the parking lot it is pitch black. No moon tonight, no stars, just an overcast sky. The path we are taking is combination game trail and creek bottom. Everyone has wet feet at this point and a couple of breaks are needed as people pull off boots and wring out socks.

  “Just keep moving and don’t tie your boots too tight. You gotta keep circulation to your feet” A few other more experienced hikers offer their bits of wisdom, I am sure some of the new people are regretting this trek. That wind just keeps coming up the valley, with wet feet it is cold! We make good time even though there is no trail and the brush is thick in places.

  On the hike back I learn a bit more about the girls. They are out sniffing for guys and figured this is a better way of meeting someone than hanging in a bar. I tend to agree with them. Hiking and caving you really get to know one another, its low pressure, no awkward attempts at conversation. One of them is about my age, divorced with kids. I should probably care. But I also realize it will never go anywhere, will just sleep with her and throw her away. Of course there is the awkwardness of her being in the group so I think better of it. I need to thank the Witch Dr. again.
It is curious to hear what she is looking for in a guy though, “I want someone clean cut and professional, a West County kind of guy.” I have no idea what that means, but am pretty sure I am not that kind of guy, as I am long haired, unshaven, and normally a bit drunk.

  I lead the group back to the parking lot. It was a great hike, lots of scrambling around. At the trailhead I notice Paul’s car sitting there, but no Paul. It’s about 10:00 at night, perhaps 40 degrees out, and a cold wind is blowing from the North. This is not good.

  Most of the people leave but a few of us are planning on bivouacking in another cave not far from the parking lot. Paul was planning on doing that, and he has left a different dog in his car. One of the guys who had gotten in his car to leave gets out and pulls a note off the windshield. Written on the back of a Park Rangers business card is a note telling us there is no camping here. Great, now I have a guy missing and a park ranger out here looking for us.

  There are 6 of us remaining, and we argue over whether or not we should go back and look for Paul. I can’t leave a guy out there at night, he could die. The others argue against this, saying they will just be looking for 2 bodies in the morning. They have a point. I ask around to see if anyone knows what Paul had in his pack. If his light went bad does he have a spare? Does he have any survival gear, matches, emergency blanket, lighter, compass? No one knows anything. One of the guys thinks that as long as he doesn’t fall asleep he will survive. I agree, basic common survival, everyone should know that, I wonder if Paul does.

  Perhaps the ranger will come back and try to run us off. If so maybe he has some resources he can call in. I keep replaying this in my mind, I should not have let him go alone, should have gone with him, but I needed to take the people through the cave. Damn, why did he have to go off and get lost.

  Plus I was hoping on getting a big fire going up outside that cave, drink a few beers, tell a few lies. Maybe if I get really bored try to chat up the two women who had stayed to camp. God had his own plans, now I am shivering and wondering what to do.

  “I bet he is lost up one of those hollows”, we hiked 5 miles to get to that cave and had to cross several hollows, “I bet I can find him by walking to the bottom of each hollow and giving a yell.” No one wants me to go, but I don’t want to sit around and wait, hours go by, he still doesn’t show up. I hear a truck coming and hope it’s the ranger. The truck pulls in and out hops Paul, dog in his hands.

  “I missed the trail completely,” he tells us amid our questions. “I don’t even know where I went, just kept moving till I found a road and flagged down a car. “ He is tired and worn out and a bit scared, so he just heads home.

  Too late to do much else but settle in for the night. Paul leaves and the rest of us crash in the cave. I wonder what other plans God has for me.