Shareware Supreme Volume 6 #1/swsii.zip/swsii/201/RUBYV25.ZIP/RUBY25-4

Text File | 1993-09-12 | 4KB | 66 lines

Copyright 1993(c)
                 BLUESTONE LAKE, WEST VIRGINIA
                        by Vince Rifici

     When I pushed open the tent flap I could see nothing but white
mist. Visibility was absolutely zero! I felt the cool moist air on
my skin and I shuddered momentarily as I reached for my clothes.
I dressed in a hurry while I mentally prepared myself to face a
dismal, wet day on the bike. I crawled from the little tent and
aimed myself in the direction of the camp table. I marveled how
ethereal the mist seemed. It was pure white, almost brilliant, but
without the sensuous warmth of the sun's rays.
     On the table was my little backpackers stove and the coffee
pot. Luckily I had filled the pot last night. I never would be able
to find my way to the water pump in this light. I was barely able
to see from one end of the table to the other. I managed to locate
the coffee, the sugar and the powdered cream which I had packed in
neat little plastic containers. Everything was soaking wet. After
a half dozen tries I lit the little stove and boiled two cups of
water. I was certain Anne would appreciate a cup of coffee before
facing this soggy aurora.
     Then it came to me suddenly. We were stuck at Bluestone Lake!
I surely could not drive a motorcycle in this mist. I would be
lucky to be able to follow the white line, never mind just to keep
the bike on the roadway. We would have to wait here until it
cleared. How long, I could not tell.
     When we pulled into camp last night it was dark. The camping
season was over and we had our choice of tent sites. I selected an
open site on the grass near the edge of the lake. It was very quiet
and peaceful, and I could see the moon glowing softly through a
layer of high cirrus clouds. We sat and talked and drank coffee
and watched the small campfire until the memory of the day's
highway noise evaporated from our minds.
     Late September is a good time to go motorcycle camping. The
kids are back to school and the evenings are cool enough to keep
most summer campers at home. Now is when most of the wild creatures
return to the empty campgrounds. Anne and I love this time of the
year, and many of our experiences with nature have occurred during
the fall season.
     When Anne emerged from the tent I heard her call out. I could
tell she was as amazed as me over the 'white-out'. I directed her
to the coffee pot, and while she sipped the hot liquid we heard
splashing in the water, seemingly very close to shore. We walked
quietly toward the edge of the lake and scanned the water as far
as the mist would allow. There, only ten feet away, stood a
beautiful white tail doe and two baby fawns, heads down, drinking
through the thick layer of steam rising from the surface of the
lake. We stood motionless and I began to wonder if it wasn't so
bad to be stuck here after all.
     Later that morning we discovered that our 'white-out' was
really a cloud which had surrounded the mountain we were camped on.
When the sun's rays heated the valley below the cloud simply moved
out. By 10 a.m., the entire campground was clear as a bell. We
reluctantly broke camp and headed down the mountain for another day
'on the trail'.
     For the next two weeks we camped at every State and Federal
Park in West Virginia. The encounters we had with nature are too
numerous to list in this essay. I can only say this state rates
the highest marks for its natural beauty and abundance of wildlife.
The roads are a bikers paradise, wild and twisting with no
'honky-tonk' or commerce cluttering the landscape. West Virginia's
food is among the best I have eaten, and its residents are the
friendliest and most helpful in the east.
     Someday, when you have the time, run Highway 250 from Staunton
to Wheeling. You'll want to go back again, as we will someday.
                               END