CHAPTER SIX - Freefall

An hour later, without benefit of moonlight but under a magnificent star-filled sky, I was stumbling my way up the narrowing trail on the right face of Hanging Rock Mountain. Most of the trail was well-worn and pretty obvious until I came even with the rock outcropping overhead. Then, as it does every year, the route becomes less distinct in the darkness. There'll be no flashlight this trip, not only because it totally ruins your night vision, but also signals the resident rangers that yet another nutcase is heading up to spend the night on the rock.

Two years ago, before I went up my first time, one of the cute little rangerettes told me they snag about 10 people each year up there, mostly because the fools left their vehicles or bicycles at the trailhead overnight, signaling their presence on the mountain. I understand it's a fairly hefty fine if they're in a lousy mood; otherwise it's a warning and a boot out of the park.

Slung over my shoulder, I have a sleeping bag, (pillow and string hammock stuffed into it), a bottle of water, one of those mini-cans of Pringles, my digital camera and a positive attitude - at least it's not going to be as cold as last year. My scramble up the west slope was spooky to say the least, but its part of the adventure. Once at the summit, the magnificent views sobered me. Tiny lights, pinpoints of civilization far below, were outnumbered a thousand-fold by the stars above me. At one point on the northern point of Hanging Rock, you are given a 270-degree view of the surrounding countryside. A good place to be in the depths of darkness.

Now, what I do and think about up there is my business - no, I didn't have any spirit bears visit me in the night… save that for Ms. Chloe and her Psychic Friends. It's just a great place to clear your head, think about what's important in life and plan for the future. Foremost in my trip planning is a return visit to West Virginia next spring. I believe I may have missed a road or two last August and I am eager to return. Besides, I have found a few people I wish to visit along the way - people I've talked to on the computer or met on the last trip. Like I said - the solo rides are preferred, but having someone to visit with at the end of the day is great.

This time, I'm likely going to be with a couple of other riders, too. I'm planning it to be a slow trip; lots of stop and go for pictures. One of the guys going with me is a professional, Hatchetman. He and I have done a fair amount of riding together, and were the two founders of the Barbarians five years ago. Wonder if we could get Stoner to join us - he hasn't been on a club ride in years! I'm looking forward to making it a true photo-journal trip - hey, you gotta know that some of the pictures on my WebSite are taken from the seat of Ol' Huck. I may actually have to get off and set up the shots thoughtfully that trip.

If I had to guess, I would have estimated it was 10:00 p.m., the temperature around 40. Sitting cross-legged on my sleeping bag doubled up underneath me and munching on the last few crumbs of my Pringles, I noticed the unmistakable signs of a flashlight snaking up the trail far below. Disappearing for many seconds at a time, either through the dense Pine trees or behind the hills approaching the mountain, it relentlessly zeros in on the base of my rock outcropping.

For nearly 20 minutes I follow its progress, and begin to formulate my escape. This is the first time I ever saw someone come up here at night, (last year I woke up and found some people had climbed up in the early morning to watch the sunrise), and I concluded that I was about to see if the rangers were in a lousy mood tonight. I know I gave no sign of my climb, unless they saw the flicker of my lighter as I enjoyed Lance's pipe. Hey…it was something the Indians did too, right?

As the light bounced off the ground and trees on its approach, I lost sight of it when it rounded the west cliff-face, 100 yards below me. I then scrambled over to the copse of trees - a few scrub junipers actually - where I had my hammock tied and gathered all my gear for my retreat into the brushes, where I had hoped to wait until their departure after failing to find anyone up here.

Within ten minutes I heard the two voices - a man's and a woman's in casual conversation, but too far away to make out the words. Makes sense, they wouldn't send someone out alone in the night to round up trespassers. Damn! They appeared to be on the top of the outcrop heading my way. I hunkered down and lay on top of the pillow with my black leather jacket making me nearly invisible.

As they passed 20 feet in front of me on the trail - I was back in the bushes - I could clearly make out their labored breathing from the scramble up the last slope, which usually required grabbing hand-over-hand from one tree trunk to the next to make it up the final tenth of a mile. Their light criss-crossed the trail but never searched the bushes, thankfully. I hoped that a ten-minute wait was all I would need for them to return the way they came and declare the mountaintop unoccupied. But, no.

The shrill scream of the woman's cry for help came within a minute of their passing. The game plan had instantly changed. I heard what sounded like Lance's voice cry out in return. Lance? What the hell is he doing up here? The reverberations of the raised voices seemed to amplify in the still night air. I rose up and crawled my way back out of my hiding spot and turned left down the path to the rock outcrop, calling out, in a somewhat forceful whisper, "Lance, where are ya?"

Silhouetted by the faint blue sky, only a few shades lighter than the surrounding tree line, as well as the flashlight he had over the edge, I see him on his knees, alone, peering over into the darkness. Shit, this may not be good.

"Candy tripped on a tree root and slipped over the edge," he said in a panicky voice.

Torn between wanting the Rangers to hear us and help in the rescue, and wanting to slap him silly for making so damned much noise, I peered over the edge with him, "Where is she?"

"There on the next ledge," he said, extending his arm over the edge pointing his beam of light to his right, but clearly not wanting to be anywhere near the edge. "See?"

I did, maybe only 20 feet down a steep slope, but not one that would have allowed a freefall. She must have bounced or slid most of the way.

I looked back at him; face down with his eyes closed. Seems I saw him in that exact position earlier in the day in front of the bar. "Not good about heights, huh?"

"I don't do heights, man… dunno why the hell she talked me into this." His voice seemed too loud for the situation and wavered a bit.

"All right - go back on the trail a ways back and get my string hammock - I dumped it by those trees," I said pointing in the direction I had just come from. "Hey! Turn off your light and shut the hell up!" I hissed, thinking we may just pull this out without a ride in the Ranger van out of the park after all.

I had at least 30 feet of rope on my hammock, if you count the hammock itself and the two ropes on either side. You never know how far apart you find your trees out camping. I get really grumpy if I don't get to relax in my hammock, listening to the tree frogs, locusts and crickets. Not many of those out tonight though.

With him and his light gone, my eyes adjusted to the light quickly. I saw her dark jacketed form lying on the ground below me, slowly rolling over as if trying to get up. Rolling, I was afraid, closer to a ledge that wouldn't be as forgiving as the last one she just went over.

With a headfirst slide that a baseball player would have been proud of, Lance bellied up close to the edge next to me, "She OK?" I know he couldn't possibly see over the edge as far back as he was laying.

"Seems to be. What the fuck are you guys doing up here?" I said, in a hushed but obviously angry tone. I hoped he understood I wasn't expecting an answer to it. Candy was dazed and didn't answer our calls, so I told Lance to hang on to the end of the braided green nylon rope at one end of the hammock.

He braced himself behind a substantial rock near the edge, happy not to be the one going over the edge. At least it wasn't a vertical climb - I doubt he'd be able to hold me and I know damned well, he'd never do it.

Looking at the flimsy-looking middle section which made up the hammock itself, he said "This gonna hold you?"

"Its been holding me up for five years all over the country, I 'spect it'll hold me steady climbing down there, as long as you don't fuckin' let go."

Well, he didn't let go, but I didn't count on the rocks being so loose either. Before I had time to analyze what happened, I was on my back not 3 feet from Candy, now sitting up looking bewildered at why I fell down next to her, too.

This is not turning out to be one of the better bike trips this year!

"Oh, man, I am so sorry we caused all this trouble." Was all she could whimper as she looked up the face of the cliff.

I'll spare you all the small talk. Candy was OK. She climbed the rope back to the top with Lance's encouragement. She went over the top and they both went out of sight for what seemed ages before he popped his head back over the edge to tell me he was ready for me. The scramble back up wasn't too bad. I went way around to my right aided by some stunted bushes and tree limbs clinging to the face of this cliff.

Back on top, Candy comes over and gives me a hug way too tight and long for a woman whose husband was likely still snoring in the camp below. She felt good though, warm and soft in the cold night air.

I repeated my question, "What the fuck are you guys doing up here?" Well, I knew damned well what they were doing. They had a couple more beers around the fire... Chet passed out... and they saw a chance at a little craziness and adventure after having listened to me about the view from up here in the middle of the night. They looked at each other silently. Can't say as I blamed them, but it sure as hell did take the edge off my attitude.

For the second time today, Lance looked like a little boy who'd been seen being spanked by his mother.

I've always been one who enjoys taking people to places that are special to me and allow them to enjoy it as much as I do, so I pulled the little pipe out of my pocket and fired it up. I handed it smoldering to Lance, and said simply, "Does look pretty cool though, huh?"

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