Hell isn't that far down
by: Cudbuster
Summer is a time I look forward to every year. A few friends and myself would always take a week off of work and go on a trip to some far off place. The Alaskan Wilderness, Germany, and London to name a few. This year was no different, but cash was tight for all four of us. We decided that we would go somewhere closer, but there really wasn’t much locally that all of us hadn’t already seen. Bobby eventually brought up the idea of going to an area about twenty-five miles north, where he and his dad used to camp out when he was younger.
He described it as a network of hiking trails that led through a dense expanse of forest. The forest harbored a large, fast moving river which was dotted with waterfalls, gorges, cliffs, and a few old entrances to an abandoned copper mine. We talked it over and agreed that it would be fun to do some camping to save money. Bobby told us what we would need, so we gathered the supplies and planned for two weeks later, the middle of July.
We headed out on a Monday, when traffic would be less of an issue, and made it to the turnoff at around five in the evening. The turnoff led us down a used dirt road through a field of tall grass, and no trees to block the hot sun. We continued a few hundred yards to an old, gravel parking area that sat next to a small trout stream. We parked the truck near an old, wrecked canoe, gathered our gear, and set out. A small footbridge led us across the stream and down a path that looked more like a small canyon of large cattails. Bobby told us it was about a three mile hike to the forest.
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“Gonna pass out on us already, Jake?” Scott joked. Jake was a little out of shape and had already started to fall behind.
“No, man. My big ass can keep up.” Jake huffed back.
I laughed. Jake had no problems taking a few shots about his weight. Bobby laughed alongside me. “There’s a small hill once we get into the forest. We’ll roll you down to save some time.”
The four of us traded jokes with each other, our laughter slightly echoing as the wood line started springing into view above the cattails. Bobby’s hill was within eyesight. We were slowly surrounded by tall oak trees, which shade proved a welcome cool down after our jaunt through the field.
“Hold up!” Jake yelled. “Let me roll into a ball, first. I know you dicks would love it if I cracked my head on a tree on the way down.”
“Don’t worry.” Scott said. “Plenty of fat in that head, it’d be like a wrecking ball. These trees don’t stand a chance.”
Jake chuckled. He bent over, hands on his knees, and started to pant. “I thought going down a hill was easier. Let’s stop here for a minute.”
“Sure thing, big guy.” I said.
“We’re just getting started, Jake.” Bobby said. He pointed ahead. “The trail branches out a few yards up. Dad and I always took the left one, goes to a small gorge and a bridge to an old camping area. I figured we’d go right, since none of us have ever seen it.”
“Okay, man.” Scott said. I nodded. Jake was helping himself to an energy bar, and just grunted. After a few minutes, we started back up and headed right once we reached the fork.
A little ways up, we reached the river, which had a small bridge crossing over some rapids. We looked down over the railing as the rapids raged below. Even that far down, the sound was magnificent, and we had to yell our small observations at each other. Once we crossed, the trail led us up another small hill. Atop, the trail meandered through the woods awhile, then led us into another field. Again, we found ourselves almost walled in by cattails.
