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When backpacks turn…Terrors on the trail.

 
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MerMuser





Joined: 12 Feb 2009
Posts: 77
Location: Winslow, AZ

PostPosted: 2/28/2009, 1:13 pm    Post subject: When backpacks turn…Terrors on the trail. Reply to topic Reply with quote

Sometimes the whole romantic notion of carrying
your home on your back can become a nightmare.
That’s when backpacks turn on you, becoming
traitors.

What tales do you have?

Here’s a little poem about my recent near mishap:

Perils of My Pack

One afternoon I was extremely energetic
My performance waxed way parapatetic
Crossing rocky terrain, over streams, hills and plains
Left my reasoning skills rather pathetic

Though an easy campsite was just underfoot
Seductive hillsides beckoned a look
Pack strapped in place, I scrambled up a steep face
Where my haversack held me hostage in a nook

Peregrination became a big problem
Panic crept down to perionchium
The belt wouldn’t release, my brain wrinkles increased
I sat sacked by my rucksack ad nauseam

Feeling helpless as Franz Kafka’s beetle
Sandstone footholds loose, limbs became feeble
Lucky wrestles freed me--deep breathing—Peripeteia!
Tented in the gentle spot--Pact with pack: pivotal.



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PageRob





Joined: 03 Mar 2005
Posts: 859
Location: Page, Az.

PostPosted: 2/28/2009, 8:14 pm    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

Spring on the Chinle
Crossing mud we find quicksand
Extraction not easy
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kurthzone
Thread Killer




Joined: 31 Dec 2002
Posts: 1097
Location: Peoria, Arizona

PostPosted: 2/28/2009, 9:50 pm    Post subject: Re: When backpacks turn…Terrors on the trail. Reply to topic Reply with quote

MerMuser wrote:



Feeling helpless as Franz Kafka’s beetle



Ah yes Metamorphosis, felt like Gregor a few times myself.
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MerMuser





Joined: 12 Feb 2009
Posts: 77
Location: Winslow, AZ

PostPosted: 3/1/2009, 5:00 pm    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

Cool dip-sun warmed rock
Melodic brook receding
Yielding precious drops
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MerMuser





Joined: 12 Feb 2009
Posts: 77
Location: Winslow, AZ

PostPosted: 3/1/2009, 5:22 pm    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

Hiker showed up
Unsteady--Unready to hike
I stayed behind to sun
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PageRob





Joined: 03 Mar 2005
Posts: 859
Location: Page, Az.

PostPosted: 3/1/2009, 5:33 pm    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

Man had no swimsuit
Still wanted to take a dip
Nude at Fossil Springs

That was on an Ecology field trip. Wasn't me though...
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PageRob





Joined: 03 Mar 2005
Posts: 859
Location: Page, Az.

PostPosted: 3/1/2009, 7:29 pm    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

Once again, a selection from my book (which has been viewed and rejected by at least one publisher now...):

The holds were skimmed with ice and impossible to see below him as he eased down the crack, going only by feel. His backpack on his back threatened to pull him backwards off the cliff, down to the bottom of the abyss. The cold gnawed at him. He wanted to take off his insulated gloves to get a better grip. He didn’t dare take off his gloves for fear of becoming hypothermic, loosing his grip, freezing his fingers to the rock and loosing some skin painfully. A myriad of reasons, none of them really invalid, so he left them on. What choice did he really have; leave them on and struggle down or take them off and lose skin, grip, or body heat? Not much of a decision. Rob found himself thinking that his choices were slowly narrowing, that his path forward was preset for him and all he could do was act out the part he’d been given. A week ago he could have decided not to come up to Cedar Mesa. A day ago he could have turned himself in when the rangers showed up. Now all he could do was run or give up.
Down the chute, crabbing further against the walls of the crack. Exposed cliff face was coming closer as he worked his way lower. The crack pinched out, the opening so narrow he could barely wedge his way out. His hips brushed the frigid sandstone and he tried to fight off a shiver; no unnecessary moves, please.
Then he was out of the crack with nothing but pure space below and behind him. The slope dropped away eighty feet under him to the ledge where a dozen or so Basketmakers had lived over 1,500 years ago. Once he got there, he’d be and eighth of the way to the canyon floor. Practically there, he told himself. Just gotta finish this porridge trail first. He shouted up to Lori.
“I’m out of the crack. You can start down.”
“How is it?”
“Bad. Icy. I’ve still got another eighty-some feet to go.”
“What if I fall?”
“I’ll try to dodge.”
Cold comfort indeed. Fowler kept his gaze upward until h saw Lori’s silhouette in the space of the crack, and then he resumed his climb down. The cliff stretched out on either side of him, a smooth, dark face in the moonshadow. The shape of a lone cloud skidded across the sky, its companion image dragging darkly across the canyon bottom. Rob shuddered in the cold, and continued picking his way down slowly.
Despite the freezing weather, iced-over holds, and an increasing wind, not to mention various criminal acts recently committed, Rob was feeling pretty good. Not only had he struck a righteous blow against The Man, but he was getting away with it. The first bench below them, he knew, was hard to reach, but once they got there they could hike along to a boulder fall and scramble down to another slickrock bench. From there it was a simple friction descent to the canyon bottom. Not that the boulder fall was any fun, but it was no where near as exposed as the hand-and-toe trail they were currently on. A tricky route, to be sure, but doable-
Too much thinking, Fowler, and not enough concentration. His foot came down in a toe hold and he shifted his weight to move to the next hand hold. His boot slipped on the ice inside the hold, and his pack, following gravity’s seductive call, pulled him out and down. Without so much as a second’s notice he was sliding and then tumbling down the seventy-degree slope, cold, rough, sandstone pulling at his jacket, his pack, his gloves. His head struck the cliff, sending his headlamp flying off into the night while he saw stars filling his vision. How high above the ledge was he anyway? He seemed to be sliding forever. His pack had a death wish, was wanting to hurl him backwards completely into the abyss, tumbling into the void of eternity. No goddamnit! He though (or was that screamed?) to himself. He wasn’t going to die yet. Masau’u hasn’t given me the sign yet, he hasn’t fulfilled his promise!
Then the crash. That horrible wet-sack sound of flesh slapping cold, hard stone. Tumbling towards the edge. Despite all previous expectations his life did not flash before his eyes, all his evil deeds returning to haunt him in slow motion. Rather Fowler’s mind and eyes were consumed by the edge of the ledge, looming closer as he flipped head-over-heels...
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azbackpackr
Hi Tech Wizardess




Joined: 31 Dec 2005
Posts: 3639
Location: Needles CA

PostPosted: 3/2/2009, 5:50 am    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

Ouch! You really did make me feel the pain of that guy. So does he die, or what? Or does he wake up in the helicopter?
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PageRob





Joined: 03 Mar 2005
Posts: 859
Location: Page, Az.

PostPosted: 3/2/2009, 6:32 am    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

I guess you'll have to read the book... Wink
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MerMuser





Joined: 12 Feb 2009
Posts: 77
Location: Winslow, AZ

PostPosted: 3/2/2009, 1:11 pm    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

Now, that's what I'm talking about:

"His pack had a death wish, was wanting to hurl him backwards completely into the abyss, tumbling into the void of eternity. No goddamnit! He though (or was that screamed?) to himself. He wasn’t going to die yet. Masau’u hasn’t given me the sign yet, he hasn’t fulfilled his promise!"

and I really like about his life not flashing before his eyes, as expected...maybe he was expecting to die...was this happening at night?

I'd hate to miss out on the flashback experience if I was standing at the pearly gates...

I like the description of action and inclusion of the 5 senses in such detail within your writing.
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PageRob





Joined: 03 Mar 2005
Posts: 859
Location: Page, Az.

PostPosted: 3/2/2009, 4:15 pm    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

Glad you liked it! Yes, this scene takes place at night just after a storm during a full moon in the dead of winter; lots of ice and snow.
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BoyNhisDog
The dangerous place where the winds meet




Joined: 05 Jan 2003
Posts: 1375
Location: Tucson

PostPosted: 3/3/2009, 6:46 pm    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

My kind of company. Love the poetry and the stories. I'll let an image I captured late last week speak in place of words, a winter scene in the northern deserts of Arizona, a hidden wave. The poetry is there and there are stories in the surrounding sand and sandstone; many stories, natural "crop circles", things lost and captive stones.


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wanderingsoul





Joined: 19 Jul 2004
Posts: 2285
Location: Gilbert AZ

PostPosted: 3/3/2009, 9:13 pm    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

Oh my gosh .... How beautiful
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MerMuser





Joined: 12 Feb 2009
Posts: 77
Location: Winslow, AZ

PostPosted: 3/4/2009, 1:47 pm    Post subject: Beautiful shot! Reply to topic Reply with quote

How did you get that exquisite shot?

Are you looking out toward the sky

from a very high nook in the side of a mountain?(which would have to be level... Rolling Eyes ...?)

I'ts so beautifully pristine and those layers are fantastic!

I love the windblown clouds behind the very still alcove of untouched sand...
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