8/1/99 Warm day. Lots of birds and bugs out early. I was chased from the hot tub by a cloud of mosquitoes. The afternoon temps stayed in the 80's though, with a light breeze, and my afternoon five-mile hike was most pleasant. And there weren't many spiders out get in my beard.

I eased into the swimming hole and noticed an immediate change from past days - very few fish visible, and everything just seemed very quiet and subdued. My arms ached from previous workouts, so I decided to swim around and explore underwater and see what was going on. There were a number of perch here and there, but no bass, and none of the fish seemed to be in any hurry. Perhaps it was just a laid back afternoon in the neighborhood and most were taking naps.

A persimmon on the bottom caught my eye. At first, it looked like a giant green acorn, covered with a clear coating. But when I brought it out of the water, it just looked like a green persimmon, and very hard. The tree right above the water was a mulberry tree, itself filled with green fruit. And above that, the persimmon tree. Man, with the hickory, cowcumber, walnut, and now these trees, all lining the shore, this darn pool is going to be filled with a ton of fruit when things really began to fall later in the year.

I also discovered that one of the large boulders at the edge of the pool was covered with piles of either beaver or raccoon scat. You would think that these guys wouldn't leave all that large of a pile, but after having to clean up after a raccoon that was trapped up in the crawl space above my office in town, I know they can make a pile the same size as a large dog makes. Seeing all of the fresh beaver signs around this pool, and all of the little crawdeads in the shallow water, I suspect this pool get really rocking after dark, when the beavers and raccoons are out hunting and playing.

When I reached the far and shallow end of the pool, one of my bass buddies came swimming out towards me. They all seemed to be hanging out there at the shallow end for some reason. From that point on during my swim, every time that I would stop and spend some time in a particular spot, I would become surrounded by a dozen or two fish - mostly bluegill, a few small bass, and three big bass. They would circle and come in close and get nose to nose with my mask. I seemed to be a real tourist attraction. They bit me three times on the butt, and once got my big toe.

The bluegill is by far the most colorful fish in the stream. They look like they have neon blue flames coming out of their mouth and wrapping around their bodies, the blue flames often outlined with bright red, yellow or orange. And the patterns are endless.

One of the smallmouth bass hovered right in front of me for several minutes, and then actually yawned - his mouth opened up as big as a large mouth bass. I wondered if these bass were feasting on all of the new minnows in the pool?

And there was this black fish. I had seen him, or one just like him, a number of times in the pool. I mean this dude is COAL black. After careful study, I determined that he must be a bass, as he is shaped exactly like one of the little smallmouth bass. Few things in nature are completely black, and really stick out when they are.

I could only find one active fish nest that was being guarded. And this one was thoughtfully placed behind a rock, where it was more protected than the others. A large bluegill was guarding it. She wasn't nearly as colorful as the others, and I felt sorry for her at first. She seemed very shy and retiring, hiding out behind her rock. But then I realized that she was actually very smart to put her nest there, because she didn't have to do nearly as much work to protect it as the others had been doing. A few other bluegill snuck in close and had to be chased off, but not very many. I got down very close to her and she never paid me any attention at all. It seemed that the more I hang out in this pool, the more I am accepted by the fish as one of their own. Except for those who have been biting me on the butt - I still look like food to them.

I spent some time on the bottom of the pool. By exhaling most of my air, I could sink quickly and stay motionless on the bottom for a minute or longer. Of course, in this pool, the bottom water temp is COLD! It is another world down there, with the colored fish moving around so quietly and effortlessly. But there was sound. I could hear a clicking sound, but never did figure out what was making it.

Sitting on the bottom of an emerald pool in the summertime Ozarks is about as slow a pace of life as one can have. It gives your mind a lot of room to wander. I keep hoping to see one of those underwater wood nymphs swimming towards me, but so far none has appeared.

The horseflies have been getting bad. And anytime that I would stand in shallow water, they would really become pests. I took great joy in swatting them, tossing their mangled bodies out into the water, and waiting until they disappeared in a great splash - gobbled up by a fish.

When I was on the swim team, I could dive into the pool, swim to the far end underwater, turn around underwater, and make it all the way back to my starting point without ever breaking the surface (or taking a breath). That was 50 yards. I knew that I could never make it all the way to the end of this pool (nearly twice that distance), but I decided that I wanted to see how far I could go. I only tried it once this day, and I made it about a third of the way across before blasting to the surface gasping for air. Not too bad for an old guy, but I could and would do better as the summer rolled on. I had a landmark to get to, and each time I tried I would place a beaver stick on the bottom at my far point, hoping to swim farther each time. It takes a while to build up your endurance underwater.

The first time that I spent any time down in the Virgin Islands (teaching underwater photography workshops), we needed to gather conch shells from the bottom for dinner (we were living on 50-foot sailing yachts). It was about 30 feet to the sandy bottom, which was littered with living conch shells. We didn't want to waste tanks of air, so we free dived, with only mask and snorkel. I only made it about half way to the bottom on my first attempt, then had to surface. The next trip I made it a little deeper, and so on. Finally, I not only could reach the bottom in one breath, but could swim around and collect three or four conch shells in my bag before having to return to the surface. My lung capacity expanded quickly back then. And after all of that work, which actually turned into play, the white conch meat tasted wonderful.

My hike back up the hill was a wet one (lots of sweat), but I made it easily without stopping. A nice breeze met me on the deck.

The early stars were especially bright tonight, mainly because the moon was coming up so late. I was in the hot tub when it finally did show up close to midnight. It was glowing orange.

8/2/99 A cool morning at last! Well, kind of cool - in the low 70's. And no bugs to drive me from the tub at all. While I was working at the computer later, I heard a loud thud - a bird had crashed into one of the windows. It was a kingbird, and he must have been going full speed, because it killed him instantly. A lot of times these birds are only stunned by the windows, and later recover and fly off. But not this poor fellow. I took him out into the woods and laid him on a mossy rock. I could sense his soul rising back up into the trees.

The daunting task of editing the Cloudland Journal from the past year continues. It will be published in book form later this year. Right now, the text is over 400 pages long, with more than a MILLION characters and a quarter million words. Good grief. I will trim that back probably another 25%, trying to get the final book to be 300+ pages long.

I am considering publishing a second book at the same time. This one would be smaller, more pocket sized, and a paperback, so that folks can throw it in their daypacks for reading during those lazy breaks in the woods. It would contain selected essays from the main journal, perhaps a hundred pages or so. I hope to have them both out and ready for sale by late November or early December.

**BEGIN UPDATE** Later in the day my good friends John and Linda Fordyce stopped by. They brought with them Linda's daughter and a couple of sweet little granddaughters, plus LUNCH! We all feasted on ham sandwiches, potato salad and a fine bottle of wine. I hadn't seen John and Linda for a while, and this was their first visit to the cabin. They have spent much of their time these past few years tripping around the world, and would be off later this year for another six month trip to Europe and whatever they happen to end up.

After they left I had to return to town for a little business and dinner with my old flame Leslie (she is the young lady who got me started writing this journal). I stopped by the garden to pick up a few tomatoes for my mom. As I was driving off, I realized that I had a flat tire - only the second one for me in a long time. It was embarassing to drive around with that silly fake tire on, but it did get me back to town.

8/3/99 It was late in the day when I returned to the cabin, and just in time for an evening stroll. The plants in the Faddis Meadow were nearly six feet tall as I made my way through them to the garden. Benny is supposed to be out this week to mow them down, which will be welcome. The tomatoes were rotting by the dozens, and the green beans and bell peppers were going to waste too. The three watermelons at the far end of the garden that I had been keeping my eye on and were about ready to pick were gone - a watermelon thief! I think it must have been Eddie and his daughter who had been out. Good thing someone is getting some produce out of the garden. Most of what Robert plants goes to waste, since he usually leaves town for the summer.

As I hiked the lane towards the East Meadow, I found a pile of peach pits at the base of the smaller peach tree. This little guy had produced a good crop of fruit, and someone had eaten every one (probably ants and other assorted bugs on the ground). The larger tree still had all its fruit, although one of its limbs had broken under the weight. These peaches weren't quite ripe yet, so I didn't get to sample any.

The grass/weeds/flowers in the East Meadow weren't quite as tall as in the other meadow, but they needed to be mowed too. The garden there was still bare, except for a few sunflowers that were trying to survive. The meadow is normally the one with all of the wildlife, but I hadn't seen anything there in some time.

It was very dark as I entered the woods and followed my little trail back to the cabin. The nighttime sky was spectacular, and the Milky Way shone brightly.

8/4/99 It was cool and cloudy when I crawled out of bed. I kept all the windows open. It felt like rain. Boy, that would be great! Later in the morning, a crew from the power company showed up to install a big surge protector in my main box down in the basement. Ever since they hooked up their new main line for this area last week, the power hasn't gone out a single time. As these guys were walking through the cabin, they said "first, we have to go look off of your deck."

As soon as they drove away, a light rain began to fall. It was cool, and the air smelled just wonderful. I took the opportunity to climb into the swing and take a short nap. Several hours later I got up and went back to work. The rain was so great, although it remained light and there wasn't really all that much of it. But it kept the temps down in the low 70's all day.

Just before dark the clouds parted and sunshine flooded the wilderenss. I took it as a sign that I needed to go out on a hike, which I did. It was just a short one, down to the river and back, but it felt great. Hardly any spider webs at all.

Once I cooled down and cleaned up, I fired up the grill and threw on a couple of salmon filets that had been marinating all afternoon. I have this new grill you see, and I felt obligated to break it in. The biggest party of the year will be here this weekend, and so I have to the get the grill in shape. We will be celebrating the Wildman's 78 birthday, and will be cooking a heap big pile of gormet burgers and dogs.

The valleys were filled with light, smoky air, while delicate hues of yellow and orange filled the sky. Part of that smoke was coming from my grill - a tad of salmon aroma filtered into the forest, probably causing a bear or two to wonder why they were munching on grub worm when they could be dining on salmon (they would have to fight me for it).

The outside temp was very pleasant, and with no bugs around, I had the luxury of leaving the deck door open as I came and went. Summer evenings in the Ozarks are quite often very nice, but the coolness made this night simply wonderful. There were lots of bats out working, even flying through the porch - eat up them bugs guys!

I opened a bottle of fine wine and listened to classical music on the radio. It was indeed a classic Cloudland evening.

8/5/99 The light on my pillow was orange, and outside my window there were a dozen shafts of matching sunlight beaming through the fog. The valleys were socked in with a thick blanket, and the dramatic beauty of it all forced me out of bed to admire the view.

It was cool out, and for the first time in a long while, dew had formed on the roof. Which reminded me that I needed to put up one last section of rain gutter above a part of the upper deck, just to divert water from dripping onto the deck. That took all of five minutes. The rest of my day was spent editing the journal, and making phone calls and writing e-mails, mostly about the Ozark Highlands Trail project, and the stupid position that both the Forest Service and Park Service have taken against it.

Later in the evening, Kathy and Terry Fredrick stopped by to spend a couple of days. They had been planning a quick trip out to Colorado while there was a lull in their chicken business, but their free time got cut short by the Tyson folks, so they decided to spend their short vacation at Cloudland instead of in the real mountains.

Terry is one of the few folks that I would rank right up there with John Muir, Bob Marshall and Eric Ryback as far as his wilderness exploration stamina goes. He has been to just about every little corner of wild land in the Ozarks, and can run off and leave me in the dust. He and his wife moved down here from way up north a few years ago, and he has not stopped hiking since.

8/6/99 A strange cry from out in the forest woke me early, long before daylight. I had heard this call once before a few days ago, but could never identify it. I sat up in bed and tried to get a fix on the sound, but it never called out again. Several hours later I awoke to a very cool and overcast morning - it felt great outside!

After breakfast I said something to Terry and Kathy about the call, but neither one of them heard it - I think they had their window closed. They asked if it could have been a lynx. A lynx? Terry said that we do have them in the area, and he has seen their tracks. I had not told them of my sighting a few weeks ago - I haven't really told anyone, because it all seemed so unlikely. When I mentioned it to them, they were not at all surprised. They grew up in the wilds of the north, where there are a lot of lynx, so I figured they knew what they were talking about. So there it is, I am officially saying now that I saw a lynx! Still don't know what the sound was this morning though.

I worked on the journal and my e-mail and phone calls all morning, while Kathy drove Terry up to Dixon Ford. This is the upper drop off point for a float or hike down through the wilderness (the canoe run is called the Hailstone). Terry is going to hike from that point on down the river to the cabin, about ten miles. I have business in town today, so could not join him.

I am off to town now for a few hours, and will write more and post it on Monday. The Wildman's big b-day party is tomorrow, and Cloudland may never be the same!

When I returned later in the evening, Terry was recovering down in the basement, in front of the TV, watching Jeremiah Johnson on the big screen. He had a memorable hike. It took him a total of over eight hours to go the ten miles from Dixon Ford back to the cabin.

The first part of his hike was fairly easy, as he followed an open trail near the river. The brush got rather thick after that, and much of the river was filled with deep pools. He only saw one snake, got eaten alive by bugs, and used the water filter that I loaned him a lot. It was very hot and humid.

8/7/99 The wind woke me at 2:30am, then an animal walking in front of the outside alarm stirred me wide awake a few minutes later. And then this gorgeous orange crescent moon peeked out from above the far ridgetop. The moon woke up a number of owls in the wilderness, and they proceeded to talk back and forth for hours. I never went back to sleep.

With a little direction from Kathy, I made four batches of oatmeal-chocolate chip cookies for my party guests. I forced myself to sample a cookie or two from each batch. Hey, a guy has to eat.

The wind picked up as the day grew hotter. The meadow below was filled with butterflies - more than I had seen all year. There were several dozen spicebush butterflies, a number of yellow tiger swallowtails, plus lots of others that I did not know. They all seemed to be enjoying the wind currents, which took them from one wild sunflower bloom to the next.

The wild sunflowers are getting pretty healthy, and they seem to like the long days of dry sunshine. The flowers are so thick and heavy that some of the clumps of flowers are doubled over from the weight.

From my spot in the hammock, I can look far out into the forest and see wildflowers waving back and forth, and butterflies hopping between them. The breeze feels great. The scene is quite relaxing. I alternate between short naps and trips to the cookie jar. There is a big sign on the front door that reads "Please remove your shoes, then eat a cookie." Just another lazy summer afternoon at Cloudland.

As the afternoon drew on, the wind continued to blow, the butterflies flew, and the birthday party guests arrived, two by two. By dinner time we had a full house of 23 folks, the most ever for a party at Cloudland. And in typical fashion, the bar and countertops were covered with wonderful food - grilled, homemade, fresh from the garden, you name it. And, of course, it all was preceded by pitcher after pitcher of Bushwhackers.

A few special guests of note were Mary McCutchan from Kansas City; Jody Scott and his wife Donna, who live at the edge of the White River, some 140 miles downstream from Cloudland (136 miles downstream on the Buffalo, then four miles down the White); and Carl A. Ownbey and his wife and daughter (Carl is a former Vice President of Wal Mart, and more importantly, the Wildman's son). Needless to say, a grand time was had by all. And at the time of this writing near midnight, no furniture had been broken.

The highlight of the event for me was when the Wildman, celebrating his 78th birthday and going as strong as ever, and surrounded by family and friends, danced with Bonnie LaGrone, who only two months ago had a stroke and was in that terrible accident, and was not even expected to live, much less be up and dancing with the Wildman. Life is indeed very special, and we are blessed with good fortune over and over again. Cloudland continues to amaze me with the quality of friends that it attracts.

I just went downstairs and checked on my movie watchers: Dean and Bonnie and their two kids, all curled up and watching the Horse Whisperer together. Thank goodness for life's little miracles.

8/11/99 As the temp hit a new record high of 95, I set out on a five mile hike around the mountain. It was very noisy outside - there were dozens of giant thunderheads reaching far into the sky, and they were full of booming thunder. And the wind was blowing, gusting up into the 30's. The wind helped keep the temp tolerable.

The only bugs that seemed to be able to stand the wind were horse flies - perhaps the lowest form of life out here. They bother me more than any other bug. It's not so much that they bite - I can't remember when one last got me - but they buzz around and try to land on my legs with every step. Since that bugs the heck out of me, I can only go so far, then have to stop, and stand still, and wait for the pesky little bugger to land so that I can liquefy him. That really messes up my rhythm. And my heart rate.

The wind blew and blew, and the thunderheads got even larger, but it never rained a drop. Nor did the temp drop.

I roamed around through the woods for nearly two hours, and never saw a single critter, except for the horse flies.

As I made my way back through the Faddis Meadow, the sun had set, and the thunderheads were all lit up orange and gold. The woods were very dark, but the glow from the clouds shone through the canopy and made a very strange orange/green light.

It didn't take long after dark for the wind to blow the thunderheads away, and soon the sky was full of bright stars. The Milky Way came out early too. I looked and looked but never saw a shooting star.

8/12/99 Another hot and WINDY day at Cloudland! I spent most of it inside, continuing with the journal editing, which is becoming a real chore. The pages just don't seem to go by very fast - I am having to cut out a lot of the jibberish and such - and there are a lot of pages.

The temp reached 95 again, but it had dropped to 94 by the time I loaded up and headed out on my afternoon hike. The forest as a whole still looked pretty healthy, not really showing signs of a long dry summer. Some of the leaves on the underbrush was beginning to curl up though. And the dust along the trail is getting to be a very fine powdery dust. It would be great if we got a good rain soon.

I found two interesting things near the end of my hike. The first was a pure white luna moth, almost as big as my hand - never seen one that color before. They are usually lime green. The second item was a clump of leaves on the ground. Five leaves joined at the stem like a fan. And all of them were heart shaped, and had turned this brilliant red around the edges. I love it when leaves turn color in the summer. It's kind of like getting a little something extra.

Later in the evening, while I was soaking in the tub, there was an eerie, noisy, almost scary atmosphere out. The wind was howling, with the trees swaying back and forth. The sky was coal black, and filled with all of those tiny spots of brilliance. And it was warm, very warm - never got below 80 degrees all night.

8/13/99 4am found me working on the journal book - I just couldn't sleep, so working seemed like the best thing to do. Since this was the dark of the moon, it was too dark out to go hiking. I got a lot of work done, and enjoyed reading through what I had been up to the previous year.

One thing that I realized is that I was a real morning person last summer. Most days my hikes were at daylight, when the temp was in the 60's. This year, my hikes have been in the late afternoon, withe the temps being in the 90's - quite a change.

Dawn found me back in the tub, and the temp was still in the low 80's, but the wind had died down and it was very still out. I was not alone in the tub - there were dozens of mosquitoes buzzing my head. It was still pretty dark, so I had trouble seeing all of them, and therefore was not too successful at swatting them. I didn't get any bites, but that high-pitched whine they make literally drove me out of the tub - I just couldn't take it!

That was OK, as I had work to do in town, and soon drove away.

When I returned at noon, the temp was dropping, and the hazy air had been swept clean across the wilderness - a cold front was on its way through. Very nice. But no rain, and that is what we really need right now.

I discovered from a note left at Robert's cabin that a bear had been seen there on August 4th by Eddy and his daughter. Also that the bear had been in the garden, and was the one who disposed of the watermelons and canteloupes. I wondered if it was my large bear friend that I had several visits with late last summer - I hoped so, since he was always a nice bear, and never got into any trouble.

I spent the rest of the day editing, stuffing myself with rice and veggies, and listening to music. My nighttime soak in the tub was very different from the night before. It was a lot cooler, with no wind. And the bugs and owls were out in full force, singing and hooting at the top of their lungs. Shooting stars were in great supply as well. One of them blazed across the southern sky, leaving a wide stardust trail that glowed for several seconds.

Lots of bats out too, and the must have been doing a great job, because there wasn't a single mosquito out. It was a great evening outdoors.

8/14/99 The temp was down in the mid 60's at daylight, and it was a crystal clear day outside. And very still - no wind at all. And no bugs either. A little dew had formed on the roof, and was dripping on the tin roof, acting like rain. The real thing is needed. We were very dry at this time last summer too, and I was reading in the journal about how this beautiful young maiden came out for a visit then, and we did a rain dance in the moonlight up in the East Meadow. It worked big time, as we got five days of rain after she left. Where is that young maiden today?

As I sat there in the hot tub, staring up into the overhanging trees, I couldn't help but notice the bundles of acorns all over the branches - clumps of 8-10 acorns were common. Man, when those guys decide to turn loose, it is going to get very noisy around here, and I may have to put on a hard hat before venturing outside. It looks to be a tremendous mast crop this fall.

It felt like fall in the middle of August, and the temp is supposed to be ten degrees cooler tonight - down in the low 50's! A splendid day in the Ozarks.

I went on a hike, and couldn't believe how darn nice it was outside. And the sky was the deepest shade of blue, mainly because the air was so clean. The humidity was low too, and the hiking was splendid.

Later in the day Roy showed up to spend the weekend. Norma was out of town for a couple of weeks, and he needed to get away from the rat race in town. After we grilled a dog or two, he retired to the basement somewhere to nap, and I continued my editing job upstairs. All of the windows were open, and the crisp "fall" air filled the cabin.

Once Roy emerged from his cave below, he took off on a hike. I edited on - it takes a LONG time to get through a quarter of a million words in the journal! Will probably only be 200,000 of them by the time I get done.

At about the time Roy finished his hike, I was ready for one myself, so I packed up and headed on down to the river. I couldn't get over how wonderful the hiking was in this great air. The river was very low though, just barely running. The swimming hole had dropped about three inches since my last visit, but the weather was still great.

I swam a few laps, but didn't spend any time playing with the fish. The large sycamore tree loomed over the shallow end of the pool, its white bark shining in the afternoon sunlight. The water temp was the warmest I'd ever seen it, and it was a great swim.

It didn't take me long to make the steep trip back up the hillside, and soon I was huffing and puffing on the back deck, gazing out onto my wilderness world spread out in front of me.

We had another feast from the grill - this time, I tried some tuna steaks. Man, they were out of this world! Best fish that I had ever eaten. As a control, we also grilled my standard salmon filets, but the tuna was in the head to tail competition.

I edited a while longer, Roy watched a movie. Then we went on up to the east meadow to see if we could find any shooting stars. The night sky was coal black, and the stars were out in full force. We only saw a couple of shooting stars though, and soon packed up and returned to the cabin.

8/15/99 I heard Roy milling around downstairs early, so I abandoned my plans to sleep in and got up to greet the day. And it was one terrific day indeed! Temps in the low 60's, clear air, lots of birds flying about.

Roy took off on another hike while I got back to my editing. I had wanted to listen to the Sunday edition of "Ozarks At Large" on KUAF radio - they were advertising a feature on self publishing in the Ozarks. It was the very first report, but I was really disappointed in it. First off, they interviewed three self publishers - one from Maine, one from Colorado (neither had ANY connection with the Ozarks, nor published anything about the Ozarks), and finally one from the University of Arkansas who was publishing poetry books. That was it. What a let down. I know a number of great folks who are doing their own publishing of Ozarks works, and heck I have published over a dozen books about the Ozarks myself, but they never called. I wondered if I had been disqualified because I am an underwriter for their station? I hope not. The report was interesting, but just really didn't have much to do with the Ozarks. (Of course, this is simply just sour grapes on my part - they normally do a great job on this production.)

Soon after it ended, the phone rang. "He was HUGE!" the caller said, "and went crashing off into the woods." Roy was up at the Faddis Cabin and had just seen a bear. He was very excited - first bear he had seen out here. I rushed up the hill to join him, and we spent the next hour looking for Mr. Bear, or any signs of him.

No disturbance down at Doc's. We checked the dried up pond there, but no signs either. I thought that he might be after the corn in the big garden, so I returned to the Faddis Cabin, but no bear. We did find a lot of fresh bear tracks around the pond just below the garden. No doubt this is where the bear had been getting his water, and we even found one set of prints that showed him going out into the pond and coming out on the other side - I would have loved to have seen him do that!

Roy said the bear was a large one, a fact confirmed by the tracks at the pond. I'll bet it was my big bear friend from last summer, and probably the same guy who had made a lunch out of the melons in the garden on the 4th. He never caused any damage last summer, and it looked like he was doing fine again this year. It felt good to have Mr. Bear around again.

After lunch Roy packed up and left. I got back to my editing. But that bear continued to way on my mind. Three times during the later afternoon and evening I went out hiking, and looking for the bear. While I never saw him again, I did get some great walking in.

It is becoming more obvious that the drought is taking a toll on the forest. There were a number of places where large cracks had opened up in the ground - the earth was parched! And some parts of the forest floor was carpeted with bright yellow leaves, having given up and fallen off of their trees. There were also a number of young black gums that had turned brilliant red.

The squirrels had been out working, and I found many places where the ground was covered with ground up hickory nuts. Lots of large green hickory nuts on the ground too. I spent some time taking target practice with them - my aim was off a bit though.

Back at the cabin, I edited on long into the night, finally getting to the end of March at about midnight (only one more month of editing to go, although April was twice as long as any other month - over 60 pages). As I slipped into the hot tub, one incredible shooting star appeared and streaked across the sky. It made up for all of the ones that we hadn't seen the night before. The hot water felt great in the crisp night air. I know that we still have a lot of summer left (forecast was for it to be in the mid 90's tomorrow), but this break in the temp was welcome.

8/16/99 Cool and clear at daylight, with just a slight breeze. Many of the wild sunflowers down in the meadow had begun to dry up, but there were still enough of them around to keep goldfinches and butterflies out feeding and playing around, although their numbers were greatly reduced. Boy, we really do need some rain.

I spent most of the day in town, and it was hot when I returned (and really hot in town). But the cabin temp remained in the low 70's, without any AC - those logs insulate quite well. As I was sitting out on the back deck enjoying a cup of Cherry Garcia ice cream, and soaking up the last rays of daylight, I discovered a bright yellow tree on a distant ridge - most likely a hickory. In fact, there were three of them on that hillside. I guess they had shut down due to the lack of water. Happened a lot last year, but mostly to the beeches. The roads and trails are getting very dusty.

8/17/99 They appeared at the edge of the woods, and slipped effortlessly, silently, down into the meadow. In the lead, a big doe, with a shiny rust coat, and rather large ears. And right on her tail, a fawn, still wearing spots. I was a little surprised to see spots this late in the year - the little guy must have been born late in the summer. He was perhaps only a few weeks old. Most fawns are born in June here.

They made their way down through the wild sunflowers, disturbing goldfinches and butterflies along the way. The fawn stuck close to mom, and was dwarfed by the towering wildflowers. They weren't in any particular hurry, and didn't seem to pay the cabin, or the naked guy standing on the deck with the binocs, any attention.

They paused in an area of the meadow that is more open, and spent some time browsing on the wildflowers. The fawn seemed especially interested in the bright yellow blooms, and the critters fluttering about from flower to flower. At one point, one of those wonderful, magical wilderness moments happened. One of the big yellow tiger swallowtails flew over and landed right on the fawn's nose. The world stopped turning for a moment, and everyone held their breaths. Oh to have had a camera with a long lens pointed that direction!

The wings of the butterfly slowed down while it carried on a short conversation with the fawn. I wonder what they were talking about? Probably the weather. Then the butterfly took to the air and drifted on over to a tall stalk of yellow. The little fawn flipped his tiny tail up in the air, and moved off in another direction.

When I returned to the cabin late in the day, a couple of Okies were with me. Joe Ownbey got me started in my professional photography career twenty four years ago as a wildlife photographer. He helped get me set up with my own business of taking party pictures of sorority girls. I would often spend my nights surrounded by 40 or 50 gorgeous young ladies, and I was often the center of attention, because they all wanted their pictures taken. It was a tough wildlife assignment for a shy twenty-year old guy, but I was happy take on the challenge.

And with Joe was his new girlfriend from the second grade. - they were romantically involved in the second grade, had run into each other off and on over the years, and recently rediscovered each other. I could tell this lady was a good match for Joe.

We had a very late dinner of chicken kabobs, and didn't shut down the cabin until the wee hours of the morning.

8/18/99 My city folk friends were up way before daylight. Joe has always been a great photographer, and he was ready to burn some film of the sunrise. As I stumbled out onto the back deck, trying to get my eyes to focus, I heard something traveling through the woods below - another deer perhaps? Nope, it was just Linda, out for a morning stroll.

We spent most of the day around the cabin, catching up on all the gossip of the last year or two since I had seen Joe. And taking a few pictures. It was a clear and hot summer day.

We did venture out for a short hike around noon. As we were passing through the east meadow, a coyote started to howl - he was pretty close too. I don't recall ever hearing one in the middle of the day like that before.

There were fresh bear tracks at the Faddis pond. No ripe veggies in the garden - it has more or less burned up, with the exception of a few tomato plants a some new melon plants that Robert is trying to bring along.

For dinner we had thick chunks of black Angus filets, fresh corn, Greek pasta, and homemade bread sticks. It was a pretty good feed. Then we watched a couple of slide shows, spent some time out in the moonlight, and retired early.

8/19/99 We spent a bit of the morning watching the bright birds and butterflies through the tele, took a few more pictures, then packed up and headed back to town. It was great to see my good friend Joe, and especially nice to know that he has finally found his life mate. It is never too late. (They are about ten years older then me, so I am still hopeful for myself.)

8/20/99 A fall day greeted me - temps in the upper 60's, low humidity, and CLOUDS! Hadn't seen many clouds in a while. I spent a lot of the morning in the hammock.

Bob Chester came by with Jack and Pat Harrington from Harrison. They were all attending the blue grass festival this weekend in town. Jack and Pat told me about someone who recently was telling them how terrible it was that I had ruined the wilderness with my big street light at the cabin that lit up the entire wilderness. Of course, there is no street light out here, and so I have been accused of something else that I hadn't done. Stupid people make silly comments, and these friends of theirs were no different. Thank goodness Jack and Pat took up for me, and told them that I had no such light.

A big shot environmentalist who lives nearby here told Milancy McNamara the same thing a few months ago. He told her that I had ruined the wilderness experience for him when he went out to the Crag at night - again because of my big street light. Another idiot. There is no street light. What these folks are seeing is one of the two street lights at a farmhouse that is way over on the other side of the Buffalo River, up on the hill at Mossville, more than a mile from me. There is a new building going up over there right now, and I'll bet people will blame me for putting up another eye sore. Some people just don't have much in the way of brains.

Later in the afternoon, I laced up my tennis shoes and went out for a hike. Since I was still on high bear alert, I decided to "still hunt" my way through the Faddis meadow. I hadn't gotten more than 100 feet into the meadow when I spotted movement. Right there she was, still in her bed at the edge of a large cedar tree, a big doe. You have to be really good to sneak up on a deer that is bedded down, especially in the open like she was.

It was a staring match. Neither of us moved a muscle. My heart pounded. She was safe and secure in her little bed, nestled down in the five-foot weeds around her, and shaded by the cedar limbs above. It seemed like minutes went by, but it probably was more like thirty seconds. I finally gave in, wanting to move on and see what else I could find, so I blinked - that was all it took to send her bounding off across the meadow.

And bound she did! Not wanting to go through the brush for some reason, she elected to jump OVER the tall grass and wildflowers - some of them were six feet tall. She looked kind of funny, and didn't cover all that much terrain with each bound, but she did get across the meadow and out of sight.

I hiked down to Bob's cabin, then across the North meadow to the Woods cabin, then back through the woods to Bob's, where I swiped a cold coke and sat on his deck for a while - it had begun to heat up a tad outside. It was very hot in his cabin.

As I was leaving, a dragonfly flew down and landed right in front of me. These are those large bugs that have two sets of wings, kind of like a biplane. This fellow was all black, like they usually are, but the main part of his body was pure white, which looked a little odd.

I spotted movement up ahead at the edge of the lane. A big fat raccoon was down on the ground where the big hickory nuts were. He spotted me right off, and hurried up one of the shagbark hickory trees nearby. This dude was a big one. You don't normally see them in the middle of the day like this. He climbed on up the tree about thirty feet and stopped and looked down at me with one of those classic raccoon poses.

Still no bears at the garden, but I did find more fresh tracks along the pond, including another spot where he had waded across it and came out on the other side. It looks like he is coming to the pond at least every other day.

I made my way back through the East meadow, and then through the dark woods and eventually to the cabin. A couple of squirrels came running down a maple tree right next to the trail, and they nearly fell off of the tree when they realized there was a person standing just a few feet away.

Lots of wildlife today.

And the clouds hung around too, which provided a great light show. I sat out on the deck sipping a little wine, eating a plate of veggies and rice, and listening to P.J. Rebowski with her blues show on the radio. Late at night, just before I turned in for the day, the moon turned orange and it headed down towards Buffalo Fire Tower.

8/21/99 I was rudely awakened by a noisy airplane that flew by just a few hundred feet outside my window. I got up and ran downstairs to watch it fly upstream, where it finally made a big turn, then came right back, only this time lower. The airplane was actually down below the tree level, even with the bluffs, and going pretty fast. I waved as it went by.

After an hour or two of writing, Bob came by and we took off on a little hike. We did the five-mile figure eight loop out to the road and back. One thing that I realized right off was that you'll never see much wildlife when you hike with someone else. I could hear Bob's voice echoing out through the forest as he talked. It was a good hike though, and the first time in a while that Bob had been out and hiked that much in the neighborhood.

We did find one bit of wildlife - a worm, about an inch long, that was dangling in mid air. And Bob showed me a pile of bear scat that he had found in the garden. Only it turned out to be deer scat.

When we returned, I fixed a batch of asparagus eggs, and we chowed down on them out on the back deck. The heat was creeping up, and it looked like a hot summer day was at hand.

Once Bob left I hit the couch for a short nap, then got up and spent some time editing. It was another lazy summer weekend at Cloudland.

Then Roy and Norma showed up. We all headed out for a hike around the area, mostly to look for the bear. No new sign, but we rambled through the thick brush and wandered around in the woods for a while and it felt great. So did sitting on the deck with a cold beer in hand admiring the evening light.

Dinner was a feast of grilled salmon, fresh corn on the cob, rice, and salad. After the dishes were cleaned up, we all tried our best to sit out under the bright moon, but the bugs soon got the best of us and we all turned in early.

8/22/99 Something was walking towards the cabin. It was 3am. I awoke from a dead sleep. It was loud. Very loud. I got up and went out onto the little deck that is attached to my loft bedroom and listened, straining to see any movement below in the moonlight. I could hear it fine, but couldn't see anything. I turned on the deck light, which did a pretty good job of lighting up the immediate area around the base of the cabin, but still nothing.

The light did stop the forward progress of the creature though, and it retreated, making a lot of noise in the process. I went back to bed. A little while later, it came towards the cabin once again - very loud footsteps in the woods. I got up and turned on the light, but still could not see anything - it sounded like it was walking across the little bench down below the cabin. The light didn't bother it this time, and it continued on towards the meadow. Not able to see anything, I returned to my nest, but laid wide awake for some time, waiting to spring to life once again if I heard any thuds on the deck that sounded like a bear. Nothing ever happened.

It was 9am before anyone got up. What a terrific morning at Cloudland! It was cool, and the breeze was blowing, and there were clouds roaming around. Lots of goldfinch out too. And a couple of dozen butterflies.

After breakfast, Roy and Norma took off on another ramble through the woods, and to go searching for the bear. I got down to business and spent several hours editing. Then I took a nap. Hey, it was Sunday afternoon, what else could I do? Right in the middle of the nap, something woke me up. I never found out what it was. But I did figure that it was about time for my guests to return, so I fired up the grill. Within ten minutes they showed up. I guess something in the air smelled good.

They didn't see any bears, but did come across a carcass of a medium-sized animal that had been mostly eaten up. Norma vowed to return in a couple of weeks and retrieve the skull.

After lunch, both Roy and Norma kept saying that they had to leave and go back to town, but they just sat there. This tends to happen a lot here - it takes a long time for folks to leave. Must be the altitude.

Once they left, I spent more time editing, did a little writing, and got in another nap. You can never do enough napping out here.

Just before dusk I went out on a bear search of my own. The woods were very quiet, and a bank of clouds had rolled in. Almost no breeze at all. Much of the hillsides are covered with poison ivy, which has turned shades of yellow, red, and orange, and looks very nice. It's too bad this little plant causes so much suffering.

The east meadow was still, and no critters were about. I found a number of wild plums along the connecting lane - almost ripe. The breeze had picked up some by the time I reached the Faddis meadow, but there was nothing stirring there either.

As I walked on down to Bob's cabin, I begin to see a number of large hickory nuts on the ground. They had been eaten in a pattern that I had not seen before - About half of the outer shell had been eaten away, and the nut inside was gone. Most of the green part of the remaining shell had been eaten as well. I only found them under the big hickory that I had seen the raccoon in, so I figured it was him doing all of the eating.

And I saw several of those white-bodied dragon flies at Bob's cabin. It is funny how sometimes you see something like this for the very first time, while it probably is really a bug that is quite common.

I walked slowly past the Faddis cabin and into the meadow, ever searching for any signs of movement. Part of this meadow has been moved down recently, and is easy to walk through, but about half of it is still grown up with tall weeds, but there is still a narrow strip of footpath that I had mowed out a couple of months ago, which is the path to my trail.

As I was heading into the tallest of the weeds, the wind at my face, I noticed a fowl odor. I stopped to sniff the air. A dead animal? Just then my life flashed by, and I nearly fainted - a bear appeared right in front of me - standing on his hind legs only ten feet away - YIKES!!! While he didn't charge me, I was so stunned that I was blown backwards and landed on my back, staring up into the weeds. I really and truly nearly passed out. Perhaps I did.

And then it got really scary. I heard heavy breathing. Oh shit! I sat up and immediately saw movement in front. The bear had not run off like I had hoped, but must have wanted to get a good look at me and was trying to move around in the weeds and see what the heck I was. Then he stepped out into the mowed path (which was only about a foot wide) and stared right at me. I nearly fainted again.

This had to have been my friend from last summer, the bear that I had picked hickory nuts right next to - I could just feel some sort of kindship. Or was that the warm fluid that was running down my legs?

And then I realized that I had better do SOMETHING, after all, there was a bear just a few feet away, and I bet he was hungry. I tried to yell at him, knowing that would scare him off for sure. Then my horror of horrors happened - something that I have had a number of nightmares about - no sound came out. I was in such a state of shock that I could not scream!

But my attempt at screaming must have been enough, because the bear simply vanished in an instant. I heard him bounding through the brush, and then all hell broke loose when he reached the forest - it sounded like an elephant crashing down the hillside. Still stunned, all I could do was lay there and keep my blood from boiling right out of my body - my head was POUNDING, and I was soaking wet. But at least I was breathing again.

Needles to say, I was a tad spooked on the hike back through the dark woods to the cabin. But I made it, and without being eaten alive. It was great to get to see my old friend again at last, but I had hoped for a little more casual meeting. I will never pass that spot without thinking of Mr. Bear.

8/23/99 It was after midnight by the time I shut down the cabin and slipped into the hot tub to admire the stars. The moon was out lighting up the wilderness, although a broad blanket of small clouds passed in front of it. At first, it appeared to be hundreds of small black clouds in front of a large white but thin cloud - the moon still shone through it all. I got out of the tub and set up the tele to watch these black clouds passing in front of the silver moon. It turned out that the black clouds were really holes in the larger white cloud, but the holes were smaller than the moon. It was amazing watching all of this pass in front of the moon - I'd never seen anything like it before.

While it had been some time since there had been a lovely lady out here dancing with me, my little dance with the bear in the meadow must have done the trick, because at 3:30am, without any fanfare or thunder or wind or flashes, it began to rain. I could hear a collective sigh of relief from everyone out in the forest.

It continued to rain for several hours, although it was very light rain, less then a quarter of an inch total. But it was cool and wet and marvelous! I stayed in bed and soaked up the smell and the feel of the cool air, then finally got up and lounged around the cabin in my robe - haven't been able to do that in a long while. There was fog and mist and a general feeling of calm all around. A "rainy day and Monday" is right up there with moonlight and any time spent with a lovely lady as my favorite time to be alive. Now, if it would just be a rainy day and Tuesday tomorrow, and rainy day and Wednesday the day after, and, well, you get the picture - we still need more rain!

After a quick trip to town, I returned to the cabin early in the evening. I just had to go on another bear patrol, and visit the site of last night's incident. Not much was stirring out, and it didn't appear that the rainfall had done a whole lot to relieve the parched forest. There were still cracks in the ground, and many trees dropping dried leaves.

And no sign of the bear. I did get the chance to examine the spot where the bear and I had met in the tall weeds. It appeared that he was not bedded down there, but rather was rambling up through the meadow, as I had been doing, and we simply ran into each other.

Once I got back to the cabin, I headed on down to the river. It was getting dark, and the forest was quiet. Whitaker Creek had pretty much dried up, but I was surprised to discover that the Buffalo was actually flowing, just a little. The swimming hole had dropped another three inches, but still looked very inviting. There was a great blue heron wading in the far end. This is the lowest that I had ever seen the river at this point. I'm sure the rainfall never made it into the river, as it had been soaked up by the forest as it was falling.

It felt great to work up a sweat on the hike back up the steep hillside. Even though my mid section is showing signs of months of ice cream and cookie intake, I was still able to make it to the top without stopping.

As I sat on the back deck cooling down (the sun had already set), a layer of small clouds up high lit up with a brilliant orange glow, then quickly faded.

8/24/99 A number of barred owls discussing the news of the day jarred me awake in the wee hours of the morning. There were a couple of them out one window, and several more out another window. Their voices echoed through my bedroom, and I had no choice but to get up.

The stereo owl talk continued while I soaked in the hot tub. It must have been early, since there were still bats flying around. Down below, a fog bank had settled on the river valley - the first I had seen in a while.

After I dried off I put on my tennis shoes and headed out for a hike. The woods between the cabin and the east meadow has become a favorite spot of mine - the maple grove there just has this calm feel to it. I sat down up against a moss-covered rock and watched as the forest began to glow - a big red ball was creeping up over the far ridge. Parts of tree trunks caught fire with the warm light. It was a remarkable scene.

I had always wanted to put a picnic table in this area, but now think a bench with back rest and a small table/footrest might be a better choice. Of course, there still is a great deal of trail work to be done first, which I really need to get to. I had hired a local boy to do that work this summer, but he gave out after only a few days of work over on the other section of the trail. I would have to complete the rest myself, which would be fine with me - I need the exercise!

I visited the east meadow, Bob's cabin, the north meadow, and then hiked back up towards the Faddis Cabin. As I passed under the big hickory trees along the lane, it began to rain. What - the sky was clear. I thought perhaps there was heavy dew in the leaves finally letting go. But then I realized it was only raining from a couple of the hickories. As I looked a little closer, I found the "rain" to be tiny bits of hickory nuts - there were squirrels high up in the trees having breakfast.

That sounded like a good idea, so I quickly made my way back to the cabin, fixed a bowl of cereal and fresh peaches, and sat out on the back deck watching sunlight fill the valleys below. I had soaked in the tub, gone on a nice hike, and had breakfast, and it still wasn't 8am yet. Mornings are great at Cloudland.

The rest of the day was filled with editing, writing, and then some trail work. I finally got to do a little digging on the trail to the east meadow. I hope to pick away at it some each day until I get it finished, which will probably take a couple of weeks.

As I am writing this, it is late at night, and there is a surreal scene outside my window. A bright moon is lighting up the wilderness, with some stars poking out here and there, lots of summer bugs screaming, and owls hooting. But the real odd thing is that over along the southern horizon, there are a number of tall thunderheads, and they are filled with lightening. The clouds light up a brilliant orange with every flash. It looks like fireworks going off, or bombs.

8/25/99 Clear and still at daylight, temp 63 degrees. No more bombs. My morning hike was damp - lots of dew out - but otherwise just a delightful stroll in the crisp air without much fanfare. I did notice that many of the sumac bushes had turned a brilliant red, not only their leaves, but also their seed heads.

8/26/99 It was a very long night for me. I had a bad Mexican salad while in town, and it came back to haunt me. Since no one has ever been sick at Cloudland (not even a bad hangover, if you can believe that, especially after all of the Bushwhacker parties!), I decided that I would not be the first, so I grabbed a sleeping bag and headed out into the woods for the night. I tossed and turned and rolled all night, each time knowing I would unload at any moment. At about 5am, all of a sudden I felt a lot better, and finally got an hour of sleep (never did get sick).

The bout with the salad left me weak and with a splitting headache all day, but one good thing was that I didn't feel like eating anything - I've been eating too much ice cream and cookies this summer, and need to shed a few pounds! There were a few naps. Cloudland is a good place to recover from illness.

ONE SAD NOTE for those of you who knew him, or had ever stayed at White Rock Mountain this past decade: Jack White died on Tuesday. He and his wife Paula have been the caretakers of the cabins and lodge up at White Rock Mountain on the Ozark Highlands Trail for a long while. At the time they took the operation over, the Forest Service in all their wisdom was about to tear the cabins and lodge down. We got a group together and formed the Friends of White Rock, and along with Jack and Paula, restored the buildings. Jack and Paula have not only improved the facilities even more, but have kept them all open during the winter months - for the first time in modern history. Few places are as nice as White Rock, and no one had more of a positive impact there than did Jack. He was on vacation in Alaska when he got sick, and was flown to a hospital in Dallas where he died. Jack had a lung transplant several years ago, and has had a long battle to keep afloat. It was great to see all of the support that came forward to help with their tremendous bills - he leaves with many great friends all over the country. Jack was one outstanding human being, and he will be missed a great deal. There will be an informal memorial service for him at White Rock this Saturday at 11am - open to everyone.

As I was sitting out on the back deck not eating lunch, I noticed a larger than normal number of goldfinches playing about. One pair caught my eye especially. It was a bright yellow and black male chasing a female - pretty normal for Cloudland. Soon a second male joined the chase. Then a third. The group flew in circles up over the meadow, never getting much above treeline. Two more females eventually linked up with the group, and there were six goldfinches swirling around in the hot air.

By mid-afternoon the sky had turned dark, very dark, and the power went out. It was 88 degrees outside, and humid. It was tough to sleep because the cabin was being pounded with hickory nuts, being tossed at it by the wind. And then it began to rain - yea! We sure did need that. Although it was a very light rain. Since there were so many thick black clouds out, it seemed like it should have been raining a lot harder. Wide awake, I actually felt like working at the computer, but couldn't because the power was out. And I really needed to clean up the cabin and do a little vacuuming, but darn, the power was out. And I wanted to fix a leak down in the utility room, but no light to see by. So I decided to climb back into bed. Then I realized that with all of the black storm clouds, the rain, and the howling winds, that it would be a great time to go on a hike, and since I didn't need any power for that, I grabbed my rain coat and headed out the door.

The rain remained light, but the wind continued to scream, and it was a delightful walk. Lots of thunder and lightening. No sign of any wildlife. I guess they were all smarter than me.

Benny had been out the day before and mowed down not only all of the Faddis meadow, but also a trail that goes from the connecting lane between the east and Faddis meadows down to Robert's cabin. This has always been a favorite little hike of mine, but it grows up in a hurry, and since the brush there is VERY thick, I don't use it much. But today it was terrific! Benny did a great job with the tractor, although he had to cut out a few limbs with the chain saw in order to get through.

This path winds through an interesting array of trees and bushes, including several that I had never seen before. It also passes by a big stand of pawpaw trees - I plan to keep a watch on them for their fragrant fall fruit.

As I hiked through the Faddis meadow on the way back to the cabin, a couple of lightening bolts hit nearby and shook the earth. And the sky FINALLY opened up and it began to pour. My paced slowed, and I took great pleasure in getting soaked.

The hard rain didn't last too long. The sky remained dark and threatening for the rest of the day, and the wind continued to blow.

Later in the evening, about an hour after what would have been sunset, one of the most bizarre scenes that I have ever witnessed here took place. The sky had opened up once again and it was pouring hard. The sky was filled with constant lightening, trees were trashing around in the high winds, and the thunder rumbled on forever as the cabin trembled. And right in the middle of all this, the clouds parted over in the east just a little, and a huge full moon that had just risen behind it all shone through. It could not have been real - looked like something created in a Hollywood computer. But it was real, and quite a stunning sight indeed. The moon was soon engulfed with the black clouds once again, and it poured on.

8/27/99 Sunrise was one of the most spectacular that I had seen here in a long time - a giant red ball broke over the far ridgetop and lit up a world below of swirling clouds that were down visiting the river. A textbook Cloudland morning! Everything was scrubbed clean and bright, and I know the forest enjoyed the rains as much as I did.

After a little writing, I took off on my morning stroll, through the woods and meadows, and down to Bob's cabin. It was great to walk in firm earth instead of dust for a change, and many of the cracks in the dirt had closed up. Not any critters out, except for lots of birds. The ground was covered with fresh hickory nuts in many places - I spent a lot of time tossing them at targets out in the woods.

I spent most of the day writing and editing, then cleaned up the cabin a bit. Just before dark, I went on a hike.

The east meadow was alive with hundreds of low-flying helicopters - dragonflies. I have never seen so many in one place before - they were just incredible! Most of them were flying within a few feet of the ground, but they were up in the sky too, hundreds of them. I sat down in the fresh-mowed grass and just watched in amazement.

They guys weren't flying in any particular pattern. Instead they were buzzing one direction, then turn abruptly and head off in another direction, only to stop on a dime and turn again. I tried to concentrate and follow just one of them with my eyes - impossible! Just too fast, and too many direction changes.

I'm not exactly sure what they were doing, but they must have been feeding on some tiny insects that were also flying near to the ground. I hoped they were eating noseeums by the score!

The sun was very low, nearly down behind the far treeline. When I looked in that direction, I could see a thousands spots of light moving - backlit dragonflies. It was one stunning sight indeed. And as far as I could tell, none of these had the white bodies like the ones that I had been seeing over at Bob's cabin. I wondered if they were a different species, or the white ones were just scouts, sent out to find food?

I sat there and enjoyed the show until the sun dipped below the trees, then I got up and proceeded on my little hike. Before long I heard a four-wheeler down on the lower lane between the east meadow and Bob's cabin. They were probably going to pass through the meadow, so I took a seat at the far end and waiting for them.

Danny Woods and his wife came driving up slowly. Four-wheelers are great tools, and recreational toys, just like a canoe is. Unfortunately many people misuse four-wheelers and go speeding around and not only endanger themselves and others, but tear up the trails. Danny isn't like that, and they were simply out motoring around the property enjoying the evening, just like I was - only they had four feet.

We talked for a while - he had just seen a lot of bear sign down along the lower lane - then they eased on down the lane. I followed, but got distracted by this incredible fragrance - pawpaws!

I knew there were many pawpaw trees along this particular stretch of the lane, but had never found any fruit there before. The smell told me that some were ripe, so I made my way through the weeds and briars to the base of the trees. I couldn't see any, so I decided to shake a couple of the trees and see what fell out. Sure enough, a number of ripe pawpaws came tumbling down. They were small though, about the size of a chicken egg, not anything like the large ones that I found last summer, but they were really fragrant.

I swung on over to Bob's cabin and spent a few minutes talking with him and Danny again. The Woods boys were going to have a work weekend down at their cabin, mostly to dig out a nearby spring to try and find some water. The well at Bob's cabin had already run dry. Oops.

It was just about dark when I headed back to my cabin. It was quite dim in the tunnel of trees along the lane up the hill to the Faddis cabin. Once I arrived there the open meadow literally glowed, and it was easy to find my way across it. But once I left the meadow and entered the woods on my little trail, it was like someone turned off the lights - it was VERY black! I could hardly see where I was going. Good thing my tennis shoes were white, or I couldn't have seen where I was stepping.

Back at my cabin I sat on the back deck and sipped on a gin and tonic. Soon a couple of welcome guests arrived at about the same time - a huge, brilliant moon rose in the eastern sky, and my old girlfriend Leslie drove up (she is not really old - only 28 - but you know what I mean). We enjoyed the night air, and feasted on grilled tuna and beef, fresh corn, and pasta. Leslie was wearing a table cloth from her house, which looked great on her. A friend of mine from India wears something like that too - it has a name, but I don't know what they call it (it is a very useful garment).

It was the wee hours of the morning and the moon was high in the sky by the time we turned in. Leslie curled up down in the aspen room with her new boyfriend Tucker, a four-month old puppy. Lucky guy. He is one of the most laid back dogs that I have ever met.

8/28/99 I got up early and slipped out undetected, leaving behind some warm blueberry biscuits and fresh coffee for my sleeping guests. I had to get to my friend's memorial service over at White Rock Mountain. It was a great service, outside in the trees, with dogs running around and humming birds flying back and forth and singing and funny stories and lots of great food and friends. But mostly it was nice to remember Jack, and what a great guy he was.

It was the middle of the afternoon before I returned to Cloudland, and Leslie had left to attend a wedding over near Jasper. She had practiced low-impact camping - the cabin was cleaner than when she had arrived! Leslie and Tucker are always welcome here.

Just before dark, I headed out for another short hike. I had noticed that someone had left a rope dangling from the tip of the Crag, so I went over and retrieved it. Bob was up at the Faddis cabin getting a cot that he was going to use at his cabin - it was too hot inside there, so he wanted to sleep out on the deck. He told me later that he only lasted until about 10pm - the bugs drove him inside. The noseeums are really bad this summer.

8/29/99 It was clear and cool at sunrise, but I had a feeling it was going to be a hot day. I was right. Hot and still and very hazy. There was a smell of smoke in the air, and I wondered if there was a forest fire somewhere.