7/1/99 High winds, grey skies, cool temps at daylight. It would remain like this all day. I couldn't have asked for a better start to July! In fact, the temp remained in the low 70's. VERY nice.

While on a short hike along the Cloudland loop trail, I noticed the ground increasingly collecting acorns and hickory nuts. Some of the hickory nuts were so tiny that they looked odd. Others were almost large enough to pick up and throw. The big oak tree growing through the lower deck is full of acorns, unlike last year, and is dropping some small ones. Looks like it is going to be a great nut year. A point in my favor for sure.

I wore long pants - jeans - and didn't have any trouble wandering through the tall grasses, wildflowers and other weeds in the East Meadow. I startled a turkey, who went clucking off in one direction, while her three chicks flew off in the opposite direction. She did her best to divert my attention away from them. Three chicks - a very small batch.

The high winds had knocked down the pea poles in the garden, and I spent some time putting them back up in the soft and muddy dirt. Then I picked a bag full of white, yellow and red onions, zucchini, yellow squash, and cucumbers for dinner. Tomatoes, cabbage, peas, ''taters, and corn were all coming on strong, and it looked like a summer of fine eating ahead.

One stretch of the meadow had very tall grass that had been laid down flat by the winds. A rabbit or some other small animal had made a tunnel through it. Sometimes I wish that I could be the size of a rabbit so that I could get down and explore such things and see where they led.

Back at the cabin, I sat on the deck and watched a tiny wren, in fact a pair of them, working on a new nest. What? It seemed too late for a nest. One of them spent several minutes making his way through the brush and up the side of the cabin with a large leaf in his mouth, only to drop it. Right back on down to the ground he flew, picked up the leaf, then headed back up the side of the cabin again. I could never figure out exactly where they were building the nest. There has been one in the eaves above the front porch, and it appeared they were feeding little ones up there, although I have never seen any little ones. And they have stopped flying around there - either the babies grew up and flew off, or something got them.

The male bluebird was also working over at his nest today, but I couldn't tell if he was bringing in nest material or food for little ones. A very strange year for little birds and nests.

The river continued to roar all day, and the level dropped somewhat, although it did remain muddy, or at least a little dingy, all day. The Hailstone Run would have still been floatable today - that was a LOT of rain!

In an effort to help my mint crop out, I did a little pruning of the plants. I ended up with a fist full of mint sprigs from four different batches - what a heavenly scent!

Another hike late in the day took me down to Bob's cabin to check on things. Just as I was approaching, I came upon a couple of deer heading towards the cabin. They heard my footsteps, even though I tried to be quiet - I was looking for a bear. At first the deer looked right at me and got very nervous. Then they relaxed and started to browse. I stood still. They eventually worked their way over near where I was, and went into the brush right in front of me. I remained frozen in place, but could no longer see them. There were three of them, a couple of does and one buck with about ten inches of antlers in velvet on his head. He seemed to be the most childish of the bunch.

Just when I thought the deer had fed off into the distance, one of them stepped out onto the lane only a few feet away from me - the brush was very thick, and I was a little startled. The deer never saw or scented me. Then a second appeared, and finally the buck. They all three carefully stepped across the lane and into the woods, then bounded up the hillside. My heart raced the while time, and I nearly exploded from holding my breath. Deer always excite me.

Bob's cabin was fine, and there was no bear sign to be found. In fact, I haven't seen any bear sign in some time - no tracks, no scat, no logs or big rocks disturbed in the forest. I guess they are content to stay down low and eat berries and grubs. That is fine with me, although I must confess that I do miss seeing them and playing hide and seek with them. I don't miss all of their destruction though.

It did appear to me that bears or some other large animal had been moving through parts of the Faddis Meadow. The tall grasses were laid down in certain patterns more like animal disturbance than wind. Couldn't find any tracks, but it just felt like it was bear activity. Deer don't cause such things, except where they lay down.

As I was walking along the connecting lane between the two meadows, I happened to see a fruit of some sort on the ground. It wasn't very large, about the size of a marble, but when I looked up I found a tree full of them - wild plums! I have never noticed wild plums before, but I did flag a tree this spring that had a lot of blooms on it. The plums were still very green, but I would keep my eye on them as the month went on. The peaches were doing well too, although they weren't much larger then the plums. The plum tree leaves were fat and nearly round, while the peach tree leaves were long and thin.

There was also a lot of "cowcumber" fruit on the ground. And a number of brilliant red and orange leaves too. With the cool temps and these leaves, it felt and looked like early fall. Man, it was one of the finest summer days I'd ever experienced in the Ozarks! I'll take as many of them as I can get.

On the way back to the cabin, I discovered a bunch of blackberries that were ripe and needed picking and eating. Some of them were very sweet, while others were sour, although they were the same color. I wonder if there is a way to tell how sweet a berry is before you eat it?

There were also a lot of ripe dew berries growing in the meadow. They seemed to be sweeter on the whole than the blackberries, although there were only a couple of berries on each plant so it took longer to gather very many.

The East Meadow is really getting grown up - belly high now - and there isn't a trail across the one end of it. I spent a few minutes walking a route back and forth though the meadow to define the trail. I need to get out the mower or weed eater and clean it up a little. With each pass I found more ripe dewberries, so my labor was rewarded.

I finally found some hickory nuts that were large enough to toss, and spent some time doing a wind up and pitching curve balls towards distant trees. Baseball used to occupy most of my summers when I was a kid. And I was a pretty darn good pitcher too, especially since I was left handed, and no one had ever faced a left handed pitcher before. I was undefeated my last season. I pitched during the last game of my baseball career, which won the regional tournament. My brother had just been killed in a car accident (a preacher that was passing on a double yellow line killed him). He taught me how to play ball, and was a great center fielder. It was a very emotional last game for me, and I took myself off of the mound in the last inning (we already had the game won), and played his position in center field. My hickory-nut-curve ball wasn't all that good today, but I did nail a few trees. Thanks bro.

The wind continued to blow hard all day, which felt simply wonderful. The sun broke through the clouds just before dark. Lots of lightening bugs came out at dusk. The river roared on into the night. And a few stars came out.

I watched "Apollo 13" on the tube, and spent some time later in the night gazing up at the moon that was trying to break through the clouds. The first moon landing by Apollo 11 just happened to be the same summer of that last baseball season of mine.

7/2/99 I was up very early this morning, and walked out into a stiff wind. The 3/4 moon was still shining brightly. There were a ton of little birds out riding the wind gusts, and it sounded like they were having a ball. It was GREAT to have the wind back all week! The weather forecast on the radio was calling for it to be in the 90's in town today. It climbed into the upper 70's at the cabin by late afternoon.

7/3/99 6:10am. As my eyes opened, I saw the bright red ball climbing up into the sky. And voices blew in on the wind. They were in fact the wind, welcoming me to a new day. I rolled over, and the next thing I knew it was 8:20, and the hillsides opposite were streaked with sunshine. Time to get up and go to work, er play.

A healthy wind was blowing, think goodness, but felt like it was going to be a much warmer day than the past two had been. Lots of clouds though, so it wouldn't get too hot, not like in town. I sat out on the back deck and had ice cream for breakfast and read the local paper. I only had one Starbucks in the frige, so I opted to save it for another day.

The wild sunflowers down below were just about to take over the meadow, although they were slow in blooming - perhaps only about 50-60 yellow blossoms out now. I expect thousands before it is all over. Most of them seem to be just hanging on, waiting for something else to happen before they bloom. I don't know what that might be, but continue to anxiously await.

7/4/99 I slept in late again today, and when I finally did get up, the sky was all blue but there was some haze in the air. The river was making a lot of noise. It seemed hot, and heavy out. Lots of little birds flying around.

Most of the past couple of weeks have seen me sitting in front of the TV all day and long into the night. Today I finally got up and off of my fanny and got a little work done around the cabin, most of it inside. I did a little wiring and put up a ceiling fan and a light and cleaned up and did stuff like that. And even though I really haven't needed it yet, the AC at the cabin has not worked this summer, and I discovered the problem all on my own - just needed to reset a little red button on the heat pump unit outside. I mainly want the AC to help control the humidity inside.

Then I drove into town for a BBQ with some friends to celebrate the holiday. It was just after dark when I left town for the drive back out to the cabin, and the fireworks displays were really quite amazing! It was fun driving along and seeing all of them shooting up on both sides of the road. And lots of giant balls of fire blowing up in the distance.

I returned to the couch downstairs and watched a movie. This was one of those silly movies that was a box office success but probably shunned by most intelligent people because of the subject matter. I had always wanted to see it, and now was my chance. It didn't end until 1:30 in the morning.

As I got up and wandered outside, I was met with a stunning display of stars and moonlight. But it was the lingering message of the movie that really hit me at my gut level. I won't say what the movie was or the message, but I will say that it brought back to the surface and reinforced one of the main principles of my life, a principle that has recently been mired in mud. I didn't expect anything like that from this movie. I'm glad that I watched it. And for those of you who say watching TV is a waste of time, I think that you are wrong. You can certainly watch TOO much TV though, and I will have to keep that under control.

7/5/99 It felt like a hot day on the way, and the temp did climb into the low 80's. I spent most of the day inside working on little jobs. On my evening hike, I found more and more larger hickory nuts on the ground, ones large enough to throw at trees. Plus several walnuts. I made it down to the river and discovered that the flood waters of last week reached the highest levels that I had ever seen since the cabin was built. The river level was still at about normal April levels, unheard of in July.

The zucchini in Bob's garden was about to take over - dozens of them were already too large to eat, if that is possible. I snipped off a couple of them, along with a yellow squash and an onion, and they all made it to my grill for dinner. I munched on the grilled fresh veggies and rice and sipped Cloudland beer out on the back deck as the evening light stretched across the hillsides. It was a very serene scene, the only sound being the roar of the river far below, and the wind that was blowing a little, keeping the temps quite comfortable.

The night sky was filled with a million stars, and for the first time in a long while, the Milky Way shone brightly. And down below, hundreds of lightening bugs lit up the meadow and forest edges.

7/6/99 Way before daylight, the eastern sky was the most incredible shade of salmon. Then the brilliant red ball appeared. It was 6:12am - the days are getting shorter. And it felt very cool, even though it was 73. There seemed to be more birds out than normal. And there were a couple of clouds hanging low down on the river way upstream. They moved around a little, then just spread out until they became haze instead of clouds.

I worked some inside and out during the day, and was forced to nap a time or two. It was quite hot and humid outside. Afternoon thunderheads made a lot of noise, but never produced any rain.

After dark and near midnight, the sky was clear, but the light show was incredible. There must have been some big thunderheads hanging around the fringes, because there were constant lightening flashes for an hour. But there was no thunder - it was completely quiet outside, and a little odd to have so much light with no thunder. And then something really strange happened - the flashes stopped, just like that. One moment they were flashing wildly, and the next, nothing. Just black sky full of stars.

7/7/99 It was nice and cool when I got up before daylight. Lots of birds out, including a couple of scarlet tanagers - wow are they bright red! I had to pack up and head into town for the day, so I missed my usual several afternoon summer naps. It was nearly dark when I returned.

Ants have become a big problem at the cabin, like they do every year. I arrived equipped with some stuff to help take care of them - I'm getting tired of stepping on them all the time.

I also brought with me a bottle of fine gin. Gin and tonic is about my favorite drink in the summer (not counting Bushwhackers), but I always forget to buy the supplies. So I mixed myself up a tall glass or two and spent a couple of hours down on the lower deck enjoying the night air and sky. Lots of stars, a little breeze, and a few night bugs and birds. And the river was still making music.

7/8/99 Daylight found the cabin engulfed in fog, with some of it dripping from the roof, which sounded like a light rain. I sipped my Starbucks Mocha down on the lower deck and watched as the wilderness beyond climbed out of the fog bank. It took about thirty minutes to go from total fog to none. Quite a transformation in such a short time! Just another classic morning at Cloudland.

The rest of the day was a tad hot and humid, so I spent most of it inside, doing a little work here and there, reading some Thoreau, and getting in a nap or two. Also, the hot tub guy came out to fix the hot tub. It has been on the blink for a couple of weeks, but he put it back into working order. You wouldn't think that a hot tub would sound very inviting in the middle of summer, but those who have owned them know better. The water temp has only been up to 98, and that just isn't hot enough. Although I have been using it some in the middle of the day just to cool down. It needs to be about 102 to really enjoy it at night.

A very attractive young lady who is a writer from Southern Living magazine stopped by the cabin for a few minutes. When she saw the CLOUDLAND sign on the front porch, her eyes lit up. She said that she had been to the web page, but had no idea that is where she was (Mike Mills from the Buffalo Outdoor Center brought her by). She is doing a story on the Buffalo River area, but was on her way back to the office in Alabama, so didn't stay long. She will be back in August. Her editor has sent her here at the wrong time of the year, but I guess there is still plenty to write about.

During my evening stroll through the woods and to the garden, I ran into a property neighbor - Eddy Silcott - and his daughter and dad. Eddy informed me that Bob Chester had packed up and left for a month - he never said a word to me about it. So it looks like I will have to work even harder at tending his garden. Most of the veggies that are getting ripe are going to waste, which is a shame. Bob always does this - he plants a huge garden, then leaves for the summer, and most of them rot on the vine. I do my best, but one guy can only eat so much! The zucchini are getting to be the size of watermelons. I found a couple of smaller ones to grill for dinner. In another week, there will be a hundred tomatoes rotting.

I added some salmon to the grill to go with the squash, and had a mini feast on the back deck as the rays of sunshine faded into the trees.

7/9/99 No fog this morning, just haze and blue skies and sunshine. The ants seem to be subsiding. A very large hawk soared through my little meadow this morning. He never flapped once, but made a long swoop just above flower level, then disappeared into the woods. I never saw him again.

The night sky was spectacular! Clear and bright with twinkling stars everywhere. I sat in the hot tub and watched the show. The Milky Way was especially bright, and down below it, a fog bank on the river seemed to mirror its shape. And they both were about the same color.

I made the mistake of turning on the TV on the way back through the cabin, and discovered an all-night WKRP marathon going on. For those of you who don't know what WKRP was, it won't do my any good to explain. So I stayed up until after 3am watching. What a treat!

7/10/99 It was a brilliant morning outside, with birds singing and flying everywhere. Talk about color - how about electric blue Indigo buntings, neon yellow goldfinches, and brilliant Scarlet tanagers, all playing in the meadow at the same time! And the wild sunflowers are really beginning to bloom, so the sea of yellow is spreading.

I spent the day cleaning up the cabin in preparation for a small gathering of guests. Early in the afternoon, the first to arrive was a very special friend - BONNIE! The very same one. Six weeks ago she was near death. And this afternoon she walked across the yard and up the cabin steps and gave me a big hug. A moment I never though I would see again. So many of you who read this journal have written asking about her, and Bonnie wanted to make sure I passed on her gratitude for your thoughts. Her husband Dean, who has been a rock through all of this, calls her the "Bonnie Llama." She is indeed a miracle child.

It was great to see my other friends arrive too, and we had a terrific dinner and evening, as always. But the highlight of the weekend for me was when Bonnie and Dean went on a hike - a HIKE! Bonnie still has to walk rather cautiously, but there she was, out in the woods hiking. Her eyesight will never get back to full, so she may never be able to drive a car again, but she can see pretty good. She spotted a lizard way down in the meadow that took Dean and I a while to see. And she will never be able to drink again, or eat green veggies (she has to take a blood thinner for the rest of her life, and alcohol and the vitamin K in the veggies don't mix well with the drug) - "beer and salads were my favorites" she said. Her and Dean have a lot of adjusting to do to everything, but I have this feeling that life will have a whole new meaning for them. She is basically her good old self again, and everyone enjoyed being with her.

Overall, it was the most laid back crowd that I had ever had at Cloudland. After dinner and beer and wine and bushwhackers, we turned off the music and just sat around for hours and talked and talked. It was most pleasant. And the Wildman had a lot of memorable quotes, which I did the best I could to write down.

The only glitch in the weekend was when someone forgot to check the toilet after flushing, and it ran and drained the well, for the second time in a row! But even that turned out to be good - since everyone had to spend more time outside watering the flowers, we got to experience the night. And the lightening bugs were really putting on a show - more of them than I had ever seen out in the woods before - they were everywhere! No need for a flashlight, as the bugs provided plenty of light.

Just as things began to wind down, someone wanted to see a movie, so we cracked open a DVD and watched Legends of the Fall until the wee hours. I'm not sure how those in bed could sleep with the cabin shaking - the home theater system pretty well takes over when a good movie is on, especially one with great music and sound effects like this one had.

7/11/99 The cabin woke up rather early, and everyone was up and drinking coffee and munching on blueberry biscuits by 8am. The morning was spectacular outside, with wisps of fog running around. And it was cool, nice and cool. It had rained about 1/3 of an inch during the night. The Wildman and Mary were the only ones to sleep outside, although the Wildman snuck in early because of the biting bugs.

Once again we all sat around for hours talking, with no music. Usually everyone gets up, eats, then packs up and heads home. But it was the middle of the afternoon before anyone left today. Very nice company. The temp remained in the 60's.

After a long nap or two, I cleaned up the cabin, and did a little writing and reading. The stars came out again with all of their brilliance, and I found a number of shooting stars too.

7/12/99 The sun rose above a sea of dense clouds in the valley. There was fog everywhere. I lingered in the hot tub longer than usual, watching this hawk that was sitting on the dead snag a the edge of the meadow. He spent his time looking around everywhere, and not being too concerned with me. Every now and then he would hunch over and fluff up his feathers - I guess the cool morning air was a little chilly for him. He finally did get up and fly away, then soared back and forth over the valley. I'm not sure what he was doing - the fog was still dense, and I don't know how he could see anything through it!

It took a long time for the sun to burn off the fog - it was nearly ten o'clock! I did a little writing, answered a lot of e-mail, cleaned up the cabin some more, then packed up and headed into town for a couple of days.

7/15/99 It was dusky dark when I arrived back at the cabin. I had spent a couple of very hot and noisy days in the concrete jungle, and it was great to get back to the woods. I took up a seat down on the lower deck, put my feet up on the rail, sipped a beer, and let the struggle of civilization be carried off with the wind. It was cool and rather terrific where I sat.

Just as I finished my wish on the first star, a whippoorwill sang out from deep within the forest. It was a lovely tune that carried across the valley. Then cicadas and tree frogs joined, often drowning out the bird. And every now and then, a hoot owl would strike up somewhere out there, a lonely call.

And a couple of bats entertained me for nearly thirty minutes, as they performed their acrobatics in the air above and around me. It never ceases to amaze me how bats can be racing through the air at top speed, then twitch and head in the opposite direction. They eat mosquitoes and noseeums, and they are a highly prized neighbor here at Cloudland. They never make a sound, except when they swoop down and wiz by your ear, then you hear the rush of their airborne fur.

It took a while, but eventually one lightening bug appeared at the far end of the meadow. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to get anywhere, just soaring around in his own way, casting a glow for all to see.

OK, I must tell you about this critter that I saw on the way out here tonight. He bolted out into the road right in front of my car, stumbled around a little like he was on unstable legs. The rush of my oncoming vehicle sent him twisting around and back into the brush from where he had just come. I got a good look at him, in fact nearly hit him. He was a big cat for sure, but much too large to be a bobcat, although didn't have the markings of a cougar, and had a short tail - a sure sign of a bobcat. Although this guy was LARGER than any bobcat that I had ever seen. If it wasn't for that bob tail and overall dull grey color, I would swear that he was a half grown cougar. He was long and lean, and like I said this dull grey fur and that bob tail. I'm not sure what his ears were doing - that would have told me for sure. But it had to be a bobcat of some sort because of that tail, right? Looked like a hundred pound kitty. This was several miles from the cabin.

I've never heard a cougar out here, nor seen any sign, nor felt that I was ever watched or followed by one. I do believe that they are out here though, somewhere, monarchs and hermits of the wilderness. Several people that I know and believe have seen them in the flesh. Lots of bobcats for sure - they feed on young deer.

As the night drew on, a sliver of a moon appeared through the trees to the west. It shone brightly. Then faded into the darkness. The wind picked up and began to howl. It was a cool summer eve at Cloudland.

7/17/99 The first time that I really remember watching television was when I spent several days back in 1963 glued to the tube. I have been there for over eight hours already today, and suspect that I will remain watching until I can no longer stay awake. I grew up watching and reading about John Kennedy, and his horrible accident last night and the search today cuts deep. I have admired how he and his wife have tried to live their lives, on their own terms. It is sad how so many of the reporters are trying to find someone to blame, but I guess that is where we have come to in our society. He was a great and decent man.

After a couple more hours of watching the very same scenes on the tube and listening to the drone of the reporters asking the same stupid questions of officials, I decided that John and Caroline and her sister were dead (of course, we all knew that long ago), and there was nothing that I could do about it. I had to get out into the fresh air and the trees and smell the forest and feel the dirt of the wilderness.

As I hiked towards the Faddis Meadow, I found and launched many large hickory nuts, freshly fallen. My aim was off, and all the targets were safe. I ambled on down to the Crag, then headed back to the ladder trail, which I followed on down to the river, popping one of my ankles on the way - darn, that hurt.

Whitaker Creek was running - a surprise - and the Buffalo waters were clear and cool, and making a little music. I found a bush of yellow flowers, and a dozen coneflowers growing right there in the rocks along the creek. There were lots of blue flowers too. Come to think of it, there was a lot of color out today.

The trip back up the steep hillside hurt. Oh I had forgot all about my ankle, at least until I popped the other one, but it was the toughness of the climb that hurt my insides - someone was getting seriously out of shape, especially for summertime. But I pushed on up the hill, huffing and puffing all the way. And I made it to the top, without stopping. I fell back into one of the deck chairs, and sat under the fan, gasping for air, and sucking down cold water.

A shower felt great. And I smelled a lot better too. While I waited for rice and veggies to cook, I stood there and gazed out the window to the west. The opening where the horseshoe pit was supposed to be was filled up with bright yellow wild sunflowers, some six feet tall. A small sea of yellow swept on over and ended at the hammock, quietly stretched between two oaks. I wondered why I was not curled up there with my lovely lady. Because there is no lovely lady in residence right now, that's why.

After dinner I turned on some folk music on the radio, and settled in for the night on the leather couch with a book, a glass of wine, and a bag of chocolate chips. It was time for me to get back into reading again, especially since I had to get busy with the task of editing the Cloudland Journal in preparation for publication, and reading helped exercise my mind.

August 7th. That was my self-imposed deadline to get the journal ready for my editor. She would be back in town from a trip out west that weekend, and would get to work making sure my prose was fit for human eyes. Also, the Wildman's 78th birthday party will be that weekend at the cabin, and I wanted to be finished with my editing and free to enjoy the party without the chore hanging over me.

It will be a large task for me to go through the entire years' worth of the journal, trying to make sense of everything, and removing some passages while adding others. Like most big projects of mine, I have put it off as long as I can. Once I get into it later this next week, I will relish the job, and work night and day until finished.

But tonight I am reading another journal - Flat Rock Journal, by Ken Carey. It is supposed to be a day in the life of this guy, but it really includes stories that span twenty years of his life in the Ozarks, and even more. I quickly discover that I have eaten way too many chocolate chips.

Wow! I just took a break from my reading and writing and wandered out into the night air. A quarter moon is casting an eerie glow over the wilderness. The night bugs are very loud, but the river is still making music to be heard. Lightening bugs and stars are out. And the wind is blowing, creating a cool and calm and pleasant feeling all about. I think that I will take a blanket and pillow and ease into the hammock and spend the night.

7/18/99 This lovely day was filled with visits. First, my mom came out for a picnic lunch, along with the lady who is taking care of her, Gene, and Gene's friend from Texas Bill. Just as they were leaving, I noticed a yard full of other folks milling around. This pattern would continue all afternoon - I had nearly twenty people wander in. Some of them were welcome guests, having been born and raised at the Faddis cabin, and others, just tourists. The tourists sometimes bother me because they drive right past the signs that say NO TRESPASSING and NO VEHICLES. One of these days I will probably put in an electric gate to keep them out. Tourists on foot are usually welcome, as long as they don't want a tour of the cabin.

7/22/99 Hot and sticky and still outside, but lots and lots of stars. I stopped by Bob's cabin on the way in and had a nice long chat with Benny and Mildred. They had been here all day, slaving away getting Bob's yard and garden in shape. Bob is still out of town for a couple more weeks. They had several sacks filled with fresh veggies from the garden - new potatoes, yellow squash, zucchini, tomatoes, green beans, eggplant, corn, and onions. And they brought with them a riding lawn mower. Boy, a big screen TV and a riding lawn mower - I guess were are nearly civilized out here!

The moon was bright and lit up the wilderness. But it remained hot long into the night.

7/23/99 The air was still quite warm when I rolled out of bed and splashed into the hot tub. Sounds kind of silly to sink down into 104 degree water when you are complaining about the hot weather, but somehow it feels sooooo good. Hot tubs can also be turned down in the summer months and used as a mini pool, with cool water (anything below body temperature will cool the body). But I prefer the hot stuff to soothe the soul.

At about the same time that the air temp hit its high for the day (90 degrees), I slipped out through the woods for a hike. The weeds/flowers in the Faddis Meadow had reached nearly six feet tall, and those in the East Meadow were about five feet tall. While the Faddis garden was lush and producing lots of veggies, the garden in the East Meadow was void of any plants. Neither garden had been watered all summer. Benny said that everything in the East Meadow garden had either rotted (too much rain early in the summer) or had been eaten down to the ground by deer.

I eased on down the steep hillside and came to rest in Magnolia Canyon. The walls of this canyon are covered with bright green moss, and the entire area is cooled by the towering magnolia trees above, their huge leaves keeping out much of the sun and heat. The little cave at the base of one wall was really nice. I climbed down into it and laid out on the floor. It was probably 65 degrees in there, and most delightful!

After a cool nap of unknown duration, I awoke to a pair of peering eyes, very large eyes. In those few seconds of waking up, I imagined all sorts of terrifying things. I realized that the way that I was lying on the crevice floor, with my head turned sideways, I was looking at a pair of symmetrical openings in the far end of the rock, each about six feet wide, spaced apart and just the right shape to be giant eyes, and open to the outside world.

In a way, I was glad to have some company. This is a spot where I can go to sit and think and reflect and converse with the powers that be. And now there is someone to bounce ideas off of. I will let you know if the giant eyes ever talk back.

But mostly I came to this spot today to soak up some of its coolness.

I left the cool, mossy canyon and made my way over to Robert's Falls, which was actually running a little. There were a ton of ferns and tiny green things growing along the base and wall back behind the falls, an area where the sun never reaches.

As I climbed up the steep hill above the falls I got to thinking about the forest, and how I make my way through it. I often have no particular destination or route in mind, like today, and so I will let the trees and the land forms dictate my path. Today, my only goal was to climb up the hillside. I followed the path of least resistance - areas where the brush was not too thick. Sometimes the trees would lead me straight up the hill, other times I walked level, and often the opening was gradual uphill. I really do enjoy wandering through the forest like this.

Before long I found myself walking along the lane up to the North Meadow. It had been a while since I had visited this meadow, and I was delighted at what I found. The entire meadow was carpeted with black-eyed Susan wildflowers - they were everywhere! That "Sound Of Music" song popped into my head again as I made my way through the mass of black and yellow. All it needed was a little breeze, but there was none to be found.

Later in the evening, Bob and Dawna arrived from Ft. Smith, and we had a beer or two and too much Cloudland Pizza. We sat down on the lower deck and enjoyed the moonlight and even found a falling star or two. Then the noseeums and mosquitoes drove us inside. These little buggers are getting to be somewhat of a pain this summer. The bugs helped convince my guests to sleep inside, the first time they had ever done so out here.

7/24/99 I heard rumblings below very early, at about the same time the sun was peaking out above the distant hillside. I didn't stir for another hour or two, but as I made my way down to the hot tub, I didn't find Bob and Dawna. They usually spend their morning here out on the back deck, enjoying the show. But not today. Perhaps they had gone on a hike.

As I sat there in the bubbles, I heard laughter from the forest. My guests had indeed gotten up early, but eventually found their way to the hammock, where they were trying to keep from being tossed out. Their only complaint about the morning was that the birds were too loud! There did seem to be a lot of birds out this morning.

After a bit of breakfast, we packed up and headed down the ladder trail to the river. I wanted to hike up to the great water hole that I had found back in February up in Boen Gulf. We made out way up the main Buffalo creekbed, some of which was dry and made for easy walking. We ran into many large pools that spanned the creekbed and drove us back up into the woods. It was getting hot in a hurry.

But the water was spectacular. Lots of fish and colorful patterns in the water. We passed a large boulder in one stretch of water that I dubbed the "Scat Rock." There was a giant splash of heron scat on it, a pile of coyote scat, several piles of some other unknown origin, and two piles of BEAR scat. We could not explain why everyone had climbed up onto this rock to do their business, except that it provided a good view of the waterway. No magazines though.

When we came to a favorite swimming hole and campsite from our hike last September, we realized that the river was down, way down, nearly a foot lower than it had been after the very dry summer. I was surprised at this, especially since we have had so much rain in June.

The river pushed us back into the woods again, and we followed an old road bed through a large flat area. A dry overflow creekbed provided us safe passage through a known stand of stinging nettles. Even though we all had on long pants, I quickly realized that this stuff drive its tiny spikes right through my pant material. I find few things in the woods more bothersome than scratching stinging nettles!

We finally made it to the mouth of Boen Gulf, which was nearly dry. And the river there looked soooo low. We decided to continue up the Buffalo and take a look at another great swimming hole and campsite. When we reached that spot we were meat with one of the most disgusting sights that I had ever seen. A couple of stupid slob rednecks - no other way to describe them - had just camped there. And they were fisherman. They left behind on the narrow gravel bar beer cans, fish entrails, a can of shortening, a mountain of potato peels, a pile of fried fish fillets, and other assorted trash. Made me sick. How ignorant can some people be? Each beautiful hole of water in the Upper Buffalo area holds probably two or three good sized smallmouth bass. It appeared that these guys had cleaned out all of the holes for a good ways along the river, and wasted most of the fish to boot. No telling how long it will take for mature fish to collect in these holes again.

One good thing though - along with all of their trash on the gravel bar, there was a pair of bear tracks in the sand. I hoped that the bear was a large one, and came upon these idiots in the middle of the night and scared the wits out of them.

That entire scene sent me into a very dark mood. I just can never understand why people could be so dumb and destructive to such a wonderful wilderness spot. I'll bet their house and yard look the same.

We decided that the pool up Boen Gulf probably would not have any water in it, so we skipped that part of our hike and headed back downstream, and took the high route through the woods. I was forced to put on my head net a time or two because the spider webs got so thick. I sometimes can't see too well with that thing on, and Bob and Dawna often wondered if I really knew where I was going. I basically just put my head down and crashed through the thick brush in the general direction that felt right.

Before long we had arrived back at the mouth of Whitaker Creek, and were soon neck deep in the most incredible waters of the old swimming hole. Surprisingly, the water level of this hole of water was not low, but rather at its normal summer depth, which was just perfect. And the water was clean and cool and just right.

It had been nearly two years since I had ripped my rotator cuff on my left arm, and I had not really been able to swim very well since. But today I regained my freedom in the water, and happily swam laps back and forth in our "Olympic" pool. It was just perfect. The water depth got to seven feet, with much of it being five to six feet. We swam and dove and played in the water like a bunch of otters.

As I climbed the steep hill back up towards the cabin, I began to get a little nervous. It was hot, very hot, and my pace was a quick one up the hill, with lots of heavy breathing. But I never broke a sweat. That is usually not a good sign. When I reached the cabin, I discovered that while the temp was 90, the humidity was only 49%, which explained my dry skin.

There was a small feast planned for the evening, and few more guests arrived. To partake. We had marinated chicken kabobs, lots of grilled fresh veggies from the garden, and other grilled delights like fresh pineapple that were brought out by the Wildman and Mary. (Mary made me a perfect gin and tonic too!) Homemade strawberry cheesecake (Dawna) topped it all off.

We ate outside on the deck, with the evening light show providing the entertainment. But soon we were driven inside by those darn noseeums. Or at least I was. They seem to be after me these days.

Bob broke out his latest batch of Cloudland Beer - this time with a new label entitled "Cloudland Moonlight Ale." A darker, stronger version of the first batch, and very good.

The late evening was spent downstairs in the cool room watching a great film about Bill Monroe, the father of Bluegrass music. When it ended, we broke out the last part of the feast - root beer floats!

7/25/99 The Wildman and Mary cooked up a batch of heavenly biscuits and sausage gravy (good food tends to be a major part of the Cloudland experience) for breakfast. Afterwards, most of the gang headed into town for the semi-annual Pack Rat SALE, leaving the Wildman, Mary and I behind. Since the temp was already 90 by late morning, it didn't take us long to skip on down the hill and jump into the swimming hole.

I don't know why, but I enjoyed the water today more than I ever have. I swam laps and dove into the deep recesses of the pool and sat up on the big rocks sunning myself, like an old turtle. The sun was hot, and intense. I had to put on my hat to keep my head from getting to crisp. I discovered too late that my swim mask was broken, so I was unable to fully enjoy spending time on the bottom and exploring the rocks and ledges. But I could still see outlines and a few features, which kept me well entertained.

The Wildman took up residence in the shallow water under a shade tree. Swarms of tiny minnows crowded around his legs and feet, like bugs drawn to a light bulb. Mary followed the antics of several brightly colored fish, including one large bluegill that was guarding her nest, chasing everything away that swam close.

After a couple of hours, my guests packed up and headed back to the cabin. I took the opportunity to work on my all-over tan, swam a few more laps, and found a perfect resting spot at the edge of the pool. There were these two boulders sitting in the water. I found a spot between them were I could lay back against one of them, put my feet up on the other, and have about half of my body in the water. At the other end of the pool, I found a spot where I could lie in about a foot of water and rest my head out of the water on a small rock. I actually fell asleep at this spot, just a quick power, or pool nap. When I opened my eyes, a blue sky filled with puffy white clouds was reflecting off the calm water surface. It was the best swimming hole in the world, and right out my back door anytime that I wanted it. Of course, the trip back to the cabin is a little STEEP!

And just like the day before, I didn't break a sweat on the way up. But I sounded like someone gasping for their last breath. One of these day, I hope to be in good enough shape to make this climb without breathing hard!

As I was settling down into the hot tub late in the evening, under a bright 3/4 moon, I realized that I got a little sunburned - all over!

The perimeter alarm went off late in the night. I had been watching a James Bond movie, felt a little sneaky, so I went outside to investigate. No problem getting around in the moonlight. I worked my way up towards the transmitter, stopping in the shadows of trees to scan for any movement. Could it have been a bear, a redneck, a giant squirrel? No telling. I searched on. Carefully. Trying not to make any noise.

And then I spotted him, larger than life, only thirty feet away, with moonlight sparkles in his eyes - a deer! I breathed both a sigh of relief, and of disappointment. I would have liked to have seen a bear, but was happy not to have a problem bear around. There were four deer that I could see, although I didn't get to watch them much, since the first guy got spooked and they all soon bounded off into the night.

7/26/99 When I got up at 5am it was cooler outside than in, so I opened all of the windows in the cabin. When I got up again at 7, the outside temp was on the rise, so I went around and closed everything up again - this happens a lot. Looked like it was going to be another hot and muggy day. I did a little writing and a few cabin chores, then a couple of friends dropped by for a visit.

Rhonda Terry works for the National Park Service way down at Big Bend National Park in Texas. One terrific national park for sure. She has been there for several years. I've only been to the park once, and have always remarked at how much nicer the staff is there as compared to other national parks in this country. She was in town visiting her parents for a while, and it was great to see her again. Sharon Young from the Pack Rat came out with her. The Park Rat seems to bring a lot of folks together. Sharon has been to the cabin a number of times.

We had a good long chat. One of the last things that Rhonda said before they left was that she wished it would rain while she was at the cabin. Me too I thought. About an hour after they left, the cabin shook a little, and I saw flashes outside - a summer thunderstorm was approaching!

I could see the dark clouds way up the Whitaker Creek drainage, several miles away, and they were dumping rain. Gradually they got closer, the lightening bolts got brighter, taller and louder. The temp dropped eight degrees in about ten minutes. And then the sheets of rain swept across from Beagle Point and poured down on Cloudland. Rhonda should have stayed just a little longer!

It was a great little storm, but was over in twenty minutes. As the rain and thunder went away, steam vents began cropping up down in the valley. First, a little one would shoot up, then get blown away. Then a larger, denser one would rise slowly from the same spot. Several joined together about half way up the hillside, and danced about. The forest smiled.

And so did all of the critters - lordy, you should have heard the night bugs that came out and started singing at the top of their lungs! I guess they were getting kind of dry.

While it remained cloudy until dark, the wilderness was cloaked with a yellow/orange glow from the setting sun that was out there somewhere in the mist. It was a great light show. Not the kind of dramatic light where you stop and ohhh and awe in amazement, but rather the kind of soft light that you feel deep down inside, and makes you smile.

7/29/99 It was rather cool at daybreak - in the mid 70's - but it heated up in a hurry, and was in the low 90's by noon. There were tons of birds out early enjoying the cool temps, and playing in the wild sunflowers with the butterflies. The little meadow below was in constant motion, although there wasn't much breeze. I mostly stayed inside and worked on the journal and answered e-mail all morning.

By 2pm the temp had hit a record for Cloudland - 93 degrees. So I loaded up and went on a hike. First I did the great Cloudland Trail Complex, a five mile loop that included stops at the Faddis Garden, the Crag, the mailbox to get the paper, and then back to the cabin. Along the way I found little persimmons covering the ground - very small, about the size of the acorns that are falling now. Some were green, but others were ripe. I made it back to the cabin without finding a single tick. I think they are on their way out.

I picked up a new mask and snorkel at the cabin that I had bought back in town and headed down the ladder trail to the river. Half of the swimming hole was in shadow. I eased into the warm water with a great big sigh of relief - it felt terrific!

I spent a lot of time looking around underwater with the new mask, exploring the deep and hidden reaches of the pool. Lordy, there were a lot more fish that I had thought. And I found more than a dozen fish nests. That big old bluegill lady was still guarding her nest, and when I got down low and swam close to her, she lunged at me and ran right into the front of the mask. I got close enough to see hundreds of tiny eggs clinging to the small rocks that made up the nest - these are what she is protecting.

There was a very big nest in another part of the pool, in deep water. The darn thing was sitting right on top of a pile of debris, and it all looked like an eagle's nest or something. At first, there was this large smallmouth bass guarding the nest. He wasn't doing a very good job, because there were seven or eight good-sized bluegill circling and darting down and slurping up eggs. The big old bass tried his best to keep them at bay, but there were just too many of them. Several times he would dart towards a fish and take a big bite. Most of the time, he only came up with debris from the bottom. One time I saw him spit out an entire walnut, shell and all.

Another, even larger bass joined this guy, and together they did manage to keep most of the bluegill away. These two bass were really colorful, with interesting patterns along the top and sides of their bodies.

There was a very large bluegill that had been hanging out a few feet away at the base of a submerged boulder - I would see him of the corner of my mask every now and then. But he wasn't doing much, just sort of hanging back and watching, a lot like me. Then one of the large bass swam over to this fish, turned around and escorted it back to the nest. It looked to me like this huge bluegill was actually the nest's owner, and SHE then began to chase away all of the other fish. The big bass hung around for a few minutes, then swam off in opposite directions, leaving the big fat momma all alone.

I swam several laps and explored some more and generally played around until I got a bit waterlogged. As I was about to leave, I spent some time laying in the shallow water at the inlet to the pool. The water there was really hot! The shallow water just upstream that feeds this pool gets rather warm in the afternoon sun. There were hundreds of tiny fish swimming in the sparkling waters. Many of them had just been born, and were nearly transparent, with a bright blue hue. And big eyes.

It was a good hike out - I did work up a sweat this time. A nice breeze greeted me once I got back to the cabin, and I sat there for thirty minutes cooling down.

Dinner was burgers and tomatoes off of the grill, with steamed cabbage, a little wine, and a hand full of chocolate sticks. While I sat out on the deck in the dark waiting for the moon to rise, I tried to make a few phone calls. The night bugs and frogs were so LOUD that I had to go inside to finish my conversations. It seems all those critters like this warm weather.

Later, when the moon came up, I could see all of these lights way down in the bottom of the valley - moonlight reflecting off of the river. Very nice.

7/30/99 Another hot and muggy day. And another hour of terrific swimming down in the pool. I measured the pool, and found it to be right at 100 yards long, and the route that I swim being about 85 yards (the rest of the pool is too shallow). I did ten lengths, or about a half mile.

After dinner, I had to make a quick trip into town to send an emergency letter out to my hiking club membership. One of the things that I like about Cloudland is that it is still fairly close to my "town home," and I can get there quickly and whenever I need to, without worrying about having to drive too far. I also like having a 24-hour copy shop there. I finished my letter at 1am, and got a thousand copies run off and folded by daylight.

Here is a link to the site that contains this letter - PLEASE take a look and help us out. We need to get a ton of letters sent in this week, or the Forest Service and Park Service are going to not allow us to complete the Ozark Highlands Trail, a project that we have been working on for over twenty years now. They claim that there is no support from hikers to continue this project, yet they have never asked for any supporting letters from us. Here is the link: http://Wilderness.ArkansasUSA.com/alert.html. PLEASE send in a letter - it doesn't matter if you hike here or not.

7/31/99 After being up most of the night working on the letter, I crawled into the couch when I returned to the cabin this afternoon and took a good long nap. I got up just in time to head down the hill to the river. Just for kicks, I timed the hike down and back up again - 16:30 from the cabin to the edge of the pool. Not too bad, and about right for a hike of a mile downhill.

I was tired, and only completed a couple of laps before I gave up the fitness part of my swim. So instead I spent nearly an hour just cruising around in the pool, looking at all the fish, exploring more of the deep parts of the pool. And I hiked downstream to another pool, which has a terrific moss-covered boulder right in the middle of it. The water isn't very deep there though.

When I returned to my big pool, I managed to swim a few more laps. At one end of the pool, where the water is shallow, I was joined by a smallmouth bass. He came alongside me and swam just ahead, and to the right. I spooked him when I turned around to head the other direction, but he rejoined me a few seconds later. There is a big submerged rock at the far end of this shallow area, and he veered off at that point. When I returned after another lap, he was right there again, and joined me for the shallow part. He was a good-sized bass, maybe a half pound or so, with striking markings on his back and sides. It was nice to have some company along.

I noticed that most of the fish nests had been abandoned - and I couldn't find any fish eggs in them. I guess they had either all hatched or been had for lunch. And there was a film of algae or something already beginning to coat the rocks, which had been kept swept clean by the guarding fish.

There seems to be more and more fresh beaver activity - lots of smaller, stripped limbs in the water, and green-leaved branches floating. And I saw one larger tree along the bank that had been chewed on in the last couple of days. This may explain the turds that I have been seeing at the bottom of the pools - they look more like human turds than beaver, but I suspect they are not human. And today I found two very large turds, which could only be BEAR scat! Is that possible, right in the middle of the pool?

I found a whole, fresh hickory nut in the deep pool too. In fact I had been using it for navigation during my laps. While I was laying there in the cool water and sunshine in the shallows, I spotted another bright green hickory nut, on the opposite bank. High above towered a big shagbark hickory tree. And right next to it was a big white oak. This deep pool is guarded by a number of stately trees, including a giant sycamore, with its white truck and branches reflecting on the waters, and a cowcumber tree, with its blood-red fruit.

A couple of more laps and I was exhausted. I had to switch from freestyle to breast stoke to finish up. As I was swimming towards the inlet to the pool, where I enter and leave, I saw a pair of eyes looking at me. It was a banded water snake, mostly submerged, with just his head sticking up out of the water. Quite harmless. We exchanged glances, then I got out and dried off.

OK, now for the timed hike out. I had only been timed once, but it wasn't very accurate since we were using two different watches that may have not been in sync. That time was eighteen minutes from the water to the cabin. I started my stopwatch from the edge of the pool.

I could tell that I was getting a quick start, probably too fast, and I figured it would come back to haunt me later up the slope. I was right. By the half way point, I was really sucking air, and wasn't sure if I could make it without stopping. The ten pounds of fat that I had put on in the last couple of months really hurt (the breakup with my last girlfriend cost me fifteen pounds, which put me at about the right weight - I needed to lose that ten pounds again). I tried to go at my usual steady pace, without rushing, and that seemed to work OK.

As I climbed up the ladder, I got dizzy and nearly fell backwards off of the bluff. But the cabin was in sight, and I had to keep going. I wasn't really trying to push it and set any records, I just wanted to get a base time to use as a reference. As the cabin got closer, my pace picked up a bit, and I began to feel a lot better. Up the steps and to the back door - 17:06! I was a little surprised - it only took me 36 seconds longer to climb the hill than to hike down it. Come to think of it, that is not all that surprising at all. I much prefer to hike up a steep hill than down, and don't really mind the stress. In fact, if feels pretty good, especially once I get to the top!

Oops, now I've got a darn time to meet/beat every trip up the hillside.

The wind was blowing pretty good. I wandered over and collapsed in the hammock.

While I was fixing dinner, I spotted a big doe slipping through the woods. She walked right on over to that hammock and stood there, looking at the cabin. I rushed around trying to get the camera, but she moved before I could get a picture. In the meantime, my garlic and tomatoes on the stove top began to burn. Then she stopped down in the meadow and began to munch on some of the wild sunflowers. I snuck down the stairs, once again trying to get a picture with my snapshot camera. Once again she moved on before I could snap the shutter. As I was walking towards the kitchen I could hear the pasta boiling over.

The sunset was a fiery one tonight - first one like that in a while. Lots of puffy clouds hanging around to reflect all of that brilliant light.