Disconnect to Connect

To the mountains, but not beyond. Driven by the need to reset (to rest,) once we arrived in the mountains we didn't even attempt to interact with other humans. Sasquatch, yes. Definitely yes.

The leading party (more to come!!) consisted of five youthful coeds, of which I displayed the least leadership and the most aggressive 'quatch call. We arrived on Friday afternoon, ready to "camp." Camping turned into cabining, complete with leather couches and not-so-basic cable. As the theme of our weekend was "Disconnect to Connect," I asked everyone to pull the batteries out of their cell phones and keep the TV off. After this speech, I slinked off my soapbox to the empty stares of those gathered and tripped over at least three phone chargers in my rush to turn on the air conditioner.

On Friday night Logan taught us how to perform 'quatch calls. Our first round of calls only succeeded in evoking lust from a colony of frogs under the porch, but from there things got interesting in a furry hurry. Keeping a low voice and a low profile, I belched out the perfect pitch of 'quatch cacophony while Logan pummeled a tree with a hiking/wizard staff. Not five seconds later, across the valley and through the laurel, some animal - probably a dying goat, tortured mallard, or indentured servant... but possibly a 'quatch - answered the call.

It's kinda queasy bein' green.

We cheered for about as long as it takes for a park ranger to chop down a blade of grass before we realized that getting inside as soon as possible had just become our immediate priority. Logan turned to the door only to have the handle rattle uselessly in his hand. One of us had locked the door on the way out. Don't shoot the messenger, but I'm about to deliver some bad news. The 'quatch - at this point we were sure it was a 'quatch - called again, louder than before. 

We nudged the bathroom window open with the grace of a dying deer tick, but the screen still provided a translucent blockade. I was about to tell Logan we could use my knife to pop the screen off when he changed his name to Bruce Lee and poke-chopped the screen into pointlessness. We shoved slightly-sized Trevor through the child-sized hole and before long were safe inside. 

We didn't sleep well that night.

The next day we went hiking.