| OUR FIRST CAMPING TRIPS - Thurmont, MD - 1989-1991 Baptism by Fire (featuring Sarge, Ski, Bauer & Brett) Overview: These trips were HELL in many ways. We used to camp illegally near Thurmont. We would have to carry case upon case of beer in ice coolers down a vine-ridden hill, over downed power lines, across train tracks, then across a sub-zero river. No bridge or anything, just a few slippery rocks. It was perilous and of course someone would fall in. Ha ha ha. Yes, it was funny, but no so much when you put your leg in the freezing water and couldn't change because you were tough and didn't bring a spare pair of pants. So you're left, in the winter, to freeze your arse off. Still, it was great fun getting messed up in the woods with your pals. Preparation: We used to have to beg this wanker Rick to buy us beer, but we always bought good stuff. We didn't really go for liquor in those days; we (Me and Ski) preferred Michelob Dry, Lowenbrau, Moosehead, Molson, Labatts ad nauseum. Bauer liked Moosehead, Brett would bring Keystone, Natty Boh or Beast. We'd plan to leave at 5pm on a Friday, but would always have to go pick up the brew, grab all our stuff, pick each other up, go to Giant and buy chips and cheap hotdogs etc. Finally we'd leave around 8pm. We'd have a few beers on the way up. We used to take Brett's mom's caravan or Ski's Cavalier and ride for two hours getting our drink on to the Beastie Boys or old school rap. One final stop: Burger King. You felt like it was like a last meal before being executed. Arrival: Finally we'd get to Thurmont, MD, go thru town on the main road until we got into the start of the Catoctin mountains. We'd pull over on a secluded gravel shoulder and then start the expedition. We would have to carry the cases of beer in ice coolers down a vine-ridden hill, over downed power lines, across train tracks, then across a sub-zero river. No bridge or anything, just a few slippery rocks. It was perilous and of course someone would fall in. Ha ha ha. Yes, it was funny, but no so much when you put your leg in the freezing water and couldn't change because you were tough and didn't bring a spare pair of pants so you're left freezing to death. Still, it was great fun getting messed up in the woods with your pals. The night would progress with me and Ski getting a nice buzz to keep us warm, Bauer would be the 'Fire God' (he could keep a fire burning with little amounts of wood) and Brett would completely ripped by 7pm. There would be one fold-up chair and two coolers so we'd fight over them then Brett would become a major pain in the arse. He would start throwing marshmallows at us like a typical drunk. Then he would want to drive! Where does he want to go for f*ck's sake? He'd actually have his keys ready like he was going for a spin. It would panic us though because he was our ride. How the hell were we gonna get home if he drove into a tree? The rest of the night we'd have to lie to him and tell him it was midnight and he should go to bed. He'd get into his tent at 8pm and we'd hope he'd fall asleep. He wouldn't...he'd just start shouting "Nicotine" over and over again. We wouldn't give him our smokes though. Speaking of which, me, Ski and Bauer would smoke Magna cigarettes. They were foul, but we were tight for cash. Brett must've had good hearing because we'd secretly pop open and beer and he'd hear it. He'd then start moaning 'Alcohol' instead of 'Nicotine' for the next hour. We'd be pretty drunk ourselves by this point and throw in some Pink Floyd Obscured by Clouds or Animals then crawl into our tents. We would wake up shivering at 7am. It would be freezing, the fire was out, we were wearing wet clothes, seriously hungover and we'd have forgotten to bring sleeping bags. I never brought a pillow 'cause I thought I'd be tough, I was pissed when I saw the other guys brought theirs. Looking back, I'm pretty proud that we survived these trips; it probably made us stronger people. As I mentioned before, there were train tracks next to the campsite. At noon, a freight train would come by, maybe fifty cars in length. We would put pennies and nickels on the tracks and watch them get squashed. It was pretty cool. During the day we wouldn't hike. We would just sit there and drink and smoke. I don't remember too much about it, so it must have been somewhat entertaining. We'd play card games and Three Man and keep the fire going. One morning we woke up all hungover and I remember Bauer passing out Advil to everyone, we would wash it down with Sprite b/c he said it would settle the stomach. He was a cool guy to camp with. He had the most redneck in him. So, as I was saying, we woke up, took Advil, then Ski pulled out a bottle of red Romanian wine he'd swiped. The sh*t was poisonious. It kinda negated the effect of the Advil and returned us to a hangover-sort-of-limbo. Very odd. We carved names into trees but all in all it was pretty uneventful stuff. Later we'd get so ripped we'd give the trees names. Fun. Surprises: Thurmont camping was an excellent time and a true baptism by fire but all good things must come to an end. By 1991, we had migrated further west out to Green Ridge State Forest. Thurmont was secluded but you couldn't really hike, then one night hell broke loose. We were f*cked up one night when a big pick-up truck came down the train tracks full of rednecks or cops searching for us with a spotlight. They started shouting down to us that we were camping illegally and we had to leave. The other guys were shouting back at them and all I remember is that I was behind the tent with my BB gun aiming at the spotlight. I'm glad I didn't shoot it out, I think they were better armed than us. It wasn't the best way to leave but better than dealing with cops when you're totalled at age 18. |
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