Sports - Denny's gone

Well, on Friday, Sept. 7, Denny passed away.

He was also my ex brother-in-law. We first met in 1960 on Fort Bragg. We served over three years together in the Army and then I met and married his sister. Our friendship outlasted the marriage.

During those years, he and I shared some outdoor experiences. I wrote about when he and I hiked over Grandfather Mountain outside of Boone, N.C. and told you about our naked encounter with a big ole’ black bear. There’s more.

You see, Denny was a fantastic soldier, but he wasn’t much of an outdoorsman. Oh, his heart was in it, but he lacked any basic childhood experience. So most of the time, as willing as he was to participate in what I wanted to do, it was usually the first time he was participating in the activity.

His sister and I were living in North Carolina and he decided to relocate his family to live near us. Near us turned out to be right next door. As a result, we had lots of time to share together.

When his oldest child, Mark, and my oldest son, Richard, where both about eight, we decided to take the two of them on a camping trip. We reserved a camp sight on Mt. Mitchell where there is a very small state-run area very close to the top of the mountain.

For those of you who don’t know, Mt. Mitchell is the highest mountain east of the Rockies reaching up just short of 7,000 feet. As such, it gets cold up there all year around. So, you need to be prepared and equipped and having two young boys with us increased the demand and need for know how.

Turns out we had a great experience with the No. 1 topic of conversation being black bears and how we needed to be cautious and to take precautions with the No. 1 precautions being the storage and exposure of food. It’s the same as it is hiking and camping in the Adirondacks today.

During the day, we hiked the mountain and took a very steep trail down to Mitchell Falls, where the mountain’s namesake lost his life many years ago descending the mountain in the dark.

Not too bright, but we didn’t have any difficulty at all. However, the hike is quite strenuous and it tuckered the little guys (and the big guys) out to a point where sleep came none too early that night.

We all crawled into our tent and snuggled down in our sleeping bags and where fast asleep by 10 o’clock. I was careful to be sure that our food was stored away and that our tent was zipped up nice and tight before I closed my eyes. When I did, I was satisfied that all was secure.

During the night, as events would have it, nature called and Mark had to relieve himself. Unheard by me, he and his dad got up and left the tent to take care of business.

When they returned, Mark told his dad that he was hungry so Denny, being a good father, found a loaf of sliced bread and shared a slice or two with his son before returning to the world of slumber.

Can you see where this is going? The now open loaf of bread was tossed on the floor of the tent because is was too cold outside to get out of a sleeping bag twice and put it back where it belonged.

Second issue - the tent did not get zipped back up. Now you are probably expecting me to tell you that a big ole’ black bear came calling and ripped our tent open to get at the bread and we all had to run for the hills. Not exactly!

One important bit of information I need to supply. At this point in my life, I too was a smoker. Hang on to that for a moment.

Back to the tent. The rest of the night passed uneventful until just before sunrise. The sky was beginning to lighten up to a grey haze when I was awoken by a rustling noise. I looked around bleary eyed to see what was going on and, to my surprised, saw a great big old skunk munching on that loaf of bread just inside the unzipped doorway. There are two key words in that last sentence. Skunk and inside!

I looked across the tent to see Denny also looking down at the black and white critter. He whispered over to me “what should we do?”

“Nothing”, I replied. “It will leave once it’s gotten it’s fill of bread.”

Well, that wasn’t good enough for Denny. He reached down and grabbed one of his boots and raised it over his head ready to throw it at the skunk. I somehow stopped him with the loudest “NO! NO! NO!” whispering alarm I could muster.

Not good enough. Denny still felt it was necessary to do something. So, I said to him “light up a cigarette.”

“What!?”

“Light up a cigarette and blow the smoke at the skunk!”

We both lit up and huffed and puffed and blew the smoke at the skunk and low and behold, it quickly exited the tent. Our day was saved without further excitement and without a bath in milk or tomato juice.

Now Denny’s gone you know one of the reasons that I will always remember my friend. There are many others. Peace Denny! I’ll see you outdoors!