By Elliot Tan and Keith “Puglsey” Bartram
As in any trip, there are always a couple of lonely and brave souls who volunteer to take the “sweep” position, that is, the rear, (notice the stale stench of sarcasm?) On this wilderness venture, we were the sweepers for most part.
When we arrived at the trail head, gear was unloaded and the barge and Ramona’s trooper, including Doug and Ramona, were shuttled via Terry’s truck. Given that it was hunting season in Grantsburg, Wisconsin, we spent an hour decorating ourselves with blaze orange strips of cloth.
When all was taken care of we began our long haul through Governor Knowle’s State Forest. Keith and I noticed that the blaze orange posteriors were becoming harder and harder to see. Recognizing this fact, we began to depend more and more on each other for support.
Along the way we entertained ourselves with the art of conversation, picking up trash left by beer hunters and admiring the late fall scenery.
The first night we settled near a creek. Here we assembled tents, and made ourselves at home. After such a hike it is often difficult to rouse people once they have begun to relax. On this night that was most definitely the case. A goodly amount of wood was needed to maintain the fire, our main source of entertainment for the time. So after much grumbling and groaning, a couple of our merry band set out to bring in whatever dead wood we could salvage.
The night grew on, slowly. Dinner was prepared, a healthy serving of Lipton Chicken dinner distributed to each. Stories were told, personalities probed by an Outward Bound questionnaire and food digested. Eyelids grew heavy and sleep became enticing. And so, as Ed Abbey would describe it, “they slept the sleep of the just-the just plain tired.”
In the wee hours of the morning (or so it seemed) most of us attempted to get up, while others simply said forget it. As Doug prepared the water for breakfast, the adventurers stowed away the tents and packed their backpacks, making sure to keep out any needed eating apparatus. We all had oatmeal, with possible choices of apricots, raisins, and sugar to eat with or without the oatmeal. After cleaning up the area of garbage, we left the camp, anxious to arrive at Doug’s cabin for some real food, a roof over our heads and a warm stove.
As Elliot and I left the camp, we almost instantly resumed our position at the rear. The group seemed to disappear faster than they did yesterday and so Elliot and I went back to our previous day. I learned so much about the way Elliot felt about his heritage, and how deeply involved he was with his culture, that I almost wished I had some culture. Elliot had mentioned something to me, that in my opinion is so true. He said that (something to this effect) our forefathers came over to the U.S. to get away from their culture, because the U.S. at the time was “the place to be.”