One.

Packing for a wilderness camping trip can be a pain. The balance between weight and utility is different for every trip. In this particular instance, eight of us were going into the mountains in early summer. I wanted to trim the weight I was carrying enough to take along my guitar. We were split into four pairs. Each pair would share the burden on certain items. For example. If I took my guitar, my partner might carry most of our food. I was draconian in cutting unneeded weight, I really wanted to take my guitar.

I’m James Thompson, Jim to my friends, and Jimmy to my girlfriend. I’m one of those average fellows who never stand out. Five foot ten, 165 pounds, dark hair, hazel eyes. Main interests: girls, guitar, girls, wilderness camping, and GIRLS. My current girlfriend, and partner for this trip, was Cathy Foss. Cathy was a petite Blond. Five foot one, 120 pounds, green eyes, and a very nice figure. I thought she was pretty.

I weighed my gear and gave Cathy a call. She was a couple of pounds over her preferred limit and I was a little under. After a little discussion we agreed on what things of hers I would carry.

The rest of the group was two other pairs of high school kids and one pair of collage students to act as advisers and chaperons. We were on the road in the early predawn darkness riding in Ben’s huge van. Ben Johnson was one of our advisers, tall and muscular, he was one of those guys that seemed to draw pretty girls out of the woodwork. His partner was a new girl that I didn’t recognize and he didn’t introduce. She was a tiny dark haired girl that looked like cheerleader. She wasn’t dressed for camping. She clung to Ben like a leach, and ignored the rest of us.

Our group were members of our high school Outdoor Adventure Club. Besides myself and Cathy, there was Donald, don to friends, Georgen, an athlete without the usual ‘jock’ arrogance. Gloria Romero, a buxom dark haired girl with a hint of Spanish ancestry. Piotr, Peter or Pete to friends, Sokolov looked like that cartoon character with the big dog, he had a keen interest in botany, focused on things that could be smoked. Robin Randal was a slender brunette who managed to look sexy no matter how she dressed. We spent the trip talking in the back of the van about school, new camping equipment, and popular music.

We reached the trail head, in the parking lot of a tourist lodge by about nine. We were busy getting our gear together and double checking everything when Ben called me away from the group.

“You’ve been on this trail before, right?” he asked

“Three or four times.” I replied, “It’s one of my favorite hikes.”

“Good.” he said, “I want you to lead the group, something has come up.”

He nodded toward the unfamiliar girl, who was waiting for Ben impatiently.

“But you’re supposed to . . .” I started to say.

“Just behave yourselves.” He cut me off, “I’ll be here when you come back down.”

He turned and joined the girl. They walked toward the lodge, arm in arm. This was a potential problem. By the club rules, we weren’t supposed to camp out without at least one adult along. Ben was supposed to be that adult for this outing. But I wasn’t about to miss out on this trip. I joined the other kids.

“Looks like we’re on our own, guys.” I said, nodding at the retreating figures of Ben and his girl, “Our trusty chaperon is off to get laid.”

Their voices rose in a babble of disappointed complaints until I cut them off.

“Look, I’ve been up this trail a few times.” I said, “I know the way and we’re not a bunch of camping noobs. If you don’t want to go up, stay here in that campground.”

The lodge maintained a small commercial campground for people who wanted to camp out with bathrooms showers and convenience stores close by. It was only a dollar or two per night.

Everybody had been looking forward to this trip as much as I. They agreed to accept my lead. We shouldered our gear and headed up the trail.