Tuesday afternoon was looking dull. Tim and Joshua were off biking. Some of my family were napping and some were reading. I decided to walk along the creek on a horse trail. After perhaps a quarter mile, the trail crossed the creek. I debated whether to continue, then realized that 20 years ago, I wouldn’t have even hesitated. I took off my shoes and socks, rolled up my pants and waded across.
The trail followed the bluffs along the river. I walked about half a mile, then climbed down to the bank and walked along the rocks. I looked, unsuccessfully for a place where I could cross without getting my feet wet again. I felt like I was in the middle of nowhere and got to wondering how far I was from another human being. Then I looked across the river and saw a tall, fat guy standing on this bluff with a beer bottle in his hand. It was obvious he hadn’t walked far to get there. I headed back to the trail and returned to camp. When I got to the ford, I crossed without removing my shoes.
When I got back to camp, Sally said she was wondering what had happened to me. She had gone down to the river to find me but returned when she saw “a big, burly guy” walking through the woods. A few minutes later, I spotted the guy walking through the woods near our campsite. He returned and sat in his car just up the road for a while, then left. A few minutes later, he came back, walked around our campsite some more and sat in his car awhile longer. Finally, the fat guy I’d seen down the river came out of the woods and got in the car and they drove off. We began referring to them as the BBGs.