A Tumbledown Moment

Written by Uncle Pan

We were twelve campers, seven boys and five girls along with two male and one female counselor. We were on the top of Tumbledown Mountain in Maine. Near the top there's a large pond which makes for a nice dip after a sweaty climb. We don't pack bathing suits for the climb but usually we have the mountain top to ourselves and manage to work in a cooling skinny-dip before lunch to wash away the salt of our sweat, after which refreshed we eat the lunch we packed and follow it with a short rest hour. After that it's time for the climb down. However, on this day the top of the mountain was crawling with people, and none of us felt like stripping in front of the madding crowd. And so the most any of us got to do was sit on an overhanging rock on the shore, and soak our tired, sweaty feet in the cooling water. Then after lunch and a short rest, five of the more adventurous boys, and two of the girls, elected to go down the more difficult path. This was the way we had come up, and consisted of some careful, skilled climbing with a heightened degree of difficulty, it being the way down. Two of our three counselors would accompany this group down.

That left two boys and three girls and me to take the easy path down. My name is Jim, I'm thirty-two years old, and I lead a Teen Camp. I have taken the difficult way down many times over the years, so I elected to lead our lazier group of misfits down, letting the other two counselors to lead the more skilled descent. There wasn't going to be anything challenging about our way down, except the challenge of staying on one's feet as gravity's constant pull attempts to twist our feet out of control. It was a hot, muggy afternoon, a day more characteristic of a Houston summer day than a Maine day. But unknown to our campers, there's a lovely spot near the bottom of the trail where the brook widens and produces a wonderful swimming hole. Of course, having no bathing suits along the big question in my mind remained, how many of this group of oddballs would be hot and uncomfortable enough take off their clothes for a refreshing swim in the brook. I knew that I for one sure as hell would. We would just have to see if I was going to have any company.

Our way down may not have had much in the way of a degree in difficulty, but it sure excelled in being hot and sweaty. There was only one part that was the least bit tricky, it consisted of making our way over a ridge that required a certain amount of care. I stood by the only tricky part in case anyone needed a hand, but everybody made it without incident. Most of the trip down went along a clearing and with the addition of gravity being on our side our way couldn't have been much easier, but virtually the entire walk down was out in the open under the sun's humid glare. For much of our way down we could hear a brook bubbling off to the side, but we ignored it. As we neared the bottom of the mountain the incline began to level off. I kept my eyes open for the spot where we would find the mini pool. There was a tree which had been decimated by lightning, and which served as a perfect marker for the magical spot. When it came into sight I called the group's attention to it, and suggested we leave the road and check out the brook at that point. We did. The spot was idyllic, a rather steep, but smooth rock carried the water down the mountain, and into the rather large pool. The water in the pool was fairly deep, it came up well past my bellybutton, and the pool was about twenty feet wide and about fifteen feet across, before the stream turned into a more shallow bubbling brook further along. All of our kids eyed the water with great interest, but this particular group was not noted for its daring, and we had not as yet gone skinny-dipping on a trip and so they were untried. And of course no one wanted to be the first to get naked in front of the others, no one that is, except me. ......(cont)

.......Read the entire A Tumbledown Moment ....written by Uncle Pan.
Copyright © 2007-8 Uncle Pan. ALL Rights Reserved









This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


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