Cloud Splitter: Chance Encounters.

Story #1

Weeks, maybe months, after I witnessed a shop lifter being arrested, I had learned what happened to her. This is the same woman who I wrote about in a previous update.

 I was working alone with the manager. She was working the register while I swept the floors behind the counter. A police officer walked in. His gait reminded me of a vulture.

The officer talked with the manager while she casually scanned each and every item.

"You know that ol' black woman, the shoplifter we arrested here a while back? Well, she ain't never gave us her real name," the officer said.

"Really?" The manager said with an undertone of disbelief.

"Yes ma'am, and we were able to trace her all the way back there ta
Virginia. Who, boy, she was intelligent too. She spent a week in our jail."

I continued to eaves-drop.

"A whole week?"

"Yes ma'am. The name she gave us wasn't real, she said her name was 'nohbody . . .'" (to be honest, I'm not entirely sure I heard the office correctly. Since he exclaimed that she was intelligent, I figured it wasn't out of the realms of possibility that this woman pulled an Odysseus) " . . . you shoulda read her journal, boy was she smart. Some of the most intelligent writings I ever read."

"Oh wow."

The floors weren't getting any cleaner. I stopped sweeping at the mention of the journal. I want to read it.

"So she spent a week in our jail then we put her in a car and drove her out a few counties over, and told her not to come back."

They both had a prolonged chuckle. It still wasn't funny to me, but more intriguing. I still wonder who she was.


Story #2

Working at the gas station one night a woman came in to get some coffee. She was mumbling to herself and she looked familiar. Then I realized that I had once seen her hitch-hiking down Rt. 11. Well, my coworker decided that the hot-food we had was no longer worth selling, that it would be more of a crime to sell that than just give it away (though I still think all gas station food should be considered a crime against humanity). So away we gave it. The woman took full advantage of the free food and piled the last of it into a plastic bag. She came to my register and started to tell me about how much she appreciated it.

She was older, had little or no teeth, and walked around with a tightly packed JanSport backpack and another small bag over her shoulder.

"You know, I don't understand why a good christian would hurt another," she began. "I just don't, I gave my life to Jesus, and only three times in my life have I screwed up 'cause uh alcohol. Only three times," she held up three fingers to emphasize the few incidents.

"Oh?" I fished for it, I know. I didn't want to be rude. I let her tell her tale.

"Oh yes. I was sitting on a bench and only had a little," she held out her index and thumb finger as an indicator of "little." I was sure she was going to say "shot of" or some sort of hard liquor. "I had some of that Miller Lite, you know, the kind in the kind?"

I nodded.

"Well, these three men wanted to beat me up. And I prayed to Jesus when I drank that beer that he would keep me sober, and not let it affect me, but it musta . . . cause then . . ." she helled up her two index fingers, a forearms length apart " . . . cause then I pulled out a kitchen knife from my back-pack and that then scared them off!"

She giggled. "They jumped in their car and drove off!"

Holy shit. I really hope she doesn't still have that knife on her now, I thought.

"I just don't understand how a christian could want to beat some un up. And my pastor said that you gotta just put it out of your head . . . the beaten' up. But I don't know. Then one pastor said we have to put it out of their heads!" She laughed "Guess I put it out of their heads, praise the lord!" She gaily waved her hand in front of her.

"Well, oh, my coffee needs more sugar," she went and got some. "Some people give me money. My sister she gave me forty dollars when I left Georgetown. And then some people 'round here give me money 'cause they know I'm on the street, but I got food stamps too, so I try to use that when I can. And the money I give to some pastors for their pantries.Thanks for the food," she said.

"Yeah, no problem . . ." I said. Part of me wanted to laugh, just at the amount of religious interjection that made its way into her story. She left and ate the food outside at one of the picnic tables.


Story #3

After talking to Melissa about where is good for a hike, I decided that I would take a day and find Cloud Splitter, an un-marked trail that was said to be a quality hike. She didn't know where it was, but heard it was spectacular. I found an old map that had the trail marked between the Suspension bridge trail and Bison Way trail head.

I drove out through Nada Tunnel, down Rt. 715, passed the Suspension Bridge turn-off, and found a small gravel pull-off. I parked my car, found a faint trail across the road. There were no markings as to what the trail was, but I decided to chance it anyway. Unmarked trails can be the best, the kind where there was little chance of running into other people.

After twenty minutes of steep hiking in heavy overgrowth (yes, I checked for ticks), I came to a small cliff face. I followed the trail through some boulders, up and around to the top of the cliff. I had a nice view of the gorge. Not as breath-taking as I had hope. The cool breeze was a welcomed luxury. Though the trees in the forest were mostly large trees with canopies far off the ground, there was little wind in the bush.

I decided to keep hiking. I turned away from the cliff and headed further-up the trail.

In climbing, a general rule is that there is a chance there is going to be a great hold to clip the anchors from. You just have to search a little higher for it. Rather than clip from a sketchy crimp, you could clip at your waist from a good jug.

The same concept is what drove me to keep hiking.

I came to a slab that was about six feet in height. I wished that I had a pair of sandals with Stealth rubber. But I didn't.

Just as I peak my head over the ledge I had enough time to shout and feel my foot slip out from under me, sending me down the orange sandstone as some animal charged at me, howling as its feet trampled the earth, and its teeth reaching out for my face.

I looked up, my heart jumping as two dogs stood atop the slab barking at me, fiercely growling. Their owner came and hushed them. I climbed up, still thinking about those sandals that I wished I owned a pair.

"Yo man, hey," he said, slightly prolonging the vowels.

"Hi," I said.

"What's you're name, I'm Scott."

"Jared."

"Hey, sorry about the dogs, man, they're friendly though."

Scott kind of stumbled around, never really made eye contact, and wasn't wearing any shoes.

"You up here for the summer?"

"Yeah, rock climbing and such."

"Oh man, I've been here since last night. I mean here, on this ridge. I camped out to see the full moon."

"How was that?"

"It was good, until the clouds came over. then it was good. And yeah. I don't even know what this hike is."

"It's called Cloud Splitter," I said. "It's a pretty nice hike . . ."

"Yeah, I don';t care about the names, I name everything myself. Like this is named - that over there is the Peninsula, come on, let me show you." We walked over, the dogs following. I kept an eye on them as they passed.

"Yeah it's a cool view," I said. "Too bad there are trees in the way."

"Further up where we're going there are less trees." He started to pick up his bag, pack what he had into it, and set off down the trail. I decided to relax right there, not in want of the company. He took off. Though nice, I got mixed vibes from him.

After a brief nap I moved further down the trail, sitting down beside the trail with a gorgeous view of the gorge. I was taken in by the sight. The clouds were broken, the sun was shinning, a breeze kept the heat down and the bugs away. I took some time to write a few lines of poetry before deciding to move on.

Less than a hundred feet down the trail I found an even better spot to sit. I took advantage of the new discovery. After another half hour, I got up to continue down the trail when I smelled incense, then I heard the growls of two pugnacious hounds. I was ready to be done with this hike. I moved to pass the dogs, trying to hush them. I looked to my right to see Scott with his back to me, under a stone arch, burning incense and meditating. As I started to gain some distance, one of the dogs nipped at my leg.
And, none the less, on the way back, Scott hadn't moved, and the dogs were just as loud. I loathe those dogs.