Way back in my youth, somewhere between the invention of the wheel and the invention of Jimmy Carter, I dated a young park ranger named Cheryl something or other. She was outdoorsy so I was outdoorsy. We went camping a few times up on the Shanandoah mountains in Virginia. West Virginia, and Maryland in the spring and into the fall. When the cold weather rolled in our romance seemed to roll out.
Cheryl, working for the Park Service, had access to state parks all over the east coast and we had camped at some pretty secluded spots. Once up near the Appalachian Trail we spent a week without seeing anyone at all. Other times we were in the company of other travelers and campers. But it all came to an end when the snows fell and the chill winds blew, or so I thought.
Out of the the blue the phone rings and it’s Cheryl . She said she knew of a State park in Pennsylvania and asked if I was game for some winter camping. I hemmed and hawed, complaining abou the weight of the tent, the winter sleeping bags, not to mentoin the amount of booze we’d have to carry to keep warm, when she assured me that no tent was required and we need bring only the basics. Booze food sleeping bags and that was about it. Intrigued, interested, I said I was in. So, bright and early on Thursday morning she picked me up and northward we hooed.. Up through Maryland, west of Baltimore on I-70 Breezewood on through to Hershey and still north close to Milton. Thank god for four wheel drive jeeps because we were then on a two lane little black top road headed up into the mountains.
Off the beaten path we arrived at a locked gate which she had the key for, a few miles down a two track in 15 inches of snow for a few miles an into a huge empty parking lot. Empty! Parking near the northern trail into the woods we geared up and started our long trek into the frozen wilderness. It was at about this time that I started to wonder about the shelter neither of us was carriing. Cheryl I said, what about a shelter, is there a cabin somewhere that you know of or something? She replied NO. Still trekking along I asked , are we meeting anyone else with a tent out here in the wilds? She replied NO. Still hiking along we came upon a sweeping ridge with a slight norther facing slant lined with ancient blue spruce trees. almost a half mile along this ridge we came to one of the ancient spruces where she said this one will do. I asked, do what? she replied do as our shelter.
We parked our packs and went in search o f a long stick to prod the inside of the tree with to make sure there were no bears hibernating inside and when there weren’t Cheryl went to work. taking some rope out of her pack she tied two of the boughs off, one to each side creating a slight entryway. Hauling our gear inside and zipping our sleeping bags together, leaning our packs against the trunk and unpacking we found that it had become semi warm. After a drink or two (or three) we headed out to find firewood. Then building a small fire in the entry we settled in for a light repast.
Hiking in the mountains for the next few days was a blast with our home base ready on our return it was by far one of my most Memorable camping trips ever. And, I even remembered her name, Cheryl.