Thursday night.....Millheim.....lobster....blah, blah.

So, it's getting late and I want to get on the road early tomorrow. I got a
twelve hour trip and I want to get through Chicago before rush hour (didn't
happen......another story).

I drive back to Hemlock Acres and park the van. I walk in the dark.....so
dark I can just barely make out Frank's tent in the distance.....pass it and
go another thirty feet to my own. Unzip tent flap, turn on flashlight,
undress, arrange pillow, and crawl into sleeping bag.......takes about two
minutes. I hear a vehicle coming up the drive and turn in at the campsite.
Frank. I know this because nobody else is in the campsite.

A minute later, Frank starts rummaging around in the tent......none too
quietly. I let it pass. But it goes of for five minutes. Sounds like he's
rolling up plastic sheets, dumping ice in the cooler, and stomping on ****.
What the hell?

"Damn, Frank," shouts I, "whattya having a war out there?" No
answer......but the noise stops. I don't know if he heard me and is
offended at my tone, finished what he was doing, failed to hear above the
racket he was making, or what. Whatever. I roll over and prepare to sleep.

Crash, bang, stomp etc. It goes on for several minutes. "FRANK!!" sez I,
immediately thinking.......hm....what if it's not Fr

"What?" says a voice from somewhere NOT at Frank's tent, and then, half a
second later, "BEAR!"

Uh oh.

I'm out of the tent in about two seconds......with flashing
waving.....without pants.

"Where?"

"Over there"

"****"

We back away to the edge of the campground shining lights to keep sight of
the bear who seems disinclined to vacate the area.

Frank says he's going to headquarters to tell Tom.

"Why?" I wonder aloud.

No answer.

We creep forward because we have lost sight of the bear.

Oops. There he is!

We retreat.

Frank says he's going up to headquarters to get a can to rattle or
something. He comes back a minute or two later and starts banging a fork or
something around the inside of a can as we move forward toward the tents.
The bear shows no sign that it sees anything unusual in all of this. I
suggest that we get in the presumably bear proof truck and try to use engine
noise and headlights to scare the brute (the bear, that is) away. Doesn't
work.

Discretion, we decide, IS the better part of valor. Frank drives up to
Mike's trailer and I get in my van.....still pantless.....to drive up to
Joel's and Dave's cabin. Half way there I realize I don't have my pants or
my sleeping bag.....so, back I go.

Leaving the van very close to the tent with the engine running and the
headlights on high I dive quickly into the tent and even more quickly back
out with sleeping bag in hand and pants clenched between teeth.

Arriving at his cabin ten minutes later, Joel wonders why I am sitting in
front of his door in my van with no pants on.

"Come on inside," I offer, "I'll explain".

Next morning........well, I'll let Frank tell you about that.

Wolfgang
who is proud to say that he never messed his britches throughout the
adventure.