|
|
|
|
Jack's Scare Having spent time in the mountains alone, I can remember a few times I was spooked, to hear strange noises when you thought you were the only one within 10 miles or more. I remember a howling far off in the distance, it was like no dog, like no wolf, what it was, I'll never know, but the goose bumps were real. I do know that I came down out of the loft to stoke the fire, check the latch on the cabin door, and to push out the cylinder of my 357 Smith&Wesson to make sure I had six rounds ready. Jack's account stirs old memories; and brings us closer to understanding what it's like to be along at Magic Springs on a cold winter's night, and know the dogs are nervous. George B.
Listen to that Lister, Lester!! My buddy Les, from Colorado was here just after the Lister got going. We made up all kinds of rhyming nonsense from the Lister engine having ‘lifters’ and his name and anything else we could make up. I appreciate the kind comments I received from Utterpower DIYers regarding my writings thus far. If my fingers didn’t get so numb I could write a book about this place and these experiences. I got several comments by email and oddly had one question asked of me three times in the twelve hours after George posted chapter two. What’s the scariest thing to happen while living alone so far from ‘town’? That got me thinking about it. To tell the truth, I’m not one to dwell on the scary times, just try to learn from them and analyze what’s scary and shortcut the adrenalin with reason…..but there have been a couple things that got my attention and make a top fuel dragster out of my heart……A “UFO”. TWICE! And a trespasser that was hard to convince, and several close and personal dances with rattlesnakes in tall grass, and the smell of smoke on a windy day, all rate pretty high. I’d been stuck on the road in for a day or so and caught three miles from home in a thunderstorm, then an ice storm, then a hail storm with rain afterwards and lightning striking places below me…THAT was scary! But, I think the ‘winner’ is----- Just after Christmas I’d gone to Twin Falls for fuel, food, and somebody else’s cooking and ran into an old friend that wanted to come down and visit. I told him to be sure to email first so I’d be on the look-out for him. Three or four days later, on a night when the moon was nearly full, but the snow was coming down sideways on a whistling wind and the clouds were low and fast, the dogs started ‘acting funny’. Mountain Lions are common here and nearly a problem. I had seen three already, one of which was sneaking up on ME because I was so stupid as to blow on a predator call in the middle of the night with nothing but a star-light scope as a ‘hunting’ tool. I never realized how dumb it would be to toot a rabbit squealing call in Lion country. …. That’s another story….When there’s a Lion around usually the dogs just curl up and hide after a fit of barking. It’s like they know they have a ‘duty’ to bark, but after that show is over it’s run and hide til he’s gone.
But on this night, about eleven O’clock, my old Lab, Rufus, and the new pup, Fritz, were stiff-legged and burred up and nervous barking with ‘serious’ growls between. Even the two inherited (and not worth what they eat) farm dogs were out of their generator house domain and barking furiously then growling. My hair was about to get tired of standing out like that! The moon was bright enough to *see* the yard in dim black and white, but one whole side of the building is ‘blind’ when I’m upstairs. The generator was off for the night and it was easy to hear the snow and ice hitting the building as the wind howled through the eaves. Occasionally my dim ears could hear howling and the dogs would take a ‘fit’. It sounded like a couple of cases of empty Coke bottles in a hurricane. Wolves have been reported only twenty miles to the east. I *finally* figured it out. It was the fence post ‘howling’. The place has a ‘security’ chain-link fence and the razor wire had been taken off the top leaving to tops of the post open to whistle. The fencepost ‘organ’ sounded so much like wolves that *had* to be what had the dogs all stirred up. ….then a toilet flushed downstairs!! I levitated about a yard and came down with a pistol in one hand and a flashlight in the other and trying to hear myself think over dogs gone absolutely beserk. The puppy was five months old and he was somewhere between, “Eat him UP!!” and “Run for the tall grass!!” Rufus was waiting for me to shine the light and say “Sic ‘em”, but I did the smart thing instead. I grabbed Fritz and ran out the back fire escape, down to back yard and hid with the worthless farm dogs in the generator house until I figured out what to do!! Rufus was still grumbling and ready to fight upstairs. I had Fritz with me and he seemed glad of it. The farm dogs thought I was the bad guy when I busted into the generator shed with a big pistol and had retreated into a dark corner to await their fate. They HATE guns! I left the pup with the shivering ‘watch dogs’ and lit out for the back of the shop building and from there across the old concrete dam without using the flashlight. I wanted to get away from the building with a gun and a light and await developments. I had my big wool mackinaw on with a pocket full of BIG bullets.. The two planks that span the ten foot gap in the middle of the old dam was icy, slick and crazy to cross. I was happy to see nobody had made tracks on it before mine. If there was somebody in my ‘house’ there were only three ways to get there and I was going to check them all for tracks in the still falling snow. I was about to hurt myself from shivering then realized I was wound up pretty tight and quivering. I hunkered down and took a couple breaths that actually did some good and planned my route and options. NOBODY could have walked any further than from the outer gate in this weather, so my first goal was to disable a vehicle if there was one up there. By circling through the willows and down the creek I was able to come out on the entrance road and check it for footprints between the gate and home. I had about figured out it must be my ‘friend’ Doug that wanted to spook me. I was going to go up and disable his pick-up and do some ‘spookin’ of my own, but there were no footprints in the snow. NONE. Odd! I was shivering cold and about as scared as I needed to be but I *had* to go back home and face a big, dark building, with many cubby holes and ten toilets. And one of those got flushed by *something*. I was two hundred yards away when Rufus went into conniptions and his bellow ricocheted through the building that had most of what I owned in it and I was thinking about abandoning! I thought about firing up a generator, but the circuit breaker was ‘off’ inside the main building….in the spookiest room in the building. That would have to wait. I used the steam from the hotspring to sneak back, but I was still *really* exposed to anyone in the building. It felt good to get in the shadow of the overhanging Box Elder tree. I snuck in the back door just like I learned as a Deputy Sheriff going in after a bad guy, but had only practiced once or twice. I made it to the long and VERY dark kitchen and then, in a voice I didn’t really recognize, announced that whoever was in my house was about to get shot unless they spoke up quick, and waited for on answer. Nothing. I announced my clear intentions to ventilate whoever it was with big holes, *then* ask for ID…. NOTHING! Being the cautious kind, I snuck right back outside and finally convinced myself I was alone after circle the building with the flashlight and seeing no signs of anybody any closer than the jangling bells of the Jackpot casinos nine miles (as a sober Raven flies) over the ridges to the west. I could see the occasional flash of the Jackpot airport beacon against the scudding clouds, but *nobody* was in that building. I *knew* that. ….but Rufus don’t lie. I eased inside the main door and listened….nothing but the ice pellets and snow on the siding with creaking from the wind. I called Rufus. That would be the way to ‘clear’ the upstairs area with his nose and instincts, but he wouldn’t come. No sound of him upstairs. That was strange. And then suddenly I just knew something was ‘there’. It wasn’t an unreasoning panic with screaming and jumping around, that I had, but my heart and my feet were discussing such a thing with me just kinda froze in place and vibrating and really wanting to see somebody to shoot to get it over with….my heart was in that KER! THUMP-ITY mode, about ninety to the second and my mouth felt like it was full of dirty socks….I must have heard something…. My old buddy Rufus, black as coal and still a lively dog then, had come in the door behind me at a gallop and brushed against my legs….. I stared at a man down the barrel of my 41 Magnum service revolver one time thirty years ago, and *hoped* he didn’t have something bigger. It seemed like the time between thoughts, trying to figure out to shoot or not to shoot, was taking a week. It was ultra-slow motion but complicated questions and answers were considered and decided between heartbeats. Neither of us shot. He didn’t because he didn’t have a gun. I didn’t shoot because I was a fool for waiting to find out if he had a gun…. But I’m glad now I did. The feeling was the same on that winter night. It seemed like it took several minutes of the rattling ice and cold wind blowing up my back to get my heart re-started and get some slack in my trigger finger!! Rufus was just glad to see me. He had come down the fire escape when he realized I was back to the building, I guess. I suddenly felt much better having his old, but still keen senses (and flashing smile on a dark night) with me when we started up the dark, central stairway together. About half way up the stairway another toilet flushed behind us!!! THAT’S no fair! I can’t take this anymore. Somebody’s getting’ shot.! I turned around and hollered as strong and convincing as anybody ever said anything to the embellished effect of “It ain’t funny anymore. Fess up or die”. Nothing…. I had to search the entire building one room at a time or jump in the truck and escape (?) What? To where? For how long? Then what??? I had to search three utility closets on the way to the dead-end, dark and windowless, latrine area…..then I had to pull the curtains back on six shower stalls and eight toilet cubicles in a hallway ‘tunnel’ that dead-ended into a linen closet with the door ajar….I almost shot that door just to hear the noise. Toilets just don’t flush themselves. Rufus wasn’t anxious to go down that hall…..then he *wouldn’t* go any further. I had already *explained* the situation to anybody without a pure death wish…. My adrenal gland must have shrunk up like a raisin and squirted the last little dab of Fight or Flee Juice I had in me because I was ready to get *it* over with, whatever it was. There was no way to sleep without a resolution. I wished I’d grabbed more guns…. Thankfully, the first stall I searched provided an explanation: In this dry climate standing water evaporates quickly. I had already learned to occasionally add water to all the floor drains and sink traps to cut sewer gas smells back in that latrine grotto. The toilets had gotten low on water and the wind, blowing across the roof and vent pipes, caused the water level to fluctuate by a surprising amount. I happened to kick the curtain open just in time to catch the water on the way down to a gurgle. I saw it plain in the beam of the flashlight!! I near ‘bout fainted dead away because NOBODY had touched THAT handle!! I was WATCHING IT! Re-boot heart--- The “Toilet Tides” seemed timed roughly with the rhythm of the wind gust. Several ‘coordinated’ gust could get the water really moving. It was clear to see how the toilets lowest on water had hit the right combination of siphon suction and flushed themselves. Who’d a thunk it?! I considered rigging up a remote flusher to reproduce that bit of excitement for entertainment purposes. I figured a few haunted Indians stories, like Indian Mike’s two daughters, Snake and Lizard, while sitting in the hot springs and looking at the passing satellites and the fog of the Milky Way with city dwelling friends……. But then I reconsidered. It’s a long way to haul heart attack victims to the hospital and it’s more fun to have figured it out. I love mysteries to solve and that one only took about thirty minutes in ‘real time’ (Ten years off life-span), to figure it out. …… I think. The fifty or so golf balls I found scattered over a hundred square miles of desert took a year to figure out!!. Remind me to tell you about that! Jack Belk Magic Hot Springs, Idaho 2005
|