The Three Hour Hike up Old Indian Trail

On an early Friday afternoon late in April, the type of day when flowers start to come out of the ground and the sun shines warm in the breezy soft wind; I decided to meet Ms. Susan Lever, a passionate friend, from the law office. Susan is a master in the craft of hiking on the northern trails of New Jersey. Her plan today was a strenuous three hour hike up Old Indian Trail situated in the nearby blue spruce pine baron of Nature Park Preserve. Our rendezvous point was a familiar Park entrance crossroad on main highway #1 and old rustic road. After I got out of the Chevy, I stepped into wolverine boots, put on a back pack filled with all kinds of modern hikers’ tools and stretched out a topography map Susan had lent at work to view the terrain elevations of old Indian trail. I look out towards the Meadow next to the road, there I observed a colorful blue picturesque mound of a melting snow which appeared to be like a great giant of nature reclining in the light, expressing to any passersby who cared he was a natural barrier to the thawed 20 area lake.

Nature Park Preserve had a nice earthy splendor to it. On the other side of the lake a wind was blowing through the tops of pointed pine trees in a cloudless bright blue shy line. The southern sun light produced dark shadows all over the lake, and you could see tiny craved out camper sites along the water’s edge. Susan came walking toward me in this cold desolation marvel of nature prepared to hike and I realized wonder and excitement of boldly going where I have not gone before.

Something all of a sudden was wrong. A local park ranger on patrol was beeping his horn from the State ranger truck. “I noticed you carrying backpacks,’ he yelled from his truck window, ‘just a moment before you walk into the woods.” He approached on foot and explained the Park was not yet opened because of heavy melting snows on a significant amount of the grounds. He insisted we reschedule. Susan’s camper enthusiast burst forward moving her arms in a silent scream type motion yet in a humorous acknowledgement of Ranger Eddy to ask him for special permission. Susan made her argument perfectly clear to Eddy she was prepared for a day hike right down to the tang and the packs were complete with overnight bags if necessary for a safe trip to the old historic Indian tribal village. “Look tools and supplies for every occasion,” she remarked. Ranger Eddy was reluctant but Susan overcame the conflict with her responsible caring attitude. She was a convincing woman and they both seemed happy. Ranger Eddy in a serious tone looks at us and stated, “Ok, but if you see any type of dangers on your way then turn back.”

The circumstances we faced with the Ranger made me a bit uneasy; I am not much for facing dangers. Susan, however, prevailed to restore everything back to normal. I admit she does process have a strong goodie attractive woman’s character you can trust for any occasion. She is fearless, loving and knows how to put a plan together fast. I believe she prays to a Guardian Angel for answers. Anyway, I think her method of persuasion was powerful when she discussed the hiking issue with ranger Eddy. I revaluated it would be a real nice day. Susan’s eyes were filled with joy, so onward we two brave souls went heading toward the old Indian village. Susan happily bellowed like an old wise owl “It should be about eight to ten miles to the village.”

It became dusk around 5 pm, yet the sky was incredibly clear and a huge full moon started to light up the surrounding hills. “It‘s not far to the tribal village. I hoped to make it in this last climb.” The melting snows poured cold icy water down the small grassy ravines on the hillside. There were no more trails, just step by step climbs straight up. I thought the hike wasn’t too bad, time past slowly and I liked being with Susan the next moment her jazz her steps turning round to look and said here it is John. There stood an old restored hunting lodge with animal horns on it in the middle of an Indian village. It proved to be worth the effort. Susan gathered up some dry fire wood to build a dinner campfire outside lodge entrance. The moon and stars, the fire and Susan all was a heavenly sight.

Susan was a pretty good storyteller and told me a lot of confessional tales on a slant about things that confused her. There was one story of two Native American sprits like an Adam and Eve tale who supposedly originated the tribe’s population. I laugh a lot and forgot all about city life responsibility. It was getting late and out of nowhere Susan suggested we spend the night in the Great lodge. She brought a large sleeping bag with her and I had some blankets in my pack. It didn’t take long to decide whether to take that long walk back in the dark and I agreed. It was cold outside but we were delightfully warm and slept comfortably sound till late the next morning.

Packs on, we headed out. The hike down to the cars was beautiful, a clear crisp day and I love it. I have been hiking steadily since that day and I never grow weary of the memory of Susan, a most wonderful caring person who understood the true craft of a hiking.

The Art of Watercraft Bridge Exploration

The Art of Watercraft Bridge Exploration(SciFi)

By John Flanagan

If it’s not an amazing mine, Mr. Hugo Flash a phenomenal exchanger of transactions in the operating division on lunar 7, you know, the guy who buys and sells goods and services; borrows and invest money; pays wages to employees; purchase land and building and equipment; distribute earnings to owners and pays taxes to the government for a grand portion of the populations identity groups, leaves the insignificant source to a minor functional group. He is damned gutted senseless by society if anything turns out wrong on his review sheets, so Hugo allows them to posts his awkward small frustrated concern accounts. The document summaries and budgets for the entity are facilitated through his analysis for a highly speculative technological solar design. Keeping track of transactions, closing journals in due coarse and reporting to supervision requires lots of sensory gut implant intelligence. This apparently is a bend of style that runs deep rooted in the Flashes family tree.

Hugo Flash Jr. was born on this moon, lunar7, into the best society; dressed a jumper named Philip Hempstead for a hobby during his tender watchful years and now finds respect from lunar villagers. Hugo Flash senior, God bless, left a legacy of teachings for good memory and how to shine it crystal clear utilizing the inner gut force traditions. Hugo’s father was the Regent of Significance and Development on the surface and retired Chairman of focus information here on lunar 7. He generalized the best rules and concepts to protect a planetary family business. Son, Hugo was not a bad descendant, growing pace and proportion to his father’s constant questionings and advices on learning new meanings to deal with the strange and weird space beings ever presents , nor the ideal perfect son, which was told to him from community gossip.
Father Hugo senior had two wishes in life ; the first to retire at 68 and that society refrain from messing him over for some idiotic trifle or bad art play walk that might disable his gut intuitional constructs. The Orwellian council regulations here on lunar 7 although considered primitive for advanced polite society is the means to an end to protect all the important inhabitants’ real property. Everyone keeps the law or else they wind down on the old proverbial unintuitive species farm list, plucked predicable with no instinct gut controls except, perhaps, those society receptors to process outlandish empty fear. It’s the established method of enforcement out here. I mean once guy losses his gut control for something stupid like too much of a good time he will find himself uptight on ever issue. Once Hugo gossiped a total recall on a few gutless egg head worriers who frowned from there lowly devil gutless condition on how they saw the art of water craft bridge exploration. Imagine, looking down cast at this moon’s favorite pastime.
Watercraft bridge exploration activity is strictly a maverick made for adult inhabitants located on the sunny side of the lunar surface. Gosh! The time it takes to set up a good walking space or play the energy as the work forcers like to call it, you’d think everybody who knew its existence would be happy for such exploration. Another thing Hugo let out in a tell tale was that when people get old the guts naturally die and the excess fear drives them mad until society installs counter receptors. Grandfather Alpheus according to Hugo’s father was a watercraft bridge expert. He walked over the lunar lakes with a technique he invented to marshal quality information from inaccessible energy dimensions for a fine tune restoration of focused memory intelligence. Alpheus famous win, Yes, We Have No Bananas is supposed to be legendary, and almost made label. This was something to do with a gun control theory for the galaxy. Grandfather Alpheus like Hugo’s father lived proudly having gut implants to the day they died and now son Hugo has that theoretical cross to carry. One old maxim remains a man without a gut control paddles the audiences’ canoe. Oh! The gutless, how do civilizations survive?
Everyone knows the art of Watercraft Bridge exploration is the journey through temporary nooks and crannies within the dingles and dangles of the collective memory cycle logs. It reflects manageable pieces properly balanced for a silent walk, understanding a particular difficult equation, over a lunar bridge using the artificial watershed lake environment. Each play has rules and labels. An impressible influence caused from known working designs proposes a mental perception suggestion of rhythmical impacts which initiate thoughts that are added to the players’ memory banks. Art painting of colorful pictures for instance reflects subliminal messages of modal impressionable influences that symbolize points made in the play. For example, we find an ordinary landscape environment of a particular nature distributes a descriptive message to the viewer’s mental conception and strikes a core sensation process that is recognized and then an added value to an already established logged in memory and that synthesizes new energy.
Whistler an earth general’s painting “white girl” of a beautiful young dilettante is a famous label used here for a watercraft bridge maneuver; it’s a white girl, nice panting or a combination of the two scoring points for acquiring the right sources for developing information. For instance, the difference can be significant because a nice painting holds precedence over a white girl original forcing the memory to respond differently but when you expose the elements together it becomes a new level or label of an exceptionally beautiful combination for a new notion of a play with strength and variation memory.
The end results are a production of incredible style distributing an excellent equality. In using previous charted domains to determine the right amount of energy the public benefits from new information and the galaxy population receives a distribution of a generously proportioned memory log. A walker must have a strong active hereditary dialogue structures and almost prefect gut control sequencers to persevere each obstacle and obtain the wisdom needed to prepare for their next entry leap using the marvels reveled on the bridges spectacular of lunar 7.
The Flash kinship have walked the walk and talked the talk of Watercraft Bridge for many generations. There life works are historic and great tales are spoken of them. Canoe ship passengers like all audiences have study and judge their entropy moves on each piece of information process in a play as they heroically walked over the portly bridges. These spectators provide company for the walkers and some outers actually win reputations for their event services. Social identity is very important on this marvelous moon.
It’s a major belief here workers become bored crunching the numbers day in and day out, paying the bills, keeping a sine on the shoes or singing social discourses so watercraft bridge analysis play is a great pastime. Space folks do not know what creatures like the Flashes would do without it-- probably sit and watch the big screen for a strange in coming creatures from a distant planet—who knows. Oh well, all is well if the beast inside finds an outlet for his creative expression using the art of Watercraft Bridge exploration.