CLOUDLAND JOURNAL, OCTOBER 1998

10/1/98 Hello FALL! Glad to see ya again. It was very misty as light crept into my loft retreat. I rolled over expecting to see a sea of clouds down in the valley, but all of the fog banks had escaped to some unknown location during the night. I have found that even though I might be tired and still sleepy at daylight, I will often jump up out of bed and race to the frige (to get my mandatory Starbucks Mocha) and then take my place on the back deck just to be there to soak up the early morning. This is not really like me at all, but I find myself doing it more and more out here at Cloudland. Must be the atmosphere.

There really wasn't all that much going out outside, not even any birds flying around, but it was cool and damp and cloudy and I loved it. I strapped on my backpack and headed out for a fitness hike. I went down my new little trail and then along the top of the bluffline to the Crag.

Not too far from the cabin I found some fresh bear sign - he had dug into the ground and tore up a bee nest. You could see a lot of the honeycomb scattered along the ground, and some that was still in the dirt. It must have been rather fresh, perhaps just that morning or the night before, because many of the bees were flying around in a daze and trying to figure out what had happened. Bears are a lot like me - they love the sweet stuff!

I stepped out onto the Crag for just a moment to survey the progress of fall up in the valley (it hadn't progressed much - everything was still pretty much green), then continued on. I really needed to get my heart rate up, and walking on the level wasn't having much impact. I passed beech trees, and limbs and trees that had been tossed across the trail by recent stormes, and cruised through the forest on automatic pilot. The registration box had plenty of new signup cards in it, but no pencils - the Forest Service folks think that us hikers are so sharp that we can just engrave the cards with our fingertips.

I must have been deep in some thought and not paying any attention whatsoever, but when the trail got steep, I looked up and didn't have a clue where I was. I had aparently hiked for a few minutes, crossed a small creek, then hiked some more, without even knowing it - wow, that is automatic pilot! The climb that followed, though small, felt great, and I finally got my heart pounding a little. I came out on the main gravel road, then hiked back to the cabin on my "long driveway," for a total hike of about four miles in just over an hour.

There weren't any birds, bugs or spider webs out this morning, but there were a TON of squirrels out! I counted 43 of them on my little hike. Good grief! And almost all of them were running along the ground, or jumping from tree to tree. I guess the cooler temps gave them some sense of urgency that winter was on the way and they had better get to buring some nuts. I can't remember ever seeing so many squirrels. They were everywhere. A funny thing about them was that there were more of them along the road than along the trail.

There was one spectacular persimmon tree up in the Faddis Meadow - it looked more like an apple tree, with its branches loaded with nearly-ripe fruit and hanging towards the ground. The leaves were green, but the persimmons were all colors, from green to orange and red. I wouldn't normally think of a persimmon tree as being a great-looking tree, but this one sure was. If it only weren't for all of those darn seeds!

Back at the cabin I cleaned up and then spent several hours folding flyers and price lists and stuffing and stamping envelopes. The new Buffalo River Wilderness book is going to be delivered on Monday. Then the main focus of my life will shift from enjoying Cloudland to selling books! I guess the more of the latter I do the more of the former I can do in the future.

The misty day lingered on, but it never did rain. Stayed plenty cool though. And there were never any soaring birds out at all - guess there weren't any thermals to ride. But there were lots of flickers out. I saw five around the meadow at one time. And another red-headed woodpecker, which flew off and away just like the others had done. And there was this one little red chipmonk down in the meadow. He was running about just like the squirrels. As I watched him through the binocs I wondered why so many of the animals here had rust-colored fur or feathers: Foxes, squirrels, hawks, and now chipmonks. (Seems like I've said that before, but thought it beared repeating. Oops, I shouldn't use that word.) A couple of owls hooted at each other around 3pm.

Milancy McNamara came by in the afternoon, and we worked on her flyers and price sheets for the new book. She has a nack for graphics, and probably should be working in a design studio somewhere.

There wasn't a sunset, but soon after it got dark the clouds cleared out and a nice moon, over half full, lit up the wilderness. It was so bright in fact that you could see the river from the deck, reflecting the moonlight up from way down below.

And then an exciting thing happened - a fax was received at Cloudland from a fancy Hollywood Movie Producer! Well, it wasn't all that exciting. The fax wasn't even for me. But it meant that my fax machine was working - I'd not ever had it hooked up out here before. The fax was for McNamara - the filmmakers were going to shoot a scene from a movie in a house that had one of his paintings on the wall, and needed permission.

I had to go around and close all of the windows and put on long pants - must be fall! I almost lit a fire in the fireplace, but decided to leave that for some official ceremony later - the first fire of the season and all that. There will probably be a toast involved.

10/2/98 I awoke early to the sound of children playing - wait a minute, not at Cloudland. I soon realized that it was just a squirrel, chattering away in one of his dozen or so different voices. They have more sounds that about any other animal that I know of.

It was in the 50's, with a strong breeze blowing. It was a grey, overcast day, the kind that I like! It looked like someone unrolled a roll of cotton across the sky, and that it might snow any minute.

I suited up in my overalls, grabbed my log-splitting axe, and went down into the meadow to chop up a little firewood. I rather enjoy this chore, and the colder, the better. The meadow is full of downed tree parts, many of which have been cut up but not split. We did a lot of splitting last winter, and hauled much of it up to the cabin and burned it. But there is still a lot of split wood that needs to be hauled up. I said that I love the splitting part, but don't relish the hauling part at all! The plan was for my weekend guests over the winter last year to pitch in and help haul the wood up, but that almost never happened - we all were too busy enjoying the novelty of the cabin. I am going to get a group of folks out here next weekend to form a human chain up the hillside, and then we will toss the split wood up, which will make it a lot easier. So I will be spending some time this weekend getting the wood ready to be tossed up.

Just as I finished up an hour of splitting, it began to rain. Not too hard, although the wind made it seem so. I sat in my easy chair on the deck and let me bare feet get soaked. The forest is still mostly green, and not showing any signs of turning color. Although much of the forest is getting a lighter shade of green, and looks more like spring green - this is a little odd. It looks like everything is about ready to turn yellow or something, but I doubt that will be the case. I guess the forest doesn't quite know what to think about all of the dry that we had in August and early September followed by so much rain, or what to do now. Sometimes, when we have a really wet fall, the colors aren't so good. I prefer a dry fall, followed by some good rain at the last minute, but I will take what I can get.

The black gums are beginning to turn red again (they already did so three weeks ago, but got knocked back by the rain). I think that the forest is all assembling its color machine at the border, just waiting for the right moment. Then it will burst forth with all its got and create a splendid fall color show. I continue to read all this scientific stuff about why the leaves turn color, but not much of it really makes any sense. Instead of trying to calculate all of the factors that they say go into all this, I prefer to simply get out as much as possible and enjoy whatever comes along.

Well, a cold rain came along this evening. The temp dropped into the 50's, strong winds wipped up (30mph gusts), and the rain turned frigid. Although it wasn't a hard rain, it hit you in the face hard since the wind was blowing. Only a trace measured on the electronic rain guage. I spent most of the evening in the couch reading and listening to the Blues on KUAF radio. Since all of the windows were shut, I was oblivious to the storm raging outside. This cabin is so airtight, that the 30mph winds could not be heard at all, even with the radio turned off. It got chilly inside, and I ALMOST lit the fire. I keep thinking about that big toast.

More signs of fall showed up as I prepared for bed. The standard soap here is Dr. Bronner's liqiud soap (biodegradable). All summer the flavor has been peppermint, becuase it leaves you really refreshed and cool. It was not fun tonight to step out of the shower into a cold bathroom with peppermint all over me! It is time to switch to the euclipious flavor, which leaves the body warmed but still refreshed. Also, I had tweaked the hot water heater down to a low temp for the summer - now the hottest water in the shower is not warm enough. And finally, when I crawled into the bed, the crisp cotten sheets of summer were just a little, well, cold. I needed the FLANNEL SHEETS that were stashed in the closet! So fall has indeed arrived at Cloudland.

The winds blew and blew all night, and I could hear their tunes in the trees now and then. The nearly-full moon was obscured by the heavy cloud cover. I don't think that there were any owls out hooting tonight.

10/3/98 (this day will be a LONG post) I did NOT get up at first light this morning, but rather simply rolled over and sunk deeper under the covers. I really need to get a comforter for the loft bed. I have a wonderful down comforter, but it is normally too hot. The quilt is not quite warm enough. Actually, the loft if probably the coldest right now that it will ever be. Once I get the fireplace going, it will be warmer in the loft, and the quilt will probably be warm enough. So should I fork out some bucks for a new comforter to cover just a week or two a year? Probably not. I'm cheap you know.

When I did finally get up, it was misting outside and blowing hard. A cloud bank hovered just above the ridgetops. It was very clear below the clouds, and I could see that the forest looked another shade lighter in color - perhaps it is getting ready to pop. The weather reminded me of October in Canada. Most people would look out and say "Yuk!" But I just love this kind of weather. I don't really have a destination this morning, but I am going to strap on my boots, grab my rain coat, and take off into the woods and see where the wind blows me.

When I went outside, I realized that it wasn't nearly as cold as it looked. It was a little damp out, and misting just a little. I walked slowly and deliberately rather than taking off on a fitness hike. The moisture in the air and on the ground really made the colors of the forest come to life. The greens of the mosses and the browns of the leaves on the forest floor were SO much richer than normal. And at my slowed down pace, I could afford to take close looks at anything and everything that caught my eye.

One thing I saw pretty soon was a little wilderness drama that would take a hundred years to play out. There was slab of rock next to the trail, about ten or twelve feet square and five feet tall. A service berry tree had rooted itself in the cracks on the top of the rock, and was growing rapidly. It had pushed a chunk of the big rock over the edge as it grew, and this chunk landed against a small beech tree. (I guess that I could call it a son of a beech, but I'll stick with just small). The chuck was still laying on the big rock, and the serviceberry was still growing and pushing on the rock chunk. Meanwhile, the beech tree had embraced the rock chunk and was growing "arms" on both sides to hold the rock in place and keep it from falling.

The serviceberry tree will continue to grow and push the rock against the beech. I wonder who will win? Probably what will happen is that the serviceberry tree will eventually cease growing, or will find the rock to tough to push, and will simply grow in another direction. Then, after maybe a hundred years, the beech will die, after having cradled this rock slab almost its entire life, and the rock will fall to the ground. A hundred years to move the rock slab a couple of feet - that is a microsecond in geological time. But is great to be here at this moment and be witness to it. Can you think of any specific events like this one going on along your favorite trail?

My pace slowed even more as I came to a lush carpet of thick mosses and lichens. The green was SO rich! A lot of people think that the type of film that I shoot makes the colors in my images richer, more intense, and exaggerated. Not true! I simply shoot my pictures when the light is good and the natural richness of the colors show themselves, like the mosses and leaves today. Many people stay indoors or put their cameras away when it is wet outside - I pack extra film!

A little further along the trail I came across a bunch of weeds that normally got in my way. But today they were covered with bright, yellow trumpet flowers. I had never seen them before, even though I had just hiked this same trail two days ago. They were gorgeous, and the yellow too was very rich in this light. They were growing right out of another carpet of moss, the kind of moss that reminds me of a miniature pine forest. When you get down on your hands and knees you can see that the moss is made up of thousands of individual "trees." What is this stuff called? I must look it up. Anyway, the next time that I am bothered by a bunch of nondescript weeds, I must give them a little leeway because they just might burst out into yellow flowers someday!

I was having such a grand time inching my way down the trail that it took me over an hour to arrive at the Crag. There was no one else there. I sat down and took a good long look. The mist had stopped, and the clouds were lifting some. There still weren't any soaring birds around, but there were a couple of crows that flew up the valley from the Buffalo. I sat and watched them as they flew towards me, then overhead, and continued up the valley. It was odd that they had to flap constantly - they weren't soaring at all, and had to fight for every foot of air travel. I wondered if it was just a lack of air currents to ride, or if crows are just not built to do that. Perhaps a little of both.

There were several squirrels barking way off down in the valley, and up on the other hillside. They usually do this when there is someone or something approaching, so there must have been deer or other critters roaming about.

As I was leaving the Crag, a chipmunk jumped up on a log and "chipped" at me. Then he got down and ran over to the base of a big rock. His backside was red just like the one at the cabin. He turned and looked at me once more, then disappeared. I got down on all fours and looked deep into the entrance to his castle. There were two bright orange mushrooms growing right in the middle of the entrance. Boy, this guy had it made. Not only was the roof of his house covered with 100 tons of rock, but he had his breakfast growing right at the front door!

When I was a kid, I used to spend a lot of time in the woods around my house turning over rocks. I was always fascinated with all that I found under them. There were a lot of bugs - beetles and spiders and such - plus always a million ants - some with those giant white eggs - and once in a while a scorpion. But the prize was always a snake - I loved finding snakes under rocks! Sometimes I would just find an empty passageway where the snake had been. And I always wondered, how in the world could a snake crawl under a rock and live without the rock crushing him? I still wonder a lot.

I branched off of the main trail and stuck with the trail along the top of the bluffline - this way is a lot more scenic than the trail through the woods. There only reason that there are two trails is that the Forest Service often tries to keep people away from the most scenic spots - they are afraid that people will get too close to the edge and fall and, well, they are afraid of being SUED by a stupid hiker or his family. Their reasoning is solid - many people injured in the woods do try to sue the land managing agency - the lawsuits are absurd. Come on, if you step into the woods and go hiking and go to a scenic spot and happen to fall off a bluff, look around - the ONE AND ONLY person in the world who is responsible for your fall is the one whose brains are splattered all over the rocks - YOU! Stupid people should stay home and sue someone else.

Anyway, I don't agree with them building a trail intentionally AWAY from scenic spots just because they might be a little dangerous. But they do. They are ruled by the almighty dollar.

Along the blufftop trail there is a line of rock slabs that are carefully placed on top of the bluff, far enough apart to leave room for viewing and exploring. Out in front of one of the rock slab, a large pine tree that was growing on top of the big bluff has blown over. The rock slab behind caught it, and some of the roots remained in the ground. The tree has continued to grow, diverting its growth up. The root-ball is very large, and you can walk around the entire thing - but be careful, you do get within a foot of the edge of the bluff! It is a neat sight, and one that would look great as a sketch - it is difficult to photograph, and the details of what is going on don't really shot up too well.

Do you remember the registration box that I complained about two days ago (not having any pencils)? Son of a gun, there were pencils in it today! I'm sure the Forest Service does not read this journal and then run out and do something that I have suggested, but I wonder how in the world the pencils got there. It kind of looked like someone fished around in the bottom of the box and came up with several broken pieces of pencil (I did not see any before). No matter, one of the pieces worked, and I was able to sign in. That is a good point to remember - when you are hiking, always carry a pencil with you. The more times that you sign in, the more the forest or park service can justify money for trail maintenance. At least that is the way it is supposed to work. The Ozark National Forest has not had a dime to spend on maintenance here in a while - even though there are thousands and thousands of hikers signing in. They are still mainly a timber-beast forest right now, which is too bad.

I heard a cry from high up in a red oak. A large hawk had spotted me coming down the trail towards his tree, and was not at all happy to see me. He screamed again. I stopped and tried to get a fix on him - I didn't have my binocs with me, but probably need to start carrying them. He screamed again, and this time was getting pissed at me. I never saw him where he sat, but did see him get up and fly off - he lumbered through the thick woods at a very slow pace, then flew down out of sight. I guess he was just hanging out and didn't want me to disturb him. Sorry.

As I walked on I realized that while I hiked I kept up a running dialogue with myself, inside my head not out loud. I think that I have always done this, but I really notice it more now because of this journal. Every time that I see something in the woods, I ramble on about what I am going to say about it, just the way that I will say it, and which details I will write about and which I will leave out. Trouble is, I always forget most of these things when I sit down at the computer to write. I guess that I need to take along a tape recorder, but then I would probably never transcribe them - too much babble!

I made my way up to the main road, then back down the little country lane towards my little ridge. I got more incensed as I walked. Rednecks. Damn rednecks. Nothing more than I can say about them. Busch Light beer cans were strewn along the lane, tossed out by some redneck fool the night before. Let me set something straight right now. Good old boys get a bad rap. So do hunters. I consider myself a good old boy every once in a while, and I have hunted all of my life. Both groups are very good, descent people for the most part, with a few slobs every now and then just like any group. But a redneck is a redneck, and I don't have anything good to say about them. I wish that they would take their garbage and throw it in their own yard. They probably do. Someone who throws a beer can out of the truck is a redneck no matter if he is a good old boy farmer or an account or a doctor. It is just plain stupid.

There were a weeks worth of newspapers in Doc's mailbox, so I loaded them in my daypack and hiked on over to his cabin. He has been in Oregon for a couple of weeks. He spend more time AWAY from Cave Mountain than anyone that I know.

I found several more walnut trees along the road that I had not noticed before - their walnuts were all over the road. I picked up several of the walnuts and "pitched" them at a nearby tree (I had to stop and do the official windup like I was out on the pitcher's mound for each toss - hey, I'm entitled - I'm was an award winning pitcher that went undefeated in my last year of ball, including winning two championships!). I hit the tree three out of five times. Batter out!

It occurred to me that I hadn't seen hardly any squirrels this morning. I wondered where they were. As luck would have it, I decided to count how many I saw in a minute period, and just as I started counting, they came out of the woodwork - five squirrels in one minute! They were just waiting for me to begin counting I guess.

From Doc's I went down to visit the Woods boys, who were at work in their new cabin. New floor, rock steps out front, and a rock skirt all the way around the base of the cabin. And they almost had a complete kitchen in - man, they had done a LOT of work since I had been there. Billy and Danny Woods were there working. Good old boys both. Not rednecks.

Neither one of them said anything about my overalls. Come to think of it, it is nice to be around people who don't question your dress. I wore the same overalls that I had on hiking today in town yesterday, and got funny looks and comments everywhere that I went - mostly from people that I knew. What's the big deal about wearing overalls? I have two pairs. In cool weather they actually make pretty darn good hiking attire - lots of places to put stuff, free and open and unrestrictive, and you don't have to wear a belt. The only two problems that I find with them are that they are tough to get off when you need to "go" and it is really cold, especially if you have on a jacket or something over them (this is much more of a problem with women than with men); and when it is warm out, the fabric is just too darn hot. I need to find a pair that is made of some other type of material, something that breathes better, perhaps some type of nylon or something. That reminds me of one time when I was cross-country skiing in Colorado at about 20 below zero, wearing overalls, and I had to go and didn't have any toilet paper. I won't go into the details, but will tell you that snow REALLY does make great toilet paper!

From their cabin I dropped down into Dug Hollow, and walked along the top of the bluff there. It is really thick and rough, and not nearly as easy walking as over on the other side of the hill in Whitaker Creek. In fact, I couldn't even follow right on top of the bluff because it was so thick. As I made my way though the brush, I got the feeling that I was following someone, or something. There weren't any tracks or broken limbs or anything, it was just a feeling that I had. I guess there could have been some disturbed leaves, but I didn't really notice. I continued to bushwhack through. The canyon below was getting narrow, and I was about to level out with the creek, where I could go down below the bluff.

Then a movement caught my eye, something black. Oh darn. It was a bear! He was across the canyon a couple of hundred feet in the thick brush on the other side, and was ripping apart a rotten log. He hadn't seen me, so I sat down and watched. Where are those darn binocs! He would reach out and break off a section of the log, then nose around and paw at it for a minute, flip his nose in the air and lick his chops, then reach out and dig up another piece. I guess he was eating ants. Bears love ants. You would think it would take so much effort just to get a mouthful though. Then he abruptly stopped, sniffed the air, turned around and looked my direction, and in a flash was gone. He must have winded me. Most of the time you just simply don't pay any attention to the wind, but wildlife lives or dies by the wind, and if you are upwind from them, they will scent you and flee. Even after all of the bears that I have seen and been around out here this summer, my heart was pounding like crazy. I was really glad to have seen this bear, but was even gladder that he was on the OTHER side of the canyon!

Once I composed myself, I got down to the creek and headed downstream. There were a few pools of water there, but the stream was not running, only dripping a bit here and there. This little section is quite wonderful when the water is flowing well - lots of tumbling waterfalls and pools. But when the creek is mostly dry like today, you can hop around and get to places that you ordinarily wouldn't be able to if there was water splashing. I wandered around a little while under a large overhang, then continued on downstream, away from the bear's log.

As I was approaching Robert's Falls, I found a big red oak tree that had been hit by lightening. A strip of bark and wood about three inches wide was blown off of one side, all the way down to the ground. Some of the strips had been thrown fifty feet away! Wow, that must have been one blast! And the tree looked like it was just fine. I have seen lots of trees that have been hit like this, and they seem to live normal lives. Some people do that too, although you just have to wonder.

I made my way up the hillside and onto the big flat area by the skewed oak. There were hickory nuts all over the ground, but I was careful not to get rolled by any of them like I had done before. They were bright green and rather large. There were also a number of acorns on the ground that had holes eaten out of them - more flying squirrels in the area.

The sun broke through and it began to warm up. I was also waking uphill some. I realized that I had not run into a single spider web - guess it was all of the blowing rain from the night before that kept them inside.

I crossed the east meadow (two pumpkins looking very nice in the garden), and headed down into the woods for the final leg home. The woods were open, and the sun created many shadows on the forest floor. Just before I reached the cabin, I ran into one big spider web - I had to pick it out of my beard and hair (no jokes please), and off of my face and neck. Only one spider web all morning, but it was a big one!

When I got inside the cabin, I realized that my little ramble had lasted over four hours!

I plopped down on the back with a tall glass of diet Dr. Pepper and a Caesar salad (you would think that with all this diet food and exercise that I would be really thin - not!). There were lots of orange butterflies cruising about. I had seen many of them in the meadows that I had just walked through too. They didn't seem to be going anywhere like butterflies usually do, they were just out cruising. One of them got caught in a little wind current out over the meadow, and just sort of hung there, not flapping its wings at all, like it was enjoying riding the current. I didn't know that butterflies ever did that. Wish I could.

Surprise, surprise, when my alarm went off, who should show up but Leslie, my old flame from spring and early summer. She hadn't been to the cabin since June. While I have always wanted to get this journal going, she was the one that finally went out and bought one and gave it to me in May and said "Write!" The on-line seemed like the next thing to do with it. Anyway, she was going to hike down to the river and just wanted to stop by and say hi. I pointed her in the right direction, and went back to my lunch.

It got warmer, the wind picked up, and the soaring birds really came out. Mostly just vultures at first. They were doing some incredibly acrobatic things. Although they were often more like big bombers than swift jets, and sometimes missed their mark or veered off course - a big, awkward bird like that can't exactly turn on a dime, but they try.

There were eight of them in the old snag at one time - a record I think. And this one kept trying to land on the very tip top point. He made at least four passes, each time fanning his tail and spreading his wings and stretching his feet and claws out to grab the tree. Then he would hit the tree and tumble and keep on flying. The others just looked up and snickered. But on the fifth try, he was successful. Once he got his perch on top, it was tough for him to keep it, as he kept losing his balance - he had to flap his wings to steady himself. I guess it is kind of like that is life too - people have a hard time making it to the top, and once they get there, have to keep flapping their wings in order to stay on top.

I watched these guys through the binocs for twenty minutes. They were all pruning and cleaning themselves. It was funny to see such a big, ugly bird reach down under its wings with that beak and red skin. And out of nowhere would come these white fluffy down feathers - big ones, but still white and fluffy - and they would drift off into space.

There were two or three little Cooper's Hawks out playing in the wind too. And later, one big, red-tail hawk entered the canyon and soared all the way to the other end without flapping a wing. His brilliant tail was backlit by the sun when he was up high, and it was spectacular.

Before long I ended up on the couch for a little nap. Then I heard footsteps on the front deck - another bear? No, just Leslie returning from the river. I escorted her to the back deck with a cold beer, and we sat and talked for a while. It was tough for me to concentrate because there were all of these darn hawks flying around everywhere! I spent half of the conversation with the binocs stuck in my face. She went on up the road (it was great to see her again), and I returned to my nap. The nap didn't last long though, as the buzzer for the bread machine went off, and I had to get up and make pizza.

While I was wolfing down the pizza, the evening light in the canyons and on the ridgetops got really getting nice. There still some clouds in the sky, but it was mostly clear. Each and every little canyon was defined by the low light. Man, the light was magnificent tonight! It felt like hiking light, so I put down the pizza and put on my walking shoes.

Just as I stepped off of the front porch, a breakfast cereal came back to haunt me - snap, crackle, POP! My darn ankle snapped again, and sent me reeling across the yard. Anytime that it makes that much noise when I "roll over on it" I am in for trouble. Sharp pain shot up my leg. The only way that I know to keep it from swelling up and getting really nasty, is to walk it out. Good thing that I had my walking shoes on.

I took the low bench out from the cabin towards the Faddis place, then cut uphill into the Faddis Meadow, limping along and wincing with each step. This is a great little walking route, and I plan to open up a trail here some day - one that will connect my cabin with the Faddis Cabin, and run along this great level bench that is full of big trees. And in the winter, you can see out into Whitaker Creek.

The meadow was being hit by the low angle of the sun and looked really nice. The persimmon tree with all of the big fat fruit on it was glowing just like a Christmas tree. And there was one dogwood tree that had lost its leaves that was full of bright red berries - they really lit up in the sunlight.

As I eased along the lane between the Faddis Meadow and the East Meadow, I jumped a deer. I saw the white "flag" of the tail moving ahead. I just kept right on moving, assuming that the deer had gone off into the woods, but then it appeared again. I couldn't really see anything more than the white flash and the body moving - the brush was very thick. I continued. Then it must have let me get really close because I heard and felt the hooves hit the ground as it bounded off - this time into the woods for sure.

I crept out into the edge of the meadow and surveyed the scene, but no deer. If it was a buck, it probably would never go through an open area like this one after it had been spooked anyway. There was a slight breeze, pink clouds in the sky, and strands of orange light across the meadow. A very tranquil scene, and I rather enjoyed moving slowly through it. My ankle was feeling a lot better.

As I approached the far end of the meadow, there was a crash in the brush to my right, then a flash of flesh. A big whitetail buck bounded out of the woods and into the meadow. He stopped about a hundred yards away, right in the middle of the little patch of goldenrod that had not been mowed down. I held my breath. No, I think my heart stopped completely. It was one of the big bucks that I had seen before in this very meadow. His huge antlers were now fully hardened and magnificent. What an incredible creature! His eyes burned deep in me. And while my heart was stopped and I was holding my breath and this giant buck was staring right at me - I noticed the near-full moon in the blue sky just above him, and it was just as pink as the clouds. How could you imagine a more wonderful scene? While it has taken me several minutes to write about this, I'm sure our encounter didn't last more than a second or two. Big bucks just don't stand out in the open like that very often, especially in the fall, and never for more than an instant. He vanished. Blood returned to my brain. I had to sit down - my knees were weak. First the bear, then Leslie, and now this! Lordy, I do love Cloudland.

While I was sitting there, I noticed how YELLOW the goldenrod really was. The only way that I could describe it at the time was as "pure yellow." And before this summer, I didn't even know what goldenrod was, or at least never appreciated it. And now I was sitting in a patch of it smiling like I'd just won the lottery. In a way I had.

Once I got back to the cabin, and the light show outside faded, I remembered that my beloved Razorbacks were playing a big football game tonight, and it was on TV. Please don't hold this against me, and this was the very first time that it has ever happened, but I got in my van and raced over to Bob's cabin, turned on his satellite TV, and watched the Hogs win one of the most exciting games of the decade (we beat Kentucky 27-20).

Oh yea, back to the wilderness. The moon shone brightly and lit up everything there was to see. Well, for a little while. Then a thick cloud cover moved in and the light faded, dimmed, then went out entirely. It was dark outside! And tomorrow night is the full moon. By the way, the moon was still lit from the right.

It is late, nearly midnight, and another wonderful day at Cloudland is about to end. Last weekend there were 15 people here. Today I was alone most of the time. I will take it as it comes, and do my best to enjoy it all.

10/4/98 During the night I rolled over several times and gazed out the window. The cloud cover had gotten thinner, and the big moon, though still not visible, lit up all of the fog and haze, and I felt like I was inside a light bulb - it was pretty bright out, but kind of eerie.

I got up early and had my Mocha and blueberry biscuits out on the back deck. The wind was blowing, and the fog had totally engulfed the cabin - a true Cloudland condition. It retreated just a little, and reveled the ghostly outlines of the trees around the far edge of the meadow. Every now and then I could see the silhouette of a bird flying through the fog.

There is a clock on the mantle here that not only tells time, but also shows the phase of the moon. There is an image of the full moon sitting on the top of the clock, and a black cover that rotates around the image, showing more or less of the moon as its phases move on. The cover is completely around the back of the image today, and the small, full moon is beaming out across my little cabin. Today the actual moon will rise at the same time the sun is setting - it always does this on the day of the full moon. The day before, yesterday, the moon is up about 40 minutes before the sunset, which is why I saw it up in the sky above the big buck before sunset. Tomorrow, the moon will rise about 40 minutes after the sun has set, rising into a dark sky. This is predictable behavior, and happens just like this every 28 days. (Actually, I'm sure it is not be exactly 40 minutes, but that is about what it seems like to me.) So you can pretty much tell if the moon is full or not by the time it rises. One factor that does throw that off some is your relative position in the countryside - if you are down in a valley, the moon will rise later because of it being blocked by a hill. Since Cloudland is located near the top of the ridge, the moon pretty much rises when it is supposed to. Although it still wanders back and forth all over the eastern horizon. In case you couldn't tell by now, I am very lunar.

Today will be a short day at the cabin, as I have to go into town and help celebrate a friend's birthday (every now and then I am forced into a feast of great food and drink, and I go willingly!). And tomorrow, 20,000 pounds of new picture books are supposed to arrive at my warehouse, and I will be transferring about half of them to my office - lifting and moving 10,000 pounds of boxes by hand will be a lot of fun. I told my UPS driver that the new shipment was coming in, and he groaned. He knows that he will have to carry all of those books from my office to his truck over the next year as I ship them out to dealers and individuals. So tomorrow two years of work on my new Buffalo River Wilderness book will come to an end. Well, actually, the real work will just begin - selling all of them! Want to buy one?

But before I returned to town, I had to go out and ramble around some in the fog. I just wanted to get out and work my ankle a little - it has swelled up some during the night. So I opted for the level bench to the West of the cabin. It was level, and easy hiking.

The fog was really thick, and the wind was blowing, but it was on the warm side. I inched my way along the bench, taking the fog deep within my lungs, closing my eyes and letting the wind wash my face. There were a number of very large trees along the way, often rising up and out of sight in the fog. And there were a couple of big "N" trees - trees that were knocked down and bent over in their youth by a falling tree, then recovered and continued to grow, creating an N shape in their trunk. The N in both of these trees was low enough to the ground that you could hop up on the horizontal part and sit there, which I did in one.

While I was sitting in the tree admiring the forest, a squirrel started barking just down below the lower edge of the bench. He was disturbed. Then a flash of grey - a doe deer slipped up the hill and onto my little bench world. She was in a hurry, but did not seem to be frightened. When she got to the level part of the bench, she stopped, looked around some, then began to feed on the acorns on the ground. She would munch a little, then flip her tail up and glance around in all directions, sniffing the air. Convinced that she was alone, she would go back to browsing. The squirrel barked again, and she swung her head around and looked in his direction. She feed closer to me, one step at a time. The wind was right, so she could not smell me. I hung on to the tree trunk and tried to remain still and quiet.

She fed right on around me, once coming within ten feet of my tree, then wandered on up to the next bench and out of sight. She never saw or scented me. I guess my scent was carried up and away from the ground. The N tree afforded me a front row seat without being discovered.

As I was crawling down out of the tree, an owl began to speak. He was on the same bench as me, to the west some, and his speech was crisp and clear despite all of the fog. I studied his voice. There were always eight distinct sounds, in pairs, seven "hoots" and the final one a "haaawwww. " So it was "hoot, hoot...hoot, hoot... hoot, hoot...hoot, haaawww" in quick order. This guy was a barred owl, very common in the Ozark forests, and a frequent visitor to Cloudland. There have been Great Horned and Screech owls around, but most of the hoots that we have heard all summer have been Barred owls.

He eventually flew off, and I decided it was time to return to the cabin. A couple of wildlife encounters was enough to sustain me until I returned in a couple of days. The humidity outside was 97%, but it was 99% inside the cabin - guess I shouldn't have left the windows open! The fog remained thick and wet and the wind continued to blow as I bid farewell and headed to town.

10/9/98 It was one very long week in town, but I arrived back at Cloudland with a giant smile on my face, and was greeted with one incredible sunset. The clouds were broken up and puffy, and reflecting the brilliant orange light of the fading sun. I had a thousand pounds of new books to unload, but I forced myself to spend a few moments on the back deck taking it all in (well, I didn't have to use too much force).

There were lots of limbs down across the road, and I knew a storm had blown through. A quick check of the weather station showed that it had rained 3.5" on Monday the 5th, and the winds got up to 31mph. It was in the low 50's when I arrived, and felt great - hey, it must be fall!

After unloading the van and tuning into to P.J. Robowski and her New Blues show on KUAF radio, I decided it was time - time for the first fire of the season. There had been a basket full of kindling and small logs next to the fireplace all summer, just in case, so I quickly emptied it and fired up a match. There wasn't a great deal of fanfare with this first fire like I had anticipated, but I did toss back a single toast to the fire out of the bottle of Yukon Jack that rests on the mantle (this is the bottle that is raised in honor of my dear old friend Yukon whenever his name is brought up). The firelight was warm and cheery bouncing off of the log walls, the whiskey grand, and I sat back into the over-stuffed leather recliner and gave thanks for it all.

Before I knew it, my friend Jenny from Benton had arrived. She came bearing gifts of a bear t-shirt, and Ansel Adams wall calendar, and a fine bottle of Merlot. The Merlot didn't last too long, but the conversation did, and soon we were into a bottle of homemade muscadine wine left by my good friend Benny Stovall.

It had been a year since John Denver had died, and I wanted to remember him all weekend, so I put on the first of many Denver CD's, and we listened with fondness and sang those tunes of our youth. John Denver is responsible a great deal for my being so nature oriented. I'm sure that I would have been so without his influence, but his music brought an entire generation and more back to the woods, and helped bring a nature way of thinking into the mainstream. This acceptance of hiking and nature study by the public has allowed me to pursue my love of the outdoors and make a living at it. His music will live on forever, and will bounce off the walls at Cloudland for many moons to come. Another toast went out to John Denver.

10/10/98 The horizon glowed early, like an approaching forest fire. Clouds crowded into the valley below. We got up, bundled up, and had a breakfast of coffee and blueberry biscuits outside as the new day was born. Sunshine crept ever so slowly into the wilderness below. Each minute brought a new scene, and soon the forest was alive with light, song and laughter. It was quite chilly out, especially with a breeze blowing, but it didn't seem to matter - the view warmed the soul.

I reluctantly went inside and fired up the computer to do a few electronic chores, while Jenny kept watch for new delights outside. A few minutes later I glanced up and saw her frantically waving her arms and jumping up and down. With that much excitement it had to be something pretty good. And sure enough, it was. I had wanted this to happen for months now, if for nothing else to prove that I was not crazy. Right there in front of us, down in the meadow, stood a beautiful grey fox, one of my buddies. No one but me had ever seen either fox there before, and someone else seeing one of them finally proved their existence. He just stood there for a few moments looking up, broadside to us and out in the open. Then he slinked off into the brush, and eased on down the hill and out of sight. I never tire of seeing him.

Once my electronic chores were done, Jenny and I put on our hiking shoes and headed down into the meadow to look around a little. Before we could explore much, visitors arrived, and we climbed back up to meet them. It was Beth Motherwell and some friends from the University Alex and Hanna and Judith. They had come out to do a little mushroom hunting - they were experts on the subject, and Jenny and I joined them for a hike out towards the Crag.

It is funny how you can spend so much time walking through the woods and not always notice the little things, like mushrooms. With a little close inspection, we found many of them, and the scientific names were called out with ease (they all looked the same to me!). While examining one tiny, orange mushroom, we discovered tiny grapes covering the ground. Jenny called them Possum Grapes. It didn't seem like they were large enough to eat, but she says they make great jam.

We arrived at the Crag to find it deserted, and took in the view. Unfortunately I had to get back to the cabin, so Jenny and I bid farewell and hustled back down the trail. I was to meet William McNamara, the painter, and his business manager, Milancy, and we were going to sign all of the copies of the books that I had brought out. We had only been there a few minutes when they drove up.

Bill McNamara lives in a tiny cabin about a mile away, and while he spends a great deal of time walking the hills around Cloudland, he had not visited the cabin before. For someone so talented and famous, he sure is easy going and friendly.

Jenny made a wonderful pot of chili and some cheese dip, then we turned our attention to the books. The new BUFFALO RIVER WILDERNESS books were individually boxed (about four pounds of wonderful Buffalo scenes each), and Jenny and Milancy unboxed them all while Bill and I sat down at the large Amish table and signed them. It took us a few minutes to get it all organized, but once we did, the autograph machine rolled on, and we plowed through the large pile of books in no time (well, I really shouldn't say "plow" - I scribbled my usual signature, while Bill was very careful and deliberate with his - kind of the way he paints).

Once all of the books were signed and safely boxed back up again, we munched on chili and chips and dip and Arkansas Ale. Then Jenny had to leave and return to civilization. I was grateful for her visit, for all of her wonderful gifts, for the chili, and for the fact that she got to see the fox! Bill and Milancy soon headed up the hill too, and I was left with all of the books, the chili, and a bunch of soaring birds that had come out to play in the warming air currents.

Bob Chester, fresh from his most recent trip to Oregon, stopped by for a minute to collect a couple of books. He had made the trip out from Ft. Smith to check on things, and when he discovered that he could not get the Razorback football game on the TV in his cabin, he turned around and went back to Ft. Smith. So far, no TV's have been allowed at Cloudland. Of course, I did sneak down to Bob's and watch the end of the last football game myself.

Soon after Bob left, my guests for the Bushwhacker Party #2 began to arrive. Scott and Carolyn Crook, Dean and Bonnie LaGrone, Jim McDaniel, Susie Crisp (Jim and Susie brought me a pair of wonderful black bear pull chains for ceiling fans - they always bring great gifts for the cabin), The Wildman, Mary Chodrick, Ony Banning, and Bob and Dawna Robinson. We lounged around on the deck and admired the view, tossed back pitcher after pitcher of Bushwhackers, and COOKED - another Cloudland feast was at hand!

Jambalaya, Cloudland pizza rolls, spaghetti, Ceasar salad, grilled brat, rice, pineapple upside down cake and chocolate heaven cake were but a few of the delights covering the bar. Needless to say, we all pigged out.

The Wildman began to mix Wild Turkey with the Bushwhackers. It was a good thing that I had everyone sign the lamp shade early in the evening.

John Denver and The Beatles gave way to Led Zeppelin as the night went on. Then everyone really got mentally impaired, and Scott and I got out our guitars and the first ever live music was played at Cloudland. Well, calling it music is a bit of a stretch, but there was noise coming from the guitars, and folks were singing.

Jim and Susie had to leave and return to their own version of Cloudland over near Richland Creek. Then everyone else began to turn in, and the cabin shut down well before midnight for the first time in history (for a major party). We had started drinking very early in the afternoon, and we had some heavy-duty work to do in the morning, so the early hour seemed about right.

10/11/98 A textbook Cloudland morning greeted everyone at sunrise - a thick bank of pure white clouds hung low in the valley, and black ridges stuck their heads above. The clouds began to move around as the rising sun warmed them. We had blueberry biscuits, coffee, OJ, bacon, Cloudland Hash, and fresh waffles made by Carolyn.

Ony noted that she didn't know what was more beautiful - the white clouds or the green hills or the blue sky. The Wildman, who wasn't saying much, thought that the hills didn't look quite as large as normal.

Scott got up and proclaimed that my roof leaked. What? How could my roof leak, it hadn't even rained during the night? He was sleeping out on the deck under a section of roof that had its rain gutter ripped off by high winds some time ago. As the night drew on, dew formed on the roof, then ran down the roof and splattered onto Scott. His wife kept hearing water drops. Scott nearly got soaked before he woke up and realized what was happening. The last time that Scott slept out at Cloudland, the high winds blew his sleeping bag right off of him and down into the woods below - he was out at 4am looking for it with a flashlight. Now the rain soaked him. I wonder what will happen on his next visit?

A flying squirrel had devoured several acorns on top of the grill during the night. I thought it was fitting for this to happen near Scott and Carolyn, since they have five of them as pets in their living room at home.

We all had one big job this morning - to move as much of the split wood down in the meadow as we could up the hill to the cabin (firewood for the winter). I absolutely LOVE to split wood, especially when it is cold, but I don't relish having to carry it up the steep slope from the meadow to the cabin (many trees were cleared to create the meadow, and they have been cut up into firewood). So I devised a plan to invite a bunch of good friends out, feed them and get them drunk, then make them work it all off the next day. Hey, it worked!

We formed a human chain up the steep hillside, and tossed the sticks of wood from one person to another. Many of the logs were heavy, and the word "HICKORY" was shouted out as the logs moved up the hillside (the hickory pieces were a lot heavier than the oak). Within an hour he had most of the wood moved up and in place on top of my new wood deck beside the East wall of the cabin.

While we were searching the meadow for split logs, we found bunches of long, yellow ladybugs with black spots. I'd not seen these critters before - they were more elongated than round like normal ladybugs. They were beautiful, and flew up in flocks every time that we disturbed a weed that they were on. The fox never returned, and I wondered if he/they would after all of the disturbance in the meadow. Of course, since we took away most of the downed logs, it would be easier for them to get around!

It was time for the next chore. This one was not at Cloudland, but rather over at Dean and Bonnie's property up on ??? Mountain. They are slowly developing their wonderful spot of heaven, and have this nice pavilion there that is the center of social activity. Well, during the storm last week, a giant hickory tree decided to get a closer look at the pavilion, and it came crashing down right on top of the pavilion, and was left hanging. It would take a monumental effort to get it cut out safely, but we were just the crew to do it. So we all loaded up and headed over to Dean and Bonnie's.

The giant hickory was impressive, but even more impressive was the fact that the pavilion had withstood the blow, and was still standing, although it was leaning under the stress. Dean used my big extension ladder and climbed up and cut off chunks of the tree, while the rest of the men in the group pulled the logs out of the way of danger as they came crashing down.

It was kind of a funny scene. Dean was doing all of the work, especially all of the dangerous stuff. The guys were all standing around giving their opinions at how to do the job the best. And the women were all wincing and pleading and playing the parts of wives off in the distance - except for Ony, who was right in the thick of things, helping us pull the heavy logs away from the pavilion when they fell (I'm sorry to be so sexist, but this is really the way it happened). It was a dangerous job, but Dean managed to get the huge hickory cut off and saved the pavilion, although it may never be the same.

With the heavy drama over, we returned to Cloudland, and feasted on left over Jambalaya, chili and cake. Everyone helped my load up all of the signed book back into my van, then we reluctantly bid farewell to the cabin and headed back to civilization to the OHTA club meeting. It was another fine weekend in the wilderness.

By the way, the forest was still rather green for the most part, and not showing signs of fall yet. There were a few black gums and a sweet gum here and there turning.

10/12/98 Dean returned to Cloudland to bring back the large ladder that he had used to cut out the hickory. On the way out, he reported seeing a large black bear up near the gate. This same guy has been seen in the vicinity of the Faddis Cabin several times this past month. He is probably the same one who left his footprints by my front porch.

10/13/98 The black sky was filled with a million stars that sparkled like Underwood diamonds when I stopped to unlock and open the gate to Cloudland near midnight. The human eye can only see about 5-6 thousand stars at any one time, but a million is what it really feels like.

As I was swinging the gate open, a pair of spots of fire came bounding towards me - eyes lit up by the headlights. It was a bobcat, frisky from the cool temps, out playing and welcoming me home. He didn't stick around long, and before I knew it all I could see was a short tail disappearing in the darkness.

10/14/98 There were thin clouds in the early morning sky, and they were dark purple - a color that I didn't remember ever seeing in the sky before. Within a span of ten minutes, they turned from the purple to orange to salmon and then to yellow, and incredible light show that covered the eastern skyline and kept my eyes open as I fought back sleep. The sunrise has now moved from the left side of the window next to my bed, across it and now to the right side. Before long, it will rise out of sight, and I will have to lean out to view it. Or just move the bed a little.

I rolled back over and napped a little, then my outside alarm went off - the Amish are coming, the Amish are coming! I jumped up and scrambled to dress as their black trucks came to rest in front of the cabin. The crew of Amish builders who built my cabin were coming back to do a few fix up things. Their community of nearly 150 folks is near the town of Berryville, about an hours drive north of here.

They spent the day re-staining most of the log deck rails and posts that had begun to fade in the harsh summer sunshine. They also installed a brace under a sagging deck staircase, put up a new section of log railing in the carport, drilled holes in a pair of long log segments that I am going to make floor lamps out of, fixed my front door that was sticking, and did a bunch of other little chores. Most of the time they speak a very fast form of Pennsylvania Dutch (a form of German), but when you approach them, they automatically switch into English, then return to their language as you walk away. While they were here for three months building the cabin last summer, they tried to teach me a few words, but I was unable to pick any of it up. Every now and then they will say something to each other when you are standing right next to them - you know then that they are talking about you, or saying something that you aren't supposed to hear. That is OK, except when they start laughing and looking your way.

During their lunch hour, the four boys took off down the trail and hiked to the Crag. "We made it in nine minutes!" they said on their return. Sure enough, they were only gone twenty minutes, and were covered with sweat and short of breath. I had never seen any of them break a sweat before. I guess this hiking stuff is pretty good for you.

After lunch one of them spotted a small rattlesnake in the woods. They all dropped what they were doing and rushed to the scene. By the time I got there, the poor little snake had been smashed by a dozen rocks. The Amish don't like snakes. I don't care for rattlesnakes right around the cabin either, but would have preferred to catch it and relocate it somewhere away from people.

The Amish crew consisted of their leader, Delmar, his young son, and four boys, all in their teens or early 20's. Delmar is getting ready to move to Colorado, and the boys are poised to take over the business, and already have business cards printed. I wish that I could have them build me ten more log cabins - I love the big lodgepole pines from NW Montana that they use, and the way that they cut and shape them into a sturdy and warm cabin. I wish them well!

The light was getting low and beginning to shift color as they drove away. I put on my hiking shoes and headed up the trail through the woods. It was absolutely PERFECT hiking weather! Temps in the high 60's, a light breeze, and a little sunshine. I wanted to go have a look around the Faddis Cabin to see what the bear had been up to. There is one apple tree there, and it is full of red apples right now. Bears love apples. But there didn't seem to be any bear sign around the tree - even apples that had been on the ground weren't disturbed. I felt obligated to eat a few, and while they were very hard and kind of small, they were quite tasty.

I moved on down to the pond nearby, which was about half full of dingy water. The far side of the pond bank was covered with fresh bear tracks. You could see where the bears walked one direction, took a drink, then turned around and walked back the other way. One of the bear tracks had a raccoon track right in the middle of it. And there were lots of deer tracks too. I'll bet all of the area wildlife come to this pond to drink, especially during dry periods.

Up on top of the pond bank the bear had knocked down the tall weeds and brush, like he had been rolling around up there or something. And over on the side, a GIANT pile of bear scat! Really big. I offer the following description only because so many people ask me what bear scat looks like. Well, it looks just like a big pile of people scat! Really. Only it will have persimmon seeds in it (like this pile did), or some other seeds, depending on what the bear has been eating. I have seen bear scat that looked just like a cow pie, some that looked like a mound of berry preserves (the fruit had been processed, but in a different way), and some that was compacted wheat hulls. But this pile looked just like a 400 pound man had done it. I thought it a little odd that the tracks were not all that large, but the scat was - I guess scat is a better indication of the size of an animal than its tracks! I would estimate this bear to be between 400-500 pounds. This agrees with the size bear that has been seen nearby the Faddis Cabin by four different people in the last month.

The lower section of the meadow below the Faddis Cabin and next to the pond had been cleared and terraced for Bob to use as a garden. Low water levels in the pond has prevented Bob from using it as such (he had planned on a gravity-fed irrigation system). The meadow was grown up with chest-high weeds, all having flowering heads. It was kind of nice looking. And down on the ground there were hundreds and hundreds of yellow and orange mushrooms growing - wish my mushroom experts were here today! The mushrooms were all growing in groups, like space was at a premium. There were groups of 20-30 mushrooms all growing on top of each other. Mushrooms must like each other a lot.

The pond was rimmed with small black gum trees, and they had all turned an odd color - sort of a dark purple/red color. There was a red oak on one end of the lower meadow, and its leaves had all turned a bright, light orange. And on the far side of the meadow, there was a larger black gum tree, nearly 40 feet tall. This gum was one of the most brilliantly colored trees that I have ever seen! From the sunlit side, the leaves were deep blood red color, and shiny, and really stood out in the middle of the green forest behind. From the backlit side, the leaves caught fire and blazed away against the blue sky. It was one spectacular tree! As bright as any maple could ever want to be.

There were several other trees in the meadow that Bob had left when he had the spot cleared out. Directly under the canopy of the trees there were no weeds growing at all. And there were lots and lots of bear trails that criss-crossed through the tall weeds of the meadow. Lots of bear activity. I wonder if the bear ever looks up and notices the brilliant leaves?

I returned to the apple tree for another snack, then made my way on over to the east meadow, just as the sun slipped down below the treeline. I had expected to see a deer or two in the meadow, but nothing. There were plenty of tracks in the garden though. And there were three orange pumpkins still on the vine there. It must be getting close to Halloween. The sumac bushes along the trail had turned dark red, and there were lots of colorful sassafras trees too, all a most wonderful salmon color (kind of like part of the sunrise color).

I returned to the apple tree once again, then went on down to check on Bob's cabin. the well pump there was doing funny things, so I shut it off. Bob has several large maple trees there in his front yard that shelter his little circle drive. (There are two pictures of these trees in the new Buffalo River Wilderness picture book.) One of the maple trees was flaming red from top to bottom, and the others were touched with red along the edges. On the way back from his cabin I found lots of walnuts on the ground - it was easy to see where they got the name "black" walnut - once the green fruit hits the ground, they turn completely black all over (and get soft inside).

It was nearly dark as I made my way through the Faddis Meadow once more, then down my lane and back to the cabin. The wind began to pick up. As I was about to end my little hike, I realized that I had not seen a SINGLE animal of any kind on my hike. No bears, no deer, no foxes, not even a single squirrel! It was only a couple of weeks ago when I had seen 43 squirrels on a single hike. Where was everyone I wondered? I had no idea. Then an animal did present itself - a bat came flying by, very low to the ground. He made several passes, and circled me once. Thank goodness. I was about to think that all wildlife had deserted me.

It felt like a salad and homemade wine night, so I sat out on the deck and munched and drank as the day ended. The wine caused me to get out the guitar and play a few Jim Croce, John Denver and Beatles tunes. For some reason they always sound a lot better after a fine bottle of wine. Hum.

As I made my way up into the loft, the wind began to blow really hard, and I was glad to be snug in my little log cabin.

10/15/98 The wind pounded away all night, but it remained clear outside and so no bad weather. A band of coyotes howled and yipped loud enough to be heard over the wind, and invited me to get up out of bed and greet the day. I did. The wind let up, and another gorgeous wilderness day began.

The forest is still basically green today , but there are more and more red trees showing up. I have this feeling that the forest is going to pop before too long, perhaps sometime next week. It is impossible for anyone to predict the peak of fall color, especially because it will happen in different places at different times. It does seem to happen in the Buffalo area a little before the rest of the Ozarks though. So probably next week in this area will be great, then the following weekend and the week after that across the forest. But the hiking is nothing short of wonderful right now, and will continue so for a long time, so my advice to everyone is to GET OUT as soon as you can and as often as you can!

As great as it is out here today, I have to pack up and return to town to give a big program at the University of Arkansas tonight. But I will be back out tomorrow for a photo shoot with me and Mr. William McNamara, the famous artist. We have been informed that we might push one Julia Childs off of the cover of a certain magazine if we can get a good picture of the both of us. I'll keep you posted.

Just as I was getting ready to leave, I took one last look out the back. Two hawks came speeding by. They weren't red-tailed, but I'm not sure what they were. They were beautiful though, and chased each other back and forth in the airspace just above the meadow, often swooping down and nearly touching the trees next to the cabin. I watched them through the binocs. Every now and then, one of them would look my way, and I was thrilled. Hey, the trees seemed to be turning by the minute - fall could pop at just about any time now. What a wonderful time to be in the Ozarks!!!

10/16/98 A weird light entered my mind as I awoke and rolled over and gazed out the window. I'm not quite sure how to describe it, but there were dark clouds handing around, some mist, and a great deal of wind. It was dark light, if that is possible. I stepped out onto the back deck and looked up - there were not one, not two, but ELEVEN soaring birds up in the clouds, flying in place, or actually just hanging there in place, not moving much, riding the high wind coming out of the South.

The hillside opposite was showing more and more signs of fall color. I got out the binocs and studied the trees. There were some really bright red ones, and lots of green ones too. I counted several patches of trees, and it averaged out to about 15% of the trees had turned color. And they weren't all at the top of the hill, or at the bottom, but rather scattered from top to bottom - that is a good sign. In a normal year, the trees in the lower elevations will turn first, then the color will work its way up the hillside. By the time the color reaches the top, the lower trees have already lost their leaves. The view is always a lot more spectacular when the color is more even like it appears to be happening this year.

I spent an hour answering e-mail that folks had sent commenting about my slide show at the University of Arkansas the night before. We had a packed house (over 150), and while there weren't too many wallets open (didn't sell many books), I was thrilled to have been invited and it was great to see so many people.

Bill and Milancy McNamara came by in the morning and we spent several hours taking pictures of Bill and I for a magazine cover and inside article. Few things are as distasteful to me as getting my picture taken. Perhaps that is one reason why they never turn out well! The wind was blowing hard, gusting up to 30mph, and the sun kept popping out from behind the clouds, both conditions disrupting the picture session. We did get to take a short hike to a spot in the woods for a few pictures, and the woods were wonderful.

Soon after Bill and Milancy left, the sky opened up and it began to rain. After working long into the night, then having my picture taken all day, I was rather tired, and the combination of my exhaustion, classical music playing on the radio, and the rain drops on the tin roof, sent me onto the couch for a long nap. It had to rank up there with one of the best naps that I have ever taken!

When I finally awoke, the rain had stopped and the wind had died down to a whisper. I grabbed a quick meal, then put on my boots and headed out for an afternoon walk. Everything was wet, and the moisture brought out some incredible color in the forest. Deep greens, browns, and many shades of reds, oranges and yellows. And the earthy smell of it all was heavenly.

As I passed through the Faddis Meadow, a red squirrel dashed across in front of me through the bright green grass. I stopped and knelt down to watch a while. He was one busy little dude, and ran back and forth from the base of a large hickory tree, where he had no trouble finding hickory nuts that covered the ground, out into the meadow, where he carefully dug a hole in some secret spot and buried the nut. The sun popped out during all of this, and lit up his tail. That brilliant red tail and the green grass was quite a sight.

I wondered down near the pond, and found new bear tracks and a fresh pile of scat, all done since the rain, so I must have just missed seeing the bear. In fact the scat was steaming. There were lots of persimmon seeds in it again, but also lots many smaller seeds and some type of grain - guess this guy had been grazing in a nearby meadow.

There were many more apples on the ground under the apple tree than before, and the sweet smell of them was heavy in the air. I resisted the temptation to reach and eat. It didn't appear that anyone had been there to feed on them (like deer or bears). I don't really understand this at all - what a great food source for the wildlife, and it is just rotting on the ground.

The deciduous holly tree nearby was loaded with red berries and the limbs were drooping under the weight. Soon all of the leaves will be gone, and this single tree will look like a highly decorated Christmas tree, especially when it gets dusted with a little snow next month.

The path leading to the East Meadow appeared much like a Monet painting - the gracefully curving path was lined on both sides with delicate purple wildflowers, bright yellow goldenrod, and layers of multi-colored sumac bushes, sassafras, dogwood and black gum. It was one spectacular sight to behold! I wish that I could paint. Although I don't know how anyone could capture the glory and depth of color of this scene. Walking through it was pure pleasure. And there was a light, sweet fragrance in the air too.

There was also some horse crap in the path. Bob Chester had caught some folks trespassing on his place the day before, having lunch near his cabin. They claimed to have been lost, and said that they had ridden up from the valley below through the woods. It was obvious that they had ridden right down the road to and past his cabin, not through the woods (horses are pretty easy to follow you know!). They even tried to tell him that they had talked to him, Dr. Chester, not knowing that they were actually talking to him at the time. Anyway, the horses had also been in the East Meadow, and it looked like they had swiped one of the pumpkins growing in the garden. It is a sad state when you just can't trust others to do right. Too bad. There is a big difference between "visitors" and "trespassers."

The path from the East Meadow on over towards Bob's cabin goes through the deep woods. And the woods this day were as colorful and brilliant at the previous path had been. There were layers and layers of color - bright red black gums up high, and yellow hickory trees and red dogwoods, all three colors mixing and contrasting. These last two little stretches of blazing color are perfect examples of the fall color in the Ozarks. The overall view is still mostly green, but when you get out into the woods up close and personal, you can see some incredible color. It is always like this, ever fall here, and no matter how dull the scene might appear, you can always get out and find great color. So I just have to laugh when folks comment about how disappointing the color is or was - they literally can't see the color for the trees.

The path led past Bob's other pond. This one he had drained, and is waiting for a bulldozer to dig it out and make it deeper. This is my favorite pond - it is completely surrounded by trees, most of them today were dark blood red dogwoods and black gums, with goldenrod around the edges. And there were bear tracks in the soft mud in the bottom, although they were not fresh. I look forward to the day when this pond is fixed and filled and teaming with fish. It will be one terrific spot to lull away a summer afternoon with rod in hand, or bring a lovely lady to and speak of love and friendship and life. Hey, perhaps I will be able to do both at the same time!

When I returned to the cabin, there was a large hawk circling overhead, looking down on the blue tin roof. There seemed to be a lot more hawks out today than buzzards.

I swear that the trees across the way had turned brighter during my little nap and hike. In fact there were a number of large trees that had turned bright orange that were green in the morning. I did another unofficial count, and found nearly 25% of the trees on this hillside had turned color. So fall was marching on, and in a hurry! However, the hillside on the south side of the valley was still mostly green. So fall is popping, but much more so on certain hillsides. Or perhaps it is only happening at Cloudland. I know there are a lot of folks out there waiting for the peak of the color before they get out, but my advice is to get out NOW, today, and then every other day that you can - you will have some terrific hiking no matter what.

Roy Clinton (yes, he is related) and some friends dropped by for a short visit - they had just been on a hike to the Crag. Before they left, they had two signed copies of my new book in their hands, and there was $120 on the bar. Hey, I LIKE doing business at Cloudland.

I installed a new wind chime that Scott and Carolyn Crook had brought out. It now hangs from the front porch, out of the direct wind. I figured that if I put it up on the back deck, the strong and constant wind would drive me crazy, or break the chimes, or both. So I'm going to try it in front and see how it does.

Darkness fell quickly, and I spent my Friday night cleaning up the cabin, listening to blues on KUAF, and sipping a little homemade wild-grape wine. It was the first day of the fall fund raiser at the radio station, and so I called in a pledge - they announced it as "Tim Ernst from Cloudland in Newton County." I loved hearing that. I have also donated a number of the new picture books to them, and they are using it as their first and only premium for the fund raiser - you get a personalized copy if you give at least $365 bucks. I am proud to be able to be part of such a great radio station. You find many references to KUAF here in this journal - they simply play great music. I have grown tired of listening to the drone of the other stations.

The wind blew and it rained and lightening lit up the dark night. The wind peaked at 41mph. The rain totaled 1.5" for the day. I shut down the cabin and crawled into bed to the sound of the wind pounding outside.

10/17/98 Things had calmed down during the night, but by daylight the wind had resumed its relentless attack on my little hillside, and the clouds hung low. Through the mist I could see several soaring birds dancing and playing in the wind. It was warm, 70 degrees, and for the first time in a long while, the main Buffalo River was running muddy - they must had gotten more rain upstream, and it must have been hard.

This stretch of the river doesn't run muddy very often. If the Forest Service goes ahead with their many planned timber sales way up in the headwaters of this great river, all of the new roads that they will have to build will create many days and weeks and months of muddy waters. It is a shame that this government agency could be allowed to screw up such a beautiful and pristine area, but they are trying very hard to do just that. They have been stopped several times already, but I fear that they will succeed one day. Even the local timber guys, including many good friends of mine, agree that the Forest Service wants to cut the timber in the wrong way. They (the local timber cutters) know how to take care of the forest, but apparently the Forest Service does not, nor do they even care.

The wind continues to blow hard, and the mist swirls, and I can just barely see the dim glow of orange and red and yellow trees across the way on Beagle Point. I must leave my little heaven this morning, to go to another part of the forest and lead a hike up to Hare Mountain, the tallest point on the Ozark Highlands Trail. It will be a great hike, and my little world at Cloudland will be waiting for me on my return, with new colors and smells and sight and sounds to enjoy.

A storm did roll through later in the day, as recorded by my weather station. The wind got up to 40mph, with .6" rain. Ann McCutchan from Austin, Texas came out and spent the night at the cabin (she is the sister of a friend of mine). She left behind a new book for the library, plus most of a bottle of good Vodka (in the freezer, where all good vodka should be stored). Guests like her are ALWAYS welcome!

(By the way, we had 47 folks show up for my little backpack trip over the weekend. A very good crowd, especially considering all of the hard rain and wind that we had. It was foggy and warm and wonderful. And there was a TON of food!)

10/20/98 There was a deer hunter cloaked in orange sitting under the apple tree at the Faddis Cabin when I arrived back at Cloudland. It was muzzle-loader season all week. A couple of hunters are staying at Bob's cabin for the hunt, one of them being Benny Stovall, a new OHTA member, and maker of the wine that I have been drinking, which I found out was wild blackberry wine - great stuff. Right now is muzzle-loader deer season. A "muzzle-loader" is a primitive weapon, the kind that Daniel Boone and the rest of our pioneers used. These rifles use black powder and a round ball, which is loaded through the front of the muzzle by hand, one piece at a time. They are a lot of fun to shoot, although the sky fills with black smoke and it takes a few seconds before you can see anything!

The cabin was snug and warm as always, and a welcome sight. It appeared that the rain over the weekend really knocked back the advance of the color in the forest. There was more color in the hills, but only slightly more than I had seen on Saturday. Rain will do that. No problem - we've got lots of time for color, but almost always need more rain. Although the Buffalo River was running pretty good, and the hushed roar of it could be heard from down below.

I unloaded another thousand pounds of picture books from the van into the basement, one box at a time, then moved a dozen arm loads of split firewood from the downstairs stash up to the wood rack on the upper deck, just outside the sliding glass door. It was probably cold enough for a fire in the fireplace, but all that work warmed me up so much that I never lit one.

Then I unpacked my new toy, uh, er, tool. A new pair of binocs! I had come to the conclusion that I just simply couldn't afford the thousand dollars for a pair of Leica binocs (or didn't really deserve such a fine instrument), but still wanted something a little larger than the compact Bushnells that I had been using. While standing at the counter of a friend's gun shop yesterday, a pair of find Nikon 8 x 40 binocs jumped up and shouted at me - they fit my hands and face perfectly (actually about the same size as the Leicas), and I had just enough money in my pocket, so I bought them. Wow!, after a few seconds, I fell in love. They are wonderful, and I can understand why the Leica folks enjoy theirs so much - the size is just perfect. In reality, there probably isn't any noticeable difference in the optical quality between the two brands - these Nikons are VERY good, and I know optical quality, and am most picky. Mine are armored, nitrogen-filled and waterproof. And they seem to gather light very well.

Across the way, there were a number of trees that were bright yellow. I got to noticing that many of the trees on the west end of Beagle Hill were orange, while the ones on the east one were yellow. After a careful look with the new binocs, I found that the yellow ones were hickories - I'd never seen such pure and bright yellow in a hickory tree before! I would say that there is color in about 35% of the trees now. That rain sure did slow things down. It was looking like maybe the coming weekend, or sometime during the following week the color will be at its peak. That works out well for me - a film crew from TV 5 in Ft. Smith/Fayetteville will be out here on Friday to do a story on McNamara and I, and next week there will be a big-time film crew shooting an episode of TRAILSIDE (a PBS series that has been going on now for five or more years). I will be with them on a hike out to Hawksbill Crag.

As the evening grew dim, I got hungry, and cooked up a pan full of my famous Banaff Pasta. I discovered this recipe in a cafe in Banff, Canada back in 1995, and it is simply wonderful (and I hadn't had it in a while, so it tasted extra great!). While I was chowing down, the outside alarm went off, and I looked out and saw a doe deer walking down the lane towards the cabin. She was rather nervous, and eventually trotted off into the woods and out of sight. That alarm goes off at about the same time during the night, and is probably deer wandering by (they are nocturnal and follow a pattern much of their lives). I noticed that as the deer made her way through the woods, several squirrels sat up and started making their alarm calls. Once the doe passed on, the squirrels went back to gathering nuts.

Bob Chester called and said that he had just finished a deer dinner. Oops. One of the hunters got a deer up near the Faddis Cabin during the day. I have mixed feelings about this, and won't get into the politics of hunting right now. I'll just say that I come down squarely on the fence - I both support hunting (I used to hunt, but don't any longer), and treasure the wildlife that I see roaming around at Cloudland. Anyway, Bob said that the hunters had seen the big bear (now named the Faddis Bear) FIVE times during the day, and had shot at it, but never hit it. Bears are legal game with muzzle-loaders right now. Score one for the bear. Benny had seen the bear up close, and it was laying right in the middle of that large area of hickory nuts that I had seen the fox squirrel in the other day. I wonder how many hickory nuts it takes to fill up a bear?

I spent the rest of the evening building two log floor lamps. They are my invention, and contain a built-in round table, and are topped with a little fox. They will become the home for the lamp shades that I have been getting visitors to sign. After spending a couple of hours sawing and gluing and screwing and wiring up the lamps, I was feeling pretty good (the wine helped a little I'm sure). Then I pulled on a cord that I had run up through one of the lamps (before I had assembled the lamp), and pulled the cord right out of the lamp - a big mistake. And I was unable to get it put back through the tiny hole, so I gave up for the night. I would have to figure out some other way to feed it through the log.

A new pair of binocs, two new lamps, and my new flannel sheets! I spread out the thick, luxurious sheets and crawled into bed. Something was missing though, and I realized that since the cabin is so air tight, that I couldn't hear the river. So I opened up the window next to the bed, and drifted off to the sound of the Buffalo.

I had a strange dream during the night. I went out in front of the cabin and was nearly run over by several different bears, including one giant one that looked more like a grizzly than a black bear. In fact this big bear stood up on his hind legs and his head towered over the front of the cabin. Then a couple of wolves came by, plus two GIANT foxes that were the size of horses! I escaped the stampede by running into the cabin and closing the door. But I watched them all from the back deck with my new binocs. Who wants to interpret?

10/21/98 Keeping track of the cloud bank this morning turned into a full-time job. When I first awoke and rolled over and looked out the window, the cloud bank was several hundred feet below me, hovering over the river. As the morning progressed, the clouds gradually lifted and moved back and forth and hung around for three hours. The clouds were only in the Buffalo Valley though, and were not up in the Whitaker Valley at all. Although there was one time when the clouds pushed their way into part of the Whitaker, but then quickly receded. I took a few pictures with the snapshot camera. I also spent some time shooting the inside of the cabin for use in the Kootenai Log Home brochure.

The KUAF fall fund raiser was on the radio, along with some great classical music. At one point they called my new Buffalo picture book "A collaboration of beauty." Sounds pretty good to me!

And it is a SPECTACULAR fall day outside - blue skies, trees turning, temps in the low 60's. Just another textbook October day in the Ozarks. I tried to sit out on the deck and take it all in, but that just didn't work. So I am now forced to strap on my hiking boots go hiking.

I strolled alongside a stand of maple trees. They had not yet started to turn color, but the sight of this stand is always striking because there is almost no underbrush - you can see far into the forest. And with each day that passes you can see even further, even in the rest of the forest. Trees are losing many leaves each day, which opens up the view. But the really neat thing today were the dozens and dozens of small black gum trees that were growing along one side of the maple stand - and every one of them was brilliantly colored! Red, purple, orange, yellow. Some little trees had all of those colors on the same branch! I really have a new respect for black gum trees now - they are just marvelous. I didn't notice any large parental black gums around.

The path was covered with freshly fallen leaves. Some were red or another fall color, and many were just brown. I look forward to the day when a majority of the leaves come off of the trees on the same day, like it did last year. It doesn't always happen every year, but I have been part of maybe 15 or 20 of them before, and each one was pure magic. Last year it happened very late, on November 15th. I'll keep a watch for ya.

Beyond the maples and black gums I came into yellow light. A stand of hickory trees was towering over me, yellow sun beaming down through their big leaves. This is the best year for hickories in a long time for sure.

The sun was creating quite a spectacle with the dogwood berries too. Many of the dogwoods had big clumps of the bright red berry clusters which made their branches sag. And when the sun hit the berries, red light splashed off in all directions. The birds are going to get fat this winter.

I made my way up to the apple tree at the Faddis Cabin, and came away with several of them in my pocket, and one in my mouth. Very sweet. Nearby I discovered a second deciduous holly tree, and it too was covered with red clusters of berries.

The persimmon tree was still loaded down with fruit, but much of it had already fallen to the ground. The bear had been eating them I know, because of the seeds in his scat. I looked up and found one persimmon that had landed in the fork of the tree, about six feet off of the ground. I had seen this little guy before, right after he had landed there. He was smooth and polished and bright persimmon color then. But time and the sun had aged him rapidly, and now he was all wrinkled up and dull looking. If you know anything about persimmons, you know that he was now ready to eat, and probably would be quite tasty. But I felt like he was put there for some special reason, spared being tossed to the ground to rot, perhaps to watch over the rest of the fruit. This tree is right next to the road into my cabin, so I left him there to watch over my coming and goings too.

When I returned to the cabin, the valley was filled with soaring birds - mostly turkey vultures. Some of them were flying close, but many more were way up both the main Buffalo valley as well as Whitaker Creek. With my new binocs I could see them working the air currents miles away.

And a bunch of wasps had gathered as well. I did not look forward to seeing them. Last fall, during a brief two-day swarm, thousands and thousands of them got into the cabin. They were seeking a place to spend the winter I guess. I never noticed them much except on warm days when things would get sunny in the cabin - they would quite literally come out of the woodwork and fly around. Then one day I let off a few of those bug bombs. When I returned the next day, the floor was covered with dead wasps. I counted out a section of them, then multiplied it all out, and decided that I had killed something like 5,000 wasps. That was before I had any furniture, a nice floor, or any carpeting in the cabin. I hoped the swam wasn't as bad this year.

The afternoon sun was getting very warm. I laid down in the porch swing and became a little lethargic. Then a red-tailed hawk appeared overhead, which sent me running for the binocs. I got a good look at him, and could nearly count his feathers as he played back and forth in the wind currents. He was soon joined by another hawk, and they began to crisscross the sky above the meadow, getting lower and lower with each pass. One of them would swoop down like he was going to grab something, then pull up at the last minute and turn away. The other one began to scream and make all kinds of noise. The second one joined in. They flew closer and closer to the cabin, and I swear I could see them looking right at me when they screamed.

Pretty soon a grey squirrel landed on the deck and came running towards me. He didn't say anything at first, but then he jumped up onto the deck railing and started chattering away. He inched closer and closer to me, his tail twitching with each sound, then would turn around and run to the other end of the rail section, chattering and squawking all the while. Then he would turn around and work his way right back to me. What the heck was going on?

Then I felt a thump below, and I began to get a little worried. Another thump, and the deck shook. I looked over and saw that the squirrel had vanished. So had the hawks. More thuds. And more shaking. Then at the opposite end of the deck, where the stairs lead down to the lower deck, a black bear appeared. Uh oh. He swung around and headed my direction, lumbering across the deck. What the heck was I supposed to do now? The only way off of the deck was through the door into the cabin, which was between us. No, he was right in front of it, and closing fast. I screamed at the top of my lungs, and waved my hands, but he just kept coming, like he was deaf. Oh, well, he did look up and smirk. Damn, now I WAS in trouble! The only thing left for me was to play dead, and since I was already laying in the swing, that was easy. I put my hands over the back of my neck, with the fingers interlaced, and tucked into the fetal position.

I felt the deck shake, another couple of thumps, and the swing moved. I began to hear heavy breathing. I was about to pee in my pants. I held my breath. The bear was standing right next to me, and he reached out and licked my face with his wet, coarse tongue. YUK! I opened my eyes and stared into the biggest and deepest eyes that I had ever seen. Then, and this is the most incredible part of this story, the bear spoke, in a very human-like voice, although very deep - "It is time for you to get up from your nap now and get back to work!" The next thing I remember I was in space, falling, and then I hit the deck, hard - I had fallen out of the swing, which woke me up. I jumped up and looked around - no bear, no squirrel, but there was a pair of red-tailed hawks circling above. Hum. What was that I had for lunch?

Bob Chester came by later and brought out a neighbor - Eddy Silcott, who had just had surgery on his knee. He owns a great spot of land over on the other side of Bob's, and it borders the wilderness area in Dug Hollow. We sat out and soaked up the view a while - I kept one eye open for flashes of black fur.

I followed Bob back up to the Faddis Cabin, and helped him pick the apples out of the tree that I had been eating out of. While they were mostly too small, and many split open, Bob was going to use them for dried apples and apple butter, plus a cobbler or two. I was glad to help out, and really enjoyed being way up in the top of an apple tree on such a gorgeous fall day in the Ozarks. We got every single apple but the four in the very tip top - I plan to shake them out of the tree in a day or two.

After another helping of my Banff pasta for dinner, I put my boots back on again and went for a hike. The sun was about to go down, and a light breeze was blowing. It was a more relaxing hike than most, partly because I did not need to be real quiet or sneaky or creep up along the edge of the meadows - any deer that were in the area had long since been scared out of their normal and easygoing life-style by the hunters, so I wasn't going to see any strolling about. They would pretty much be on high alert now until on into December. So I got to wander around not really paying any attention to how much noise I was making, or which way the wind was blowing.

The colors in the small sumacs, sassafras and goldenrod were outshone only by the bands of pink clouds that stretched across the evening sky. The sun had gone down by the time I reached the Faddis Meadow, but the sky glowed with incredible brightness. It was cool out, but that light warmed the soul.

The weatherman had predicted cloudy skies all day, and more at night, with rain. Of course, it was clear and sunny all day, and there were a million stars out soon after dark. I got out the telescope and tried to spot the moons of Jupiter - we did this during the last bushwhacker party, but I wasn't sure if we were really seeing moons or just the effects of the booze. But sure enough, there they were, bright and clear, four moons. And they had moved. When we saw them before, there was three on one side and one on the other, but tonight there were two on each side. I zoomed the tele up to 45x and could see them very well. They appear to be tiny stars, but are actually moons circling the planet, just like ours. I could even see them with my new binocs, which are 8x, but not very well - too small.

It was getting a little brisk outside, and they are predicting temps down in the low 30's, maybe even a frost. I have set an alarm on the weather station to alert me when the outside temp reaches 32 degrees, just so that I can be up and part of the first frost of the season! Now, let's see, I think I'll go build a fire in the fireplace.

10/22/98 Well, it never got too cold - only down to 44, but it felt WONDERFUL when I crawled out of bed and was greeted by the crisp morning, the bright sunshine, and a clear blue sky. They just don't make days any finer. However, I didn't get to enjoy too much of it, as I had business in town, and left early. I noticed on the drive home that once I left the Buffalo drainage, there simply wasn't any color at all - lots of green hills. There were a few trees turning now and then, but not much.

There was a tiny sliver of a moon in the western sky when I returned just after dark. And it was lit from the right - which means? That it is getting larger! So we will have another full moon in about two weeks. It was already 42 degrees, so it was bound to be a little colder this night. The special Cloudland flannel sheets felt great.

10/23/98 I got up early for once, even beat the sun up, and the sky over yonder was glowing orange. It looked like another textbook fall day in the Ozarks - clear blue skies and lots of sunshine.

I heated up some water and had the first hot chocolate of the season as I sat out on the back deck and watched the sun streak across the hills in front. It was chilly, but not frosty out - it only made it down to 39 degrees - the coldest so far. I hear that it has been colder in town. While we can often get much wilder weather out here at Cloudland, the temperatures always seem to be milder out here - cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter. I'll take it any way that I can get it.

It was going to be a busy day here, so I didn't get to lounge around too long. I did a little computer work and some housecleaning, then greeted Hete and several folks from the Arkansas Times Health and Fitness magazine. Hete was going to take them on a hike deep into the wilderness, and was using the cabin as a jumping off point. Judy, Kelly and Rusty followed Hete down the ladder trail, and I bid them farewell. Then the TV producer showed up.

Fred McClure, the producer of "Arklahoma Outdoors" for KFSM TV5 in Ft. Smith/Fayetteville, was out doing a story on the new book. Just for the record, this was the very first time that a TV camera graced the walls of Cloudland. I suspect there will be more.

We went back out to the Faddis Cabin and hiked down to the Crag, then he shot some footage of my hiking around and taking pictures. The light was great, and the view spectacular. The Crag was all lit up, and the sun was still streaking across the hillside in front of us, revealing some great color. Once he got done with me, a couple of hawks began to fly back and forth just above the trees across the way - right on cue!

Bill Groom and his kid and friend were hiking below the Crag, and eventually joined us. Bill is one of the hikers that is standing on the Crag in the winter picture of mine that is both on the cover of the Buffalo River Hiking Trails guidebook (3rd edition), and also in the new picture book.

Once Fred got finished filming the hawks playing in the wind currents, Billy McNamara and Milancy showed up. Bill set up is pad and began to paint in some outlines of the land forms up Whitaker Creek, while the TV camera rolled. The lighting was really, really good. I even got out my camera and shot 30 pictures of the TV man taking pictures of Billy painting pictures. Good thing no one was there taking pictures of me and on and on...

We all returned to the cabin for a beer and some more TV footage. This TV life is tough you know. Get up and go hiking and then sit on the deck and drink beer while the hawks soar overhead. No one said that it would be easy living here at Cloudland.

After my company left, I got down to some serious napping, although this time there were no bears licking me in the face. I did look up once to find three red-tailed hawks circling. I watched them with the new binocs for a long time, and I never could tell if they were hunting or just having a good time. Probably some of both. I had never noticed before how they will twist their tails feathers to steady themselves. I think when they twist them to the right, then they bank to the left. Or is it the other way around? Anyway, it was great to watch.

Before long I heard huffing and puffing coming from down below. No, not another bear, but Hete and the crew was topping out from their hike. I met them with a cold beer each, and we all sat out and admired the view while they told the tales of their hike down and over and up into Hubbard Hollow and back. Actually, they really didn't look too much the worse for wear, and they seemed to have had a terrific hike and didn't mind the HILL too much. They must not have been eating as much pasta as I have been.

A few minutes after they left, the bread machine rang and out came a wonderful loaf of steaming bread. The first slice is always the best, and mine was smothered with honey and this yellow stuff- um, um, GOOD! As good as the bread was, I could see that the forest was looking might good too, so I cut off another hunk, strapped on my boots, and headed out for a hike.

It was dead still out, and the low sun sent orange beams deep into the woods. Since it was still muzzle-loader season, and I figured the wildlife might be a little spooked, I wasn't all that quiet as I lumbered along. That was a mistake. As I popped up over the hill and into the East Meadow, I disturbed four turkey hens that must have been feeding, and they went scurrying towards the opposite end of the meadow. They didn't getup and fly, just ran along, weaving left and right.

There was also a deer standing right in the middle of the meadow, and she saw me and got spooked too. Darn - why didn't I creep up to the edge of the meadow like I should have! I guess there hadn't been any hunters in this meadow in a while.

The sun was just dropping below the trees when I stepped into the Faddis Meadow. I looked around a little, then headed towards my lane. Then I remembered that I had wanted to check on my little wrinkled-up persimmon in the fork of the tree, so I turned around and went back a few feet to the tree. There he was all right, still perched right there taking in the view.

Then a movement caught my eye. Son of a gun, there was the Faddis Bear, right out in the middle of the bright green grass just beyond the Faddis Cabin. He was a ways off, and there wasn't any breeze. I just stood there and watched. He wasn't really moving, just staying in place and shuffling around some. I realized that I was so far away, that I could easily move closer without him taking note of me. But I had to move slow, and quiet.

There was a woodpecker up in the top of a big hickory tree making a lot of noise, and he, the branches, and all of the nuts, were all silhouetted against the bright western sky. Off in the woods to the right there were several squirrels running up and down trees and along the ground and making all kinds of racket. The bear was the quietest thing out there!

I stood beside a small tree for a few minutes. The bear appeared to be GRAZING in the grass! There weren't any fruit or nut trees nearby, so I couldn't figure out what else he was munching on. His body would stay still, but his head would go up and down and swing back and forth. A grazing bear, now there is one I haven't seen before. Then he laid down in the grass - just plopped right down and went on chewing. He was facing away from me. I though that I would move still closer.

The cabin hid my advance as I crept along in the grass towards it. I could not see what the bear was doing, so I took it slow. Just as I was approaching the corner of the cabin, I peered around and saw the bear, just on the other side of the cabin. He was up and moving, but still hadn't detected me. He was about 100 feet away from me. He moved slowly, swung his head to the right and looked my direction, then up in the tree at the woodpecker, then glanced over towards the squirrels. He was a pretty large bear, and I think the same one that I had seen twice before - once rolling in the garden back in August (or September?), and then once down in Dug Hollow several weeks ago. Pure jet black glossy fur. And a brown nose. And very small ears.

He ambled up the hillside some, and found a hickory tree. It was so funny so see this big furry bear right in front of me and hear him crunching on hickory nuts. I don't know, there was just something special about that moment - I think it may be one of the most remarkable wildlife encounters that I have ever had. And one of the longest. Unless you are in a blind and specifically watching for wildlife, any sightings are usually very short, ending with the critter dashing off, no matter if it is a bear or a deer or a fox. And I had been watching this bear for over twenty minutes. One thing that I learned a long time ago is that you can sneek up on game if you will only move when they are moving - they are usually making a lot of noise and can't hear you making noise. It works.

The light was getting dim, and I had halted my creeping. The bear continued on up the rise, walked up the road some, then headed on over into the brush on the other side of the road. He did stop once in order to settle the point about whether the bear does it in the woods or not, then walked on out of sight.

Two more things about this bear sighting. When the bear was broadside to me, and he was either down grazing or picking up a nut, his outline looked just like a grizzly bear, complete with the hump on his shoulder and all. Obviously he was not, but it looked just like one. And the other thing is that the entire time the bear was in view, I was never nervous or heart-pounding excited or shaking or anything like that. That must be a first for me - I always get a little shaky when I see large wild game, even if it is a deer that is basically harmless. I don't know, there is just something about being out there in the forest with a wild critter. Perhaps I was feeling more like a wild beast myself today, or maybe I could feel some sort of kinship with this bear. He is the only one that we have had out on the mountain this summer that was not a trouble maker. He stayed around and has been sighted a lot, but has never gotten into anything. Just hanging out and eating nuts and berries and grazing a little. And swimming in the little pond down below. Yea, that is it, me and the bear are some sort of wilderness soul mates. Wow, how lucky can you get?

I walked on over to where he had been grazing, and found several places where he had pawed around and dug up the grass - looking for some juicy grubs I guess. There was some sort of other plant growing there too, and I bet maybe this is what he was chewing on. I'll have to ask Bob what he had planted in the yard.

It was getting very dim, so I headed on back to the cabin. Just as I was getting to leave the meadow, a layer of clouds up high lit up with an incredible pink color. I stopped and looked and took a deep breath. The sun had gone down below the trees 30 minutes before, yet the most spectacular color was just now happening - a note for outdoor photographers - don't quit shooting just because the sun goes down!

As I walked through the forest, I had to turn around and walk backwards - it looked like the woods were on fire, as the brilliant light from the clouds poked through the canopy. It was just amazing. I had to go, but I had to stay and watch. So I sat down at the base of a tree and watched until the last glow faded. Wonderful.

When I returned to the cabin, I did a little grazing myself on fresh wheat bread washed down with apple cider. I spent the rest of the evening working on the journal, answering e-mail, and listening to the Blues on KUAF. I glanced over once just in time to see a field mouse poking his head into the open deck door. You should have seen me move! I jumped up and chased him not only out of the cabin, but across the deck and OFF the end of the deck! Then I wondered if he only wanted to listen to the blues too.

I just walked outside again into the crisp night air, and the only sound to be heard was the hushed music of the river below. It is very dark, and the clouds are creeping in. 52 degrees. I'm going to shut down the computer, build a fire, dig out the maple guitar, and see if some muscadine wine can make me sound like John Denver. You're right - I'm still dreaming.

10/24/98 It was a little chilly at first light, but it cool temps were perfect for my little daily chore now of splitting a few sticks of wood. This is a ritual that not only becomes vital now, but has always been a chore that I have truly enjoyed. There is just something about picking up an axe and watching the log split as the sun breaks over the hill. And when it is chilly out, it becomes exercise that warms the body and soul instead of just being daily chore. I try to split enough wood to last the day and following night. Of course, right now it is more exercise since I'm not really using the fireplace all day. But I am getting enough of a supply split that I can roll over and stay in bed on some mornings if I want, and still have plenty to burn.

It was clear and another great fall day in the Ozarks. I put on my overalls and boots and headed out for a hike and a little more work. I had noticed that some poachers had been driving on one of my old roads, a road that I don't want people to drive on. So I wanted to build a little rock wall there to discourage their use. The entrance to this road is in a corner of the east meadow, and I enjoyed spending some time there hauling rocks and building the wall. I didn't see any wildlife while there, but did get to take frequent breaks in order to scan the meadow for any movement. By the way, I define a "poacher" as anyone who trespasses in order to hunt. They don't have to kill anything, nor hunt out of season. They are breaking the law by simply being on private property (you don't even need signs or purple paint these days in order to be trespassing).

Once my little rock wall was complete (well, not really complete, but enough for now - I will add rocks every time I visit the area for awhile), I hiked on over to the Faddis Meadow to pick a few nuts. As I was approaching the edge of the meadow, I was startled by a covey of birds that burst into the air from a few feet away. I had hoped for a covey of quail, but they turned out to be robins.

My goal this morning was to fill my five-gallon bucket with hickory nuts to give to my friends Scott and Carolyn Crook who have five pet flying squirrels. They will need lots of nuts to feed them during the winter. They normally like acorns, but there are hardly any of them this year, and there happens to be lots of hickory nuts.

My first five minutes under the big hickory tree were a bit disappointing - the squirrels and the bear had really taken a toll on the nuts, and the bottom of my bucket wasn't even covered. But I persisted, and scotted around on the ground with my yellow bucket and picked up all the nuts that I could find. Once I got all of them under this one tree, I moved on to another one, and found many more nuts. The sun was up, a light breeze was blowing, the birds were singing, and I had a great time there on the ground picking nuts.

My bucket began to fill up more rapidly. Then a flock of cedar waxwings descended on me. I have always loved these little birds, although I normally only see them in the winter, and wondered what they were doing here now. They were up in the trees, in the bushes, and all over the ground around me. I felt a little like St. Frances of Assisi with all the birds around me. There were many robins out too. I spent some time watching the birds, but never could figure out just exactly what they were eating - surely it couldn't be the hickory nuts. But there weren't any berries on these trees either. I could see one of the deciduous holly trees nearby, which was loaded with red berries, but they weren't interested in them. So I continued to pick my nuts and enjoy the birds and the sunshine.

Several people came by and said hi, and I asked them not to tell anyone that they had seen me rolling on the ground picking up nuts. It got warmer, and I shed a layer or two. I kept picking. Before I knew it my bucket was full - hurray! But there were still nuts on the ground. I foraged around in Bob's shed and found another five-gallon bucket, and began to fill it up as well. I was really getting into this nut gathering stuff. I just couldn't stop. I went from tree to tree, and realized that while they were all hickory trees, they were not all the same species - some of the nuts were small, others were large. Some had thick skins, others had very thin skins. In fact what I found out was that the ones with thick skins had the smallest nuts, while the one with thin skins had big nuts. Hum - I wonder if that is true of men too?

As I gathered the nuts, my mind wandered off onto the subject of bears. I kept looking around for movement - bears or deer or hikers - but never saw any. But I did come across a pile or two of bear scat. And I got to thinking about how these nut or fruit bearing trees were so smart. Some trees have their seeds scattered by the wind, like maple trees who have those little wings on their seeds. But fruit and nut trees have their seeds buried deep within tasty morsels, which attract bears and deer and coyotes and other critters that eat them. The seeds are almost never digested, so they end up being expelled in the scat of the animal. These seeds will grow into new trees, spreading their distribution far and wide - whereever the critter happens to roam.

I also realized that I was competing with the bears and squirrels and whatever else that eats hickory nuts for food.

Much to my surprise, I soon had the second bucket full! Wow, ten gallons of hickory nuts! It was a great feeling of fulfillment. I got up and waked back to the cabin - it was 1pm - I had been picking nuts for over four hours!

It was such a wonderful day outside, I decided to back out for another hike. I put some bread dough in the machine to cook while I was gone (I was going to a party over at the LaGrone's later, and was going to make up a batch of Cloudland appetizers to take). Then I hiked on over to Hawksbill Crag to see how many other hikers were there.

There were lots of folks coming and going, and I ended up spending an hour there just hanging out and talking to them and laying around on the rocks. I met a young lady who was alone and taking pictures there. She seemed to know what she was doing, and was getting some really good pictures. Being the shy type, and not wanting to become known as someone who preys on lovely ladies visiting the Crag, I resisted the temptation to talk with her at great length, and left the area and headed back home. Along the way, I came across more hickory nuts. I had now become obsessed with gathering nuts, and since I just happened to have a plastic bag in my pocket, I spent the next hour on the forest floor filling the bag. These were the best nuts of the day by far, and I really enjoyed gathering them. Hum, it appears that I have now become someone who enjoys gathering nuts instead of talking with beautiful young ladies - oops, I must reverse that right away!

On the way back to the cabin, I met a group of men who had just hiked from the Kapark Trailhead, across Beagle Mountain (they called it Berrywest Point), down to the Buffalo, and up the ladder trail. One of the guys had grown up down along the river, and we talked a bit about his experiences. He confirmed the story about the guy who died down below, and had to be carried up the ladder trail and out to the church. He said that they had made a pine box to carry and bury him in. It was in 1935. I hope that some day I will be able to go down the trail with this guy or someone else who lived down along the river and could point out lots of interesting things. Someone really needs to write all of this up some day before all of the old-timers are gone.

The men were Arold Sparks ("Sparkie" - the one who lived down below), Richard Sparks, Wesley Sparks, and Tim Sparks (who lives in Oregon). They are all related to Clyde Sparks, my rock mason, who I have talked about before. I started to make some comment about him disappearing from my job for weeks on end, and they all laughed and said that it sounded just like Clyde!

All of this nut gathering and visiting made me a little late, and I rushed around fixing my appetizers and getting ready for the party. I loaded up and drive on over to Walker Mountain and arrived just in time for the start of dinner. My appitizers disappeared quickly, but I did get to eat one myself this time. There were lots and lots of people at the party. Dean and Bonnie always have a great crowd of wonderful friends. I always feel out of place at parties, being single, when almost everyone else has a partner, so I didn't stay too long, and soon returned to Cloudland. Also I had a splitting headache that had been with me all day. When I crawled into bed, I slammed my head back against the log headboard, which didn't help matters any. As I was laying there in my misery, a gorgeous crescent moon that was hanging low in the western sky broke through the clouds, and the pain subsided.

Roy and Norma arrived from the party an hour or so later, and took up residence for the night in the guest bedroom. I remember waking up several times during the night and hearing the wind blowing hard and the wind chimes out front making music.

10/25/98 The sun came up an hour early today, my headache was gone, and I made a pot of Cloudland coffee and fired up the computer to do some quiet work so as not to disturb my guests. They soon got up too, and we wandered around out on the decks for a little while, enjoying the sunshine and a very warm morning. There were already people out on the Crag too.

Roy and Norma left, and I got down to my chores, which included a little log splitting, some computer work, and un-boxing of a hundred picture books (McNamara is coming out tomorrow to sign more of them). I had to go into town today to take care of my mom, get a script that the TRAILSIDE producer had sent, and do a few other chores there.

Let me digress for a moment and say a few words about this TRAILSIDE thing. I was asked some time ago to spend an hour or so showing the crew Hawksbill Crag. I agreed happily. Well, three days ago I was informed that not only was I expected to spend four or five days with the crew, but that a lengthy script had been written for me and I was going to be a co-star of sorts for the first 18 minutes of the show. Plus I had to show them around and take them every place, provide equipment for the host, set up camp, and on and on and on. I never agreed to do any of this, nor even knew about any of it until Thursday. I was not a happy camper. And I have got to give a program in Tulsa on one of the scheduled shooting days, plus have my entire family coming out to the cabin on Saturday for my mom's 81st birthday party. When I tried to explain some of this to the TRAILSIDE producer down in Florida (who wasn't even coming up herself for the shoot), she got very short with me and was not happy at all. I cleared everything from my schedule that I could in order to accommodate their shooting schedule, but it meant that I would not be able to take any pictures of what is turning out to be one spectacular fall color season. So I would be happy to help out, but was not the least bit happy about having all of this sprung on me at the last minute, especially with all of their demands. I would be doing all of this for free. Oh yea, one more thing. The guy who wrote the script told the producer that he had been writing it in conjunction with me - I had never heard of or from this guy - he simply went through the Buffalo River Hiking Trails guidebook and pulled things from it to talk about. Some of the shooting locations were five miles from the nearest road! I don't think so.

I returned to the cabin very late, but in time to see an incredible orange moon sliver slip down behind the hillside.

10/26/98 The TRAILSIDE thing must have been weighing on my mind, because I couldn't sleep and got up at 3am and wandered out onto the lower deck. The night sky was beautiful, of course, with a bright moon. I tried to find Jupiter and see how many moons were out, but I could not locate it. Sometimes when I get restless like this I feel like I am wasting my time trying to sleep, and I get up and do some work. So I decided to spend some time un-boxing more books. I really got into that, unboxing books down in the basement in the middle of the night, and before dawn I had a couple of hundred books un-boxed and hauled upstairs and ready for McNamara to sign. Then I went to bed for a couple of hours and woke up quite refreshed!

Billy came by around noon, and we spent a couple of hours signing and boxing the books back up. Then we spent an hour sitting on the deck with beers in hand discussing the wilderness and the pioneers who used to live down below. It continues to amaze me how much this guy knows about the area, but then I guess he has lived here for over twenty years, so he has had a bit of time to learn everything! There were lots of soaring birds flying around and playing in the wind, and it was a warm afternoon.

Later, my good friend Nancy Williams came by and brought two of her friends out for a visit (Eaton and Dutha). They all were staying in a cabin near Eureka Springs, and had been hiking the Lost Valley and Hawksbill Crag trails today. These two ladies were from Louisiana, and weren't used to all of our hills! They were glad to have comfortable seats to spend some time in. They were delightful company all three, and they even brought out dinner - prime beef for the grill! Nancy always brings something wonderful when she visits.

Nancy and her husband are champion skeet shooters. In fact they spend two or three months a year driving around in a big mobile home going to shooting events. Nancy has been on the All-American shooting team for some time. Her husband is at least as good, and they both have a room full of trophies.

Anyway, the filets were TERRIFIC, and so was the rest of the meal and conversation. One of the ladies and her husband owns the Louisiana Hot Sauce company, and I just happened to have a bottle on the shelf. I love the stuff because it is not nearly has spicy hot as tobasco sauce. Although she told me that they have a Louisiana Gold sauce that is pretty hot itself.

When the wine was empty my guests headed on up the lane back towards Eureka. I knew that the next three weeks were going to be one hectic mess (which I looked forward to VERY MUCH!), so I turned in early and got a good nights sleep.

10/27/98 I got up early, split a little wood, then wandered up to the Faddis Cabin with an empty bucket. My friend's flying squirrels had loved the hickory nuts I had brought them so much that I decided to gather up another load for them. I was greeted by the morning sun at the Faddis Meadow, and by about a dozen red squirrels. These little guys were jumping everywhere. I'll bet there are thousands of nuts buried in this meadow.

I got down on my rear and began to search for nuts. There was a fresh crop that had fallen and or/been blown off of the trees since I had been there last, so it was no problem finding nuts to collect. I have discovered that I really do like to gather nuts this way. It is one of those things that you can do without really putting any mental effort into it, which means that you can either concentrate on working through something else in your mind, or let it wander, which is what I did.

The squirrels, after running off and hiding when I first appeared, soon returned and went right on about their business around me like I wasn't even there. I felt like part of the family. The warming morning sunshine, those bright red fuzzy tails jumping around, and the abundance of fresh nuts all kept me well entertained. Life in the country is good.

Right in the middle of all this bliss, I looked up and was startled into reality - there was a black bear about 150 feet away looking right square at me. It was my old friend no doubt, but I was immediately shaken by his presence. He sniffed the air, flipping his nose up and down. He didn't have to stand up on his hind feet to see me, he knew who I was. I expected him to flee at any moment. But he didn't. Once we exchanged glances, he began to graze on hickory nuts that were all around him. There are several hickory trees around the Faddis Cabin, and his was about two trees away.

I really didn't know what else to do but sit there and be quiet. But then, he knew that I was there. It was all very strange. I noticed that the squirrels had all run off, but were returning. The bear would rub his nose in the ground, grab a nut or two, then left his head and chomp on the nut. Hickory nuts being crushed make a lot of noise. Every now and then he would look over in my direction while chomping. It was as if he was trying to tell me that he could do the very same thing with my bones if he had a mind to. Chomp, chomp, chomp. Gulp. (the gulp was me) I felt about an inch tall. Then I thought, heck, I was gathering nuts when he walked up on me and that didn't seem to bother him, so I might as well go back to doing what I was there to do. And I did, but I kept one eye peeled in his direction. It was about this time that I realized that I was nothing more than a link in the food chain, and I was competing for HIS dinner! Yikes!!! But he really didn't seem to mind. I guess there were plenty of nuts for all of us. Mr. Bear slowly moved on up the slope, walked across the road to a new tree, then disappeared down below the rise. Chomp, chomp, chomp. I could hear him long after he disappeared.

This bear has been different than all the others that I have been seen this summer. I generally don't like bears prowling around, mainly because they do quite a bit of damage to property and people. But this guy has not touched a single thing that did not belong to him. I continued to see him as my friend, and this latest encounter has left me glad that he is around.

Boy, I got to tell you, none of the stuff that I did during my trip into town even remotely compared to my experience with the bear. And ya know, no one that I saw could relate to it, so I never even mentioned it. I guess a lot of experiences that one has out in the wilderness are like that - very special indeed but tough to relate to others who haven't been there. So you just go around with a smile on your face all day, and warm fuzzies in your heart.

The moon was waiting me once again when I returned, and I lingered for a while in the moonlight before crawling into the flannel sheets.

10/28/98 Several members of the TRAILSIDE crew showed up at the cabin bright and early, and the Director of Tourism for the State of Arkansas, Joe Rice, was with them. I soon leaned that none of this crew had anything to do with the problems that I had had with this situation, and they were quite friendly, helpful and understanding. The director and the camera man were French Canadian, and they spent a lot of time speaking French. Their English was very good. Joe had never been to Cloudland before, and was quite impressed. He wanted to call Southern Living magazine and get them to do a photo spread. Hum. We'll see.

The field producer was from Florida, and she was a delight to work with. We quickly decided that the opening of the show would be shot at - guess where - the front of the cabin! Hey, Cloudland would be in pictures! Then I took them out to Hawksbill Crag and they were knocked over by the incredible beauty. The color had been advancing well, and it was all quite spectacular.

My Amish crew had also showed up this morning, and they were going to spend the day spraying another coat of clear protective finish on the outside of the cabin. And this stuff was laced with some special bug dope that would help keep the wasps out, which were really becoming more of a problem. The head of the Amish clan that had built my cabin had moved to Colorado, and the "boys" that made up his crew had started their own construction company (it seems like I have already said this here, but I am too lazy to go back and look it up).

I took the TRAILSIDE crew on down into Boxley Valley to look at a couple of other sites, then on to Steel Creek. We found some good shooting locations, and fleshed out the script a little. Although I basically told them that the script was a joke, and that I felt like we could come up with much better natural conversation as we went along. The host of the program, Ray Browing, wasn't present, and would be flying into Harrison later that night, and I would meet him then next morning. The crew went on to scout other sites, and I returned to the cabin. I was beginning to feel a little better about the shoot, thanks to Joe Rice and the field crew. It was still going to be a monumental undertaking, especially with my other commitments.

I spent the rest of the afternoon with the Amish crew, and doing paperwork and making phone calls and returning e-mails. Later in the evening a friend who has a piece of property over near Jasper stopped by to spend the night. She had been bouncing around between Little Rock, Rogers and her Newton County property, and was going to tag along with the TRAILSIDE crew and help out wherever she could. Her name is Barb Meyer, and is also a past president of the Ozark Society. We chatted for a while, found FIVE moons around Jupiter through the telescope, and then I turned in early once again - I felt many long hours coming.

10/29/98 Soon after daylight five vehicles from the TRAILSIDE crew showed up at my front door. WOW, what a production! A sound man from Oregon was added, along with a guy who always carried a very large backpack. When I asked what was in it, they just told me EVERYTHING. It felt like it.

They shot the opening scene right at the front of the cabin. The series host, Ray, drives up in a Chevy (the program is partially funded by Chevrolet), then gets out, puts his backpack on, and walks around the side of the cabin, where he finds me on the back deck, looking through the telescope - a very believable shot. My first scene were very well, and they only shot it twice. In the next scene, I was to give Ray an overview of our two-day hike, both on the map, as well as show him the route as best I could from the back deck of the cabin. Well, for some reason, I got hung up on the word "Boxley" in Boxley Valley, and we had to shoot the scene 17 times. The crew was very patient, and it helped me a lot to have just seen Ray mess up about a dozen takes in the opening shot. The sun was going in and out of the clouds, and it was spitting rain, but I finally did get the shot right, and we all were happy. Then they shot the exact same scene over about a dozen other times from other angles. This would become norm - we would spend a lot of time getting the main scene down just right, then we would do it over and over and over while they shot it from different angles. In the final production, they will use cuts from several different angles, making it look like it was all one take. Oh yea.

We packed up and hiked on over to Hawksbill Crag. The view and the wilderness was about as spectacular as I had ever seen it! It was just amazing, and we had no trouble coming up with something to say and getting the lines right. While we were filming, and I was talking about how I thought HAWKsbill Crag got its name because there were always hawks flying around, there were several hawks flying around doing wonderful things. I don't think they were able to get them in the scene, but they really added an element of beauty to the entire situation.

I had to give a program in Tulsa, so as soon as my scene was finished, I dropped my backpack and ran up the hill to my van, then sped off to town, leaving the crew to galk at the beauty on their own. The show in Tulsa went pretty well, although I was surprised that a large organization such as the Sierra Club could not get more than 50 folks to their meeting in a town as large as Tulsa. They told me that their normal attendance was about 25. Good grief - we normally get 50 folks at our little OHTA meetings in Springdale every month.

It was about 2am when I made it back to the cabin. It would be a very short night. I was one tired puppy.

10/30/98 I needed a full pot of coffee to get me going (and I don't really even drink coffee - mine was spiked a little with Bailey's), and I drove down and met the TRAILSIDE crew in Boxley. We shot and hiked and shot and hiked all morning and all afternoon. Some of it was stupid, some of it was very good. The host, Ray, is not only a talented athlete (five-time champion of the Iron Man Tri-Athlete competition in Hawaii), but he is a darn nice guy, and a pleasure to work with. We got along well, and I hope that is seen on screen. In fact the entire crew was very nice, and that, combined with their obvious talents, made for a very enjoyable experience overall for me.

We shot a scene at a gorgeous pool down on the main Buffalo river just as the sun peeked through the fog, then shot some in the pastures nearby, then climbed up the hill to the "Wave Rock" (this was one of the more stupid scenes), then back down to the river, then up on another hillside for a visit to a giant sinkhole, then over to the Beaver Jim Villines Homestead near the Ponca Bridge.

The highlight of the day for me was when we were trying to get a scene right, and I was having trouble. Then a group of people walked up, and the field producer made them all stand back and be quiet. Oh lord, now I had an audience to watch me screw up. I took a deep breath, a swallow of water, and we nailed the scene. Right after, one of the group asked who I was, and it turned out that they had several of my books, one of them in hand, and I got to do an autograph right there in the woods. I felt like somebody.

Anyway, the day was a very long one, but it ended well with a shoot at the base of Roark Bluff. I drove back to the cabin and spent a couple of hours doing chores, then hit the sack.

10/31/98 I was up early once again, but did get a good night sleep, and drove on down the mountain to Roark Bluff, where I set up "camp" and got a fire going for breakfast. The first shot of the day was of me waking up and crawling out of the tent, while Ray handed me a plate full of pancakes and Canadian bacon. The backdrop of the towering Roark Bluff was very dramatic. Ask me about the pancakes sometime.

Next I took the crew UP on top of Roark Bluff for some shooting. You must realize that most of a production like this one is staged - it just has to be that way. But I wish the cameras could have been rolling when they all stepped out to look at that view for the first time. Now this crew is made up of very talented folks who make their living filming in the most wonderful outdoor scenery in the world. And they were completely blown away by Roark Bluff and the view from up there. Ray lives high up in the Rockies, and even he couldn't believe how gorgeous it was. Hey, it is just Arkansas I told them.

Once we finished the shots at the viewpoint, the director wanted to shoot us walking along the top of the bluff off in the distance, which required us to bushwhack about 1/3 mile to get to a good location. It was just Ray and I and our backpacks - the crew stayed behind. Well, there was no trail, and we were both wearing shorts, and the greenbriers were murder. By the time we reached a clear spot, both of our legs were shredded and bloody. Ray was not too happy with the director. We were talking back and forth as we hiked, bitching and moaning, and communication every now and then with the director via walkie-talkies. What we didn't realize was that both of the mikes that we were wearing were transmitting everything that we said back to the headsets of the director, cameraman and field producer. Oops! Oh well, we were the ones being cut up.

You won't see any blood until the very last scene that has me in it. Ray and I walk over to Twin Falls (the one at Camp Orr), which wasn't running very much, but was the only waterfall that I could think of along the trail that was running at the time. You might be able to see all of the scratches on our legs. The rest of the hiking part of the show was shot before we got all scratched up.

We didn't finish up until late in the afternoon. I bid the crew a fond farewell (they were heading downstream to Tyler Bend to hook up with a canoe guide for the second part of the show), and drove like a madman back to the cabin. My mom's birthday party had begun at about noon, and I had missed most of it. I arrived to a nearly empty cabin - everyone was out hiking!

If I knew ahead of time about all of the BS with the TRAILSIDE shoot, I probably would have never agreed to do it. But after spending several days with the crew, I was not only glad to have been a part of it, but rather proud of some of the work. It was certainly an honor for me to have been asked in the first place, and I hope the show gives viewers around the country a good appreciation for the Ozarks. The program will air sometime this winter, probably in January or February. It will be offered to all of the PBS stations in the country, although many of them do not show TRAILSIDE. If yours does not, you should begin a calling campaign right now to get TRAILSIDE on the air! AETN in Arkansas does carry the snow, thank goodness.

The birthday party went very well, and it was great to see my mom enjoying herself at the cabin, along with all of her kids. My brother Terry and his wife Marsha and my sister Dorcas Cecil and her husband Richard (his mom is Jeanne Cecil who lives in Harrison) all came down from Illinois, along with my niece Sarah and nephew Matt. The Cecils brought a case of fine wine, which we were forced to sample throughout the night (some of it survived and will fill slots in the wine rack if I ever get it put up). There was also a great deal of wonderful food. Scott and Carolyn and Luke and Mary came over from Fayetteville to join in the party. Terry and Marsha and Luke and Mary and Scott and Carolyn were spending the night, but mom and the rest of the crew had to drive back to Fayetteville and Harrison.

It was a long week for me, and so I hit the hay early once again. Oh yea, I guess it was not only Halloween, but also the end of October. What a TERRIFIC month I have had at Cloudland! None finer anywhere. The fall colors turned out to be wonderful, as bright as any I had seen in a while. And while I never got to shoot any pictures, I did get to spend a lot of time out in the woods just standing around enjoying the colors and the great weather (while waiting for the director to tell me to do something). Come to think of it, I can't remember ever being able to just stand around and ENJOY the color without feeling obligated to work and take pictures. Marvelous. Just marvelous!

5.4" rain, high 74, low 39, max wind 40mph

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