Late in the day yesterday I snuck up to Yellow Pine Campground, knowing it would be the last chance in a while to enjoy some peace and quiet at that particular location. The Sturgis Bike Rally has nothing on Yellow Pine while Laramie Daze is underway.
As I was headed up there, I had Rod Stewart in mind. A younger generation, growing up with smart phones and stars such as Miley Cyrus and Kelly Clarkson has no clue. "Wasn't he the one who lost to Justin Timberlake on American Idol?" they say. Or, "I think he's the man on the moon," illustrating perfectly the impact of home schooling on understanding of science in the modern American education system. "Was he the one who invented blonde?"--that at least gets somewhere closer. Occasionally you will run across a professed know-it-all; they don't know either, but they will inform you that Rod Stewart was Leonard Nimoy's understudy on the original Star Trek series, with a feigned self-assurance that eliminates any possibility they could be wrong.
Funny that someone as hugely influential in rock music could now already be so nearly totally forgotten! Those who do remember him perhaps remember him best for his great version of "The First Cut is the Deepest". But I was more in mind of "Every Picture Tells a Story" when I took this picture of "Yellow Pine (before the storm)":
Except that this picture did not tell the story completely. What I took for a desolate, empty Yellow Pine Campground was not, bcause not more than a few minutes later, as I was getting set to head out into the woods to hang controls, someone said hello. I looked up, and it was Jim Hall, this year's first person to arrive and lay claim to a Yellow Pine campsite.
I asked Jim what he was doing up there so early, and in response he turned the question right back at me and asked me what I was doing up there so early.
"I live here, Jim," I said.
"I got tired of all the trees in North Caroline and decided I would go visit the prairie," he said.
I said: "This ain't the prairie, Jim, this is the damn Laramie Range."
He said: "Well I reckon I know it isn't the prairie."
I said: "Well what are doing here, then?"
And he said: "Well by the time I got a good head of steam worked up I had already overshot the prairie and this is where I ended up."
I told him: "Well Laramie Daze is about to start up and seeing that you're already here you might as well stick around for some sorry ass orienteering races."
And he said: "Well alrighty then."
We shook hands and talked for a while until it was nearly too late to put the controls out (it did not help that some clouds got in the way of the setting sun, bringing on an earlier than calculated amount of darkness), but I got them out anyway. Though I will admit that one of the controls was destined for a location that was at best on the nebulous side of the spectrum to begin with. and when I got to what I thought was the right spot, with night settling in, the streamer was missing. All the other streamers had really been more or less unnecessary, but had been in place right as I had left them, while the one streamer that would have really helped was gone. A little bit of Murphy's Law in action. What do you do? I don't know what other folks would do, but I hung the control anyway where I thought it belonged, and if anyone complains about it on Wednesday I will just point out that was the designated "adventure racing" control.
It wasn't long after that that a mountain lion started loping along after me, and it turned into a real footrace, a reminder that you can always move a little faster than you think you can, if circumstances demand it. I got to my truck a few seconds before the mountain lion did, and as I drove off the lion took one last hungry look at me and then strolled off in the direction of Jim's campsite. Yee-haw!
And that's the way it was yesterday.