I’ve got to tell you about Walzie’s old Marine Corps buddy, Bumper. He is a Bellwood boy by birth, but relocated to Denver, Colorado. Bumper has been a Rocky Mountain man for the past twenty-some years, but he comes home to visit his mom (who still lives in Bellwood) every couple of years.
Last week, we picked him up at the University Park airport and delivered him to his mom for a two-week visit. On the way to Bellwood, the two former-Marines reminisced while I listened intently. I highlighted the following story on my mental notepad.
In the early seventies, recently returned from Vietnam, Bumper bought himself a boat. He invited Walzie to join him and his girlfriend, Donna, for a weekend of fishing and camping at Lake Raystown. They loaded Bumper’s ’65 Chevy pickup with the camping supplies, hitched the boat trailer to it, and off the three of them went.
When they reached Snyder’s Run boat launch, Bumper backed the truck and trailer near the dock at the water’s edge. Walzie began to unload the camping supplies, Bumper climbed onto the hitch to wench the boat off the trailer, while Donna was to back the trailer into the water. Suddenly, Bumper felt the truck lurch. Then very smoothly it began to sink further into the water.
“Hit the brakes,” shouted Bumper.
“I am,” cried Donna. “They’re gone. I can’t stop it.”
Donna jumped into the chest-high water and wadded to safety. Bumper swam to the dock where Walzie pulled him out, and the three helplessly watch the rigging submerge: truck, boat, and trailer – 120 feet into Lake Raystown.
It was early in the season, and late in the evening, so there was no one else around. Walzie suggested that they set up the tent and camp out until the ranger showed up in the morning. I’m sure that many of you know that Lake Raystown has designated campgrounds. One cannot just “set up camp” wherever they choose. But these three adventurers didn’t have much choice. They put up the tent, built a campfire, and Bumper and Donna stripped to their underwear while their clothes dried. Walzie spread his sleeping bag near the fire and offered for Bump and Donna to sleep in the tent.
“Oh no, you don’t,” angrily insisted Donna. “No one sleeps with me! Especially after you tried to drown me. You’re outside, too. Mr. Bumper!” And she tossed Bump’s sleeping bag on the ground.
So the night deepened with Bumper on one side of the diminishing campfire, Walzie snuggled into his sleeping bag on the other side, with Little Miss Angry exploring dreamland in the tent.
Walzie noticed that Bumper seemed restless.
“Hey, Bump,” He whispered. “You okay?”
“Aw, there are rocks and vines or something under my bed. I gotta clean them out.”
Bumper pulled and tossed stuff from under his sleeping bag. He didn’t have a pocketknife, so he chewed the vines loose, and tossed them into the bushes. Finally, he was able to get comfortable and they drifted off into dreamless sleep.
Walzie wakened at dawn. The fire was only glowing coals now, and an eerie fog had rolled in like stormclouds over the water. He reached across the coals with a stick and poked Bumper. Bump pulled his cocoon over his head and groaned. Walzie poked him again. Finally, Bumper sat up.
“Bump, what the h……,” Walzie shouted.
Bumper’s head looked like a pumpkin. He tried to speak, but only visceral groans escaped from his throat.
Donna emerged sleepily from the tent. She took one look at Bumper and screamed.
At a distance, they saw headlights approaching. I’m sure that when Walzie’s frightened face suddenly appeared out of the fog, the ranger wished he had brought along a change of underwear. He listened to Walzie’s incessant ranting and then radioed for help.
Walzie packed up the campsite while waiting for the ambulance, a tow truck, and scuba divers. While rolling up Bumper’s sleeping bag, Walzie discovered that Bump had spent the night shacked up with poison ivy.
The ranger apologized as he wrote out the ticket for unauthorized camping. Bumper spent several days in the VA hospital covered inside and out with poison ivy. Scuba divers recovered his sunken belongings and handed him a bill for $1,200. Donna disappeared from his life, which was probably the only blessing that came out of this adventure.
Later, Bumper got his truck fixed and headed across country. It broke down somewhere this side of Cincinnati, so Bumper hitch-hiked the rest of the way to Colorado where he still lives to this day.
Several years ago, Walzie and I went out to visit him. We drove up into Yellowstone Park. Bumper brought his tent. It was early May and 28 degrees. Die hard that he is, Bumper slept in his tent. Knowing Bumper’s camping history and the fact that we were in Grizzly territory – Walzie and I spent the night snuggled in front of a roaring fireplace in Yellowstone Lodge.
Despite many misadventures, these two former-Marines have remained friends for three decades and no doubt, will be buddies forever (or until one of them gets eaten by a bear).
To contact Suzi, email her at suziwalls@aol.com.
