Cravings of an ex-canyoner

I'm not a pothead, but I really wouldn't mind the smell at this moment wafting from the next seat over. I need the campfire sending out sparks in the canyon, my legs tucked under me as I listen to the guitar, and a sky spread out over all the earth. Nothing exists but enjoying the moment, tired arms from the river, a full belly, and my negative 20 degree sleeping bag. What's important right now? I don't care about money, about a clean bed, or even nice clothes. I crave the feeling of peace that settles over a tired body from an adventure well-lived. I am disappointed right now in mankind, about some current stresses, but what would hurt even more is if mankind was disappointed in me. Now please pass some campfire and let me live and live to the fullest.

Ham girl - KF7MOY

I called my brother as I drove. I could see swirls of yellow in my rearview mirror being kicked up and fluttering madly. It felt like my stomach.

“If you never hear from me again, I was on my way to take my test in Milford. Look on the ARRL website for the contact.”

I was following a big black truck. “The biggest truck you’ve ever seen,” the man on the phone had told me, and he was correct. We wound through small leaf-strewn roads and turned off onto an even more deserted one. The test site had been changed. How convenient for them that I was small and my body easy to dispose of. The gravel road seemed never ending.

“Here it is. My last day on earth.”

We drove past abandoned warehouses, and I wondered if I should make another phone call. Jesse was kind of sick, and perhaps he wouldn’t remember my last call. Who was the man in the big black truck? What kind of gun was he carrying? Finally the road curved at the top of the hill, and I saw the towers. My whole body sighed in relief.

His door opened, and a small gray head popped out. Veteran Ham operator.

Four more veterans, one with a limp, and one with a cane greeted me as I walked in the small shack. Their local Ham club was filled with the hums of radio and distant clicks of CW transmission or Morse code. (I learned later that the site used to be NIKE missile site thus the scary seclusive feeling.)

Pencil down and test complete. They seemed a little amazed that I even wanted to take the test much less finish/pass it, but all congratulated me with big smiles and pats on the back as I walked back out of the shack. And I walked out very much alive I must add. ;-) Thanks KB1CBD!