Wild Animals at the Pinnacles (Names and places have not been changed so as to not protect the guilty)
One of my earliest boy-scouting memories is of when we went camping with Brother Caldwell up on his land in the pinnacles. We had had a great evening of scouting capped off by the typical campfire activities of telling gruesome stories of dead miners or wild animals attacking scout troupes, and of devouring strange campfire snacks (I still prefer grape soda hot over cold, as Ronnie Davies had taught us that night to put the 6 oz mini-cans that were popular then, in the campfire until they reached the appropriate temperature, and how to carefully avoid lip-burns while drinking them).
I was sharing a small two "man" pup-tent with Chris Kielbasa and Ronnie Davies and we had settled in for the night. We had been in our sleeping bags for a while as the sugar high from the soda and S’mores had begun to wear off. In fact we had started to wind down enough that the quiet of the outside woodland sounds were now consuming ours and we were all starting to fall asleep when suddenly out of the stillness shot screams of life-threatening proportions. The screams, with the simultaneous spasms of our small structure nearly collapsing from arms and legs thrashing wildly, brought my adrenaline level higher than the pine trees that surrounded us. Ronnie, who had his sleeping bag in the middle of the tent, was fighting for his life and my instincts and fear kicked in and I joined in the screaming and panic.
After a time I realized that, for some reason, my limbs were still attached and nothing was chewing on any part of me. This led me to stop screaming and calm down enough to realize that Ronnie's screams, which had not let up, had gotten clear enough to form the word "SNAKE" which word was now being screamed again and again. I then realized that there were also noises coming from the other side of the tent. These sounds however, decidedly lacked the terror of those that Ronnie and I were producing. Yes, Chris was wildly thrashing about in his sleeping bag, but with fits of laughter instead of terror.
By this time one of us had found a flashlight, gotten it turned on, and was finally able to hold it still enough to see a small garden snake perfectly coiled (although somewhat rattled (sorry)) next to Ronnie's pillow.
Let me just say here, how scary it is to see that much mis-directed adrenaline be so quickly re-directed as rage toward the appropriate target (especially from the frame of a small boy). From this point, although I separate events into individual memories, let me be perfectly clear that it all happened at once.
Chris's sense of personal safety suddenly shifted, and trying to clarify between gasps of air and still-compulsive bursts of laughter, repeated the words "It's fake! It's fake!" Ronnie's resolve was un-altered as he reached down to grab the snake and do, heaven only-knows-what, to it and to Chris.
The flashlight was knocked out of hands and around floor of the tent and became a combination between a roaming follow-spot and a strobe light to the ensuing action. Ronnie's screaming returned louder than ever followed immediately by mine, and this time Chris's too. The thrashing of limbs really did damage the structural integrity of the tent this time as the three of us scrambled for different reasons, and by differing means to protect our own lives. Soon, words were again formed by Ronnie as he repeated "It bit me! It bit me! I screamed louder and had finally gotten out of my sleeping bag and was half-standing against the side and roof of the tent. Chris was sounding completely confused and still scared for his life as someone finally re-steadied the light back on the snake. It was now obvious that the snake was made of rubber as it was now severed and lying in two separate places in the pile of conjoined sleeping gear.
Ronnie was still anxiously and barely-coherently repeating that the snake had bitten him as he was sucking on his wounded fingers. I was looking around to find the second "live" snake that had wreaked so much havoc on an otherwise happy camping experience. Questioning voices had now joined the sounds outside the tent as the chaos volume in the tent was slowly subsided.
Chris had by now realized what had happened and had returned to laughter (somewhat muffled however, as he cautiously scanned Ronnie's face to check the status of his own safety). It turns out, there was only one snake and it had not been ripped apart as a result of this night’s wild attack. It had, in fact, been separated into two pieces by Chris's younger brother some time before. Still wanting the snake to join him in his devious plans for this particular adventure, Chris had merely pinned the two pieces together.
Chris was lucky that Ronnie was all-in-all a calm boy and did not seek immediate physical retaliation. Ronnie was unlucky, not only unlucky enough to get the sleeping spot next to Chris, but had also inadvertently grabbed the snake in just the right spot as to impale himself on the pin that created the snake’s splice. I was lucky enough to have been there to experience such a great childhood memory to add to all the other memories of great childhood moments spent with friends.
Zene Malinski (Malinski) (1976)
You where my little buddy. I will always remember your fun loving and free spirit.Stuart Lewis (1984)
Wild Animals at the Pinnacles(Names and places have not been changed so as to not protect the guilty)
One of my earliest boy-scouting memories is of when we went camping with Brother Caldwell up on his land in the pinnacles. We had had a great evening of scouting capped off by the typical campfire activities of telling gruesome stories of dead miners or wild animals attacking scout troupes, and of devouring strange campfire snacks (I still prefer grape soda hot over cold, as Ronnie Davies had taught us that night to put the 6 oz mini-cans that were popular then, in the campfire until they reached the appropriate temperature, and how to carefully avoid lip-burns while drinking them).
I was sharing a small two "man" pup-tent with Chris Kielbasa and Ronnie Davies and we had settled in for the night. We had been in our sleeping bags for a while as the sugar high from the soda and S’mores had begun to wear off. In fact we had started to wind down enough that the quiet of the outside woodland sounds were now consuming ours and we were all starting to fall asleep when suddenly out of the stillness shot screams of life-threatening proportions. The screams, with the simultaneous spasms of our small structure nearly collapsing from arms and legs thrashing wildly, brought my adrenaline level higher than the pine trees that surrounded us. Ronnie, who had his sleeping bag in the middle of the tent, was fighting for his life and my instincts and fear kicked in and I joined in the screaming and panic.
After a time I realized that, for some reason, my limbs were still attached and nothing was chewing on any part of me. This led me to stop screaming and calm down enough to realize that Ronnie's screams, which had not let up, had gotten clear enough to form the word "SNAKE" which word was now being screamed again and again. I then realized that there were also noises coming from the other side of the tent. These sounds however, decidedly lacked the terror of those that Ronnie and I were producing. Yes, Chris was wildly thrashing about in his sleeping bag, but with fits of laughter instead of terror.
By this time one of us had found a flashlight, gotten it turned on, and was finally able to hold it still enough to see a small garden snake perfectly coiled (although somewhat rattled (sorry)) next to Ronnie's pillow.
Let me just say here, how scary it is to see that much mis-directed adrenaline be so quickly re-directed as rage toward the appropriate target (especially from the frame of a small boy). From this point, although I separate events into individual memories, let me be perfectly clear that it all happened at once.
Chris's sense of personal safety suddenly shifted, and trying to clarify between gasps of air and still-compulsive bursts of laughter, repeated the words "It's fake! It's fake!" Ronnie's resolve was un-altered as he reached down to grab the snake and do, heaven only-knows-what, to it and to Chris.
The flashlight was knocked out of hands and around floor of the tent and became a combination between a roaming follow-spot and a strobe light to the ensuing action. Ronnie's screaming returned louder than ever followed immediately by mine, and this time Chris's too. The thrashing of limbs really did damage the structural integrity of the tent this time as the three of us scrambled for different reasons, and by differing means to protect our own lives. Soon, words were again formed by Ronnie as he repeated "It bit me! It bit me! I screamed louder and had finally gotten out of my sleeping bag and was half-standing against the side and roof of the tent. Chris was sounding completely confused and still scared for his life as someone finally re-steadied the light back on the snake. It was now obvious that the snake was made of rubber as it was now severed and lying in two separate places in the pile of conjoined sleeping gear.
Ronnie was still anxiously and barely-coherently repeating that the snake had bitten him as he was sucking on his wounded fingers. I was looking around to find the second "live" snake that had wreaked so much havoc on an otherwise happy camping experience. Questioning voices had now joined the sounds outside the tent as the chaos volume in the tent was slowly subsided.
Chris had by now realized what had happened and had returned to laughter (somewhat muffled however, as he cautiously scanned Ronnie's face to check the status of his own safety). It turns out, there was only one snake and it had not been ripped apart as a result of this night’s wild attack. It had, in fact, been separated into two pieces by Chris's younger brother some time before. Still wanting the snake to join him in his devious plans for this particular adventure, Chris had merely pinned the two pieces together.
Chris was lucky that Ronnie was all-in-all a calm boy and did not seek immediate physical retaliation. Ronnie was unlucky, not only unlucky enough to get the sleeping spot next to Chris, but had also inadvertently grabbed the snake in just the right spot as to impale himself on the pin that created the snake’s splice. I was lucky enough to have been there to experience such a great childhood memory to add to all the other memories of great childhood moments spent with friends.
We love, and miss you Chris!