Dolly Sods
West Virginia
1996
As I was making my way up the trail a few days after a storm, I came upon a downed tree. A tall, muscularly chiseled lumberjack type of guy was chopping through the log which was blocking the trail. He was using an ax, his shirt was off and he had a red bandana loosely tied around his neck. He reminded me of a cowboy hero.
“Looks like it will take some time,” I commented. “Why not a chainsaw?”
“Nope,” he says, as he stops momentarily to wipe his Hulk-like brow and to chat.
“This is designated wilderness and no powered machines are permitted on the wilderness. Gotta do it by hand.”
I saw no need for any further explanation when a young woman — I’m guessing his cowgirl girlfriend — came up and sat on a nearby stump in her Daisy Duke shorts, watching his rippling muscles admiringly.
Where can I get me an ax?