Now I've tried to figure out what if anything this story could possibly have to do with gardening, but try as I may it just ain't happening....so bare with me fellow gardeners as I tell you a little story about me camping out.....I used to backpack a good bit in the mountains, the Appalachian Trail in the Smokies, North Georgia, North Carolina and Tennessee...but where I loved to hike and camp the most was where I was from.....and where I was from was a small town near Borden Springs, Alabama....Now Borden Springs was famous for the manufacturing of illegal whiskey, moonshine....Not everyone in Borden Springs was involved in moonshining but the folks that were, well they were known for making really good moonshine and lots and lots of it...

Now I had a friend up there that had been known to make a gallon or two in his time.....He was in fact a moonshiner's moonshiner and me and him were good friends....You see I was originally from the city and had only lived around there for a few years so to me moonshiners were like pirates, Jesse James, mountain men, outlaws and adventurers all wrapped into one.....and my moonshiner friend kinda took a liking to me and would let me ask question after question after question about the moonshine trade.....questions about how he first came to make it, questions about making it back before the turn of the century and what he knew about it, questions about the 20's, the 30's, the 40's (when he first started making it), the 50's and 60's and even the 70's I wanted to know everything.....How you made it, how many different ways were there to make it, the materials to make the still with, what kind of ingredients you used to make it, what kinds of whiskey did you make and last but not least, how did you get away with it for all those years without getting caught?....

One day he looked at me and said, "You know what Paul, I like you, you're good boy but don't you go around asking anybody them kinda questions like you ask me cause....well Paul just you don't do it, OK?".....and I smiled cause I could tell he was kinda looking out for me but at the same time I was getting ready to enter the world of moonshining and I was so excited I didn't know what to do......He used to take me in his old Dodge Power Wagon that for those of you who know what that is, you could climb a tree with it....You'd haul sugar pretty close to your still with it but not too close and haul your whiskey out with it....Well he'd take me to all kinds of stills in all kinds of hollows up in the mountains, showing me old stills that had been blown up or abandoned over the years and at every still site he'd tell me all the stories that went with the still, the men who made it, if they got caught and how they got caught and what happened to them after they got caught....He told me all about the relationship between the moonshiners and the law, the local law and the federal law....and how it changed over the years, depending on who was sheriff or how much pressure there was at any given time to slow down the production of moonshine....Told me stories about jealous wives who would turn in their husbands, arguments and jealousies between moonshiners, folks that turned in moonshiners to the law and why....the politics and economy of moonshining......

Now about this time I was supposed to be going to college but I was just there in body and not even that sometimes.....What I was doing was majoring in moonshining.....:) Once folks up there got to know me and knew I wasn't the law or something, well they got to telling me stories too and before I knew it I was Professor Paul from Alabama, with degrees in the distillation of spirits, the camouflaging of the manufacturing process and the transportation and distribution of spirits, with a minor in stud poker playing.......:)

There's no telling how many moonshine stories I've heard over the years...What was that fellow gardener? Did I ever make moonshine myself? Fellow gardener, are you sure you ain't the law?.....:)

Sorry, say again,"Paul from Alabama, I thought you was going to tell us a story about camping out." Thank you fellow gardener for bringing that my attention, you're right I was going to tell you a story about camping out and here it goes.....

Now there was place up in the mountains called the Rock House, lord every mountainous area has them, you know caves or overhanging rocks that folks give name to....Ours was the Rock House...Now to get to the Rock House wasn't easy by any measure, you had to drive up a creek( that's correct fellow gardeners, UP AND IN THE CREEK)...then it wound up this steep mountain and when you finally got near the top on one of the side ridges, there it was, the Rock House.....Well I had this Jeep back then and thats how I got there, that old Jeep could go anywhere and believe me, I took it everywhere.... and I had this dog, now this wasn't just any dog, it was an attack and recall trained Doberman Pinscher I bought from some folks who trained police dogs.....Now this dog, lord it sure nuff felt protective of me, if you tried to get within ten feet of me, this dog would alert and well it sure put a crimp in my social life......:)

So one afternoon I'm watching TV and the weather man says it might be the coldest night on record and even snow, well fellow gardeners I had no choice in the matter, I threw my backpack and gear in the back of the Jeep and me and my attack and recall Doberman Pinscher headed for the Rock House.....Well I drive up the creek real slow cause you ain't driving fast over boulders in a creek fellow gardeners, or you ain't going to do it but once cause your Jeep or whatever will disintegrate, what you do is, ease over each and every boulder till you get up the creek to where the old logging road heads straight up the mountain......Now I get to the Rock House and lay out my sleeping bag on the ground and at the last minute I decide, heck I'll just setup my tent cause its going to snow probably.....I do that and make me a little fire with a pot of coffee going and sit back and start to read me a good book I got till it starts getting dark......

Now in the mountains by yourself in the dark there ain't much to do, you either sleep or sit and be quiet and listen to the night sounds which is usually what I do....but after a while I drifted off....Don't know how long I slept but my dog was laying beside and I reached over and patted his stomach like you would do any dog....And fellow gardeners, that Doberman Pinscher attack and recall dog, trained to take down any man and who was so protective of me, spun around and showed his teeth like I've never seen him do before and growled like I never saw him do before....And this Doberman was in attack mode and his snarling teeth was about two inches from my face, oh and by the way, did I mention that I was zipped up in a mummy sleeping bag, one of them down ones rated at -20 degrees....Oh sorry I left that part out.....:)

So to sum up, I'm zipped up in a mummy sleeping bag, in a tent, with an attack trained Doberman who has turned on me with bared teeth two inches from my face growling in attack mode and I'm on top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere on the coldest night in Alabama history...Got that fellow gardeners?....Good......:)

Now I slowly and I mean slowly get my hands out of the bag...and put one of them in the dogs mouth, not in it really but try to move his mouth away from my face while talking as nicely and calmly to the dog as I can, I don't know why the dog is acting like that but I figure this isn't the time to talk to the dog about any anger issues he has with me and why.....:) Well the dog could have torn my throat out in a split second and I know it......but it doesn't but something is mighty wrong with it.....I get my hand on my flashlight beside me and turn it on, now the dog is still growling but has moved back......and I see blood on all in the tent floor where the dog was laying....I got a pistol under my pillow I keep for snakes but I can't reach it the way I'm laying but I don't want to shoot the dog if I don't absolutely have to and if I do, well think about taking a shot at a dog close up in a tent with you in a sleeping bag zipped up, on top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere on the coldest night in Alabama history......I thought I might try other options.....:)

I slowly slid out of the end of the bag and out of the tent, I can still hear my dog growling in attack mode but he doesn't follow me out of the tent nor does he attack.....Now fellow gardeners, did I mention this night was going to be the coldest night in Alabama history?....I did?...Good, cause then you understand why all I had on was my long creme colored long johns ( for you people from Brooklyn or the Bronx, that's long underwear).....My keys are in the Jeep thank goodness but all my other stuff is in the tent, my pants, jacket, shirt, wallet, pistol and my boggin(that's a hat for you folks from L.A.) .... But  I got a shotgun I keep in the Jeep for gorillas....:) OK, just kidding, I had a shotgun in the Jeep for whatever reason but I'm sure it was good reason regardless.....Well what to do?....I see no future in staying up there with a attack and recall trained Doberman Pinscher that seems to be in a terrible mood....so I get in the Jeep and at what I know now to be about 1 a. m. and I drive off the mountain wearing only my long johns, a pair of boot socks on my feet and big smile on my face cause I'm having such a wonderful time so far camping out.......:)

I drive down the mountain in the middle of the night, back down the creek I came up just a few hours  ago it seems and it seems that way cause it was just a few hours ago.....:)....Well I finally get to the paved road....and think, you know what, I'll go to my moonshiner friend's house and he'll help me.....at least I can get out of this cold.....Oh fellow gardeners, one thing more before I forget it, did I mention that I never, and I mean never had a top on my Jeep?...Oh no, I was a real mountain man, no top on my Jeep driving down the road on the coldest night of the year in Alabama history with only my creme colored long johns on and a pair boots socks.....No no warm protective top for Paul from Alabama.........:)

Well I get about a mile or two down the paved road the engine starts to stall, stall like I'm running outta gas, but I got gas, or I think I do....Well whatever the Jeep comes to a halt, I steer it over to the side off the road..... Fellow gardeners may I sum up again?...."Paul from Alabama, you can do anything you want. Lord have mercy you're in such a pickle we don't even care that you started telling this story to us on Wednesday and now its nearly Thursday"....That's what I like about my fellow gardeners, always a sympathetic ear......:)

So here I am, walking down the road at 1:30 or so in the morning with only my long johns on, a pair of boot socks on my feet, a shotgun in one hand and with the other hand I'm trying to keep my long johns from falling down around my ankles and Lord have mercy fellow gardeners its the coldest night in Alabama history....:)

Well FINALLY I get to the little dirt road that leads to my friend's house, well lets give my friend a name, lets call him Morris, so I'm walking up to Morris's house at 1:30 in the morning, with only my long johns and a pair of boot socks on and a shot gun in my hand......Got it fellow gardeners?....."Lord have mercy Paul from Alabama, what happened?" Well I'm telling you, I'm telling you....So all of a sudden every dog Morris has alerts.....dogs come out from places I didn't even know Morris's place had....Now the dogs are pretty smart, Morris's dogs are....They run right up to me but  then they know who I am and stop growling and barking and now they're just barking and yelping as I try to pet as many as I can with a shotgun in one hand and trying to keep my pants up with the other....:)

All of sudden all the lights go on in Morris's house, the front porch light comes on and I see Morris come out with both hands holding a shotgun pointed right at me......I guess his pants were staying up better than mine were.....:) Morris yells, "Who is it out there, you better let me know or you better get out of here or I'll shoot".....I yell as loud as I can, "It's me Morris, Paul from Alabama, don't shoot".....OK I was just using creative license then, a writers flourish, I was simply Paul back then.....OK again, "It's me Morris, Paul, don't shoot"....."Paul!!!, what in the world are you doing out there?...And where's your clothes?.....And Paul don't ever walk into a man's yard at this time of night with a gun sticking up in the air"....."Sorry Morris I had to use one hand to keep my pants from falling down and when they do I reach for them the shot gun goes up in the air".....And all of sudden I hear Morris laugh like I never heard old Morris laugh in his whole life..... By that time me and Morris are right in front of each other and he says,"What in God's name happened to you Paul?" I look him right the straight in the eye and say calmly as can be, as if I was inside Morris’ house at the kitchen table drinking Morris' strong coffee, watching him chain smoke his Camel cigarettes and listening to his moonshine stories, I said,"Why Morris I went camping"!!!

Paul from Alabama

Addendum: My old moonshiner friend has gone where all of us are going one of these days, but I'd like to think of him some place now, making moonshine, drinking his strong coffee, chain smoking his Camel cigarettes, telling his moonshine stories with that big old beautiful smile on his face.....He was such a good man and he was such a good friend to me, I miss and think of him everyday.

Paul