Escape from Mount Beckley

   Escape From Mount Beckley

Suzanne Marsh

Years come and go; it had been years since I had been to the small cabin I inherited from my

Grandmother Ida. She was quite the old gal; she loved to hunt and fish. She purchased the cabin in West Virginia after Grandfather Will passed on. He detested the great outdoors, and she loved it. I packed my backpack and headed toward Beckley, West Virginia in hopes of communing with nature. I was also attempting to write my first novel; that wasn’t going very well. I thought maybe a quiet time alone in the mountains would cure the problem. It created a larger one.

I arrived at the cabin to find that it had no Wi-Fi, no electricity and no running water. What had Grandmother Ida been thinking? I needed those things to write that long overdue novel, the only good thing was that I had brought my laptop, although I had no clue how I was going to charge it. The checkered curtains were still on the windows, and the tablecloth that matched it. I climbed up into the loft, which would be where I was going to sleep. I wondered around up there wondering where the bed was. I had not brought a sleeping bag. No matter, I would find something I could use to bed down with. I still wondered why Grandmother Ida had left me the cabin; I was not her favorite by any means. I strode out onto the back porch; a rickety affair at best; there stood an antique washing machine. The huge white tub with agitator and a thing of some sort that wrung out the clothes. I had no idea how it worked and was not about to discover how. There had to a laundry mat somewhere close by, after all this is 2022.

October in the mountains of West Virigina is absolutely beautiful, with the reds, yellows, oranges and browns. The air was crisp and wonderful. I sat on the back porch watching the sunset when it occurred to me that it was colder than it had been earlier in the day. I went into the cabin only to discover there was no wood for the stove. I am a middle-aged writer, with a paunch and had no desire to chop wood. The cold won out; I quickly went outside with an axe I found that no doubt was Grandmother Ida’s. I could not picture this elderly woman swinging that axe. I also knew that if I was going to stay here to write I was going to have to chop wood. I found a smaller tree and chopped it down. It was getting darker by the moment. I doubled my efforts and produced two blistered hands and ten pieces of wood that would fit in the stove. Patting myself on the back should have waited. I needed paper to start the logs. I had extra printer paper that had planned to use; however, warmth outweighed printing. I finally got a fire going in the stove; I checked the date on the stove 1919. That made the thing over one hundred years old!

I made myself a bed from some old quilts I found in the corner of the loft. I dozed off listening to the sounds of coyotes howling. I was awakened by a pair of hands trying to remove the top quilt. I sat up, coming face to face with a rather indignant raccoon. I chased him out the window. Thinking I would return to the sweet land of slumber. That was my first large mistake; taking for granted that the raccoon was the only nocturnal visitor; until I came face to face with a skunk who thought he had squatters' rights to the loft. I was communing with nature all right; just not the way I pictured Walden. I thought the skunk would leave if I shood it out the window. Skunks are not overly cooperative animals; it refused to leave. I lunged for it; it sprayed me. I thought I was going to choke to death from the odor. I climbed down the ladder from the loft, now everything smelled like skunk, me included. I opened the window downstairs in hopes that the odor would leave.

I grabbed my laptop, hoping there was enough battery for a visit to the web; I keyed in:

How to get rid of skunk odor: this is what I found.

four cups of hydrogen peroxide

¼ cup of baking soda

1 tablespoon of liquid soap

Grandmother Ida always kept a good medicinal cabinet for injuries and small problems; I hoped I would find hydrogen peroxide in there. I began to scan the contents of the cabinet. I found the peroxide and baking soda. Now came the difficult part finding liquid soap. I hoped there were a few drops of dish or laundry detergent around here somewhere: three in the morning is no time to find any stores open in the area of Beckly Mountain. Otherwise, this was going to be a long smelly night. I pulled aside the checkered curtain that covered the bottom of the sink; sure, enough there was a bottle of “Dawn”, it looked like it was more than twenty-five years old; if it helped me get rid of the skunk odor I did not care. I found an old rag and began to apply the mixture to myself. Slowly but surely, I began to smell better; now all I had to do was pack up and leave in two days. I was out of there; that is all that there was to it. Grandmother Ida could keep her cabin!

The following morning was cool and crisp; I love walking on crisp leaves with the fragrance of leaves crunching under my feet. I knew there were about fifty acres, it would be a good hike. I remembered a small babbling brook which I thought would be a great objective. It would have been if I had not encountered big black bear. I had no idea I could climb a tree that quickly! I must have been treed for several hours but it finally left. Whew! That was a real close encounter with nature. However, communing with nature was made even more difficult when I noticed where I was standing after the bear left: in a patch of poison ivy. I could feel my skin begin to itch. I decided I had communed with nature more than enough; I hiked back to the cabin. Returning to the medicinal cabinet and found some pink soothing lotion.

The following morning, before daybreak I grabbed my backpack, closed up the cabin and

escaped from Beckley Mountain!