It’s not too often that you get thunder and lightning around these parts but, good grief Charlie Brown, last weekend’s thunder and lightning storm, along with hail, was what I like to call, “gnarly.” Reminds me of growing up in the OC back in the 60s, when we had frequent summertime thunderstorms that I would watch behind the safety of the picture window in the den.
On one such occasion in 1959, while hiking the South Fork Trail to the summit of Mt. San Gorgonio with my fellow campers at Mill Creek Boys Ranch, we encountered thunder, lightning and hail, and our camp counsellor made us turn around and head back down to Poopout Hill, where the camp van was waiting for us.
Noting that history often repeats itself, back in the summer of ‘71, while hiking with two of my fraternity brothers, pretty much the same thing happened while ascending Mt. Whitney. By the time we reached the 14,000-foot summit, it began thundering and hailing, with lightning striking all around us.
Fortunately, there was a rock and cement hut with a corrugated metal roof at the summit that was placed there in 1909 by the Smithsonian Institution. Pooped out, we stumbled into the smokey hut only to discover a dozen or so hippies who were passing a pipe around (reminiscent of a John Denver song). Well, we stayed a while and then stumbled on out and headed back down to the town of Lone Pine. You might say we were thunderstruck.
Sound of the drums beating in my heart, the thunder of drums tore me apart. You’ve been Thunderstruck. Rode down the highway, broke the limit, we hit the town… and we had some fun. We met some girls, some dancers who gave us a good time, broke all the rules, played all the fools, Yeah, yeah, they blew our minds. (“Thunderstruck” – AC/DC – 1990)
Keep it flyin’,
Uncle Mott
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