Milo and the Parapackers

eArThworm — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 21:57:28 +0000

Posts by David S. Severance

on the AT-L listserve

mostly on the topic of “Milo and the Parapackers”

* Subject: [at-l] Fear And Loathing on the AT
* From: DSS
* Date: Fri, 10 Jan 1997 20:50:28 -0600 (CST)

How to make friends and influence people on the AT:
(Appendix A in “Fear and Loathing on the AT”)

1. Sew an NRA (National Rifle Association, for you less wordly)
patch on your pack and immediately become a friend of the redneck guy at the
local Erwin, TN Deliverance Drive Thru while at the same time sending the
message in all your Robert Deniro-like glory, ” Are you lookin at me , I
said are you lookin at me “

2. Remember to TCG your pack. A strategically placed Token
Camouflage Gear tied to the outside of your pack will give you that certain
Soldier of Fortune look. Now you will no longer throw out those Cabela’s
catalogs we all get in the mail but will feverishly skim the pages looking
for that new camo brief to strap to the old Tioga before your next overnight
in Northern Georgia.

3. Remember whenever you walk into any local store .5 miles to
either the East or West of the road crossing within 300 miles North or South
of Elk Park, NC to walk right up to the counter and say, ” ’scuse me maam,
I’ll take 4 of them there Skoal bandits if you please.” followed by, ” I
don’t see this month’s issue of Inside the Barnyard, has it come in yet?”
Then go about your normal routine of checking the ice cream cooler, getting
the last few boxes of Kraft Mac -n- Cheese and that Jumbo snickers bar you
thought about for the last 6 miles.

4. Always greet any local that approaches you while you sit alone
at any road crossing trying to figure out how long it will take you to get
to a town to pig out before it gets dark as follows:

South of Keys Gap, W. VA ” Hey what about them Carolina Panthers/”

North of Keys Gap to Delaware Water Gap ” Too bad bout them
Steelers man,”

North of Delaware Water Gap ” What about them New England Patriots -
can you believe it.”

The Bamaman AT ‘81

———-

* Subject: [at-l] Fear and Loathing
* From: DSS
* Date: Sat, 11 Jan 1997 07:44:11 -0600 (CST)

The Bamaman replies:
Some of you guys need to lighten up - obviously I was not serious.
In the future I guess I will have to be more politically correct and not
include any place names. However, it wasn’t that long ago that they hanged
an elephant in Erwin, TN now was it?
It seems to me that with all the threads on guns, the military and
murders on the AT a little humor was in order. Next time I’ll mention those
good ole boys in Maine.

Sincerely,

David S. Severance
from beautiful downtown Kezar Falls, Maine

¬¬¬¬———-

* Subject: [at-l] Bamaman and the Law
* From: DSS
* Date: Sat, 11 Jan 1997 16:34:47 -0600 (CST)

To Felix et al,

Hey did I get all upset when you guys started bashing lawyers? Why
no ! (Please note the kezarlaw.com - my version of LA law in Maine)

What about getting rid of all those redneck, NRA card carrying,
Skoal chewing lawyers who frequent the AT anyways.

David S. Severance, Esq.
sevy@kezarlaw.com
The Bamaman AT ‘81

¬¬¬¬———-

The Bamaman AT ‘81

* Subject: [at-l] Origin of Bamaman
* From: DSS
* Date: Sat, 11 Jan 1997 17:54:00 -0600 (CST)

Felix asks, Why ” Bamaman” ?

The Bamaman responds:

It was sometime in April, somewhere in North Carolina and somewhat
after consuming my sixth Bama Pecan Pie that Julian “Old Man” Westhal my
hiking buddy from England turned to me and said, ” Aye Chief I think we
should call you the Bamaman !”

The almighty Bama Pecan Pie that delectable, edible 3 inch pie in
the nifty little tin pie plate and cellophane wrapper. I’m not sure they
even make them anymore but boy were they good and cheap too.

I remember the time we stopped at the budget motorcourt in
Waynesboro, Virginia and were told that a couple of thruhikers from Maine,
Rosebud and Schroth were in the room next to ours. Well after we checked
out our room I went to the wall and banged on the wall, ” Hey it’s me the
Bamaman ! ” “The Bamaman’s Here!”

After about the fourth time we heard the door next door open and
some footsteps coming to our door, a knock and then we both said “come on in
! ” In came these two gigantic guyswho didn’t look anything like Rosebud
and Schroth and who had their names sewn on their shirts shouted ” Who the
hell is the Bamaman ? ” I of course immediately turned to Old Man westall
and said “He’s the Bamaman, he’s the Bamaman.”

Julian started to speak and next thing I knew was outside the door
laughing with the good old boys. I later found out that he told them that I
was a little Daff in the head and that he sometimes couldn’t control my
actions.

So remember this story when you read any posts from the Bamaman AT ‘81

———-

* Subject: [at-l] Ode To A Pennsylvanian Rock
* From: DSS
* Date: Tue, 21 Jan 1997 21:31:17 -0600 (CST)

Excerpt From Chapter 7 “Fear and Loathing on the Appalachian Trail”:

Poems I have written while in a bivysack, in a rainstorm, with a
flashlight.

Ode To A Pennsylvanian Rock

Glacial erratics, stationary statics, Sons of
Boulders are thee !
I think we shall ship you,
** Watch Out - They Will Trip You **
Back to Bedrock it will be.
Won’t Fred and Wilma, Barney and Betty
and all the family, be jumping for joy,
“Look Ma the toys!”
And we will be rid of thee

The Bamaman

Comments:

1. I am not sure we can accept these for shipment - UPS Driver

2. I believe we may have a copyright infringement action
here. I.B. Sueinyou, Counsel, Hanna Barbara Inc.

3. Yes, I do believe The Bamaman was in a Marmot Bivy Sack
when this poem was composed however, we accept no responsibility for his
mental state and deny using any harmful seam sealer on this item. John R.
Marmot. CEO Marmot Mountainworks

David S. Severance
sevy@kezarlaw.com

———-

* Subject: [at-l] Bamaman’s 3 New Products For ‘97
* From: DSS
* Date: Mon, 27 Jan 1997 19:57:08 -0600 (CST)

> New For ‘97 ************
>
> 3. The MSR model Gu/K. The newest addition to the MSR line of
backpacking stoves. The MSR Gu/K/45 will burn white gas, kereosene, leaded
and unleaded auto gas, all flavors of Gu and yes with the special adaptor,
any brand of beer that sells for less than $2.65 a six pack. Best
performance has been obtained by using Colt 45, 16 oz cans. Optional Sigg
‘45 commemorative 16 oz fuel container rebate offer - See details in Colt 45
store display. MSR continues its goal of developing a stove that will burn
water.
>
> 2. The Vasque Complainer. The newest addition to Vasque’ s long
line of hiking boots. Especially geared to the long distance hiker and
particularly those frequenting the Appalachian Trail. Each purchaser will
receive a prepaid phone card with the Vasque logo embossed to dial into our
nationwide customer service center ( or *AT for those cell phone packin
people) Once connected to the center, you will be courteously instructed
where to send your VC’s in for repair and how much the repair will cost you.
Vasque’s courteous hiker oriented technical representatives will
professionally answer all of your complaints.
>
> 1. Alpentech Mini Mic A revolutionary new product. An 8.9 oz
single portion microwave oven unit designed to run off of your cellular
phone battery. Designed to heat approximately 15 single portion Bamaman
Mini-Mic Entree meals on a fully charged battery.
>
> Look for Bamaman Mini-Mic recharge units anywhere mini-mic entrees
are sold.
>
> Coming soon thanks to a joint effort of the NPS, ATC and Bamaman
Enterprises ltd a recharge unit at all AT lean-to’s where weary hikers can
recharge there cell phone/mini-mic batteries using their Bamacard. Plans
are also being made with Trailplace .com to provide convenient internet
access at all trail shelters.
>
>The Bamaman AT ‘81
>Be sure to look for the upcoming “The Bama Way of Knowledge” by Carlos
Bamameda or ” Things you can do with your Bama Pecan Pie Tin”
>
David S. Severance
sevy@kezarlaw.com

———-

* Subject: [at-l] For Bob From The Bamaman
* From: DSS
* Date: Thu, 30 Jan 1997 20:57:06 -0600 (CST)

Since Bob aka deer@epix.net is such a devoted follower of Bamism:

Washington, D.C. January 30, 1997

JANET RENO ISSUES HIKER REGULATIONS

Attorney General Janet Reno uncharacteristically outfitted in
Patagonia’s Spring ‘97 line of khaki climbing wear specially designed for
the big and tall woman (special thanks to Murray Schwartz of Murray’s Big
and Tall Shop conveniently located on the second floor of Marcel’s New-2-U
House of Medical Supplies on 53rd Massachusetts Avenue NW) today announced
that effective April 1, 1997 the following Federal Hiking Regulations will
go into effect:

CFR 1467.12 subparagraph 12 b (2) reads in pertinent part:

A) Solicitation of Rednecks

It shall be prohibited for any hiker to knowingly, recklessly or
negligently solicit for a ride or otherwise any person known to be a
redneck, believed to be a redneck or who is otherwise believed to frequent
redneck establishments including but not limited to any eating establishment
ending in the words “bar-b-que” or anyone who shall possess any prepackaged
food items bearing the label, or facsimile thereof, with the words
“hungryman entree’s” or anyone possessing any combination of beans, bar and
chain oil, keystone ten packs, and the current month’s issue of “Inside the
Barnyard.”

B) Possession of Redneck Paraphenalia

It shall be prohibited for any hiker to knowingly, intentionally or
recklessly possess any of the following items:

1) Any wallet attached to a chain together with any model “buck”
knife with a blade of 6 inches or greater in any simulated leather-look
sheath attached to any belt with a buckle greater than 6 inches in diameter
or any buckle with a confederate flag.

2) Any combination of bottled animal scent, bird or animal calls
and autographed pictures of Richard Jewell.

CFR 348.3 Emergency Implementation “In re Easton Tent Pegs”

It shall be a felony punishable by a fine of not less than $1,000
and a period of incarceration of no less than 48 hours to:

Intentionally, knowingly or recklessly remove or cause to be removed
the little loop attached to the top of Easton Tent Pegs.

Attorney General Reno was joined at the noontime press conference by
Erwin, TN mayor Billy Ray “lefty” Anderson and Mrs. Florence Smith
representing the NRA and MATH (mothers against thru hikers, Shady Valley,
TN chapter) and Reginald B. Easton, CEO Easton Manufacturing who held up a
photo of Kathy Lee Gifford next to Ajinka the young honduran girl whose
family is supported by her work of affixing the little loop ties to each
Easton tent Peg.

The Bamaman AT ‘81
David S. Severance
sevy@kezarlaw.com

———-

Subject: [at-l] Bare Naked Rednecks ! ! !
From: DSS
Date: Tue, 4 Feb 1997 22:07:04 -0600 (CST)

Bamaman’s Clip and Save Helpful Hints #23.1

Things Not To Say When Meeting Bare Naked Rednecks On The Appalachian
Trail:

1. Hey that’s a nice lookin hiking stick big guy.

2. Hey wait a few minutes guys, my wife will be here in a minute.

3. Are you guys staying at Gooch Gap Shelter tonight too?

4. That therma-rest looks just like the one I lost a couple of days ago !

5. Nice tattoo design, where’s Folsom and who’s Butch ?

6. Damm. I left that bag of jerky back in the Toyota in the parking lot and
I have three more days to go !

7. Lets see I think I’ve got something for that heat rash.

8. Looks like it’s gonna pour buckets any minute, I’m glad I brought my 4
person dome tent !

9. Okay, your Billy Bob, your Bobby Lee, and you must be Billy Lee - Are
you guys brothers ?

10. Everclear ? Is that like white gas?

The Bamaman AT ‘81 ( yes, 1981 when real rednecks wore clothes and real
hikers ate cold chili-mac with beef for breakfeast )

David S. Severance
sevy@kezarlaw.com

———-

* Subject: [at-l] Join ARHC Today !
* From: DSS
* Date: Thu, 6 Feb 1997 20:52:07 -0600 (CST)

Dear Mr. “Big E” or gas@aol.com,

Your name has been sent to me by the kind folks at the at-l mailing
list. My name is Robert L. Meyer and I am the President of the Anal
Retentive Hiking Club of North America, Inc.

Usually each prospective member must first complete an exhaustive
qualification process. However, I am pleased to inform you that the Anal
Retentive Board meeting in emergency session has unanimously voted to waive
the pre-membership procedure and welcome you to this fine and important
organization.

Yes, Mr. Big E, if you accept this invitation to join, you will
immediately receive the following membership premiums:

1, The two volume, 1346 page abridged edition of “Identifying Errors
in Hiking Publications” first published in 1879 by Chester B. Kephart (
estranged brother of Horace) and;

2. “Finding Errors for Fun and Profit” the illustrated pocket guide
to writing persuasive letters to authors and publishers announcing your find.

I look forward to greeting you at our next meeting as the newest
member of the Anal Retentive Hiking Club where our speaker will be Theodore
“Teddy” Kazinsky who will give a videotaped lecture on cabin living -
organization, methods and the law followed by the always popular game ” AT
Data Book Surprise” Finally, the evening will end with a slide talk,
“Thru-Hiking The Anal Retentive Way” by Oscar de “Floyd” Smith of Erwin, TN
author of the soon to be released ” A critical Anal-y-sis of Wingfoot’s
Thru-hiker’s Guide” available soon for $27.00 at Walmart.

Sincerely,

Robert L. Meyer, President, The Anal Retentive Hiking Club,NA, Inc.
” I’m not just the President - I’m also a member ! “

RLM/bm
/////////
Enc.

Forwarded by The Bamaman AT ‘81

David S. Severance
sevy@kezarlaw.com

———-

X-Sender: d_severance@pop.conknet.com
Date: Wed, 01 Mar 2000 19:28:57 -0500
To: AT-L@backcountry.net
Subject: [at-l] Gotti, Billy Bob Thornton and Startzell

Due to all this bad talk lately about Wingfoot, FELIX made me repost this item from 2/28/97:

1997 Donations Announced By ATC
Harper’s Ferry, WV

David N. Startzell, Executive Director of the ATC announced the following major donations at a lunchtime press conference today:

1. ACME NATIONAL VENDING MACHINE COMPANY

Antonio “little hiker” Gotti III, the 3′9″ CEO of Acme National was visibly quite emotional as he embraced Startzell several times throughout the press conference. Acme had just donated 5,000 cigarette vending
machines to the conference.

Startzell hopes to retrofit the machines for placement in all trailside shelters and at “significant road crossings to maximize the use by both hikers and non-hikers alike.”

Each unit will be painted in such a manner as to “compliment the natural beauty of the local area as well as being triple-blazed to aid the weary hiker in identification.” When asked what the conference planned to sell
in these machines, David replied, “Gee, I don’t know - hiker stuff?”

Finally, Dan Bruce abruptly walked to the front of the crowded room and announced that he had already begun work on “Vending Machines - The Where, the What and the How Much” a combined master’s thesis and supplement to his popular, The Thru-Hiker’s Guide. He added that the supplement will be available by May 1 and come with a color coded map and complimentary AT token for use in any machine from Georgia to Maine.

2. BILLY BOB THORNTON ENTERPRISES

Billy Bob Thornton has agree to donate all proceeds from his upcoming movie to the ATC.

He further pledged to match any and all donations made during 1997 from any person with two first names.

Suddenly David Startzell took the microphone from Billy Bob and announced that Benton Mackaye, father of the AT, was actually “Benton Lee Mackaye” and Myron Avery, first son of the AT, was actually “Bobbi Sue Avery” after the tragic accident with his handmade measuring wheel on the steep descent of East Baldpate.

The press conference ended dramatically as Wingfoot gave the first token to “liitle hiker” Gotti as he was hoisted up as if a mere daypack by the executive director and placed on the shoulders of Billy Bob Thornton. As the little man dropped the token in the green and brown fern-motif machine the room fell deathly silent. A roar erupted as Wingfoot fell to his knees, pulled the plunger as a knight reclaiming his sword and reached in
to claim the cherished prize. All four then turned to face the crowd as Wingfoot held up the very first AT Hiker Bar by Snickers.

As told to I. Bamaman 1997
Copyright 1997 D.S. Severance

———-

Subject: [at-l] NPS Hiker Warning Issued
From: DSS
Date: Tue, 04 Mar 1997 23:39:54
Suches, Georgia,

Buford P. “Buffy” White III acting regional agent for the National Park
Service Suches to Franklin field office today issued the following to
members of the press that gathered around his ‘72 Lincoln Towne car:

HIKER WARNING

A group of Northbound hikers were startled today after being followed for
several hundred yards by a portly, balding man clad only in women’s
underwear, white socks, a plastic cape and waving small trowel-like
instrument.

Jack Pinegree of South Glencliff, NH and his 10 year old son Max witnessed
the incident. ” There we were, just leaving Gooch Gap Shelter and little
Max says he hears something.” ” I stop and hear somebody singing coming up
the trail behind us.”

” I think to myself,okay, it’s those Canadians we passed on the trail
yesterday.” ” Then the singing get’s louder and I turn around and there’s
this fat, half-naked guy - like right there ! “

Mr. Pinegree was then handed a laminated card as the man passed.

NPS Exhibit #256-GA 45C 1 laminated card

Friar Tuck
(To the Tune Robin Hood)

I’m Friar Tuck, Friar Tuck, Hiker of the Woods.
Friar Tuck, Friar Tuck, Let me Take Your Goods.
I know I’m No Ed Garvey,
But Just You Wait And See
I’ll help you With Your Pack
To Make It a Lighter Sack
Yes, I’m Friar Tuck, I’m Friar Tuck
Keeper of the Goods.

“Friar Tuck” has been identified as one Marvin L. Morris a disgruntled part
time sporting goods clerk who was recently discharged by Campmor. Bobby
Wayne Rothstein, manager of the Paramus, New Jersey store had this to say,
” We knew Marv was troubled when he was found by the night watchman rolling
around the floor naked on a sea of nalgalene water bottles - but I truly
believed it was just an isolated stress-related incident.” ” The store can
get real hectic this time of year, and poor Marvin was assigned to the
water filter department for the past 6 months.”

Please contact your nearest NPS ranger if you encounter this individual.

The Bamaman

———-

Subject: [at-l] Excerpts From JAMA Vol. 23, No. 113
From: DSS
Date: Sat, 08 Mar 1997 22:31:26

The Journal of the Appalachian Mouse Association

In this issue:

11 EMS “What’s New For The Trail In ‘97″
24 “20 days Inside a Kelty Tioga” a personal account by Johnny “King of
the Ziploc” Scamperstein.
32 Proudfoot To Highlight Spring Conference
45 Obituary

What’s New at Eastern Mouse Supply:

1. Webfoot’s 1997 Shelter Guide
Webfoot does it once again with the latest edition of his popular shelter
guide. Sure to be in every burrow from Georgia to Maine. Over 187 pages
including the latest routes in all shelters, distances between rafters, new
nail placements and more. This illustrated guide comes complete with a
forward by Oliver “little zeuss” Olglethorpe, longtime resident of the
Springer Mountain Shelter.

2. Haemlich Stretch -O-Cord
A multi-use product designed for that active mouseman in your life. A
sturdy poly rope with a double loop on both ends. Perfect for performing
the Haemlich maneuver (or Hemlock maneuver if it doesn’t work) on your
buddy “little roscoe” as he hangs choking on that spanish peanut from the
3rd rafter at Roan High Knob. The cord is just the right length to attach
to each front paw and throw over your little mouse buddy’s head. Then with
a quick and forceful pull on each end, “poof” that once lodged peanut
becomes a deadly projectile sent headlong to those sleeping hikers below.
Also has been tested at our lab for bungee ability to 12.5 tails. Other
uses include securing that mother lode of gorp you and little roscoe have
just discovered.

3. Handy Floss
perfect for getting all those synthetic pieces out of all those hard to
reach places after a hard night’s chew. Works well on gore-tex too.

Spring JAMA Conference Highlights

Peter “peevee” Proudfoot will be the keynote speaker at the Spring
conference being held this year just a little South of Neel’s Gap. Among
the seminars being offered will be:

a) 1997 Pack Identification, Entry and Escape.
( including the famous Gregory lower pocket scramble demonstration by
“peevee” himself !!}

b) Halogen, lithium and today’s mouse.
case histories by trail optometrist Dr. Sammy Vole.

c) Massacre at Standing Indian.
A first mouse account of the 1987 slaying of 15 mice. A three Act Play,
directed by Benny Whitefoot. (Parental Discretion is Advised)

d) The evening will conclude with Valerie Vole performing her heartwarming
rendition of “Tiny Mice Have Tiny Tongues”

Finally, We Pause To Remember:

Asa P. Fieldmouse
Late of Blood Mountain Shelter. Asa was tragically killed on Thursday at
2:05 AM during an unsuccessful solo ascent of the tricky “Northface” of the
Blood Mountain Shelter. Asa leaves his wife of 13 months Princess
Fieldmouse and 23 children in Georgia and North Carolina.
Memorial donations should be sent to the Blood Mountain Chapter, United
Feildmice of America.

NEXT MONTH: Cloning and You
Inside the Hunta Virus

Yes, this was forwarded to the list by The Bamaman

David S. Severance
sevy@kezarlaw.com

———-

Subject: at-l] Phobias, The Trail and You
From: DSS
Date: Tue, 11 Mar 1997 20:41:48

The following list has been compiled from actual case histories, interviews
and historic data from the archives of the Bamaman:

1. Dickmorrisaphobia
Fear that your friendly hiking boot salesperson is holding on to your foot
just a little bit too long.

2. Zapaphobia
Fear that you’re gonna get struck by lightning whenever you hear thunder
in the distance. Symptoms include asking your hiking buddy if your hair
looks funny and uncontrollable thoughts of the old Edmund Scientific
Catalog you used to get when you were a kid.

3. Helterskeltergarciaphobia
The fear that suddenly comes over you when you don’t know if the new guy
at the shelter looks alot like Jerry Garcia or Charles Manson.

4. Bunsenburnerphobia
The fear that first began in Mr. Finklestein’s 5th period chemistry class
and continues today as you constantly fear that your backpacking stove
might blow up at any minute.

And closely related:

5. Siggbottleaphobia
Type A The fear that you didn’t screw the top on tight enough or that you
overtightened it and fuel has leaked out all over your sleeping bag.
Type B The fear that the bottle will explode if it gets too warm inside
your pack.

6. Mummybagaphobia
Fear that your double zipper will become permanently stuck and that you
will be forced to hop down the Falling Waters Trail in your sleeping bag
with only your eyes and nose visible.

7. Reptilazooaphobia
Fear that snakes and especially large Black snakes are attracted to the
warmth of you Blue Kazoo sleepin bag. Symptoms include shaking your bag
several times before crawling in at night or saying to your hiking buddy, ”
Does my bag look a little lumpy to you tonight?”

8. Nickgrinstafaphobia
Fear that your significant other will run away with the next door neighbor
while you’re out hiking the trail and you’ll be left to live alone and die
alone.

9. Elmersinnaphobia
Fear that you will put your foot in your mouth at dinner and say “I can’t
wait to get that Big Boy Burger tomorrow night!”

10. Bamamanaphobia
Fear that the next post you read may be from The Bamaman

And finally #1 in my addiction, The Trail and You series:

1. Spencefieldalism
Uncontrollable urge to climb on top of Shelter Roofs and attempt to slide off.

David S. Severance

———-

Subject: [at-l] Frank Zappa’s Trail Journal
From: DSS
Date: Wed, 12 Mar 1997 07:43:51

Day 214

It was just me and the pygmy pony today up on dental floss hill

David S. Severance

———-

Subject: [at-l] Lederhosen Wearin Aliens
From: DSS
Date: Thu, 13 Mar 1997 08:15:33

You Know you’ve been on the trail too long when:

1. You spend a morning at the shelter writing a nasty letter to Wingfoot
because that Pizza Hut you ate at last night was AYCE when it didn’t say so
in his book, damm it !!

2. You name your lekis “Prancer” and “Blitzen” and become tearful when you
forget which one’s which !!

3. You tell everyone that you were abducted by Lederhosen wearin aliens
when you can’t explain why it took you 5hours to hike up Tray Mt.

4. You tell everyone at the shelter that you saw the Energizer Bunny cross
the trail just a few minutes ago and that they all should get out of their
bags and help you look for it damm it !!

5. You’ve applied for a patent for “Leki-alls” = easy slip on covers for
your hiking sticks in Maple, Birch-bark and of course Camo.

The Bamaman
David S. Severance

———-

Subject: [at-l] The History Of MSR Part II
From: DSS
Date: Thu, 20 Mar 1997 05:20:54

The “Dante Twins” were again spotted yesterday by Northbound thruhiker
Pooombah just South of Tray Mt. What follows is the true story of the twins:

The “Dante Twins” are none other than Morris and Marty Saul Rubinstein of
East Rutherford, New Jersey - once valued members of the Potomoc ATC trail
maintainence crew. Due to their diminutive stature and playful
dispositions, the twins are often thought to be young children. In fact,
they were often used by the PATC crew to find the trail through heavy
blowdowns because of their uncanny ability to scurry under the fallen
trees. However, they are perhaps best known for forming MSR and developing
the multi-fuel stove.

The MSR stove was actually designed and developed by Marty Saul
Rubinstein (hence MSR) as a unique and lightweight trail grooming aid in
the brother’s early years with the PATC.

As longtime PATC crew chief Salvatore “Chucky” White fondly recalls, ” It
was quite a sight coming up the trail seeing little Morry holding this
little burner assembly thing in a horizontal position at arm’s length
followed closely by his brother Marty Saul clenching a silver Sigg bottle
tightly in his tiny hands.” ” Poor Marty would keep bumpin little Morry in
the back as he would stop to blaze a new area !” ” I mean it was scary to
think how many miles these little guys would travel clearing and blazing
trail that way!” ” And boy when they got that thing fired up , you could
hear that roar and just know that the “Dante Twins” were headed your way !”

The Rubinstein boys would soon be forced to leave the PATC trail crew
when the NPS took control of all trail maintainence activities and banned
their innovative trail grooming device. However, the boys had already
discovered that their nifty device was also a heck of a cooker when the two
would stop and warm up some of mom’s kosher gumbo surprise.
MSR was then formed in the Summer of “56 in the basement of the
Rubinsteins East Rutherford duplex.

After many years of trying to market their invention at Boy Scout
conventions and door to door the two little men sold the design to a
Seattle, Washington dentist and hiking enthusiast who quickly changed the
name of the stove to Mountain Safety Research.

The Rubinstein twins, Morris and Marty Saul , now well into their 60’s
can still be seen clearing trail with their little invention. Pooombah was
quite fortunate indeed to spot these two pioneers.

So when you hear that roar, when you see that hiker fire up the old MSR,
smile a knowing smile and say, “Boy, that’s a nice Marty Saul Rubinstein
Cooker isn’t it.”

LATE BREAKING NEWS

Peggy To Host Open House

Longtime shelter resident Peggy has announced that she has now taken over
the entire shelter. However, she will be holding an open house for all
thru-hikers throughout the Summer. Camping will be allowed near the
shelter according to Peggy.

Curious George the Most Popular Trailname

The Man in the Yellow Hat announced today that his Center for the Study
of Appalachian Trailnames has determined that a record 18 thruhikers have
departed from Spinger Mt. with the trailname “Curious George.”

Friar Tuck To Host Seminar

Noted authority on pack weight and gear reduction “Friar Tuck” has
announced a free seminar in conjunction with this year’s trail days
festivities. The seminar titled “To take or not to take” will include a
free demo of his renowned technique. FT asks that all bring a fully loaded
pack which he will de-gear using his 6 step formula.

Bamaman JR. Speaks

Sadly to say my 3 year old son appears to have acquired his father’s
warped sense of reality. When I asked “the little man” what he wanted to
bring to eat when we went hiking this Spring, he replied, ” I want to bring
pickles because I like pickles !” I then said, ” Well, what will we carry
them in?” He then replied, ” In a little pickle pack dad !”

Yes, it will be me and the little man hiking the trail with his Vlasic
Pack !

The Bamaman AT ‘81

David S. Severance

———-

Subject: [at-l] 69th Academy Awards
From: DSS
Date: Tue, 25 Mar 1997 22:06:12

Best Original Full Length Feature On The Appalachian Trail goes to:

The David Lynch, John Waters and Terry Gilliam production of “The AT Unbound”

Starring Quentin Tarentino as Preston Forest the 1940’s retro-hiker.
FOLLOW Preston as he heads North in his moleskin knickers and leather
rucksack constantly on the lookout for the anti-Babe “Pixie” a dwarf albino
wild boar that Pres first encountered as a youth and appears whenever he
approaches a 20 mile day.

MEET Milo Garcia and his entourage of parapackers - those 50 odd little
porters that announce Milo’s arrival at every shelter while twirling
brightly colored umbrellas and singing “Fly me to the moon” like so many
tiny Tony Bennets with a mexican accent.

And CRINGE as Little Eddie the Pot Grabber latches onto Milo’s Fondue Pot
in all it’s boiling splendor as the parapackers whistle and whittle away on
their fondue sticks.

REJOICE as Preston frees “Big Becky” the 300 pound big-boned hiker from
the upper level of Shuckstack Firetower where she became lodged and has
spent the last three days thanks to Milo Garcia’s Fondue and the steadfast
rotation of parapackers up and down the tower - arms outstretched holding a
maglite and fondue stick.

And CRY as parapacker “little Juan” is crushed when Big Becky slips on the
fondue drippings while descending the final few steps

As reported by The Bamaman AT ‘81
David S. Severance

———-

Subject: [at-l] What about the band of tiny evitas?
From: DSS
Date: Sat, 29 Mar 1997 07:01:10
Cc: at-l-digest@saffron.hack.net

Sandy,
Alas, a fellow Bamite!!
I thought I was the only one with the misguided imagination.

… And suddenly Milo Garcia appeared dressed like Fidel Castro in Khaki
Campwear and smoking an extra large humidore followed by 50 tiny evitas who
encircled the pentaprivy. The tiny evitas began singing “You Must Love Me”
and “Don’t Cry For Me Bamaman” as I pondered my existance on the pentapotty.

“Oh No! Oh No!” I cried, as I discovered Milo had blown the latch shut
with a puff of his large humidore. My cries of help were left muffled by
the singing of the little Evitatites. What was I to do -what could I do?

The Bamaman AT ‘81

PS I found Seven F’s - One was hidden inside the scientific file.
David S. Severance

———-

Subject: [at-l] Fear And Loathing on the Slackpacker Tour
From: DSS
Date: Wed, 02 Apr 1997 23:56:22

As reported by The Bamaman:

April 2, 1997

Woke up, loaded van, didn’t do dishes. Me, JANE, PETE and the mystery dog
head to Battle Creek, Michigan. Slackpackin Tour takes big deTOUR.

Arrive Battle Creek, met by short, fat, balding guy named George “Buddy”
Foster and ACCOUNTANT. ACCOUNTANT had said “sign here” two maybe three
days ago. I signed there and now I’m here in Michigan - the cereal center
of civilization with JANE and PETE and the MYSTERY DOG.

What happened next is best described in the following NEWSPAPER CLIPPING:

Battle Creek, Michigan

USDA / SLACKPACKER PRESS CONFERENCE

George “Buddy” Foster USDA procurement specialist announced today that due
to a recent cancellation he is now able to offer all interested backpackers
an unlimited supply of berry-flavored desserts known affectionally as
“Berry Surprise.”

Buddy was joined at the crowded press conference by a man identified only
as “Mr. Slackpacker” from PA and his new bride “Jane.” Mr. Slackpacker had
reportedly just signed a lucrative contract with the USDA to distribute
Berry Surprise to hikers along the entire length of the Appalachian Trail.

“I have renamed my journey along the trail, THE SNACKPACKER TOUR.” Mr.
Slackpacker was heard to shout above the constant chatter of the press and
clicking of the still cameras. “My new bride, JANE has thoughtfully
volunteered to curtail her long-planned hike to drive the SNACKVAN to each
and every trailhead and road crossing from Suches to South Arm to
facilitate the distribution process !”

Suddenly a mystery dog barked as a man known only as PETE packed the final
container into the bright red van. The Snackpacker and JANE made their way
through the crowd and up to the front of the van - soon to be joined by
PETE and the MYSTERY DOG.

April 3, 1997

Woke up, did dishes, began Snackpackin Tour of the Trail. Me, PETE, the
ACCOUNTANT and THE MYSTERY DOG all weighted down with Berry Surprise. Will
meet JANE soon to resupply.

The Bamaman
David S. Severance

———-

Subject: [at-l] Professor of Psychology / Bamaman?
From: DSS
Date: Fri, 11 Apr 1997 19:50:04
________________________________________
The Bamaman and Professor Webbe hit the Trail:

Case History #506-NH-432 My Ride To The Trail With Mr. Bamaman by
Professor F. Webbe, Florida Institute of Technology Press, 1997,
Illustrated by the author, with a forward by Felix.

Chapter 1, The Bamaman’s fixation on mice, parapackers and fondue and
sexual performance in the legal community.

Chapter 2, Pavlov, a dog, a rope, a can of beans, Piaget and the early
development of Felix and his use of Paris.

Chapter 3 The onset of bedwetting and its effect on sleeping bag
selection.

Chapter 4 . . . . . .

———-

Subject: [at-l] Missing Thrus
From: DSS
Date: Mon, 21 Apr 1997 21:48:57

MILO GARCIA and the PARAPACKERS are doing a FONDUE THRU

The person driving the Slackpack Tour MYSTERY VAN is doing a DRIVE THRU

My 3 year old son says “THANK THRU”

The Rubenstein Brothers (See 3/19/97 Digest or ask FELIX) did a BURN THRU

The Bamaman AT ‘81

———-

Subject: [at-l] Bama Spam
From: DSS
Date: Sun, 14 Sep 1997 10:42:53

(Milo Garcia, in leasure suit, wide wide open collar, hair slicked back,
sings the OMC hit at first ALDHA campsite with bonfire, whole lotta fondue:)

HOW BIZARRE

Enzo’s in the back
Milo’s in the front
Hiking down the trail
In the hot hot sun
Suddenly footsteps coming
Approaching from behind
Loud voice booming
“Please step off the trail !”
Parapacker Pedro preaches words of comfort
Milo just hides his eyes
Wingfoot taps his shades
“Is that a Kelty ‘69 ?”

HOW BIZARRE, HOW BIZARRE

Destination Hanover, NH
As we pull into the lean-to
Milo grabs the register
Reveals a smile from the past
Beans, a short rope

———-

* Subject: [at-l] The Seventh Shelter by Ingmer Bamaman
* From: DSS
* Date: Mon, 07 Apr 1997 22:02:49

Warren Doyle suddenly appeared like some apocalyptic sign in that lost Ingmer Bamaman classic , “The Seventh Shelter” surreptiously section hiking solo, seventies-style while twenty bare chests over the sunny hillside sang Samuel Taylor Coleridge :

Near Derricks Knob Shelter
The Gypsy Hiker Did See,
A Stately Hiker Man
Where AT the sacred trail
ran through mountains measureless to man
down to a sunless tree.

So twice ten miles over fertile ground
with many a curse “23*#!, I thought it said down.”
And here were many a sinewy poly-sheet
And there the thumping call of the beater bird.

Meanwhile back at the shelter…….

Sal carefully moved the fifth trap into position as Boo Boo and the Boy Scouts said a silent prayer to The Mouse King:

Thump, thump thump went the beater bird
snap, snap, snap went the traps
flap, flap flap waved the poly wrap.

Further up the trail:

A solitary red heifer “Helga” appeared while twenty bare chests over the moonlit hillside sang songs of sorrow , songs of pain. Yes, but just one more mouse did so remain.

Just outside of Damascus:

The tiny parapackers were all dressed in formal wear as Milo Garcia sang, ” It’s not unusual to go out with anyone” trying so hard to do his best Tom Jones impersonation. Warren Doyle clapped hard still trying to decide if he can lead this odd group of parapackers and their comical leader. It would be his greatest challenge yet.

Back at the shelter:
The Mouse King hoisted up his massive pack.
The Bamaman

———-

* Subject: [at-l] Deep Inside The AT
* From: DSS
* Date: Sat, 19 Apr 1997 15:26:02

New at Bama Records:

Vol. 5 “The Very Best Of The AT- Music For The Moment”
Available at better backpacking shops near you, 14.95 CD, 9.95 Cass,

Includes these Hit Songs:

1. “Slackpacking For Love” Barry White is joined by PETE, JANE (nice legs) and the SUNSHINE singers recorded live inside THE MYSTERY VAN parked just outside of DEEP GAP. Sultry sounds after a nice meal, a hot shower and REFRESHMENTS. Hear Barry White sing as only the MAN can, “Oooooh I can’t get enough of this hikin” as the SUNSHINE singers whisper ” we’re lovin this slackpackin tour, oh yes, the slackpackin tour- it’s a tour of LO00000-VVVVVVV-EEEEEEEEEE !!”

2. “I’ll Lighten Your Load” Friar Tuck and the Gear Weenies sing that haunting country heavy metal fusion classic. Hear the Tuckmeister scream out,” You don’t need this and you don’t need that !” while the 3 buxom
liederhosen clad weenies sing backup ” No, no, no Don’t you take that!” ” No, no, no give them panties back!”

3. “Peggy Please Come Back” Junior Walker and the 200 member USFS all male auxillary chorus sing this stirring tribute to the departed shelter queen. Recorded live in the accoustically correct cafeteria of the East Stroudberg Correctional Center.

Meanwhile Back On The Trail:

Warren Doyle and Milo Garcia were frantically trying to untangle the last of the 50 tiny parapackers like some sorry set of Christmas tree lights. The Parapackers were indeed quite a sight- all 50 of them lined up atop Max Patch Mountain with 50 little guitars next to 50 little amplifiers after their stirring rendition of “Fondue Child” played to the delight of the 200 locals who all drove their pickup trucks up the mountain road to find the
source of that noise- that noise that had shook them, that had shook their soul, up and out of bed at 2 in the morning.

Back At Bama Records:

4. “Send Lawyers, Guns and Fondue” Milo Garcia and the Parapackers in this classic tribute to Trail Magic. Recorded live at the Jesuit Hostel.

Back To The Trail:

Warren wonders, Warren worries
Rednecks windows rolled down.
Warren wishes, Milo kisses
Redneck’s Mrs. outstretched hand.

Redneck Mr. says,” that’s my sister!”
Warren must now take a stand,
Parapackers packin, Milo’s backin
Into the SLACKPACKIN VAN.

The Bamaman
AT ‘81

———-

* Subject: [at-l] Out Like A Parapacker
* From: DSS
* Date: Tue, 29 Apr 1997 20:56:11
* Cc: at-l-digest@saffron.hack.net

Hypnotically charming, hysterically funny and hygienically challenged was how Warren Doyle described this odd little band of parapackers to anyone who would listen to him. Poor Warren could still not believe he had been with Milo Garcia and the “little people” for almost 2 weeks now and with no planning. Planning, reasoned Warren, was the Sigg bottle of success when it came to hiking, hiking the Doyle way. Tonight Warren resolved to leave MG and his entourage and to get out of this “fondue funk” come Damascus
where Milo and the Parapackers would be performing for Trail Days:

“Damm it Milo ! I’m a hiker not a sardine packer !” sputtered Warren as he finished zipping the last of the 50 mummy bags together - all neatly laid out in two rows in Cherry Gap Shelter. The parapackers had insisted in sleeping this way ever since Little Juan was crushed to death a few weeks ago by Becky the big-boned hiking gal.

So there were Warren and Milo suspended in hammocks above a sea of blue parapackers all comfy and cozy for the night when this thru-hiker comes laboring up the trail “fishlight” glaring across the floor of peaceful packers.

” It was like surreal man.” “I was just struggling in to finish my first 20 mile day. I start walkin up to the shelter and man all these little heads start poppin up everywhere !” ” I mean man they were like doin a
head-wave at me !” “Then this older guy who - I’m serious- he was like levitating above them in the shelter, he says “It’s Okay son, I’m Warren Doyle and these are my parapacker friends.”" “Well, I wasn’t gonna ask
these guys to make room for me thank you very much, so I made like straight back up the trail !” exclaimed “Grundgeboy” AT ‘97.

Finally Milo was able to get all the parapackers settled back down as the moon stood still over the highlands. Suddenly, the shelter began to vibrate as Little Pedro led the parapackers in the following song:
(Editor’s Note - Please feel free to join in at your computers at home or work.)

(Allegre with a slight mexican accent)

“Gooooo-d night Milo,
Goooooo-d night War-win,
Goooooo-d night buddies,
Oh, where did Jim-O go.”

“Goooooo-d night Win-fooooooot,
Gooooooo-d night Feeeel-wix,
Gooooooo-d night buddies,
Oh, Vince was a baaaa-d, baaaaa-d boy.”

“Gooooooo-d night ( insert your name here),
Goooooooo-d night Rooooow-sie
Goooooooo-d night Bamaman
It’s time to watch the Ellen show.”

The Bamaman AT ‘81

———-

* Subject: [at-l] The Fontana Incident
* From: DSS
* Date: Sat, 03 May 1997 21:46:38
* Cc: atml@trailplace.com

(Take a deep breath..)

EARLY THAT MORNING:

“You puny parapackers permeate your polypro !” thought poor Warren as hetiptoed between the 50 sleeping bags to the front of the shelter.

Milo was already up and busy stirring the massive fondue pot inanticipation of the breakfast rush. “Get up all you lazy parapackers !It’s Fondue Time ! ” Milo knew they had to get an early start if they were
to make it to Fontana Village before the Coin- Op Laundramat closed.

Milo had already started in - feverishly poking and prodding with his titanium telescoping fondue stick when the last of the parapackers made his way to the fondue circle. “Mmmm, mmmm, this is excellent fondue Milo,” exclaimed Warren. The tiny parapackers had by now resorted to using their leki poles to capture the last of the big chunks of delicate white meat hiding somewhere in the midst of all that cheese.

The parapackers had but one set of clothes, just one patagonia union suit - you know the red ones with the seven little buttons down the front. Yes, this is all the little porters had save for their little gore-tex ponchos.

Warren had convinced Milo that the polypro, the ponchos and the parapackers all needed washing and wash they would as they set forth down the road to Fontana.

LATER THAT MORNING:

Warren led the 50 little parapackers in single file - all in their little red unionsuits down the road to the village. Milo Garcia brought up the rear dressed in his formal wear, horned rimmed glasses and albino squirrel
poncho (which all the parapackers knew fondly as “Rocky.”) Yes I’m afraid poor Milo looked like Elvis Costello in drag and sounded alot like Bryan Ferry as he sang “Fondue For Love” as the parapackers tapped along as if the asphalt was some symphonic surface. One could only imagine the parapackers thoughts flowing from Mickey Rourke offering Kim Basinger a piece of fondue to what fun they would have a short time at the Fontana Coin-Op as Milo sang, “I’ll be waiting for you, in all the usual places, with my fondue pot….Fool for love….”

AT THE FONTANA COIN-OP:

Round and Round went the tiny parapackers riding the speed queen spin cycle that was the Fontan Village Coin Op Laundramat. All their little noses and hands pressed firmly up against the inside of the glass smiling from ear to ear. Round and Round they went, 5 to a machine all 10 in a row - all 50 that is except Little Enzo.

Little Enzo the compulsive highlighter was busy by the windowsill kneeling on the yellow plastic bench. First the yellow marker, then the blue one as he frantically went from Watchtower to Watchtower frome Time to Newsweek. No one knew if it was the vapors given off by the markers or the sound they sometimes made that fueled Enzo’s passion.

Warren stood lookout as Milo kept pumping quarters into the machines as the parapackers went round and round and round.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON:

Warren felt sick after Little Pedro told him he wouldn’t be seeing any more albino squirrels for a while since Milo had cooked up the last one this morning.

EARLY THAT EVENING:

Ethel Rosenthal, the 74 year old grandmother of 6 and the immediate past president of the Fontana Bridge and Gun Club had just left the monthly meeting at the cafeteria with a group of her friends when the first of the 49 tiny nude parapackers left the Coin Op. It was not for some great noble statement that found all the parapackers (except Enzo) this way, but necessity. A necessity fashioned by Milo forgetting to turn the dryer
setting to low as they huddled in the corner waiting for their polypro and ponchos to dry and dry they did into 5 large nylon balls of melted red unionsuits.

Warren had gone ahead to the Fontana Hilton to forewarn any of the occupants that 49 little 37 inch high nude men would be arriving shortly.”Hi folks, my name is Warren Doyle and I am here now to tell you that 49
little nude men will be arriving shortly.” announced Warren to the puzzled group of girl scouts and their cautious leaders.

Little Pedro was the first to pass Ethel as he led the entourage of nude parapackers past her, some bouncing the large red patagonia poly balls.

Meanwhile Milo was carrying little Enzo who was still gripping his bright yellow highlighter and staring straight ahead.

Milo knew that Warren , yes Warren would have a solution to their latest predicament.

The Bamaman

(Yes, I know my posts are getting longer - it’s scary.)

———-

* Subject: [at-l] Up Like A Parapacker !
* From: DSS
* Date: Tue, 13 May 1997 21:30:43
* Cc: atml@trailplace.com

Twenty miles out of Fontana and the parapackers were still hiking nude thanks to Milo Garcia. Poor Milo felt terrible after the Coin-Op incident, so terrible that he told Little Pedro to break open the decorative fondue humdore full of the 6 inch Cuban cigars. The no-see-ums had been creating havoc with the little men and the smoke would surely restore the parapacker’s playful dispositions.

So there were the 49 little nude parapackers, a big fat Cuban cigar protruding from their hyperextended lips as they hiked the trail - followed by Little Enzo chewing feverishly on the big fat American-made magic marker - the poor parapacker had set ablaze.

Suddenly, Warren shouted, “Stop !, I said STOP! you funny little nude puffing packers.” They stopped and in unison leaned on a leki, raised their right hands, removed the cigar ( flaming marker), and said “What’s
the matt -wa War- win?”

“I’ll tell you what’s the matter !” screamed Warren. “I’m sick and tired of seeing your sorry little naked butts up and down every switchback !” “And I won’t be hik’in down Main Street in Damascus with you and Milo (Yes, he too had lost his clothes to the baked Patagonia Polypro surprise.) “It will be just me and Little Enzo here marching in the Trail Days Parade if you don’t put these on !” Warren patted little Enzo on the head as the marker erupted into a big yellow blaze and threw each parapacker a stuff sack from their sleeping bags.

Warren had carefully cut two holes for arms and two holes for legs in each bright blue stuff sack. They fit perfectly on the 37 inch high parapackers as Warren went from parapacker to parapacker pulling each little toggle tight around their little necks.

The new suits made an odd noise as they marched along. A squish, squish and a puff, puff. The smoke from all the cigars drifting up and back towards Warren. They went along this way for 2, maybe 3, miles just a
squishin and puffin. The only problem being the air that would filter in through the arm openings and swell them up like so many little blue balls.

Suddenly the parapackers started to ascend. I think Little Pedro was the first to go followed one by one by the rest of the parapackers. All floating slowly skyward - all except Little Enzo who just stopped and watched as the parapackers all drifted slowly upward.

Apparantly, the heat of the large Cuban cigars had raised the temperature of the air within their stuff suits and they just went up.

49 little parapackers arms and legs and heads popping out of the little blue stuff sacks floating 200 feet above the mountains was quite a sight to behold. (See, June 1998 Parapacker Calendar) Each with a little smoke trail threading behind.

“Pull the toggggggggg-ggg-llllllllllllllllleeeeeeeee” gasped Milo and Warren. The parapackers were by now too round and too fat in their suits
to reach the toggle held tightly around their necks. But as each one looked down to try to see the toggle a great popping sound was heard. The parapackers had touched the fat cuban cigars, mere stogies now, to the stretched stuff suits and with a high pitched sputtering wimper fell back to the mountaintop.

There were parapackers hanging from tree limbs over a good quarter mile. None injured and all moving their legs form side to side, laughing, shouting and singing, “Fly me to the moon!” like so many tiny Tony Bennets with a mexican accent (their favorite song.)

LATER THAT AFTERNOON :

No one really remembers who came up with the idea as Warren finished lashing the MSR to Little Enzo’s backside. Little Enzo held firmly onto the Sigg bottle with control tucked neatly under his chin. Aviator hat pulled down over his ears and goggles on. Milo lit the match and up shot Enzo. Enzo was on a mission. A mission to Hot Springs. Someone had to get to Hot Springs to let Wingfoot know that Milo, Warren and the
Parapackers would be at Trail Days and would play at the celebration. That someone was Enzo as he finally had some control as he held his arms straight out.

John Parkinson and the Mrs. were just heading home from the pro bowler’s tour big screen happy hour at Sally’s Cafe and exercise salon when little Enzo shot by their ‘64 Chevy Apache. The Mrs. thought Enzo said “Pizza, Pizza !” but Mr. Parkinson was sure it sounded like “Fondue, fondue !”

Enzo finally got his teeth around the fuel knob but he was a little too late as he came crashing through the front window of Wingfoot’s house in Hot Springs, NC. Wingfoot had just turned the computer off and was about to sit down to some Barry White music when Little Enzo landed on the couch next to him.

The Bamaman
(Looking for an imaginative illustrator)

———-

* Subject: [at-l] Parapacker Cartoonist Wanted
* From: “David S. Severance”
* Date: Fri, 15 May 1998 19:27:32 -0400
* Cc: atml@trailplace.com

The Bamaman is still looking for an eccentic, quirky and off the wall
hiker-person to furnish a cartoon/illustration for each Parapacker episode.
Future publication potential.

If interested please send sample to:

David S. Severance
Attorney at Law
P.O. Box 400
Parsonsfield, ME 04047

or fax Mon- Fri between 9-5 to (207) 625-3331 or email me at sevy@conknet.com

The Bamaman ( No relation to BamaHerb)

David S. Severance

———-

* Subject: [at-l] Walking Small Part II
* From: DSS
* Date: Wed, 21 May 1997 22:44:45
* Cc: at-l-digest@saffron.hack.net, sevski@aol.com, dgcolprit@intricate-design.com

Friday May 16 - Elk Park, NC

Milo and Warren had just finished unpacking the last of the 250 Big Books when Warren started to complain again about getting to Damascus on time for the big parade and talent show. “Okay Warren, just go already !” fumed Milo. ” I’m not tak’en the parapackers Milo, I’ll never catch a ride with those 50 little guys lined up behind me with their puny thumbs cocked out to the side.”

Warren left and Milo had a plan. Suddenly Milo heard laughter from his entourage - the porter people. “Walk small and carry a big book!!” shouted little Valdez while all the parapackers laughed in unison. Milo
had spent good money for these Gideon Bibles and was clever enough to talk the guy down at the Erwin Motel 8 too. Milo was always on the lookout for money making ideas and thought he could sell them along the trail for a hefty profit. He had heard about the bible belt.

The parapackers weren’t laughing anymore as Milo dropped the last one into the 10th empty bible box. Milo’s plan you see was to mail the little guys to Damascus as he finished writing “Please Hold for Warren Doyle” on each carton using one of Enzo’s many hi-liters. Enzo got his own smaller box since none of the other parapackers would last in the cramped quarters with Enzo and his vapor- squeeking. Enzo was so excited about going to Damascus that he inhaled the American-made marker and it took both Pedro and Valdez to remove the stuck stubby from his little nose.

Milo threw a big bag of gorp in each bible box, a jug of water and tightly sealed each one with DUCT TAPE. Someone screamed as he used his Leki to poke air holes in the sides of the boxes.

Milo hoped he had done the right thing and hoped he’d be able to reach Warren by telephone tomorrow as he sat atop his stack of 250 Bibles just outside of Elk Park, NC.

Saturday May 17, Damascus, VA

9:05 AM The white postal truck backed up to the loading dock at the Damascus Post Office as the driver heard that funny squeeking sound again.

10:50 AM Still no sign of Warren. The postmaster went out back to investigate that crunching sound when it abruptly stopped as he entered the storeroom. Still no sign of Warren. No one had seen Warren and Milo was getting worried. I gotta pee real bad said Hector. “me too, me too,me too !” echoed around the storeroom.

12:05 PM No Warren. Lights turn off, door shuts, door locks.

Monday May 19 Damascus

Damascus empty, Warren knows nothing about parapacker parcels. Warren upset, leaves town singing Sara song from talent show.

9:00AM Parapackers ran out of gorp late yesterday afternoon, water almost gone, gotta pee real bad now, hi-liter dried up, gotta pee.

9:01 AM Door unlocked, door opens, lights come on. Gotta pee real bad. John the assistant postmaster enters storeroom. John sees 50 little fountains of spray coming out of the boxes around the storeroom. Warren’s name begins to run down the side in red hi-liter.

John runs out of room, says to postmaster, “The stress is too much, I can’t take it any more !” Another postal worker gone bad thinks postmaster. The parapackers jump out of bible boxes and run into back of
postal truck parked on loading dock. Little Enzo’s johnson stuck in box, manages to get feet poked through bottom of box and runs towards truck, still stuck, parapackers laughing hysterically at poor Enxo.

Tuesday May 20

Milo is really worried now. Parapackers still heading North in back of Truck.

The Bamaman

———-

* Subject: [at-l] Hiking Hibachi Men From Mars
* From: DSS
* Date: Wed, 09 Jul 1997 21:15:50
* Cc: at-l-digest@saffron.hack.net, sevski@aol.com, dgcolprit@intricate-design.com

Tuesday Evening

Milo’s hand had turned black from the big bag by the time he dropped the last of the briquettes into the little hibachis each of the 50 parapackers held at arms length. The hibachis were no bigger than the square briquette and shined like only that new brushed aluminum could. The poor parapackers had refused to eat Milo’s fondue since the tissue adhesive incident (See generally, ATML 6/1/97 Veni, Vidi, Fondue.)

Each parapacker would shout out, “Hit Me !” as Milo would approach with the big bag.

Milo would reply, ” She’s a Brick -da da da da- Kette, da da da da !”

Little Enzo had been drafted to carry the lighter fluid and had become quite proficient at squirting the white bottle at each little hibachi with one hand while lighting the charcoal with his 12-inch pizeo-lectric wand in the other. Sometimes Enzo would become too excited and the little guys would have to duck as flames would shoot dangerously close to their stuff sack outfits.

Wednesday Morning

Milo knew the parapackers had become increasingly concerned about their diminutive size but he never expected them to go this far !

“Click, click , clack , click, clack ” went each parapacker as the shock-corded aluminum tent poles would lock in place. Little Juan had got them from a Campmor SPECIAL DEAL and figured that each 36 incher would bring them to a respectable 6 ft high.

The parapackers had used two maybe three rolls of duct tape lashing each three part pole to both legs. Like 50 little Robert Deniros in an Appalachian Taxi Driver they would slide up to the front of the shelter and
as their legs would fall over the edge the poles would snap in place.

With a quick jump each parapacker would rise up to the sky. Two long tent poles with a blue stuff sack perched precariously on top, swaying and weaving in all directions was all Milo could see as he looked out the front of the shelter.

Wednesday Afternoon

The parapackers would hike like little Russian soldiers strraight legged and in unison on their tent pole platforms as Milo would rescue a parapacker here - a parapacker there - whose pole leg would give out and
send the little man crashing to the ground.

The Bamaman AT ‘81

———-

* Subject: [at-l] Trail Running: The Parapacker Way
* From: “David S. Severance”
* Date: Wed, 25 Mar 1998 22:49:21 -0500
* Cc: atml@trailplace.com, dgcolprit@intricate-design.com

March 24 6:00 AM

They were about a mile out of Suches when Little Juan broke the silence, “Why We Wun-nin?”
“Where’s Warwin?” “Whats-a- Wing-foot?” the others shouted.
“Who’s Winona?” shrieked Enzo feverishly trying to keep up the pace.

“Well Juan, Wun we will !” exclaimed Milo Garcia as he stood over the 50 little parapackers all dressed alike in their little red polypro bomber hats, khaki turtlenecks with the little black “P” insignia and their nifty
little red running tights salvaged from Wingfoot’s extensive collection.

And run they did - up the trail - and with each little stride farther North. It was you see, what they did, who they were, and well, a good way to spend another couple of months in the States.

2:00 pm

Filled with Fondue, Fifty Slackpackin Parapackers continue running up the trail as Milo ” the human sag-wagon” struggles way way back.

2:45 pm

Hikers coming ahead. Parapackers stop, parapackers start to shake. Enzo he makes one pretty big mistake. Head tilted way, way back, bomber hat flapping in wind, Enzo walks right up to the one wearing the big bright belt buckle and says, “Hey, don’t you Bogart this trail my friend!”

Parapackers all begin to laugh. Hikers begin to remove their packs. Parapackers silent, just miss pack - not even Enzo dares look back.

8:00 pm

The line of parapackers swayed back and forth as the little guys kept switching hands trying to keep a finger on the Indigo watches Milo had earlier fastened aroung their little necks. The lights would light up just
enough of the trail to see where their next step would be and perhaps too much of their face.

Little did the parapackers know but the shelter was completely packed as they made their way down the mountainside.

As 19 year old snowboarder turned backpacker Chris “packed snow” Goldberg would later recall, ” Ma-aan, like there I was lying in the ‘too - when the first thing I heard was all these beeps.” “I turned to the no-soapman and says hey dude listen to those spring peepers.” “But the beeps got stronger and then I started seeing all these little lights, and then, oh man, and then I see all these little faces with little eyes buggin out
comin towards the shelter !” “By this time everybody else is up in the shelter and man we’re all losin it”

“The next thing I know is the place is swarmin with all these little guys - maybe 3, 3and 1/2 feet tall, all dressed alike and all holding their hands to their throats!”

The Bamaman AT ‘81
David S. Severance

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Subject: [at-l] Fondue-4-U
From: “David S. Severance”
Date: Sun, 29 Mar 1998 19:27:22 -0500

Oh , Mama, Can This Really Be The End
To Be Stuck Inside A Lean-to
With The Para-Guys Again.
Ed Garvey with Bobby Dylan
Gooch Gap Shelter
April ‘69

All the little parapackers were still fast asleep, all in their little blue one-half kazoos, 5 deep and 10 across. The smell of liniment hung in the air as the mud dried on the 50 pair of running shoes tied to the
rafters. Yes it was the second day of Spring Trail track as coach Milo Garcia prepared to mold the little guys into 50 little Ishmaels in search of that great white blaze.

Suddenly Little Jerome in his deep little paravoice boomed out, “Welcome To Bell Atlantic !” It had been almost a year since Jerome had been found locked inside the phone booth outside the Erwin Readymart. “Welcome To Bell Atlantic!” Poor Jerome spent 3 days inside the phone booth and now spontaneously blurts out the greeting like a half size James Earl Jones.

Milo Garcia was already up and sitting next to the 50 qt titanium fondue pot (fondly known as the MGP) and staring intensely at this month’s FONDUE-4-U and once again trying to figure FONDUE-4-50. It was a cool spring morning but the sun was just coming through the trees as Milo stood back to light the modified MSR. Milo thought: Life was good, the trail was good, fondue is good, and yes, damm it, I AM GOOD !

And with that thought Milo pressed the button on his little trail boombox and threw the match in the general direction of the beast that was the modified MSR stove.

As the first notes of “Flight of the Valkyries” entered the lean-to, the MSR flared up and roared a thunderous roll. It was yet another morning on the trail as all 50 parapackers shot up in their little mummy bags. All you could hear was Wagner, the MSR and “Welcome To Bell Atlantic” as one by one the little guys would hop off the front of the lean-to and head to the fondue circle still in their little mummy bags with hoods drawn tight.

They would all flex in the middle like 50 little gumby guys as Milo kept the middle like 50 little gumby guys as Milo kept dipping the ladle as the line circled around the big pot.

The music stopped but the MSR kept hissing as Milo began to speak. Poor Milo was looking alot like Robert Blake in some forsaken Lost Appalachian Highway as he raised his arms high. “Little Men! Today we will cross into North Carolina.” ” oooh, aaaah” whispered the parapackers.
“Little Men! We will meet a special friend, a friend to you and a friend to me in Franklin, North Carolina.” “War-win, War- win, War-win !” chanted 50 little voices “No, it is not Warren Doyle!”
“Well who is it Mi-wo” said Little Juan.
” Is it Feel-wix ?” exclaimed Little Reggie.
” Is it Winona” whispered Enzo.
“No Felix, No Winona.”
” You will all be surprised when we reach Franklin!” said Milo Garcia

“Hey, has anybody seen Little Bruno?” said a nervous looking Hector. “Look there he is!” somebody shouted as all the little parapackers and Milo-man looked skyward.

There was little Bruno stark parabutt naked but for his little polypro bomber hat standing in the big maple tree next to the lean-to. ” Not again!” shouted Milo. But it was too late - Bruno flung himself headfirst
from the maple tree towards the big MGP and with a loud “splat !!” became one with the fondue .

They all ran to the big pot to see Little Bruno looking over the lip with a big grin on his face. “Sowwy Mi- wo !”

The Bamaman

David S. Severance

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* Subject: [at-l] The Unbearable Lightness Of Parapacking
* From: “David S. Severance”
* Date: Wed, 06 May 1998 23:24:45 -0400
* Cc: at-l@saffron.hack.net, Sevski@aol.com

Monday - Late Afternoon

“Send Lawyers, Guns and Wingfoot!”
The Fondue Has Hit The Fan !”

Stammerred Little Juan as the group of locals arrived at the shelter all packed into the back of Floyd Smith’s Ranchero.
“Who the hell are you guys!” cursed Bobby Lee Smith the anti-hiker.
“We are parapackers with a purpose!” shouted the rest.
“And so, Little Man, tell us whats ya spec -eee - al purpose !” as the
Ranchero rocked with laughter.
“Yeah, your purpose right now is to get your hairy feet and stuff outa this here lean-to so us real men can party! ‘ “Yeah! ” shouted the Ranchero-twins each sticking there heads up through the slightly cockeyed
after market sunroof Junior had just put in at the parking lot of the Franklin Napa store.

“Hiking is their purpose.” said Milo as he came around the corner with that big fat Cuban cigar hanging out the corner of his mouth. “And who are you Papa packer ?” shouted Floyd.
“I am Milo Garcia and these are the parapackers. Come now packermen, we must leave now - we do not want to trouble these young men.” Milo said with that Milo grin as he moved closer to the shelter.

Tuesday- Early Morning

The bugs were bad, the bugs were real bad but Milo had planned ahead this year. The parapackers were slowly and carefully making their way up the trail, two by two and side by side.

Oh no, there was no bug repellant that worked on the parapackers poor Milo thought as he wheeled Enzo, Little Juan, Little Derrick, Graham and JW out of the K-Mart and back to the trail last week.

And now here were the 50 little parapackers one each in the leg of the K-Mart SPECIAL DEAL queen size sheer pantyhose with the big knot on top and paranoses pressing forth plodding up the trail. One little guy would shuffle ahead and then his little buddy would shoot forward as the fabric would stretch.

After maybe 2 miles the parapackers had caught on and now Milo was starting to fall way way behind as the band of parapackers swish, swish swished and snapped up the trail. The bugs were no longer a problem. They were once again one with the trail like so many little headless June Taylor dancers on some long lost Jackie Gleason Show high stepping there way North.

Tuesday - Late Afternoon

Bobby Lee and the Ranchero Boys were just headin up Forest Service Road 41 when the first of the para-pairs crested the hill, then a second set , a third, a fourth. The twins were riding in the back as Bobby Lee went for the brakes. The dirt flew and the parapackers dove on each side of the Ranchero. The Twins were airborne as Enzo and Little Juan swished and snapped over the hill.

It was by no means on purpose Milo would later recall but Enzo went Left and Little Juan he went right and well the pantyhose it just stretched. ” Damm but didn’t it just catch them two flying Ranchero twins !” said a beaming Milo between puffs on his big Havana.

Tuesday Evening

Milo was sitting up front with Bobby Lee as the 50 parapackers sat out back with the twins as the Ranchero headed down into town.

The Bamaman
AT ‘81
David S. Severance

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Subject: [at-l] Walking Small and Carrying a Garcia Pack
From: “David S. Severance”
Date: Wed, 13 May 1998 23:36:07 -0400
Cc: Sevski@aol.com

#28 in the Parapacker Series

Tuesday Night 10:00 pm

There were the parapackers, some on the roof and the others 2 deep at the
front of the lean-to watching as Milo Garcia fired up the modified MSR.
No, it was not fondue time as Milo held the MSR full throttle like a torch
moving from pack to pack. Poor Little Juan had to duck quickly as Milo
would turn to grab a funny little wheel from his outstretched hand.

Had Milo at last gone over the deep end?
There were all of the parapackers mini Kelty Tioga frames lined up in a
row. Barry White was playing on the Boom box as Milo went from frame to
frame. “ooooh, oooh, I gotta have your love, ooh baby !” echoed Milo like
some Appalachian Soul Train.

Suddenly there were no more wheels, no more frames and no more Barry
White. “Little Men, I am done!” “Tomorrow we will use our Special Packs !”
boomed Milo to the group of puzzled parapackers.

Wednesday 2:00pm

The parapackers were short in stature but quick of foot and had made it to
the summit of the Big Bald in record time.

Little Enzo was the first to take Milo’s instructions and shot off down
the hill at full bore, After 70 or 80 yards Enzo suddenly leaped off the
ground and with a loud and hollow thump landed flat on his back. Then one
after another the rest of the parapackers followed Enzo’s lead.

Enzo by now was screaming down the mountainside, each little hand grasping
firmly on the side of his pack frame as his head remained propped up by the
rolled up sleeping bag.

“You’re now a bunch of Lugers - Trail Lugers!” shouted Milo as the last of
the parapackers headed down the steep slope.

12 year old Jason Biedleman of Scout Troop 179 would later recall, “Yeah,
I was following John, Mike and Mr. Mooney headed up the Big Bald Trail when
Mr. Mooney starts blowing his willow whistle really really fast.” ” The
next thing I hear was this banging, metal like noise getting louder and
louder and Mr. Mooney he shouts - look out!” “Then I see them, I see these
little guys coming down the hill on their backs. They shoot right past us.
They’re all wearing these funny little bomber hats and those mountain type
sunglasses and they all have this big grin on their faces. One guy he even
gives me the thumbs up as he goes flying by ! !”

Milo was now almost to the top of the Big Pine as he pressed the Bushnells
tightly to his eyes. He could clearly make out the line of paralugers as
they approached the cliffs at lookout point.

“Yes, Yes!” shouted Milo between puffs on the big Cuban cigar. Milo
almost fell out of the Big Pine as Enzo shot over precipice. “Come-on
baby, that’s it, Yes” The sleeping bags were all filling up as the
parapackers slowly descended to the valley below.

Milo carefully climbed down from the Big Pine and thought to himself

Life was Good
The Trail was Good
And Yes,
Milo was Good.

The parapackers would celebrate as they prepared for Trail Days.

The Bamaman, AT ‘81
David S. Severance

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Subject: [at-l] “Puddin” Pack’in Parapackers
From: “David S. Severance” sevy@conknet.com
Date: Thu, 21 May 1998 23:11:03 -0400
Cc: Sevski@aol.com

Thursday -Late Morning:

To Milo Garcia it was more science than art as he shot one snack pack after another over his head to the 50 parapackers that were following in a long line behind. The science was getting the right flavor to the right parapacker and the art was not having to break stride as he climbed the steep hill.

Yes Milo was the MAN when it came to delivering a snack pack to its proper destination. “Mmmm - Mmmm!” Milo would shout out like some Bill Cosby with a Mexican accent.

“Slap” “slap, slap” went the parapackers large hands as they shot up to catch the pummelling parapackets.

According to Milo’s calculations, Little Juan would be walking in 32nd position - so up went the mocha-fondue packed packet. And another for Enzo way, way back at the end.

The parapackers each had a firm hold on their titanium mess spoons in their left hands and would immediately pierce the tops of the puddin packets as they squeezed the containers with the other hand.

With a great “squissssh” the fondue- fill would shoot into their open mouths as the parapackers marched on.

Thursday Mid-Afternoon:

Milo had arranged for the 5 parabuses to be parked safely at the road crossing to transport the entourage into town for some much needed r and r. Milo got a good deal on the ‘67 VW microbuses back at Mel’s German Connection in Franklin, NC. Mel immediately liked the little guys and told Milo “he’d fix ‘em buses up real nice for his scout troop!”

And there they were - 5 buses all lined up freshly painted with the two tone khaki and white paint job. And what ? there was Mel dressed up like aparapacker with his bomber cap and polypro union suit stretched across his big belly with the Mrs. in matching poly and both grinning from ear to ear. Mel and the Mrs. were holding a big banner that read, WELCOME SCOUTS !”

10 parapackers piled into each of the 5 buses. Mel, the Mrs,. and Milo each drove one while in the two others Enzo sat on Pedro’s shoulders and Little Juan well he just stood on the seat while Little Daryl worked the pedals.

Thursday Early Evening:

Larry “Matlock” Jones thought he’d seen everything in his 30 years at the “Lil Italian Pizzaway but he would believe what would happen tonight.

The 5 parabuses did a big “U - eeee” when Milo spotted the big flashing all you can eat sign with the red glowing fondue bar at the Pizzaway. All the buses pulled right up to the front door except Little Juan’s. Little Daryl pushed the gas pedal instead of the brake and the two tone bus went straight into the flashing arrow sign. “Sowwy Miwo ! ‘ said Little Juan as he stuck his head out the safari window.

Milo held the door as the 50 little men marched into the pizza way past Larry Jones and right to the big wood grain food bar in the center of the pizzaway. The parapackers couldn’t reach the AYCE bar and simply held their plates up over their heads a Milo, Mel and the Mrs. scooped, spooned and tonged their way around and around the big bar. “More Fondue!” shouted Larry as the big pot would quickly empty.

Milo was now resting in his booth with Enzo, Pedro, Little Juan and the Mrs. when the urge first came over him. Maybe it was the lights, maybe it was the hour or maybe it was the sight of the Mrs. in her Union suit that put Milo in the mood to sing. And sing he did as he suddenly went up and grabbed the mic out of Larry’s hand as he just finished saying “Doyle, Warren Doyle, Party of 24″

“It’s not unusual to go OUT with anyone!! sang Milo as if he had become Tom Jones.
The parapackers all shouted ” Dadada dada da !”

The Bamaman AT ‘81
David S. Severance

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* Subject: [at-l] Famous Winter Descents - The Parapacker Way
* From: sevy@conknet.com
* Date: Sat, 13 Feb 1999 22:36:05 -0500

Mt. Adams - Pinkham Notch , NH
February 13, 1999

The fondue flowed like lava as The Big Pot tipped on its side.
The special mixture cut an almost perfect “flonduidge”( the scientific term given to the flow of fondue down a vertical face of snow,ice or parapacker.) ” Purrrrrr fect a ! ” chimed Milo Garcia as he waved to the
parapackers to come over and take a look.
The flonduidge snaked back and forth down the side of the mountain before its pathway was lost over a slight ridge about halfway down.
“Now my little friends we must wait!” And wait they did for nearly 4 hours. There were all 50 of the parapackers bivouacked in a perfect circle around Milo Garcia, 5,000 feet up on a ridge crest in the Presidential
Range waiting for Milo to give the big Cuban thumbs up.
Old Gus Emerson just coming off a 10 day shift over at the Mt. Washington Observatory would later comment to the Conway Daily Sun, ” I swear they looked just like a bunch of the Mrs’ finger sandwiches all lay-in there in a circle ya know!”
By now the little guys were getting real itchy to get off of Mt. Adams before it got too late. They especially wanted to make it to Gorham by dinner for the AYCE fare. They loved salad bars and all that salad bars meant to the American Plan. Milo sensed their restlessness and stopped puffing on the Big Cuban Windproof 90 cm long enough to speak, “Res Ipsa Loquitor Comrades!”
To which all the Parapackers replied, “De Flonduidge Loquitor !” which literally translated means “The flonduidge speaks!” The flonduidge now gave off an iridescent glow as Milo Garcia rose to his feet and bid his
good men wait for him by the salad bar and to keep their heads down on Route 16.
A cold stiff wind blew the cigar smoke back into Milo Garcia’s eyes as the first of the 50 little parapackers slipped down the flonduidge still zipped tightly in their bivouac bags.
Milo, still the stalwart retro-hiker, was wearing his best long wool overcoat and knee high hobnailed boots which nearly met the bottom of his wool knickers. He would take the classic descent as the last of the 40
inch bags passed over the ridge.

Meanwhile Little Hector was the first of the little guys to hit the “flulip” ( the term used to describe the aggregate mass formed at the end of a flonduidge which has the profile somewhat like a wave) By this time
in their long trek the little men were used to the big air and actually looked forward to Milo’s unique ways of dropping them quickly off the mountains and into the trail towns. The flulip was just enough to hurl the
bagged parapackers over the tree line and with a gentle 180 degrees and taunt outstretching of their arms the guys were soaring down to Route 16 and a somewhat hard landing on the opposite snowbank.
Now the hard part began. The long time spent above treeline and the windchill of their descent had frozen the bivy bags zippers solid.
So there they were 50 hapless parapackers on the side of Route 16 unable to stick out there thumbs - they could just jump up and down frantically when a car would approach. I’m sure it scared the heck out of everybody who passed them all standing there, jumpin and twitchin in them bags. The zinc sun block still on their noses reflected the car’s headlights as did their mirrored glacier glasses.
Alas along came Gus Emerson still thinkin about them finger sandwiches when he saw the reflected parapackers jumping towards his ‘48 flat bed. Gus hit the brakes but slid over the parapackers. Luckily they remembered Milo’s final words and did keep their heads down - at least enough to make it under the ole ‘48. Well out jumped Gus and ran back to the sandwich people. “Please don’t hurt me! I didn’t mean to run ya over!” Little Juan always the fast thinker replies, “We know kind man - will you take us to Gaw woom !” “Yes, Yes!” the other parapackers joined in “Gaw woom, Gaw woom , Gaw woom !”

Milo just smiled as Gus and the Mrs. helped to serve the 50 little guys grinning from ear to ear as they held their plates high above their heads and weaved around the salad bar.

Life was good, the salad was good and I am good thought Milo Garcia as he slid back in the supple vinyl booth. Milo liked the feel of a good booth. A booth thought Milo was good shelter.

The Bamaman At’81

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* Subject: [at-l] Of Mice and Parapackers
* From: sevy@conknet.com
* Date: Wed, 24 Feb 1999 23:26:15 -0500

Milo Garcia had a big heart for the little things in the world. Perhaps
this is what drew him to the little 39 inch parapackers and what saved the
3 inch mice. Yes it was Milo who’d scoop the little bobbing mice from the
big 20 quart fondue pot as Warren Doyle would just be pumpin the ole MSR
faster and faster.

Tuesday Morning 3:00 AM:

Eeeeee-ck Ding, Eeeeeee-ck Ding came the noise from Speck Pond Shelter.
“Not Again !” fumed poor Milo as he threw the heavy wool blanket off and
staggered over to the lean- to in his Hudson Bay Point boxers. “War- win
is that you?” said little Juan as he sat up and looked at the figure
approaching the shelter. “No, you silly little parapacker, Warren is not
meeting us until the Andover B-Hill Road.” “It is me, Milo Garcia. “

“Oh, hi Mi-wo, is it time to go?” ” No, no , Little Juan, it is the
middle of the night.” Then another Eeeee-ck Ding came form the corner as
both Little Juan and Milo turned to see a mouse fly headlong out of Little
Enzo’s mouth and hit the roof of the shelter.

Milo had finally discovered the source of the noise that had steadily
gotten more and more frequent over the past few weeks. Apparently the mice
would scamper and scurry over the 50 parapackers arranged tightly in rows
of 5 deep across the floor of the shelter. Every now and then one of the
little mice would fall into the little crevasse that was a parapacker
mouth. Just when their little mouseyes would nearly burst and their
little mousepaws would be losing their grip on the paralips, the pressure
would send them skyward with such force that the fur would lie flat on
their backs and their feet would arch back.

Milo could only admire the tenacity of his little mammalian brethren as
they scampered quickly back ocross the parafield after landing with a
hearty thump.

Milo also knew that he had to do something to discourage the mice. The
days had passed and he started to notice more mice bobbin in the fondue
and more and more mice hanging about in the shadows of the lean-to. He
also began to believe that mice were following them from shelter to shelter
like some sick little groupies hoping that they too would catch the big air.

The parapackers were starting to show signs of what Warren Doyle had
coined “mic-oralphobia -pm” or the fear that mice have been in your mouth
at night. Some hikers will only sleep in tents or bivy-shelters because of
this phobia according to Dan Bruce.

Thursday 2:00 AM

Milo positioned his chaise lounge with the multi-colored webbing directly
in front of the shelter and sat waiting in the dark in his boxers and
wearing his Cabela strap-on night vision binoculars. Yes, the number
peaked at about 20 an hour and he swore the mice were enjoying their hang
time.

Warren would know what to do. In the meantime Milo couldn’t sleep but
could only wait and watch the mice flight as he puffed on his big cuban cigar.

The Bamaman AT’81

———-

* Subject: [at-l] Cookin’ Naked
* From: sevy@conknet.com
* Date: Thu, 12 Aug 1999 20:10:37 -0400

“I believe you must cook naked if you own a Stephenson tent!”
Milo Garcia as told to Warren Doyle, Duncannon, PA 4/18/93

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* Subject: [at-l] Milo’s Rejection Letter
* From: sevy@conknet.com
* Date: Tue, 29 Feb 2000 22:14:34 -0500

Husqvarna, Ltd.
123 Svea Blvd
Stockholm, Sweden

Mr. M. Garcia
c/o General Delivery
Suches, Georgia USA

Dear Mr. M. Garcia,

Once again I must insist that you stop sending Husqvarna Ltd. samples of
your Fondue Recipe #231. Moreover, I have instructed our receiving
department to refuse any and all packages bearing your name or containing
the surname “parapacker” such as Juan Parapacker and especially those
signed Litttle Hector Parapacker in pink hi-liter.

We at Husqvarna Ltd. simply do not share your opinion that fondue is the
universal organic lubricant and certainly will not include it as “the
ultimate bar and chain Lube” in our 2000 Husky chainsaw line.

Gunther our chemist also recommends that you not use it in your Volkswagon
transmission. However, he did say that it “had a pleasant patina and no
lingering aftertaste.”

In closing and on a more encouraging note, the medical team at the Salk
clinic successfully reattached Sven’s tongue after the unfortunate incident
at the Woodsman’s day with the modified Husky 451 and your fondue lubricant.

Wishing you the best of luck in the future I am,

Horst Magnusson
President and CEO
Husqvarna LTD

HM/cb

———-

X-Sender: d_severance@pop.conknet.com
Date: Mon, 21 Feb 2000 22:47:53 -0500
To: AT-L@backcountry.net
Subject: [at-l] Milo Garcia & The Parapackers Meet The Blaze Poachers !

Part I Tuesday 1:34 pm

Poor Milo couldn’t seem to find 2nd gear in the old VW bus as it carried the 50 little parapackers up Forest Service Rd. #77. The “Parabus”, as Little Juan had named her, rocked back and forth as it slowly made its way up the narrow dirt road. Yes, it was that continuous play, quality sound that only Milo’s double quadraphonic 8 track player could produce that moved the khaki & white bus.

“Oyo Coma Va !” shouted the parapackers as Milo popped in their favorite Santana 8 track and at the same time found 2nd gear.

The road was now starting to get really bumpy as the parapackers kept popping up and down on the bench seats. After the incident near Erwin, TN last week when they lost poor Little Enzo out the sunroof, Milo insisted that the little men keep it shut. Sure they all like to laugh about it now but it was a good 4 to 5 hours before they found the little fella about halfway up the Citgo sign at Buddy Lee’s Readymart and Salon du Jour. It was Buddy Lee who spotted the parapacker clinging to the pole and plucked the little enzolite just as his chubby paralips were sticking fast to the cold metal.

“Where’s My Cargo Net of Love!” shouted Little Hector in his deep paravoice somewhere between Barry White and Elvis. Lately Hector was ending all of his sentences with “…of love” It was “Hey Miwo, can I see
that Great Smoky National Park Guidebook -o- love, or where’s my Sigg Bottle -o-love !

As Milo turned into the pull-off the bus suddenly lurched forward. Milo had found 1st gear and the Santana tape had ejected lodging in Little Manny’s mouth.

While the rest of the parapackers were removing their gear from the top of the bus Milo was carefully trying to free the tape from Manny. Milo kept pulling and Manny kept blowing but the tape was just not budging. Manny was in good spirits and didn’t seem bothered by it so off they went. Milo in his retro hiking knickers and rucksack , followed by the band of parapackers all dressed in their matching red unionsuits with little Manny bringing up the rear- tape still sticking straight out.

Milo suddenly stopped. Pierre said “Whatsa matwa Miwo.” “Shhh, shhh, listen.”
” Is it the poawchas ?” whispered little Juan.
“No, no, it’s not poachers you silly little man!” “I heard music !”
As little Manny got closer the music got stronger.
” No it couldn’t be.” thought poor Milo.

Around the corner came Manny and sure enough you could hear a somewhat muffled “I gotta Black magic woman - she’s gonna make a devil outta me…” Manny had figured out how to move the tape with his tongue across all the dental work of late which produced a somewhat higher pitched rendition .

Juan, always thinking, wondered if he could switch tracks and gave the poor guy a hard tap on the head with his titanium leki fondue stick.

He didn’t change tracks, but sure enough Manny ejected the tape which now just dangled around his waist with a long piece of tape still somewhere inside Manny’s mouth -o- love !

Milo couldn’t remember whether it was Warren Doyle or Wingfoot who first told him about the increase in blaze poaching on the trail. Apparently, people were going out and sawing off foot long pieces of trees with blazes or metal markers and selling them for hundreds of dollars. It was Warren who caught a guy coming off Moosilaukee last year carrying a rare and desirable double AT blaze/ blue blaze!

Milo couldn’t stand by and let the poaching continue. Tomorrow the parapackers would set a trap in hopes of catching the thieves blaze in hand.

The Bamaman
AT ‘81

———-

* Subject: [at-l] The Parapackers Get Closer to the Blaze Poachers.
* From: sevy@conknet.com
* Date: Tue, 29 Feb 2000 21:46:53 -0500
* Cc: cunamara@ime.net, sevski@juno.com, colprit@rapidnet.com, sevy321@hotmail.com, srice@acsu.buffalo.edu

The 50 little parapackers threaded their way up the dark trail as little
Pedro brought up the rear. Little Pedro, who at 42 inches was no slouch as
parapackers go, struggled under the weight of the VW bus battery Milo had
artfully lashed lengthwise to his back. Milo believed and of course the
parapackers all agreed that he had outdone himself this time. Only Milo
Garcia would be clever enough to wire all of the little guys headlamps
together and power that string-o-paralites with his ingenious backcountry
power source.

Little Pedro had mastered the art of spinning that converted Southbend fly
reel with all abandon as he hiked uphill. Like that little Zappaman he
would later become - Little Pedro could sure make that Dynamo hum!

The parapackers knew that this would be a long day on the trail as they
tried to get closer to the Blaze poachers Warren Doyle had warned them
about. They also knew that Pedro could keep them moving as they started to
bonk at around 35 miles out. Pedro would do a quick little reverse on the
bassmaster 500 and send the flow of current right up the line. Their
headlamps would blink as the current oscillated up like a mini powerwave
popping each little guy about 16 inches straight up!

Milo of course was keeping his good eye out for that blue-blazed side
trail down to the shelter. All were getting tired and hungry as they
thought of Milo’s special fondue dinner. “Hasten up my sturdy little
comrades !” Milo exclaimed as he came to an abrupt stop next to the trail
sign which read ”Shelter, Water .34 miles ->.’
Pedro of course only heard “Hasten up…” and figured that meant another
shock of encouragement.

Af about the time Milo had untangled the last of the 50 parapackers the
big batch of fondue was just about to boil over. Milo shot up and shut off
the modified MSR stove and stirred the big batch with his sturdy hiking
staff.

The parapackers began to circle the pot with their mess plates high above
their heads. They’d all teeter to the right and then the left as Milo
would ladle out a big portion of fondue as each passed by.

Poor little Juan forgot and came around the pot a second time and almost
rolled down the hillside as the fondue hit his plate !

Pedro sat on the edge of the shelter spinning the real and lighting the
campsite with all the headlamps draped around the nearby trees. Enzo
insisted on placing one down by the outhouse and had to splice an extra 100
feet of wire for the job. Every time Pedro would itch his nose the lights
would flicker, the 8 track would flutter and you’d hear someone shout from
down by the outhouse.

Milo, just sat back in his canvas chair and puffed on his big fat Cuban
cigar and thought to himself - life was good, the trail was good, tonight’s
fondue was especially good and yes, I am good !
Tomorrow they should finally reach the blaze poachers.

The Bamaman

AT ‘81

———-

* Subject: [at-l] Gotti, Billy Bob Thornton and Startzell
* From: sevy@conknet.com
* Date: Wed, 01 Mar 2000 19:28:57 -0500

Due to all this bad talk lately about Wingfoot, FELIX made me repost this
item from 2/28/97:

1997 Donations Announced By ATC

Harper’s Ferry, WV

David N. Startzell, Executive Director of the ATC announced the following
major donations at a lunchtime press conference today:

1. ACME NATIONAL VENDING MACHINE COMPANY

Antonio “little hiker” Gotti III, the 3′9″ CEO of Acme National was
visibly quite emotional as he embraced Startzell several times throughout
the press conference. Acme had just donated 5,000 cigarette vending
machines to the conference.

Startzell hopes to retrofit the machines for placement in all trailside
shelters and at “significant road crossings to maximize the use by both
hikers and non-hikers alike.”

Each unit will be painted in such a manner as to “compliment the natural
beauty of the local area as well as being triple-blazed to aid the weary
hiker in identification.” When asked what the conference planned to sell
in these machines, David replied, “Gee, I don’t know - hiker stuff?”

Finally, Dan Bruce abruptly walked to the front of the crowded room and
announced that he had already begun work on “Vending Machines - The Where,
the What and the How Much” a combined master’s thesis and supplement to his
popular, The Thru-Hiker’s Guide. He added that the supplement will be
available by May 1 and come with a color coded map and complimentary AT
token for use in any machine from Georgia to Maine.

2. BILLY BOB THORNTON ENTERPRISES

Billy Bob Thornton has agree to donate all proceeds from his upcoming
movie to the ATC.

He further pledged to match any and all donations made during 1997 from
any person with two first names.

Suddenly David Startzell took the microphone from Billy Bob and announced
that Benton Mackaye, father of the AT, was actually “Benton Lee Mackaye”
and Myron Avery, first son of the AT, was actually “Bobbi Sue Avery” after
the tragic accident with his handmade measuring wheel on the steep descent
of East Baldpate.

The press conference ended dramatically as Wingfoot gave the first token
to “liitle hiker” Gotti as he was hoisted up as if a mere daypack by the
executive director and placed on the shoulders of Billy Bob Thornton. As
the little man dropped the token in the green and brown fern-motif machine
the room fell deathly silent. A roar erupted as Wingfoot fell to his
knees, pulled the plunger as a knight reclaiming his sword and reached in
to claim the cherished prize. All four then turned to face the crowd as
Wingfoot held up the very first AT Hiker Bar by Snickers.

———-

* Subject: [at-l] Wingfoot Names First Avery Monitors
* From: sevy@conknet.com
* Date: Thu, 09 Mar 2000 23:05:32 -0500

Hot Spring, NC

Dan “Wingfoot” Bruce d/b/a “The Appalachian Trail” announced today that the 50 little parapackers had been overwelmingly selected to be the first Avery Trail Monitors.

Joined at the noontime press conference was an ever stalwart and churly Milo Garcia together with the parapackers all dressed in their little knicker outfits and beaming from ear to ear. Each parapacker was pushing a mini-sized measuring wheel as they weaved back and forth and around Wingfoot and Milo as the audience cheered. “I’m a Monitor-o-love!” shouted Little Hector as he waved to the crowd.

“Greetings friends, fellow hikers, and uh…uh is that a AT-L’r…oh, sorry…fellow hikers and frequent visitors of Trailplace.com, I welcome you!” ” I am also announcing that I will no longer be known as Wingfoot but will now be simply known by the AT symbol !” And with that the hiker formerly known as Wingfoot quickly left the podium followed closely by the cloak wearing Avery Guard.

All the while the parapackers were oblivious to the announcement and kept circling the stage pushing their measuring wheels, smiling and waving at the crowd.

Milo Garcia again stepped forward and as the lights dimmed said, “Please enjoy with me this multimedia presentaion.” Well all the parapackers knew what Milo’s multimedia presentaions were and abruptly dropped their wheels and sat down in the front row with their liitle heads tilted upwards. Little Hector and Enzo scurried back to the filmstrip projector and 8 track player and began the show.

After rushing through the 5 minute copyright segment, the narration began: ” Coming soon, ‘The Trail-My Way or No Way starring Dan Wingfoot Bruce’ an IMAX spectacular. Cur-chunk goes the 8 track tape as it changes tracks and little Enzo spins the filmstrip knob trying to keep up. “This is Myron Avery and this is an Avery Monitor as the picture of Little Juan and his wheel is superimposed on the classic pose of Myron Avery. “Note the diminutive parapacker” adds the narrator. click, click turns the filmstrip. “And here see how easily the parapackers can conceal themselves behind trees and especially blue-blazed trees.” The picture shows maybe 25-30 little parapackers sticking their heads out from behind trees , smiling and waving.

Suddenly the music on the 8 track player picks up as the Theme from Shaft begins to fill the room. Enzo clicks the filmstrip knob faster and faster. We see the hiker formerly known as Wingfoot jumping up from the big trailplace sofa and running out the door. “Here we see the response team in action as the Avery Monitors have spotted a registered trail user avoiding Albert Mountain.” adds the narrator.

Again the scene shows Wingfoot this time at the Springer Mountain check-in center attaching the champion chip to a somewhat pudgy hikers boot. “These chips will activate sensors at secret points along the
Appalachian Trail and be closely monitored by the staff at Avery Center.”

The lights come back up and Milo returns to the podium as the parapackers resume weaving and pushing their wheels throughout the crowd of onlookers. “Thank you Little Juan, Little Enzo, Little Hector and the rest of you Litle Parapackers!” boomed Milo as he lightt his big Cuban cigar. “Are there any questions? Yes - the redheaded hiker over there.”

“Is it true Mr. Garcia that you invented the McDonald’s shake and that it is actually your chilled fondue recipe?” “I have no comment escept to say that shakes have many uses.” replied a stunned Milo.

The Bamaman AT ‘81

———-

Subject: [at-l] Wingfoot
From: sevy@conknet.com (sevy)
Date: Sun, 1 Dec 2002 14:35:38 -0500

Hey,

People don’t understand Milo Garcia and the little parapackers. They hold trail tight to their little bosoms next to their little titanium fondue sticks peeking out of their green pocket protectors.

Onward little Arturo, onward comrades.

We must go to the racetrack-o-love.

Big hug ))))(((( for all, including Wingfoot - man of lycra - holder of the trail flame.

———-

Subject: [at-l] 6th Parapackers (& vote results)
From: lpatton at mailer.fsu.edu (Linda Patton)
Date: Fri Oct 1 15:48:34 2004
________________________________________
The votes up to now may be summarized as:
1 for : “Cease and desist”
10 for: keep ‘em coming!

Comments:
I LOVE the parapacker stories. I was sad when bamaman stopped
posting them.
So 600 listers should be deprived of these IMO very humorous posts
because one person is a little disturbed?
…They were missed.
No, no, please keep posting these mini-blasts from the past! They
help remind me of what at-l used to be, in the good old days.
I have a sense of humor. I vote for them. It brings back some of the
nostalgia for what this list was when we liked each other.
I think that you should keep posting them, Linda. Don’t let the
humorless ruin it for the rest of us.
I vote that you NOT cease and desist! Keep ‘em coming!
I enjoyed them at the time, and I’m enjoying them now…
More, please! It’s nice to be reminded of a more simple time :O)
Nope, no need to vote–Keep up the good work.

and…
“Cease and desist” please. Thank you.

———-

* Subject: [at-l] From the Bamaman
* From: sevy at mcttelecom.com (sevy)
* Date: Sat Oct 2 13:10:06 2004

Gee Whiz,

I didn’t know I had become that popular
Here I am just teaching chemistry at the Academy
and all the while dreaming up new and exciting fondue recipes for those hungry little parapackers !
Milo and the mighty little men are plannin a hike, pressin and packin their little bomber hats.
Headin for PA to find Martha.

Stay tuned. . .

The Bamaman AT ‘81
aka Dave Severance
Moultonborough Academy
Moultonborough, NH

Books for Hikers

Reviews added under FEATURED BOOK

Half a dozen new books

A good year for A.T. books…

Milo and the Parapackers

Two new trails added