Robert Glassel’s long-overdue weekend in the Blue Ridge Mountains was marred Saturday night by the persistent smoke from his campfire, which he told friends was following him wherever he went.
The 19-year-old carpenter’s assistant from Wicomico Church, Virginia, has just whittled a marshmallow stick and sat down on a reasonably smooth rock next to the fire when the breeze shifted and blew an acrid cloud of smoke in his face.
“Hey, that happens.” he said. “So I moved to the other side and put the breeze at my back. But then the smoke turned and covered me again. It didn’t matter whether I was on the north, south, east, or west side of the fire – the smoke drifted my way.
Even the time-tested method of dispelling campfire smoke – saying “I hate rabbits” repeatedly – didn’t work.
“Everything I brought on the trip smells like smoke,” he complained. “It even followed me home.”
The Adventurey Report is almost certainly not true.
Photo by cairn111