The Mountain Man

Written by J.D.

55 years old

South Hills, PA

“And that’s how I catch my fish,” he said.

Ross was a mountain man. I met him on a weekend visit to my best friend, Hazel’s, family home. 

“You have got to meet Ross,” Hazel’s brother Ben said after dinner Friday night the day before we met Ross. “We will go up the mountain tomorrow to meet him.” 

This was my first time meeting Ben who was an interesting character in that he was a bit of a recluse. I was surprised that Ben was even in the same room with me and now wanted to go on an adventure together. Ben was a gentle soul and had the most interesting hobbies and taste in music. I was in awe that Hazel had an older brother that was this cool. I figured if Ben wanted me to meet Ross, then bring it on. 

In Hazel’s house, you woke to loud classical music being pumped through a vast speaker system. This was her dad’s way of making sure you were ready for the day and for the mandatory, daily, two-mile hike.

“Dad, we are going on our own hike today, up the mountain to see Ross,” Ben explained to his dad.

“The mountain man? Do you think you should bring him any supplies?” Ben’s dad asked.

“Not sure what he needs this time of year with it being springtime. We will ask him and I can put stuff at a drop off site for him.” Ben said.

Now this was getting more intriguing and my interest was piqued one hundred percent. “Who was this Ross person? Where did he live? HOW did he live? Drop off point? A mountain man?” I thought to myself.

We left after breakfast and had a scenic drive in Hazel’s car that always smelled calmingly like melted beeswax candles. We pulled onto a dirt road that eventually led to a parking lot of sorts. We geared up with raincoats and water bottles and started up a path into Hemlock trees. We hiked for quite a while, stopping to take in the luscious scenery and to make small talk. When we came to a fork in the path, we went left and walked parallel to a substantial stream running fast down the mountain. Its rushing was loud and took over our silence.

We had been walking for a good two hours. “There,” Ben said suddenly. “ There’s Ross the mountain man’s home.”

I looked up and saw a shack. It was well kept, but a shack nonetheless, built absurdly close to the stream we had just hiked beside to get there. There were all sorts of items hung on the outside like water pails, metal grates, nets, pans. Ross did not appear to be home, so we hung out on the property trying not to be too nebby.

“Hey there, visitors. What can I do you for?” Ross appeared out of the forest carrying a dead rabbit on a stick. He was a skinny, yet healthy-looking man, with a big smile and ruddy cheeks. Ross was very happy to see us and I wondered when he had last had visitors. 

“I remember you,” Ross pointed to Ben. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Nice that you made it up the mountain today. Who did you bring with you?”

Ross then looked hard at Hazel and I, and I felt a bit uncomfortable. We were in the middle of nowhere, two young women with Ben as our guide. Ben was smart, but not a save-the-day kind of young man. For a fleeting minute, I thought, “What were you thinking? Hope you get out of this one okay.”

“I am Jenn and this is Hazel,” I replied. “Nice to meet you.” We both shook his hand and the air felt less unsettled. 

“Thought we would come up and see how you were doing and how you fared the winter months,” Ben added. “Do you need anything that I can drop off at another time?” 

“I have a few things in mind, but let’s not worry about that now. Let me show the newcomers around.”

Our tour commenced. We went into the shack. It was neat, organized, minimal. He didn’t offer us a refreshment even though we did not expect him to. I felt bad that we hadn’t brought him anything. I had a chocolate bar in my backpack and offered it to him.

“Thanks. That’s mighty kind of you. I can’t remember the last time I had candy, especially chocolate,” Ross said. “Let me catch a fish for you.”

We walked over to a spot by the shack close to where the stream was calm and the water was clear. Ross crouched down and intently glared at the water. Minutes passed, and my attention was being drawn back to the shack and its contents. “What could I give to Ben to give to Ross?” I thought.

“GOTCH YA!” With much commotion and a loud splash, we were spattered with water coming off of a wriggling fish! Ross had caught it with his bare hands. Our mouths were open in awe. I looked at Hazel and she looked at me. This could be a tale to tell at our next party.

“You,” Ross pointed at me. “Quick, get me that net there on the house.” I ran over and retrieved it and securely placed it in Ross’s hands. He placed the fish in it and then ordered Hazel to get a pail full of water. She did and he put the fish in the pail. 

“Dinner,” Ross said, pleased with himself. “Unless you all want me to cook it up for you to eat now?”

“No thanks,” Ben replied. “You can enjoy it later with your rabbit.”

“So where are you from?” Ross pointed at me. “I know these two are locals.”

“I am originally from Punxsutawney. But now I live at college with Hazel,” I said.

“Punxsutawney Phil! Never been to the celebration, but love me a groundhog,” Ross said. “So that’s what I will call you, Groundhog Girl.”

“Groundhog Girl, huh? I guess so,” I said wondering if I wanted a nickname from a person I had just met. But it was more endearing than dangerous, so I went with it. I could tell that Ross was taken with me in a grandfatherly sort of way, and I didn’t want to disappoint.

We stayed for a bit longer and then let Ross know it was time for us to head back down the mountain as the clouds were saying that a storm was approaching.

“Say, can you drop off some flour, Crisco, salt, and sugar sometime soon? I would really appreciate it,” Ross asked Ben.

“Sure thing,” said Ben. “How about I do that on Wednesday of this week. I can just bring it right here to your place.”

“That would be mighty kind of you. I will see you in four days. As for you,” Ross pointed at Hazel and I, “do you think you girls would write me a letter every once in a while? I like reading letters to know what’s going on beyond the mountain. I will give you my P.O. box address. I go down to get mail every once in a while. I will try my best to write you back too,” he said expectantly.

“Sure,” we both said at the same time. Ross wrote his address on a piece of old newspaper and I tucked it in my pocket. We all said goodbyes and thank yous and left Ross to tend to his fish and rabbit dinner. He looked after us as we started on the path.

As we walked down the mountain, I asked Hazel, “Are you going to write to him?”

“I want to say yes, but in reality I probably won’t. You know me, distracted with other stuff. You?” Hazel said honestly. 

“I am going to try to. Now that I am Groundhog Girl, I feel obligated,” I said laughing. “Might be nice to get a mountain man’s perspective on life.”

We had a nice hike back to the car and made it just in time to beat an incoming storm. Meeting Ross was quite an experience, and I thanked Ben for the opportunity.

Ross and I wrote several letters back and forth over the next several years. Then, I stopped writing. Later, Hazel’s father let me know that Ross had been taken to an assisted living facility because he couldn’t take care of himself on the mountain. He wasn’t doing well. I wrote Ross one last letter, and I hope it made all the difference.