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covered with mold and cobwebs. Thanks to his ingenious aid, I was soon typing name tags and greeting old friends. It soon became apparent that the registration table was THE place to be, and it was unwise to leave your chair long enough to use the little white booth as no chair remained vacant.
Then the RAIN came. There's a Great Speckled Bird far up in the sky who finds cavers a bit hard to believe. With no warning at all and during special events, the Bird likes to dump upon cavers. Would you believe it rained every day? No lie; everyone was muddy to the knees. Cars, tents, and clothes looked as if they'd been hand-dipped in thousands of mud puddles. At first it was irritating, but gradually we all took it in stride. One evening several of the more intoxicated held a contest to see who could dive and slide the farthest in the semiliquid brown goo.
Bob Page set up the VPI store and was quickly surrounded by eager buyers. Several enterprising vertical bugs rigged a tall tree with ropes and pulleys so as to practice rope work.
Many, many people arrived on Saturday and it was fun to be at the registration table. How wonderful to see Wayne Foote and son, Tommy, Sandra Deal, Margie O'Brien, Bill Mixon, Sandy and David Irving, Pat Moretti, Ernst Kastenings, those boys from Texas, Bev and Linda Feldstein, Doug Rhodes, the Fagans from Roanoke. Later on Sherry Myrick, Frank Mielcarek, a bunch from Parkersburg, W.Va., Bev and Jim Storey, Doug Perkins, Phil Lucas, Wilmer McCavit, Rane and Shirley Curl, Al Stewart, Art and Peg Palmer, Roswell Jones, John Peduzzi, the McClurgs and Bill Schulze streamed by. As the rains poured down, the tent became more and more crowded. Wow! What a scene!
Facilities for the campground included 74 milk-cans filled with water (refilled when necessary), garbage cans placed irregularly and five Churchill portable pots miraculously always stocked with commode paper. On Saturday during the rain, the "Shit Truck", as it was fondly dubbed, came to remove the sewage from the pots. Before any removal could be made, the truck became mired axle-deep in mud. It wasn't until Monday that it was relieved. Someone with a mind on the situation, however, equipped the truck with a sign: "Please lighten the load; all you can drinks - 50 cents!"
That night the first spontaneous party erupted amidst registration and new arrivals. Lashing around the tent were Steve Kark, Wes Thorne, Roger Baroody, Bennie Sanford, that kid wearing Coca Cola pants, Jack Stellmack with a monster dog, Linda Heitz, Elaine Hackerman, Easter Pig, Bobbi Nagy, Jim Taylor, and Neal Morris. Peering blearily through my red eyes I was astounded to see Ed Loud, Russ Peterson, Sally Rhodes, Ralph Doyster, Rick Rigg, Sandy Parham, Ken Laidlaw, Hazel Medville, Chris Kramer, Dwight Deal, Rick Banning, Ron Krause, Scott Craytor, George Corbett, Barbara Spruil, Dale Ibberson, Jim Young and Charlie Larson carousing lustily.
Sunday and Monday were devoted to pre-convention caving trips. Each trip, I am sure, is a story in itself. Monday was also the day of the Karstlands Excursion into the depths of southwestern Virginia. Apparently there were many who did not read the Guidebook and were unprepared for the daylong trip. In such cases it is best to remember the words of Dirty Jim: "These things are sent to test us." During the Monday night party, Kark and Roehr rescued two girls from a house party in town and brought them to the campground. Rumor has it that Gordon Kerby disguised himself as a Playboy Photographer and took at least 40 shots of them (just the girls, silly!) in the nude.
continued Blacksburg pg280
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