BLACKSBURG
'71
"Zitt, zitt", a young punk letching on Bev Feldstein, and Mark Adams continuously knocking over booze bottles in Curl' s swined-up room. The Curls were both sober as judges, John Cooper was comforting young girls, Charlie Larson was pie-eyed, Don Cournoyer and Dick Bishop were letching about, while Dirty Jim, Jay Herbein, Do Haarr and Jim Kramer sat along one wall just drinking and staring. As the sun rose over the Blacksburg skyline, Kim, Whitt and I eased back to the muddy campground leaving the dorm cavers to their communal showers and revelry.
By 10 AM Sunday, most cavers were up and trying to make some orderliness of the disorganized conglomeration which had been their home away from home. One by one they moved on toward points away from Blacksburg. As the campground gradually emptied of people, several runs were made to the dump, the milk cans were collected and the big tent taken down. The area was desolate. To be sure, the San Marcos group was still there, Mike Houpt's pile of stuff was laying in a heap where Bobbi Nagy had driven over it, and scattered clothing littered the fences. The convention in Blacksburg was over, and all there was to look forward to was the next convention in White Salmon, Washington. See you there!
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next--Gallery pg282
