Tales of the Toothless- an email worth sharing

I have encountered some fine folks with quirks all their own worth telling stories about...most with teeth though.

One guy that came to mind was named Captain because of a his feathered low brim cap and long white beard. He had a funny way of talking as though every sentence was pulled from a bag with the slow croaking intonation of an old man in a rocking chair pulling the corn cob pipe from his lips, then waiting, and finally starting; except the captain smoked small cigars. He was from New Orleans and had that uncanny calm, jovial atmosphere of a southern gentleman at Mardis Gras about him which added to the absolute silliness of his speaking. The man had hiked the Appalachian Trail for the past 16 years or so, making sure to mark off every section on the map. His 2 weeks in the Shennandoah's would mark off the last bits of Virginia and, on the day I met him, was also to be his last day on the trail until next year when he would take on another 14 day adventure. He carried nothing sparingly in the old external frame back pack and wore boots which were completely reconstructed with duct tape because they had fallen apart a few days back after many years of service. His stove was the heavy coleman propane type standing 10inches high, 6 inches in diameter and weighing at least 4 pounds.
He joked he had a jet pack and needed only to hit the button to fly off.

Although I can't remember the specific silliness of this man, I can say he was as kind and warm hearted as I have ever met. He offered to dry off my socks with his propane stove but the open flame on wool made me consider having wet socks to having none. We were getting to be as close as hikers can get in a cramped shelter of 5 while being pinned in by the rain. A few newly graduated Pitt Alumni came down the hill then(and this is probably the reason I thought of this story) so I recalled a few 'souf Oakland fo' life' hangouts while they told me the new spot in place. The newly grads filled their water and headed back up the hill to camp so we continued chit chatting until the sun when down and the rain fell again.
He was quite a character. In the morning he was packed and ready to go before anyone else even though he had only to hike to the parking lot a mile away to wait for his girlfriend or wife to pick him up. He had 3 cigars left so could wait until noon at least. I never got a picture of him, never knew his given name, nor what he did for a living. Couldn't tell you if he had kids, a family to love or a dog by his side at home but I'd be happy to see on the streets or mountain trail again to talk for talking's sake.

Those are the times I like best. But looking back may romanticize or idealize the memory of it. Maybe that's what makes it so nice to remember.