Expedition Memoirs

The shout came from down the trail, among the Jeeps, from which then emerged a bald, bearded man in a black t-shirt whom the other Jeepers called Angel came striding up the trail toward us and began barking orders and shouting about there being too many chiefs and not enough Indians, too many chefs in the kitchen — though I thought it strange since the conversation among the owner of the Frontier and Tacoma, the two motorcyclists, and the Jeepers had only just begun. He then started shouting for everyone to return to their vehicles and back up, shouting, “If you’re not going to help, get back in your vehicle and turn fucking around!” Those very words he directed squarely at me, standing in front of me midstride and pointing…