The Quest For The 4077: The White Flag Of Surrender

Peering throught the boughs of the trees, we could hear and see a helicopter cruising overhead. Between pants of breath, someone offered: "It's a reenactment of the opening credits!" Another remarked, "Nah. It's the Red Cross 'copter, coming to get me!"

Try as I might, I could not get the hovering craft in the frame of my camera. It was obvious that we were going to have to pause, if only to gain our bearings.


Besides, even though the traffic was slim, we were definitely an obstruction to those deft bikers and experienced hikers who passed us up. Occassionally, an individual or two would be coming from the direction of what we thought was our intended destination. "Are we there yet? Is there really a M*A*S*H* set? How much farther? " Questions queried of each as they manuevered their way past our little entourage. We considered abandoning task. But the thought of the return trip, without the delivery of goods just couldn't be grasped. We must. carry. on.


The river bedrock finally gave way to pebbles, then to gravel . . .and soon, a flatter plain with which to walk. Replacing Keller in his stroller, we gained a bit of speed, and rounded a corner.

There it was.

Suddenly.

Without warning. Without fanfare.

The staging area of many a 'copter landing, a surgical slice, a drink taken at the emotional bereavement of soldiers missing their loved ones stateside.

In that instant, our weariness melted away. We were suddenly energized, and engaged, and chatty with the other hikers, who'd also gained triumph by perseverance!

There it was, a valley area, with staked out markers where the Mess Tent was; the Infirmary; the Barracks. An old burned out jeep; a rusted ambulance . . .all memorials to a long-running hit television series of days gone by.

Several M*A*S*H* groupies were misty-eyed as they chatted among themselves. We encouraged them in the championing of their quest, a dream now realized. As for us? We needed a seat, and PRONTO! We broke out the water bottles and toasted to our accomplishment.

Keller, of course, posed dutifully for the camera, the knowledge of this auspicious occassion near and dear to his heart.

After refreshing ourselves, the mental acuity began to actualize the fact that now we had to retrace our steps!!!

EGADS!

Surely we could now travel with a spring in our step? We could carry the stroller once again over crag and cranny? Well, whether we thought we could or not, the task had to be done . . .

unless of course we could flag down one of those helicopters . . .which seemed awfully far-fetched.

So, retrace we did.

Choosers! Our "thirty-five minute, one mile hike" to the M*A*S*H* 4077 was, and I quote: A THREE MILE, FOUR HOUR venture!

Stumbling back to the car (which we thought we might not ever see again) (not that we are out of shape, or anything) and dropping our weary bodies into the seats, we high-fived each other. Surely, we had accomplished the most important task.

Making a memory that could not be erased.

Off the beaten path? Yes.

Written upon the heart? Oh yeah.

Perfect.