Wow!  That’s going to leave a ‘mark’ (Trail that is, heh, heh…) Take THAT, Shelley!  And for all your city slicking, cell phone checking, outdoors hating ways!  Stupid?  Who or what are you calling stupid, bitch?  I tell you I am in control here… as if my auburn highlights don’t send a strong enough signal!  I am the ALPHA! Take heed!

Do you think Cherry is really sorry?  I don’t.  I think she’s been wanting to bitch-slap Shelley since the night she had to serve her dinner at Lost Forest and play “The Good Wife” while Mark and Wes played “Hide the Bowie Knife…” under the table during coffee and desert… So STAY CALM, Shelley.  Your histrionics, told-you-so’s and recriminations are NOT going to save our sorry asses from the Wolf/ Moose/ poor camping fire/propane stove configuration decision resulting in a conflagration situation…

… apparently for hours now… maybe even days…  weren’t the wolves in hot pursuit of the moose calf at least a day ago?  Didn’t Mark and Wes get a night’s sleep in after we first learned of the wolf/ moose situation??   Who knows, time is a slippery concept in the Trail-verse.  Poor mommy and baby moose.  Must suck to be preyed upon.  “Just leave me the hell alone, all right?  Aren’t there any mice to snack on?   Haven’t you ever seen the movie ‘Never Cry wolf?’  And now there’s this f-ing metal clangy thing in my way…”

Wonder if the ladies are in the same tent? Whether they set up camp with boy-boy, girl-girl tent assignments…  eliminates any possibility of inappropriate noises emanating at night…

At least today we don’t have to look at Wes’s sallow, ashen, sunken-cheeked face or Mark’s overly jaunty cap perched on the back of his head… Or listen to the whiny one elicit random noises about cell phone reception and missing civilization…

And I am still adding up the combined weight of all the crap they have in “camp…” including now a full-size stove and propane tank.  This just doesn’t make any sense.  But then I probably spend too much time thinking about these things…

Yup, magically conveyed by some force down the side of “Slumber Mountain” (significance of that name to be determined…) Mark and Wes are treated to a free-standing, available, watertight and cheery cabin for two, complete with “discarded” (yet I am sure quite water-tight and buoyant) canoe-  suspended upside-down and protected from rot on a canoe RACK!  No doubt nestled on the shores of the same lake that Shelley and Cherry are currently waiting and tapping their feet (or running quickly into to escape wolf-bite.)

Once again, though, one must take the dialogue apart with a tweezers… “Really bad Feelings,” Mark, are reserved for when you think Sasquatch might be holed up in said cabin, not that it’s been potentially “abandoned for a while now…”  And then as you burst through the door you proclaim your omniscience, “Just as I thought… Abandoned!”  A canoe? With or without paddle?  For surely that spells the worst luck of all- being anywhere at all in a canoe without a paddle…

You know what we need right about now?  Some Disney magic!  This is getting way too serious!!  Some oblique reference to “Slumber Mountain” an obvious rip-off of “Hushabye Mountain” from the movie Chitty Chitty Bang Bang…  “Dick” Van Dyke (Given name Richard Wayne) singing his charges to sleep after an exciting day aboard the flying car… Wait- maybe this whole thing has been a dream?  Has there ever been a dream sequence in all of Mark Trail?  Not that I Know of…

But don’t give up, Wes!  Shelley is probably back a base camp having that revelatory moment you can only imagine… the real beauty of the outdoors is foisting itself upon her in the form of a hungry pack of wolves…  while you use the tall, angular, implacable Mark Trail as your guide and crutch… because isn’t that really what being outdoors is all about?

And oh, by the way Harry, better order more orange ink, I think that barrel’s getting low…

The sunken cheeks, the fever.  Shock has set in, Trail… Wes is in real Danger… not to mention that, notwithstanding all the physical discomfort, he, HOWEVER, wants to “get back to Shelley.”  Seriously, who uses the word ‘However’ in this context?  And oh by the way, Mark, Wes sure is HUNGRY…  The close-up of Wes reveals facial stubble, while in frame one it looks as though Mark has grown the full Abraham Lincoln chinstrap… Which is probably the spontaneous Trail body reaction to being suddenly thrown into survival mode… but then it miraculously disappears by panel three…

But down the mountain we go, hat perched on the back of the Trail-head- ha!- Trailhead- get it?? That’s a joke, son! ( a little hiking humor…)

And for what it’s worth, I can only manufacture a certain amount of worry here… I don’t think we have ever actually LOST a character in the decades that this strip has been in production… so, Mark, Wes, Carry On!  We should have you back to safety by Independence Day!

Heading off, no telling where they are or when they will be back…

But I see that while Miss Breakfast-in-Bed is all about trying to console herself and her worries, with Cherry doing her best STAY CALM routine, (Said another way, “Shut that pie hole Missy, Or I will give you something to REALLY worry about…) Shelley is warding off the coming stress induced migraine… At Least Cherry has a cheery fire going with ample glowing sticks of wood to pull out and use to ward off the impending wolf attack.

Meanwhile, the wolf pack is warming up with a “chase me, chase me” game with the moose family.  Predators like it when their prey runs… do we suppose that Shelly and Cherry will oblige?   Remember, Cherry, you don’t have to be faster than the wolves, just faster than Shelley.  That really shouldn’t be a problem…

OK, I am not wishing any harm to come to Shelley and Cherry, but c’mon, we had some REAL TENSION building back at base camp…  Pink Mist, Howling wolves, the whole schmear… And this is all remedied by a “propane camp stove” and a cup of Tea?  Never mind that the chair she is sitting in along with the tent in the background (of which there must be two) is of the safari-quality canvas type that could only be brought in by a train of pack-mules, not stowed in the cargo hold of a little pontoon plane…

Love that Shelley still appears to be clutching her kerchief in her right hand while being waited on hand and foot…  That’s the spirit!  And never mind that Old Wes and is new best friend Mark are out there in Heaven knows what predicament…  “We might end up getting STUCK OUT HERE!  I may never get a signal on my phone ever again!  I will never again tweet!  Or find out if Kanye returns to Kim!”  The strategic head tilt in Panel two yields to the uncomely furrowed brow of panel three, as Shelley is now being driven to take off in search of help!

OK, now I am amused…  With the sheep that Mark and Wes were fixing to “shoot” perched high above them and mocking them mercilessly, we are being asked to believe that the “men” are perched precariously on a mountainside, with Mark’s voice emanating from the very essence of our Mother Earth… and why is it getting snowier?  It would seem that they are walking INTO trouble, not away from it.  But who am I to judge??

And out of what, pray tell, will Mark build his shelter?  I cannot wait to see what he is able to whip up in these dire circumstances…  but then he IS Mark Trail, and I dasn’t doubt him, not even for a minute.   Wes continues to worry about “the girls…” Imagine how worried he would be if he knew that the wolf pack was circling!

Another thought… why would you take a novice, and especially one that has not a shred of enthusiasm about the whole endeavor, on a high altitude/ high adventure junket?  Aren’t we just asking for trouble??

Yes, of course Mark “fashioned a crutch,” such are the magical powers of one Mark Trail, who can fashion anything out of nothing.  A couple of days back it appeared that the surrounding area was devoid of anything deciduous or coniferous, so Heaven only knows WHAT he used to make the crutch… And the look on Wes’s face is troubled to say the least, but then he probably has gone into shock from his injuries, so hopefully Mark remembers the tell-tale signs, and what to do in that event…  Sentinel Squirrel is at his post, however, alerting all the woodland creatures that Master Mark is in trouble…

But really Mark…  What’s with the hat?  There’s jaunty, Jauntier and Jauntiest… and right now with the way it is perched on the back of your head you are tipping the Jaunty scale to a dangerous level…  Cherry/ Shelley; Shelley/ Cherry…  what is it they say you should always name your dog something that ends in an “ee” sound?  That it gets and holds their attention? That you can draw the sound out as you call (as in “La-a-assie-e-e-e-e-e-e…” ) Not sure how that works on Wolves…

In the stillness of the mountain twilight, wolves calling out to each other, with the sun setting on our increasingly concerned damsel(s?) in distress, the lake water turns… pink?  A nod to Victoria’s Secret?? And what exactly is enveloping Shelley in the second frame? Pink fog, Pink bushes?  A nod to Stephen King??

Shelley, cortisol flowing freely through her body, her delicate fingers touching her dermabrased and foundation-laden cheek, declares her fright for all the wild, natural world to feed upon…  Cherry offers up, “They’re wolves, Apex Predators that hunt cooperatively in packs, and we are in very strong canvas tents; don’t worry we are safe!”

Uh, OK, Cherry, even I am starting to think the whole “outdoors” thing is a little extreme…

And were we “Speaking of Wes??”  What were we saying?  Damn… missed all the dirt!  Cherry checks her watch and looks more angry than worried… as if to say, “All right, I have done all I can with this hopeless case…  I have taken one for ‘Team Trail,’ when do we pack up, make like a cow-pie, and hit the trail?”

At least we now see the lake where the plane has executed its take-offs and landings!

Yes, and as the sun slowly sets, the alpha make wolf is calling to the pack.  Translation: “Two estrogen-charged, bipedal creatures have been left behind and will serve nicely as our dinner tonight!”  So before you get too angry, ladies, consider the possibilities- that your respective husbands have gone DOWN, and you are being eyed as PREY!  Have to admit, there is real tension here…

Seemingly another world away, Cherry and Shelley bask in the relative comfort of camp, surrounded by lush green and frolicking fowl…  compared to the moonscape our hero and benefactor now find themselves in…  I think Shelley is just a little OCD with that phone… surprised that by now the battery hasn’t gone dead as the phone constantly tries to find a signal, any signal… It must miss the city along with its owner!  Doesn’t Shelley Realize that she has been transported back to another time and place, where objects of the future do little good?

Shelley went fishing with that question, though, and is actually a bit surprised by Cherry’s answer, that she and Mark “enjoy living in a wilderness area.”  Good for Shelley to show a little couth in that she did not insert the adjective that no doubt was forming on the tip of her tongue: godforsaken wilderness area…  Oh but what fun awaits once the plane is not back when expected!

AND it would seem as though they gained in elevation since when we first took stock of their situation!  Gone are the pines that would have suggested that they weren’t on the very tip top of the mountains, only to be replaced with the barren, rocky slopes that would suggest that they are in a world devoid of life and other essential things… Even a small flock of geese glide by, looking for a place to land, flying over what looks to be quite a drop along the rocky face.

Poor Wes, foot “wrapped,” leaning against a boulder, suggesting that, in the works of Ulysses Everett McGill, “We’re in a tight spot…”

Define “long way,” Mark…  I mean how far could they be?  Far enough I suppose to have entered another distinct ecosystem…

And let’s be clear… compared to other “tight spots” we’ve seen our hero overcome, this could be the “tightest” yet, in that unlike other situations where the nemesis is a thief, a cheat, a kidnapper, or a baddy that’s all three at once, this is a test with Mark pitted against Mother Nature herself!

Oh my, Wes’s hat is the first casualty of the C*R*A*S*H… replaced by the always useful goose-down “puffy-jacket-man” coat in not quite blaze orange…  Compared to Mark’s neutral, blend-in-with-mountainside jacket, at least Wes won’t get shot at…

But let’s take stock…  they are below the tree line, which means temperature shouldn’t be terribly extreme, they probably didn’t pack any provisions for their little outing since I am sure they planned to be back to camp in time for cocktails, but it’s damn good thing they are packing, with the rifle #2 (of how many exactly? Just how expansive is this arsenal?) slung over Mark’s shoulder.

OK, they have half a chance of getting out of this one… by the time school starts in the fall, I would imagine.

A broken foot, though, that’s going be a problem…  and I don’t know that “wrapping it” (what? like a bologna sandwich?) is going to do it, Mark…

And isn’t Mark starting to look an awful lot like Tom Cruise in the second panel?  No doubt taller (I mean, who isn’t?) and certainly less crazy, but still there’s the look…

Even with the bad proportioning of the cabin/ cockpit windows which makes the plane’s fuselage look grotesquely large, I will give credit where it is due- the fact that this is a SEA PLANE with PONTOONS, the artist has faithfully included the CLEATS on the PONTOONS, which are de rigueur for such a craft, as in how else would a person secure such a craft and keep it from floating off once brought down?  Of course, the cleats will have little or no use on dry land, and since said pontoon in the second frame is now a crumpled, twisted mass along with other airplane parts, it matters little…  But I digress…

So now the plane goes, “CRASH,” in equally large, red letters, equal to the “CRUNCH” from yesterday, except that they have thrown in an extra-large, red ‘R’ (or is that an ‘A’?) just in case the dear readers of this saga could not piece that one together…  But then that also suggests the grind-it-out nature of metal scraping along dry ground, when such an activity was never designed into the plane in the first place… or the sound of two frightened grown men going ‘AAAAAHHHH!’  Just for the record, I wouldn’t hold that against them.

But yes. Oh. Dear.  Will our Hero and his client walk away from this one?  Will Wes’s hat survive?  Will Mark’s hair be mussed?  Tomorrow’s installment will tell!