Windswept Whitecaps!  Boy it doesn’t get any more tense that this!  Not compared to Rusty being bound, gagged and trapped in a van, not even Mark stuck in a meat-locker!  We always knew they would emerge from those scrapes unharmed…  But this!  This is bad…  The seas have now grown to be 2-3 feet, and this is no place for a canoe, no matter how skilled the paddlers might be…

Let’s see if the writers can string this out for the entire week!  Will they or won’t they make it…  You know, come to think of it, if part of the mission of Trail, Inc. is to open up the great outdoors and encourage people to enjoy all its wonders, the last few stories involving forest fires, charging elk, untimely death, and now this doesn’t get that job done, right??

Not good.  This actually is manufacturing some tension…  canoes and swamping go together like… canoes and swamping.  Look at Andy’s ears blowing back.  Muscles must be burning.  This is tough sledding, ladies and gentlemen.  How’s that for advice, though?  You grab Andy?  I think Andy may be the only warm blooded creature that is capable of surviving this scrape…

Now, about those pfd’s… with that listed among their assets, they might have a chance.  Without them, their cotton clothes become heavy and drag them to the bottom.  “If we capsize?” Well, there’s an interesting turn of phrase… I guess it’s better to be ready, but still… If I had to make a prediction, they will somehow magically wash up on the dock/shore of Mr. Dunlap.  But I have been surprised before…

Riding low they are, with precious cargo.  One might have expected them to make some show of lightening the load, leave behind the 3 quart Lodge Dutch oven and the cast iron griddle, but those things are expensive… Andy is required for ballast and who knows, he may be the one running off for help at some point, since he understands complex human thought (better than Mark most times.)

No Doc, you don’t look very good.  And let my dear readers know that I did make a mistake (and a pretty big deal) yesterday about the fact that Mark called Doc “Dad.”  He didn’t that was the smaller of the two silhouettes talking, presumably Cherry…  Oh well I do this every morning before becoming fully caffeinated, and typically without the benefit of my readers…

But seriously, I have been in canoes, heavy with people and gear, with precious little separating the paddler from the prospect of it capsizing and drowning… Canoes are unstable on the best of days and this really is nerve-wracking.  What is also conspicuously absent is any pfd (personal flotation device) around the neck of any of our intrepid cast…  Not even the fancy new kind that stay very small until wet, then balloon, not unlike an airbag, when the need arises.

So “Mark and the Others” head out.  Would it have taken so much more effort and ink and space to actually call them out by name?  I guess.  After all, this strip is called MARK Trail, NOT Cherry, NOT Doc, NOT Rusty.  Sort of reminds me of the early Gilligan’s Island song lyrics that did not call out the “Professor and Mary Ann” until later and referred to them only as “and the rest” (are here on Gilligan’s Island…)  trivia time- sung by whom?  The Wellingtons, of course.

By the way, where is Rusty???

Huh.  Interesting.  Not that I am going to go back into the archives and prove what I am about to allege, but to my knowledge Mark has never referred to “Doc” as “Dad.”  But everyone’s all dried out and dressed (that was fast…) Cherry is showing the requisite concern (note hand to cheek- why do we do THAT???) and Doc is in the background holding onto his messed up ankle.  If Mark was paying attention (and it looks like he was) he would NOT have removed the boot from the ankle lest the swelling prevent them from getting the boot back ON… At least that was what I was taught back in the day… it’s all probably changed by now along with what’s good and what’s bad and when you need to onto a statin to attack rising cholesterol levels…

Mark seems focused on Doc’s “bad shape” ankle when in fact he should be worried about the microbes multiplying and slowing eating out what’s left of his brain… Panel three is interesting in that there are only two human silhouettes, no dog and yet the two canoes are ready to be launched!  Cherry- you ready to take the stern and drive one of them??

You have a canoe, right?  Two, actually.  Why the hell didn’t you climb in and float across the river/ stream rather than do the Flying Walendas routine that now has two-thirds of the (human) party sitting, shivering, and risking hypothermia??  Or considering the water looks to be at most ankle deep, take off your shoes and boots and walk across, rather than fall in and get soaked.  Sorry Trail, your Trail-cred is shrinking before my very eyes…  What would Mark do?  Well, not in this case, boys and girls.  Don’t do what Mark does and you will stay dry and alive!

But of course we need to manufacture some drama with any of these stories, otherwise they would be a boring as paint…  so yes.  Cherry sits bundled (naked?- yikes!) in front of a roaring fire while Doc continues to fall prey to the effects of the Black Fly’s anti-coagulant spit and his own clumsiness…

Of course, Andy looks on in the first panel wondering why he hasn’t been invited to join in on the fun…

…but it’s not coming…  I know, let’s drag the old man along the most rickety, moss covered timber “bridge” and see if he makes it.  It’s almost like a bad reality TV show or at least “America’s Funniest Home Videos.”  Reminds me of a pratfall I made on the trail, with cross country skis on my feet and a full load on my back.  Call it having a “high center of gravity.”  I swear in the middle of that my skis went higher than my head.  Everyone on the trail sort of looked at me to see if I was still breathing…

But back to our story.  It almost looks like Cherry and Doc are in a log-rolling competition in the middle frame… And Cherry is able to roll the old man off the log and into the water!  Such feigned concern!!  Meanwhile, sure-footed Mark, with Canoe on his shoulders, watches as Cherry’s evil plot unfolds… Mark, you are next.

I think this is Mark’s way of sending Doc to the Happy Hunting Grounds…  Why don’t you just throw a buffalo robe over him and have him take a hike??  At least they have the whole portage thing down now.  With Water at your back and land in front of you, that creates a portage- not the other way around like before.

But the fly bite may indeed have it in for Doc… a quick google-check on ‘black fly fever’ reveals that it’s a real thing, although the article states that the flies only feed during the daytime…  But a reminder, nonetheless, that the people at “Trail, Inc.” do their homework.  Oh, and the reference Cherry is making regarding vision?  It’s called “River Blindness.”  Makes you want to be with them, huh?

I am amazed, though, how “extreme” their little canoe/ camping trip is.  Holy cow.  Not content to stay in one place, they apparently are on a mission- covering miles of trail each day, eating what they catch, probably going hungry if they don’t…  Fun, fun.  I am not a stranger to shouldering a heavy load and hitting the trail at altitude, but Mark takes his name-sake pretty seriously!

One black fly bite turns Doc into THE FLY!!  “I am not getter worse…  I am getting BETTER!!”  Anything to inject a little drama into this incredibly tedious story…  On the other hand, it DOES appear that Doc’s face is sloughing off his skull in panel three…  The fly in panel two appears to be radioactive at least, considering the light / energy it is emitting, so I may not be that far off the Mark (Trail that is,) …that’s a JOKE, son… (Nice kid, but he’s about as sharp as a bag of wet mice…) – Foghorn Leghorn

I love how Doc has “<his> tent.”  I wonder if Mark and Cherry share a tent??  Oh perish the thought of unwanted advances made in the still of the night! …by Cherry of course.  No one could possibly sleep more soundly than Mark Trail! His life is so simple and unfettered I can’t image a single thing that might keep him from catching all his winks.  I also love how Doc has to verbalize his thoughts…  such is the way in the Trail-verse.

In case it’s not obvious to him, let’s point out the fact that neither Mark or Cherry still have their netting on, and it would appear that the fly swarm has abated… but clearly the swarm was upon them earlier in the day, just “as Mark Predicted…” (He’s so smart…)  Poor Mooses!  Today we get a lesson in the fact that they would rather drown themselves than be tormented by black flies…  And it would seem that even with all the gear they have, they don’t have tents?  With Netting?  Huh.

But Mark is not as smart as he seems!  Their “leave no trace” record is spoiled as Mark builds a roaring camp/cook fire which will leave valuable clues as the abandoned and hungry Rusty inches toward them…

Warm Weather clue #1:  Jackets have come off and shirt sleeves are rolled up past the Trail- elbow…  Warm weather clue #2:  don’t see one, but one is enough along with what the whiny old man is saying: “The fish have quit biting… whaaa!”  In panel 3 Doc looks genuinely afraid of the black fly invasion being predicted by Mark.  Pupils dilate, brow furrows, he looks nervously to one side, then I suppose to the other in anticipation of the buzzing swarm about to descend upon them…

But what’s with all the “stuff” in the canoes?  If they have made camp, then why are they schlepping all their gear out in the middle of the lake with them?  Or maybe they are forever on the move, leaving no trace, making it ever more difficult for Rusty to ever catch up with them…  That’s right, old man. Better douse yourself with deet and wrap up in your netting, not that it will do you any good when Rusty DOES find you… Hell hath no fury like an orphan scorned…

Although someone ought to tell him that his hat and shirt don’t match… so close but no cigar! But there he is, one arm akimbo, one placing the hat on his pony-tailed noggin… Jeff is resplendent in his black raw wool turtleneck sweater.  Note the woven fisherman’s creel in the foreground of panel three… those don’t come cheap, along with the rod case he holds in his left hand… no wonder they only have enough money left to afford a bare lightbulb for ambiance…

And as we get a lesson in how to fool fish into thinking that there is something edible hiding the hook and line, Cherry has pulled out a Camelot-era pillbox hat, pink to match her sweater, and looks on with… I don’t know… Admiration? Disgust? Ennui?  I think she continues to up her medication as she evaluates the dumpster fire that has become her life.  She has managed to ditch Rusty, but now she is stuck with her old man and this asexual, unfeeling, meat sack called Mark Trail…

And the fact that he is using a “Grey Ghost Streamer” would suggest that he is reaching into the afterlife to spirit some fish onto his line…  But seriously, ever since he put that Ranger Rick hat on, his countenance has grown positively cadaverous…  And I give him credit, though.  The fact that he can tie a fly onto his line without the aid of cheaters… must be that he has had the cataract surgery- one eye to see close, the other to see far!

Meanwhile, back at the Bar, Jeff ‘n’ Jared are making fools of me.  Of course they will sell their stolen Indian “stuff” to a museum… No questions asked!  And such respect and formality regarding their intended victim:  MR. Dunlap, if you please…

Andy looking stoic and brave in the face of the missing member of his pack…  Where IS Rusty??

C’mon Jeff, get it right.  It’s not just STUFF we are talking about here, it’s RELICS.  RELICS is worth money… a lot more than STUFF!!

Can’t be TRACED?  Huh?  Like Money?  Maybe I need to go to bad guy school, but eventually you will need to turn all this STUFF into money, and the market for Indian relics is probably thin at best.  How on earth do you propose to do THAT??  And we will pull this off how?  I can’t wrap my head around this one…  I guess bad guys in the Trail-verse all have a common thread connecting them- that of not being very clever.  So they canoe in, tie up the old man, carefully wrap all the relics, put them in the canoe hanging from the ceiling and quietly float away?  This I have to see.

Now, we all know that real bad guys don’t repeatedly say each other’s names in conversation:  “What do you think, JEFF?”  I don’t know, JARED.” Especially in PUBLIC.  But then these are two new characters, unshaven, one with a PONY TAIL, for crying out loud!! Large Schooners of Beer, overflowing with suds, scheming of the first order… Do we need any more visual clues that these guys are BAD??

Sorry, but Jared’s hand is all catawampus in the middle frame.  It’s like it’s just floating out there in space, emerging from the talk-balloon…  And in Panel three, we see that his right hand is all mangled, like he got it caught in the license plate stamping machine or something…

No doubt Bad-Guy Jeff has the story that was written about the Indian artifact collection going up for sale…  And apparently it’s front page news in whatever backwater we find ourselves trolling for opportunity…

Doc, you just don’t look like yourself at all in the wilderness… you really don’t…  And Cherry is happy that she “decided” to join Mark and drag her Father along while Mark gets to carry not one canoe but two up the rocky trail…  Hey, isn’t that Mark’s Long-lost brother- Rocky Trail- which is who we are probably being introduced to in panel 3…

At this point Mark is no-doubt wondering how his “time off” became burdened by his wife and Father in Law…  At least Andy pulls his weight.

MEANWHILE… Let’s cut to the State Penitentiary where Jared is being sprung and picked up by Rocky… (total guess there…)   And where is he going?  Disneyland? Nope, to the local Watering Hole for a beer.  Seems harmless enough, until we learn about his plans to further his criminal career, since he remains unemployable and just left what amounts “bad-guy finishing school…”

Wow.  We must really be in the boonies…  If the only way to the Island of Indian Artifacts is by canoe, and our intrepid columnist has to “see that <he gets> a copy of the paper when the article runs…”  With all the late breaking world changing news in the pipeline, though, it could be weeks (?) before that Story makes its way to page 5…

But back to the Trail clan…  Let’s review the visual clues in Panel 2.  They have “made portage,” yet water is to their backs.  Did they walk on this water while carrying their canoes?  I thought canoes were made for water, floated nicely and do a splendid job of carrying passenger and gear.  Big Pine Lake is 1 mile that-a-way, which is where I guess they need to haul the canoes next?  Doc is bent over in a heap declaring how “heavy canoes can be,” yet it looks like he “portaged” it 20 feet from the shore??

Meanwhile, Cherry is copping total attitude, looking almost disdainful of her aging father’s attempt to do what probably came easier to him in his thirties…

Anyone seen Rusty??

What exactly is Mr Dunlap doing in the first panel?  It’s either that or he’s on some early rustic, prototype version of the Chuck Norris “Total Gym…”  Besides, what does an old man really need after all?  Some seed for the bird feeder, a pair of Jeans, a nice blue, civil war era shirt, a pair of suspenders and a ready supply of adult diapers…  Going to retire?  It looks like you have already crossed that Bridge, my friend… And what was his business anyway?

Note the Strong, White-guy handshake being exhibited in panel three.  “Mr Logan…  Mr. Dunlap…”  Why, Minneapolis’s own recently former Mayor Turned Activist contributed to an op-ed piece yesterday suggesting that the achievement gap could be solved if this maneuver was more prevalent among at-risk youth.  That, and pulling their pants up…

But seriously, folks…  Where’s Rusty?  A brief mention of his “being with a friend,” and not only is that preposterous notion not challenged, but the whole clan takes a powder on him!

Ah, Dr. Wilheit, I presume… I hear you know more about Native Americans than ANYBODY ELSE…  That’s a tall claim, Slim, and one that he no doubt has to defend every time he gathers with the other anthropologists that might know a thing or two about arrowheads and birch canoes…  Speaking of which, since when are birch canoes GREEN?

Well, let’s apply the age-old maxim to value:  It’s only worth what someone else is willing to pay for it…  Is it possible that there is someone out there crazy enough about arrowheads to write you a big fat check?  Or more likely will you have to set up shop on e-Bay and sell things piecemeal?  A dealer perhaps?  But I get ahead of myself.  Where’s the taught possibility of evil in this build up?  I am not feeling it right now…  Old man with collection looking to do good, local journalist looking fill column inches with something other than the usual pap, Mark, Andy, Cherry and Doc lazing down the river in canoes… I am not feeling it.  Not yet.

Is it me, or does this guy look like SOS John Kerry (or maybe his father…)?

They left Rusty behind!  Probably didn’t even leave a note!  It’s a bright, crisp day when Mark, Cherry and Doc finally make good on their pact of ditching the lad that has brought them nothing but head-splitting, cringe-worthy dialogue and narrowness of interest… “Want to go fishing?  Can I take some pictures?  Want to go fishing? Can I take some pictures?”  Seriously, who can blame them?

Ah, the subtleness with which new stories are introduced…  No call from Editor Bill Ellis this time, just a quick cut to two strangers- one apparently a reporter (gee, that’s different…) the other a member of the The First Nation of Human Beings, resplendent in his Cornflower Blue Tunic and suspenders.   What exactly is that style, anyway?  Looks like a pain in the ass to me…  Or is he actually a Native American? Or just a poser?  An enthusiast? Someone with a collection disorder (bordering on OCD, so I am told) that needs to make his affliction public…

Prove helpful to whom?  Oh, the tension mounts…