The start of the trip. Some people around here believe that the proper pronunciation of "Bear Creek" is "Bear Crick." I don't know why and I don't want to know why.

This is what mile marker 157 5/10 on I-81 South, located at the border of Dorrance Township, looks like, just in case you had ever wondered.

It's not real visible from this angle, but there's a trail that zig-zags along the power lines here that I've walked any number of times. The view from up there is fabulous, but I didn't stop up there on the way to Maryland for photos, so you'll have to take my word for it.

The fact that an Econo Lodge is advertised in this photo is entirely coincidental.

Okay, you don't entirely have to take my word for it. This is just a portion of what you can see from the top of the trail.

I've always wondered how this one single mountain like something out of a child's drawing or cartoon came to exist. Just the one. I've also wondered why I still haven't gotten it through my head that if you want to take pictures to the right of the car, they'll turn out much better if you are in the driving lane rather than the passing lane.

Oh, the jokes we could make...

Too many flags, not enough poles.

And finally I get to Roux B Q, where I meet a familiar face. Pretty much the first thing MrGreenSmiling (who did not make it to the Altoona mini-meet the week before) said to me was that now he wouldn't have stories about the meet I didn't make it to, turnabout from the weekend before. Later he made a comment about "all the pictures of me you posted without permission," or words to that effect. On one hand, I'm sure he was mostly joking. On the other hand, I get the feeling a punched a hole in his weekend by showing up. I'll try to keep unauthorized pictures of him to a minimum in this photo set. (Nyah.)

By the way, the drink in his hand? Root beer. Really.

Here's our gracious host, Roux The Day, who is so crazy that she actually invited a large number of Loathers into her house for an entire weekend, which is not all that different from inviting in a bunch of pyromaniacs and giving them free gasoline and matches. But it worked out well, and I give her credit for being braver than I would be.

Though to be fair to the group that showed up, Roux was smart enough not to invite anyone stupid enough to, say, just for example, threaten to jump out a window. A plus of mini-meets is some control over who shows up.

This individual fell out of the hammock. I made sure he was okay and offered to help him to his feet before openly admitting I was going to be a dick and take a picture of him. He took it well.

I wasn't sure who these people were, and before I could find out, they left. Such is life.

Drunken Irishman and Albassoon play Guitar Hero. I didn't ask to play because I'm feeling incapable and incompetent enough in my job at present, and I don't want to pile on by making myself feel incapable and incompetent at playing games as well. Because, let's be frank, I'm pretty sure I would lose to either of them even if they agreed to play with just one hand. And if you know how Guitar Hero is actually played, you'll understand just how bad I am at this game that I would make a claim like that.

Drunken Irishman and I had a flash-off. (Our cameras, you perverts.) I'm pretty sure we're in agreement that my camera's flash is much more powerful, in the sense of blinding people from a range of several miles.

Just for comparison, here's the picture above, taken without the flash.

Even though this photo looks a great deal like the photo above it, it's actually a picture of the star that was located directly above me. No, I am not exagerrating. The brightest star visible in the sky was directly above me. You can see the white spot near the center, forming a slight line because I didn't hold the camera perfectly still. Some of the other people there said, no, it was actually directly above them, but they're full of it. You've all seen stars. They're pinpricks. There's no way they could be large enough to be directly above more than one person, and if one was directly above me, the only way it could have been directly above anyone else is if one of us was on top of the other, and we weren't, case closed.

Roux wanted a picture of the two different size of bags she had available at this point. The reasons why made perfect sense at the time, though I no longer have the slightest clue what they were. The large bag ended up holding watermelon. The current whereabouts of the small bag are unknown.

It just occurred to me, it can only be in one place, so why is "whereabouts" plural?

He looks as tired as I felt. Notice I shrewdly positioned myself to catch the reflection of my own camera flash.

We had a singalong around the campfire. I'm pretty sure MrGreenSmiling's foot is not actually in the fire, but I was pretty drunk at this point and can't be sure of much of anything except that I was directly under the brightest star in the sky, dammit. And that we sang Yellow Submarine *rim-shot!* (don't ask).

In Altoona I took pictures of the photos on TechSmurf's laptop. Here I took pictures of my own pictures on Tealsac's laptop. This is what is known as "padding the current photo set."

I couldn't remember Tealsac's name when we first started talking. I had to ask him, and he told me, and then when I was trying to remember his real name, lost in thought, he told me his real name, only I wasn't paying attention, so it was a moment of great hilarity when about three minutes later I admitted I was giving up and asked him what his real name was. (I think the only place he appears in this photo set is in the background of the first picture of Roux above, but I'm too lazy to check and make sure.)

Drunken Irishman and MrGreenSmiling posed for a photo for someone else. I got my camera out and took the picture, and this is the photo I ended up with. Timing really is everything.

Jenny (not a Loather) volunteered to make a perfect marshmallow for me, which involves slowly melting it so it softens evenly, as opposed to the more typical practice of shoving the marshmallow into the fire until it ignites, then blowing it out, then repeating several times.

The Amazing Jungle Gym Of Watery Awesomeness [tm]. I did not coin this name, nor did I try it out, but it is a great name nonetheless. Just visible on the right is the water slide that we had far too much fun on. Or at least I did.

Unnecessarily taking pictures of yourself at random is another great way to pad your photo set.

The missing arm was later retrieved at the pool's Lost And Found department, but the leather chaps remain missing.

Apparently taking pictures of people taking pictures is becoming pathological with me.

The Roux B Q Radio KoL Heart And Technological Nerve Center Of, um, Watery Awesomeness? No, that doesn't work. Er... Well, it was a good start. You can come up with a proper end to this title yourself.

Ribs, ribs, ribs. Everyone else was going nuts waiting for these to get done so they could eat, so apparently it's just me, because this didn't even look remotely appetizing to me.

The Roux B Q Sleep Center Of Thankfully Not Watery Awesomeness. When I crashed out somewhere around 4 AM, I was told that where I was positioned my head might be in the way of someone's feet. It wouldn't have taken too much effort to slide down but I was genuinely too tired to care. If I got kicked in the head during the night, I don't remember it. It was one of those nights.

Overlap this one with the previous picture to get an idea of how packed in we all were overnight. I woke up to people who woke up early coming down to take pictures of us. I myself waited until I was awake and moving around to take my own pictures, because that's just the sort of fool that I am. This image is so crowded that you have to search a bit to see that there actually is someone asleep in this photo.

Uh-hunh. MrGreenSmiling: Former Wallet Inspector.

I had work on Monday, so I had to leave on Sunday. Here I pass a sign indicating that I am on the 115th Infantry Regiment Memorial Highway. Do you know why they named this highway the 115th Infantry Regiment Memorial Highway and not the 113th Infantry Regiment Memorial Highway or the the 62nd Infantry Regiment Memorial Highway, or any of the other 114 infantry regiments? Because the other infantry regiments don't deserve shit, that's why. They're a bunch of pussies. Fuck 'em.

Watch this sarcasm, shotgunned blindly into the void, come back to bite me in the ass when people in those other infantry regiments find out about this caption.

The motorcycle rider here is also an idiot. He was weaving around recklessly, and once the traffic thinned a bit he was dragging both feet along the road while he drove. I have nothing against motorcyclists in general, but when I see things like that I really start hoping they wipe out, just so grevious injury can befall people who really deserve it. You may think that's harsh. Try following someone who waves a hand in the air for a while, then takes his feet off the cycle, then cuts into spaces too small to fit a car into just to get that much further ahead, and try worrying as this jackass is right in front of you that he's going to do something stupid and you'll end up hitting him, and then you'll probably reconsider.

See? If his foot catches and he goes down, either he's going to get run over by me or the truck driver, or one of us is going to get hurt barrelling off the road to avoid hitting him. Idiot.

Yes, I took this picture while driving. Your point is?

I've never been parasailing. Looks like fun, even if I'm not sure how to spell it. Someone should arrange that for the next KoL meet, preferably someone with great insurance coverage.