The backpacking was an adventure, as we headed to a remote part of the San
As I made it back into the open, I realized I had stumbled into a marsh, where lots of little
After making it past the marsh, I came upon the roaring creek, and radioed back to Jim. He suggested getting on the North dies of the creek. At this point, I was starting to feel worried as the sun was starting its decent on the horizon, and there was no dry-flat ground in sight. The creek was fast moving, and seemed to be 2-4 feet deep at points. There was a huge tree log that had fallen across the creek and provided a tempting bridge 15-20 feet above the water. There were other smaller logs and rocks below the tree log, so I decided to cross the creek there as "the penalty factor" was much lower (i.e. the price of failure is something I use in rating rock climbing routes). I went on to the other side in search of the trail.
After a short bit of wandering, I found a stack of rocks marking a trail (i.e. a "duck"). I moved forward in a quickened pace while turning on my red-headlamp for easier viewing. The path led me up and around the side of a hill into a meadow covered almost completely with "BC". The trail appeared to go right through it, but it was no more than a few inches wide and the BC was 1 to 2 feet tall. Ouch!
By this time, the sunlight was almost gone, so I radioed Jim with new of the trail, and suggested that he come my way. I was guessing the he was also feeling some anxiety and wanting a clear path to camp (duh!), but had continued to search for another way to across the creek further upstream for another 5 minutes. I decided to retrace my steps and go back to the point where I had crossed the creek. I climbed on top of the large tree crossing on the North side of the creek so that Jim could more easily see me, especially with my headlamp on. I also whistled to him so that he could follow the sound. (I was intrigued to notice that the radios were of limited help in giving us a sense of direction towards each other, and that we had to rely on light and natural sound to find each other).
As it got dark, Jim agreed to meet me at the creek crossing as I whistled and stood a top the large tree trunk. After about 5 long minutes, Jim radioed that he could see me and asked if I could see him. After a bit of searching, I could see him waving one of his poles over the tall grass. I relaxed. Not that I couldn't have found a spot on my own, pitched a tent, and survived the night in a makeshift camp -- It was more of the camaraderie and safety that came from being together as we started out together -- and he had the cooking stove!
I was pretty stoked (i.e feeling ecstatically delighted) to have found flat-dry ground suitable for us to camp. I took off my pack -- whew! What a joy to have that thing on the ground and not on me back.
Jim made it a few minutes later and seemed to continue looking. I was confused and a little annoyed that he wasn't celebrating yet - cause, I needed rest! But Jim hadn't told me that he had seen pictures of the "campsite"!!! and this wasn't quite what he was expecting. He walked a few steps East, found a duck (stack of rocks) and disappeared into the line of willows. Huh?
We set up camp, and cooked the best tasting Hawaiian Chicken with rice that I'd ever had in my life, and we shared a cup of hot tea. The moon was out and bright enough that we didn't need head lamps.
Getting there was definitely and adventure, but having the tent up, air mattress filled, sleeping bag unrolled and a full belly really accentuates my experience of my basic needs for survival (shelter, sustenance and safety). And the conversation, transformed the campground into our little community. Jim slept out in the open in his sleeping bag; my tent was my home.