I spent most of my free time last week resting, as I had spent most of the previous week in the mountains. I went backpacking for 3 days with my friend "Hiker Jim" and then I went to a retreat for another 2 days.The backpacking was an adventure, as we headed to a remote part of the San
Gorgonio National Forest called "Big Tree", and we almost didn't make it. We hiked from Fish Creek, through Fish Creek Saddle. At this intersection point, Jim and I split up as he wanted to "bag a peak" on the way, and I wanted to continue towards camp (I was struggling a bit with the altitude, not quite getting enough air on the first day, and I was wanting to setup camp early for some early rest in the evening). We stayed in contact with 2-way radios.
The trail to Mineshaft Flat (on the way to camp) was well maintained, though it got a lot rougher halfway to Big Tree. I reached a point where the trail ended in a meadow where a large ponderosa pine was living. I radioed into Jim -- he told me to look East for a creek and to cross it. I could see and hear the roar of a creek in the distance, but I could not see a path leading there through the dense tall grass and thick patches of buck-thorn -- which I called "buck-crap" or "BC" in frustration and pain, needing more ease, comfort and clarity on the trail direction. I searched the surrounding open area for the best way through; after several unsuccessful tries, I found a way that seemed to have been traveled through before, as the tall grass was leaning over in the middle.As I made it back into the open, I realized I had stumbled into a marsh, where lots of little
stream crossed through the area, each less than 2 to 6 feet apart from each other, and the grass hid most of them. Luckily for me, there was still enough daylight to ge through, though I relied on my hiking "staff" to probe the ground before taking a step. The risk here was not only in getting my boots, socks and pants wet, but also in twisting my ankle (not good any time, but more of an issue when packing 40 lbs on my back in the middle of nowhere). (I love my walking stick or "staff", as it brings me safety, stability, protection and it reminds me of my backpack trip with my son Alex where we whittled them down ~ the "staff" symbolism is a remembering of Psalm 23).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!
After I saw that Jim was crossing the creek, I bolted out in search of the campsite - we were almost out of sunlight. I crossed the meadow of BC and made it to where this really big dead tree stood near a line of willows. Under the tree on the far side were a bunch of rocks circling around a flat area cleared of brush, clearly outlining a campsite.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?
"James, I found it!" he said with a loud and excited voice. I walked a few steps forward, and sure enough there was a diagonal opening in the line of willows that lead into a dried out creek embankment, with flat dry land canopied by the trees on one side. The other side had another line of trees near a spring, leaving the middle of the campground open to the starry sky. There was also a circle of rocks with charred wood in the middle; clear evidence that other humans had been there before. Jim and I exchanged high fives in celebration. "Cool! We found it!"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.
