Cattle.

July 25, 2018. From Okanogan Forest camp to Cougar Creek camp. 22 miles

I was not well rested after the rough night. Still, I packed efficiently and even forced myself to eat my breakfast of cold-soaked 10 grain cereal.

It was a beautiful day for hiking along this seldom-used road. I had seen no cars on it yesterday. With this solitude, you would not be surprised that when it came time to perform an important bodily function, I simply took off my pack and went a few yards into the woods to dig my cat-hole and take care of business. Well, as Murphy’s Law would have it, another hiker, heading the opposite direction, comes walking down the road. Nobody for days and this guy walks up on my dump. I tried to recover as quickly as possible, but it was certainly awkward.

We chatted briefly, but I was eager to get on with my life.

Later, as the day got hotter, I took the aptly named Sweat Creek Trail. It was a tough climb on a hot afternoon. Perhaps some steep climbs, I heard the chainsaws of a trail crew. After waiting in the distance for them to see me, I had a good, short visit. It was two adults and three teenage helpers. They were a legitime PNT crew. I expressed my gratitude for all the work they do and showed the younger ones all the scars on my legs from going over blowdowns, etc. Also, I let them know I was a dues paying PNTA member.

Their work is hot and difficult. I whine about carrying a backpack in hot weather, but these folks get up, put on long pants, work boots, hard hats, carry their gear uphill to the worksite, and labor in the sun all day. I thanked them again and let them get back to work.

Part of the work this crew had to remedy was eliminating misleading cattle paths. Generally, cattle are fairly good trail makers, sometimes they riff on their own. What this means is they will very often follow the main human trail, but, when it suits their bovine fancy, they cut a new path. Thus, in many areas a hiker has a very difficult time telling the difference between the human and cow paths.

On my way downhill, I could see the trail crew had a lot of tree and cattle work. As if to prove the point, I encountered a small herd of about three pairs of cows and calves. Always, I stop and talk in a calm manner when I see cattle on the trail. While sometimes they amble off safely, other times, like this one, one bolts and the others follow. You might be surprised how agile these animals at going downhill at speed, jumping over obstacles. I waited a few minutes so they would not feel threatened. I don’t want either a calf or cow to get hurt running.

Unfortunately, I’ve seen this movie before and was not surprised to have the same process repeated. Two more times. In all, they probably ran downhill for a 750 foot elevation loss over a mile. Finally, one of the cows went left off the trail and the calves, who normally choose the trails, chose to follow her.

It was evening by the time I reached the bottom of the trail. The guide book made a vague reference that the trail seemed to go on private property but to veer left. Mild understatement. The trail basically dumps right in to someone’s yard. I didn’t see a dog, but clearly somebody lived in the trailer parked there. I went immediately over to the edge of the yard and moved quickly and quietly away.

Eerily, the occupant(s) had a fascination with skulls and decorated their yard with several plastic skulls and skeletal parts. At age 56, I am just too damned old to be abducted and converted by some cult. Think about it. You never hear about guys like me getting captured and converted, it is always younger people. So, I kicked in to high gear and got the heck out of there.

I came out on a public road. It switched between private property and public land. There were definitely some unique homesteads along the way. Maybe you live in a suburb or a nice urban setting. Indeed, you’ve also probably seen poor, blighted urban areas. However, taking a long walk really draws out a different variation of the American dream. There are rural areas where it is either the start, or fulfillment, of the dream to get a piece of land and park an RV or Camper on it and call that home. Sometimes there is evidence of a more permanent, traditional structure in various stages of completion. I can sort of understand the pride of ownership angle, but most of the situations appear to never convert to permanent housing. Instead a second or a third trailer is added. (I shudder to think what their septic solution looks like.) Pointedly, most of these smaller homesteads were the most prominent displayers of “Private Property” or “Keep Out” with a few specifically mentioning government officials. (Note I have the honor of working with municipal employees in my community and can’t recall any kind of professional that works harder to be fair, judicious, and considerate.)

I passed a few properties where they spilled some of their excesses on to the public right of way. I’m not a “car guy” but one place was occupied by one who convinced himself (and perhaps a long suffering wife), that he would hold on to junkers to “part them out.” To nobody’s surprise, the Dodge Aries and various Datsun models did not generate much demand, so these vehicles decorated the road.

Eventually, I found a flat secluded spot on public property down by the creek. It got darker faster in the narrow valley. I ate my dinner while shooing away yellowjackets. I pitched my tent, hydrated some more, and went to bed.

While I initially dropped right off to sleep, in the night I was awakened by a sound. Not one crunching in the woods or brushing against the tent. Eerily, it came from underneath the tent. In the ground, there were subtle digging sounds and then a muffled pig-like snort. Being a guy and having lived in apartments, I naturally reacted by pounding on the ground. That produced silence. For a few hours. I had to repeat this one more time. In the morning, when i packed my tent, I could not see any obvious signs of tunneling or disturbed earth. I’ll never know what it was.