Tag: bushwhacking

My Worst Day

July 14, 2018 From Pyramid Lake to stealth camp on Lion Creek.

I woke up way early and forced myself to stay still for a bit. I knew the family wouldn’t be up. I snuck out to get a sunrise pic of the lake and grab my food hang.

Another sunny day. It would start with a climb to two nearby lakes. From there it would be bushwhacking. In case you are wondering, bushwhacking means taking a course between two points with no established trail. As the name implies, you must go through bushes, downed trees, bogs, etc to achieve your goal. Without these obstacles it would be walking or traipsing or strolling or perambulating or something.

The first lake (Upper Ball) was beautiful and I regret not having the daylight or energy to get there the previous day. The second lake (Lower Ball) had families with barking dogs.

I scaled a hill and the first part of the bushwhack began: cross a mountainside. It was a little steep, but manageable. Until the rock slides. Then, I had to edge my way uphill to get above the steep area with no apparent footholds. This happened a second time as well. Falling here would be unpleasant, to say the least.

The only consolation was that some of the rocks at the ending ridgeline appeared to have fossils. It reminded me of Sandia Crest near Albuquerque where I found fossils at 6,500 feet elevation. This old earth sure moves around.

The rock on the left had formations that looked like fossilized sea anemones.

The next installment was to go down a heavily vegetated hillside, veering west slightly to end up in a particular canyon.

At first there was a trail, but after about 100 yards it disappeared. Most of the bushes are alders ( I believe). They grow about 4 to 8 foot branches. The devilish part is they grow in the same manner as crabgrass: the branches shoot out, then up. So, they end up interweaving their branches. This makes for tough hiking.

Downhill, I eventually made my way to the right location. Allegedly, there was an old faint trail. While this was true at times, other times it wasn’t. In fact, the further down Lion Creek I got, the more frequently the “faint” trail disappeared.

The main point is that it is slow and difficult to push your way through shrubs and step over downed trees on a hot day. I reached a point where the guidebook and GPS map said I should be connecting with a real road, but that was simply untrue.

I eventually stumbled out of the woods sweat-soaked, bleeding from lacerated arms and legs and in a foul mood and odor. Immediately I met a family pulling a wheeled igloo cooler in swimsuits. We both looked at each other like WTH?

The back of my legs.

After several more people passed me in flip flops and swimsuits, I asked a couple what the attraction was. Apparently there is a natural waterslide famous with the locals. This trail eventually turned to a road, but before it did there were several cool streams that provided needed refreshment.

Exhausted, beat up and late in the day, I weighed my options. The official trail climbed a mountain to a….Lookout! And then climbed down to meet the gravel forest road I was now on. Hmmm.

So I stayed on the current forest road, listening to an audiobook. One kind couple stopped and asked me if I wanted a ride. Tempting as it was, I demurred. Near the bottom where the stream I had been following almost all day (Lion Creek) was going to feed into Upper Priest Lake, I found a stealth camp away from the road but near the creek.

I ate dinner and then washed my wounds in the cool creek water. It reminded me of why I always filter water.

* * *

P.S. an obvious question is why don’t I wear pants. The answer is that pants, on me, get sweaty and thus tug and bunch and chafe. None of us are here for an anatomy lesson, but suffice it to say I chose the coolness and flexibility of shorts even if it means scratches.

Rebound to a Good Day

July 15th, 2018. From stealth camp on Lion Creek to Mankato Mountain.

It was warm to start. Normally, camping by a creek can lead to waking up with a damp temp as cold wet air sinks. Not this morning. It was going to be warm.

I cruised past all the RVs and boats and jet skis and ATVs at the campground. When I get home, u want to add up how much America spends on all of these and I will bet it probably ranks in the GDP equivalent of some European countries.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not trying to be self righteous and insist my way of enjoying the outdoors is best or right. Instead, I am concerned that people take so many mechanical distractions with them to the wilderness.

Off of my soap box, I traveled past Upper Priest Lake and some great campsites. Then, without warning, I entered an area that was epic. Recently society has screwed up the word epic by applying it to common things. Thus we lose the true impact of epic when used appropriately.

I entered a land of giants. Cedars. Trunks 12 or 20 feet in circumference. Crowns reaching hundreds of feet high. Walking on a forest floor of decades of fallen needles and cones. A smooth green shag carpet of ferns wherever a ray of sunlight would penetrate. No wind. Once in awhile a whitetail. This went on for several miles. I’ve been to the Sequoias and redwoods, but this was so unexpected and vast that I have to call it epic.

But then hot road walking kicked in. Eventually it switched to trail. Finally, it switched to uphill forested trail.

I climbed up along Jackson Creek. I was very thankful for the tree cover because it was hot. The guidebook suggested collecting a lot of water at the bottom. I did and was lugging five liters which is 10 lbs.

Surprisingly, the mosquitoes were horrendous. At least 20 or 30 around me at all times. I used DEET 100. Some people hate it and I may end with numerous tumors and lesions, but by God did I get relief from the little bastards. Except, of course, when it dropped in my eye along with sweat which is a feeling comparable to someone grinding lemon juice with tobasco into you cornea.

Except for the mosquitoes and passing dozens of streams with plentiful water, I felt good and trudged my way up. I entered a burn area with fantastic views. I had my eye on a saddle between peaks that was level and I could have sunset and sunrise views.

Finally, as I approached, I saw tents. There were three ladies camping there, enjoying their dinner and my view. We chatted a bit, but I pushed off, hoping that the saddle in a half mile would offer similar views.

Upon arrival, I found the Washington Trail Association trail crew. This was great because these were the heroes cutting up blowdowns and making the trail clear. Selfishly, it sucked because the next flat area on my map was a half hour away and it was getting dark.

Out of the blue, I spied a little flat area about 50 feet downhill from the trail. I was able to scratch out an area big enough for my tent. As is my custom, I sent out a satellite note to my family identifying my stopping point. I was surprised to see I was on the slopes of Mount Mankato. In Minnesota, Mankato is a sleepy college town on flat land, so I have no idea how this mountain got named.

Just glad to be laying down, I watched as darkness enveloped the valleys below while the relentless mosquitoes still tried to get in my tent.