July 29
Crystal came and then left with blisters on her feet. Made love by Velma Lake and watched the highway lights from Tinker Knob. She is my best companion.
Awoke on a steel catwalk of an abandoned fire lookout, suspended above a narrow butte and hanging out over the sky. The rising sun: streaks of atmospheric violet and hydrogen orange. We had made a push from the bottom of the Yuba River valley, climbing to the summit of the Sierra Buttes, where the lookout awaited us. Starting in the late afternoon, we climbed a relentless ascent of five thousand vertical feet. Daylight faded all around us as we continue to push upwards, across the blocks of mountainside. By dark, we were working on an abusrdly steep jeep road that led to the fire lookout. Then, sets of stairs, empty space below. Then, the tower like an eagle's nest on the peak. A beautiful place to wake up.
Yesterday, I was ready to quit this whole thing. In an attempt to find water, I made a sidetrip off the ridge, following a jeep trail to a lake that appeared on the map. After pumping a few quarts, I continued down the road, assuming that it would return to the trail as the map seemed to indicate. After an hour of wandering through a maze of interconnecting roads, it was clear that I was not going to be led back to the trail. Sitting down to collect my mind, I was unable to locate myself on the map. Frustration built up as the realization solidified that I was lost. I continued to walk, hoping to find a way out of the mountains. To get to a major road, hitch to the nearest town, and count my losses. Strangely, I came across an empty youth camp on a small lake. There was a guy there in a canoe with his daughter. He had a pistol strapped to his leg, not sure why. We talked. He showed me where we were on the map and it turned out I was only two miles from the trail. He filled up my water before I departed. My frustration, though, had not been resolved. I had lost nearly a full day of hiking to a stupid navigation mistake. So, to make up for lost time, I hiked for over ten more miles until midnight. The darkness played tricks with me, swarming with miniature sounds, snapping twigs and the flush of wind -- putting me on edge and stirring up images of cougars. A few sudden explosions of crashing branches, probably just deer, sending me out my skin, forcing me to stop to settle my heart rate. So, to give the deer fair warning of my presence in the dark, I began singing aloud and clapping along. If there was anyone camping in the forest that night, they must have thought a lunatic was in their midst. I collapsed at midnight on a logging road, mosquitoes attacking and too tired to care. Tonight, sleeping next to the drone of the Feather River.
Crystal came and then left with blisters on her feet. Made love by Velma Lake and watched the highway lights from Tinker Knob. She is my best companion.
Awoke on a steel catwalk of an abandoned fire lookout, suspended above a narrow butte and hanging out over the sky. The rising sun: streaks of atmospheric violet and hydrogen orange. We had made a push from the bottom of the Yuba River valley, climbing to the summit of the Sierra Buttes, where the lookout awaited us. Starting in the late afternoon, we climbed a relentless ascent of five thousand vertical feet. Daylight faded all around us as we continue to push upwards, across the blocks of mountainside. By dark, we were working on an abusrdly steep jeep road that led to the fire lookout. Then, sets of stairs, empty space below. Then, the tower like an eagle's nest on the peak. A beautiful place to wake up.
Yesterday, I was ready to quit this whole thing. In an attempt to find water, I made a sidetrip off the ridge, following a jeep trail to a lake that appeared on the map. After pumping a few quarts, I continued down the road, assuming that it would return to the trail as the map seemed to indicate. After an hour of wandering through a maze of interconnecting roads, it was clear that I was not going to be led back to the trail. Sitting down to collect my mind, I was unable to locate myself on the map. Frustration built up as the realization solidified that I was lost. I continued to walk, hoping to find a way out of the mountains. To get to a major road, hitch to the nearest town, and count my losses. Strangely, I came across an empty youth camp on a small lake. There was a guy there in a canoe with his daughter. He had a pistol strapped to his leg, not sure why. We talked. He showed me where we were on the map and it turned out I was only two miles from the trail. He filled up my water before I departed. My frustration, though, had not been resolved. I had lost nearly a full day of hiking to a stupid navigation mistake. So, to make up for lost time, I hiked for over ten more miles until midnight. The darkness played tricks with me, swarming with miniature sounds, snapping twigs and the flush of wind -- putting me on edge and stirring up images of cougars. A few sudden explosions of crashing branches, probably just deer, sending me out my skin, forcing me to stop to settle my heart rate. So, to give the deer fair warning of my presence in the dark, I began singing aloud and clapping along. If there was anyone camping in the forest that night, they must have thought a lunatic was in their midst. I collapsed at midnight on a logging road, mosquitoes attacking and too tired to care. Tonight, sleeping next to the drone of the Feather River.
No comments:
Post a Comment