Bears and Pigs

Just left Yosemite. I entered Yosemite via the eastern entrance. Most visitors enter the park via Yosemite Valley, which is a western entrance. Yosemite Valley is the most visited part of the park, but it's only about 5% of the total park area. My plan was to backpack across the park from the eastern entrance to Yosemite Valley, then take a couple of days to see the valley's sights. I picked up my bear resistant container and a wilderness permit at one of the park offices. I immediately named my container "the pig" since it was heavy and I was going to eat it's contents. I filled it with a week's worth of food and started walking.

My first impression of Yosemite was that it gets a lot of visitors. Even on a weekday in the backcountry of the park you can come across a lot of people. Many trails look heavily used. If you're on a popular backcountry trail you may be sharing the good campsites with 100 other people. Supposedly I was visiting during the off season, so it must be even more crowded during the peak summer season. The closer I got to the valley the more people I saw. These were day hikers who had entered the park via the Yosemite Valley entrance. At some point I started feeling like I was in Los Angeles. I remember seeing guys that looked like gangsters from south central LA hiking up a beautiful canyon with a tall waterfall. It felt even more like LA when I got to valley floor and hopped on the free park bus. It looked and felt like a city bus, but people were dressed a little differently than you would see in a city bus. I remember hearing that Yosemite had begun offering the free bus service within the valley to combat smog from visitor's vehicles which was ruining the views. Since I had left the Buffalo at the east entrance, and my feet were tired, the bus service proved handy for my explorations of the valley.

The valley itself is a dramatic landscape of thousand foot cliffs, waterfalls, big trees, and beautiful meadows. I didn't even try to take photos that would do justice to the place. It seemed like a futile endeavor. The first day I used the bus to visit various parts of the valley. I learned at the visitor's center that the word "Yosemite" means "Those who kill." I wondered who or what "those" referred to and who they killed. The second day I rented a bike (which seemed to have become a popular way to travel in the valley) and day hiked a bit. That afternoon, while packing up, I saw a bear. I was in the backpacker's camp in the valley at the time. My belongings were sitting on picnic a table. I had just put the pig in my backpack. When I first saw the bear he was some distance away, but moving in my direction. I managed to get a couple of photos of him before my brain became too occupied with other matters. I was standing between the bear and the picnic table. I was surprised at how close he got to me before stopping and staring at me. It was close enough for me to see how big he was and to notice his long dagger like claws. I quickly realized that he could do a lot of damage to me. I wasn't sure what I should do, so I swung around to the other side of the table. The bear was now on the opposite side of the table from me. He started moving towards my orange snack bag on one end of the table. I quickly snatched it from right in front of him, then retreated a bit in case he tried to attack me. The bear then went for the backpack. He pushed it over and started looking for a way to get to the pig. I didn't want him to destroy my pack, but I still wasn't sure what to do. Fortunately there was another guy in the camp behind me. I asked him if he knew what I should do. He said to spread out my arms and make loud noises while moving closer. So that's what I did. It started to work, then the guy behind me joined in, and it worked even better. The bear gave out a loud snort then ran off into the forest. The pack had suffered only minor scratches and a wet spot where the bear's snot had landed. Later I learned that these bears can weigh up to 350 pounds and lift three times their own weight.

Having survived the bear encounter, I made my way to the bus stop. I was planning on taking a regional bus back to the east entrance of the park. It was something like $8 for the two hour trip. I got back to the Buffalo late. After a good night's sleep I decided to head out for another trip into the Yosemite backcountry. This time I was going to do some cross-country hiking in less popular areas of the park. I decided to do this trip thin. I didn't bring any food at all, which also meant I had no need for a stove, fuel, bear canister, or cookware. It saved a lot of weight. I headed off again. It had gotten colder and cloudier. Up to this point I'd had clear sunny skies every day. There were less people, and when I headed cross-country there were no people. I spent a couple of days checking out high alpine lakes. There were many of them at the higher elevations. On what became my last day out it started snowing. I had found a wonderful shelter underneath a huge boulder that was near a good water source. Staying dry and warm were not going to be a problem. Even with no food I could easily stay out for many days. However, hanging out under a boulder for a whole day or more didn't seem terribly entertaining, so I headed down. By the time I got back to the Buffalo it had gotten nastier and I was glad I hadn't stayed out longer. Soon enough I was making my way across the sunny, dry deserts of Nevada.

Right now I'm in southwestern Utah, a couple of hours northeast of Las Vegas. My plans are to continue east through southern Utah, eventually crossing into southwestern Colorado. While there I'm planning on visiting Mesa Verde National Park. I just spoke at length with my younger sister Nina and decided that I should expedite my trip a bit. Potentially I could arrive at Texas City in a week or so.

Photos from the Yosemite leg of the trip are here. Unfortunately I forgot to bring the camera on my second outing in Yosemite.

Searching For Yoda And A "Bear Resistant Container"

The last couple of weeks seem to have been filled with send offs and visits with people I know from living in Oregon. It was great to see everyone before leaving for a while, and I enjoyed all the send offs. The Willamette River float was especially memorable. Amongst other things, the boat got dumped, Matt got sick, and I got to play around with a beautifully made staff that I received from one of my older sisters.

After leaving Corvallis I headed up towards The Dalles. Ann and her family were having a get together over a long weekend. I had been invited. They had rented a house along the Columbia River, which separates Oregon from Washington. The house was really nice. More of a property really. The property was well manicured, had a main house, two guest houses, a boat house, and even a small private beach. It was right on the river. Ann's nephews, Henry and Owen, had come along. I watched Star Wars V with them. Later we went for hikes in the gorge, looking for a Jedi master named Yoda. We visited waterfalls along the gorge on the first day. On the second day we took a tour of the orchard country just south of Hood River, followed by a visit to Timberline Lodge on Mt Hood. After saying bye to everyone I headed south into central Oregon along the east side of the Cascades.

While driving through, I stopped to visit Cliff near Bend. We had arranged to hang out for a few days, but I wasn't sure what we were going to do. At some point I decided I'd just do whatever Cliff wanted to do and see what happens. In GW Bush parlance, Cliff was the decider. Cliff's idea was to climb Mt Thielsen, one of the Oregon Cascades crags, over the course of two or three days. I'd never climbed Thielsen and it's always fun to spend a night or two out in a wilderness area, so I was all for it. Cliff made a good decision by putting me in charge of deciding what technical gear to bring. I brought a full rope, a set of nuts, some draws, and some slings. I was sure it would be overkill given the route description, but Cliff was still a bit new to this stuff and I'd hate to get him hurt. We set out in the early afternoon. Our plan was to hike in until we got tired or found a good place to camp. By the time we got to the base of the route we realized we hadn't brought enough water. We had hoped to find a creek or a melting snowfield, but had seen nothing at all. We only had a liter left between the two of us. The nearest guaranteed water we knew of (Diamond Lake) was four miles away and pretty far down. After a good amount of discussion we changed the trip objective to something that involved spending the night at Diamond Lake. Down we went. We set up camp some time after 9:00. The next morning we filled up on water and headed back to Cliff's truck, taking trails near the road and sometimes bushwhacking. On our second night we car camped at Miller Lake, a high lake east and a bit north of Thielsen. We then headed back to Cliff's house (also a pretty nice place). I spent one night there then left in the morning.

After driving all day yesterday I find myself in Bridgeport, California looking for a "bear resistant container." Bridgeport is on the east side of the Sierra Nevadas close to the Nevada border. I should be less than an hour's drive from Yosemite, my next destination. I'm planning on some backpacking and hiking while I'm there. Apparently you're required to carry anything that a bear might like in one of these containers if you're going to be in the Yosemite backcountry.

Here's a link to some photos. The photo at the top is from Miller Lake. I was fascinated by the dance of the light on the rocks.

Buffaloes and Cowboys in the Wallowas

I've got a few more days of work left before I leave Corvallis. I finished up with the house and the renters have moved in. I took advantage of the empty house to fix a few things and replace the dishwasher. While I was at it I took the Buffalo to the shop to get a few problems looked at. They found a number of problems (worn out CV joints, holes in the exhaust system) beyond what I was aware of. The input valve for the propane tank had also failed, which resulted in a leak when you tried to fill the tank. Ann was with me when I tried to fill it once. She refused to get in the van when I tried to start it (I don't blame her) for fear of an explosion. I started it up with Ann standing some distance away and drove it down the block and back. Having seen that I hadn't blown myself up I picked up Ann and we proceeded on our way.

The Buffalo's parked at Ann's house until I leave. It's a little less loaded up than El Viaje #1. No ice axe or crampons since I'm not planning on doing anything that involves glaciers. I'll be bringing less clothes too. Clothes are bulky and I learned from El Viaje #1 that the only reason I care about clean clothes is because other people do. I'm also leaving the frying pan since I almost never used it except as a cover for the pot.

After finishing with the house Ann and I took a trip out to the Wallowas in northeastern Oregon. On the way there the Buffalo died suddenly in central Oregon. I got it to restart with the engine cover off and noticed that one of the belts wasn't turning. The belt in question drove the alternator and water pump, both of which are rather important parts. After loosening the belt and trying to turn the water pump and alternator pulley by hand I diagnosed the problem as a seized alternator. It would need to be replaced. Having driven many miles in a 22 year old vehicle I've come to expect these sort of things. The Water Buffalo is a slow, cantankerous, old beast which sometimes refuses to work. It could die at any time, possibly in the middle of nowhere. Half the reason I carry a bike on longer trips is in case I need to abandon the Buffalo at some point. I've learned that, for more than one reason, you shouldn't be in a hurry if you're riding on a buffalo. When these things happen you can get upset, angry, worried, feel sorry for yourself, etc, but it seems like a pointless thing to do. So, I skipped through all of it, pretty much instantaneously in this case. Patience and acceptance are lessons the Buffalo is good at teaching.

Having thus accepted my circumstances, I started thinking about how to remedy the situation. The nearest town was Prineville. We were pretty close, no more than 15 miles. It was mostly flat or downhill. I could coast the downhills, shutting the engine down to keep it from overheating (no water pump) and draining the battery (no alternator). On the flats I'd need to start the engine. If it began to get too hot I'd just stop and let the engine cool. Turning on the heaters could help. If the battery died I could wire the auxiliary battery in parallel. I was confident I could make it back to Prineville without having to call a tow truck. That's when it hit me. I realized I was thinking like I did when I was high school, when I had junky cars and no money. I remembered that I now had auto insurance, and that it covered towing. I had credit cards to pay for stuff. Time seemed more important now. All of this flashed through my mind within the space of a few seconds after having realized what the problem with the Buffalo was.

We had broken down next to a road construction site. I walked over to one of the workers and asked if he had the phone number to a towing service in Prineville. He did. Even better, we still had cell phone coverage. A few hours and a few hundred dollars later we were on our way again.

So much for that. Later I wondered if calling the tow truck was worthwhile. My scheme to get back to Prineville without one seemed like it could work, and may have even taken less time. After some thought I decided that what I should have done was to call the tow truck, but then immediately start working on implementing my scheme. Unless, that is, I felt lazy, which I've now concluded was the real reason I called the tow truck.

On to the Wallowas. The Wallowas are Oregon's second highest mountain range. Unlike the Cascades (the highest range in Oregon), they're not glaciated, nor are they of volcanic origin. I'd been in the Wallowas once before. During that trip it had snowed on July 4th. Supposedly there's some good alpine rock in the Wallowas, but if I were going to drive this far to go climbing I'd go to the North Cascades instead. Our plan was to do a three day, two night tour of an alpine lake basin located in the interior of the range. The distance was 27 miles, plus whatever we added on for short side trips. The hike starts at the end of a glacier carved valley. We headed directly up the main valley before gaining a high plateau, which housed the lakes. All the lakes were idyllic. Pretty scenery, critters of all sizes running around loose, cold streams, and blooming flowers turning meadows into tapestries of color. I couldn't help but go for a dip in a couple of the lakes and shower myself in a waterfall. It was a popular area for backpackers, fishermen, hunters, and horse riders. The lake basin can be reached from many routes.

Just as we were about to arrive at our last camp I met three men on horseback. They were heading out from the lake we were heading towards. Each one had a beer can in their hand. They were a bit lost, but they didn't seem to be too concerned about it. Ann and I helped them figure out how to get to their destination. It turns out they were about to make a wrong turn. They had six horses between the three of them. A couple of the horses had large Igloo coolers mounted on either side of them. They offered us some beers in return for helping them. They were from near by. Two of them were dressed the part of cowboys, with oilskin coats and cowboy hats. The third guy was dressed like a boat captain. He had a sailor hat on and more of a nautical theme to him. All three looked pretty happy. We chatted for a bit. At one point I asked how many beers they had brought with them. Eight cases one guy said. That's about 200 beers. We said our goodbyes, wished each other well, and headed our own ways. Later I wished I had taken a photo of them.

Afterwards I couldn't help thinking that all along I've been doing these trips the wrong way. We say we take fat trips, but that's nothing compared to the kind of trip a pack animal enables. Chris was on to something when he brought up the idea of bringing live chickens on our Sisters trip. I know goats can be trained to carry stuff, and I've always wanted a goat for other reasons. Seems like a good place to get started with pack animals.

That's it for now. Photos from the Wallowas trip are here. The photo at the top is of Glacier Lake. It was the nicest lake we visited.