Maybe We're Crazy

(Just to let you know that I am working on our last installment of this part of the journey.  Don’t worry, life is a constant adventure with us and will continue to post to this blog.  I’ve just been really busy trying to get our life back in order, but have lots of notes and photos to add to this blog in the near future.  Please stay tuned.  I will delete this little blurb when completed.  I apologize for the delay, but it has paid off.  I just got word that one of my photos from Glacier National Park will be in Jan 2010 edition of Backpacker Magazine.
Oh yeah, I still have to count up the number of states we’ve traveled through.  Once again re-entry into reality is a bitch)

The States visited:  WA, OR, ID*, CA, NV, UT, WY, MT*, ND, MN, WI*, MI, SD
National Parks visited:  Mt, Rainier, Mt. St. Helens, Crater Lake, Yosemite, Kings Canyon, Mono Lake,  Sequoia, Bryce, Capital Reef, Yellowstone, Glacier, Pictured Rocks National Lake Shore, Pipestone MN, Mt. Rushmore, Badlands, SD and countless wilderness areas.

(This is a work in progress.  I will delete this notice when it’s completed)

It seems like there is a super natural force that is not wanting us to make it back to Seattle.  We’ve had a strong headwind the entire trip Westward and one one of the last mountain passes we were hit by a side wind so severe that I was almost blown off the road.  And then just as we cross into Washington State we hit a sand storm that closed I-90 almost the entire day.  We decided to press on around the road block and follow farm roads that paralleled I-90 guided by our GPS.  I grew up in N. Michigan, so I now what it’s like to drive in driving snow and blizzards, but this was like nothing I’ve ever seen before.  There was zero visibility and in my humble opinion the people out here just cannot drive very well, so there was that added danger.  I mean these fools just cannot drive.  I don’t know what it is, but it seems like they lack commons sense when it comes to safety or evaluating the current road conditions.

Typical example of a WA driver

Kitschy Jackrabbit

It’s not like we wanted this road trip to end, but I guess all things must.  People have been asking me “What are you going to do now”, and I guess I should have been thinking about a plan B in case this “permanent vacation” thing didn’t work out.  It’s not like I wasn’t thinking a lot about my future, but I never did come up with a grand new plan, the next big thing or have some type of life changing epiphany like I thought I would.

Roadside Attractions

Actually, I know one thing I know for sure is that I want to do that again.  I could go on and on like a vagabond, gypsy or what most people would call a drifter.  I cannot recall a dull moment and if we got even slightly bored we would pack up and leave.  Sometime just a few yards away to the next camp site for a change of pace or chance to meet some new people.  I cold live with a label as long as I could have the freedom.  Now I just have to find the financial freedom to do so.

Another thing that I’ve learned on this trip is to take time to travel down the roads less traveled.  Some of the most memorable times on this trip were the ones that were unexpected.  Meeting the people that I’d normally never talk to or taking the time to read the local paper, take the tourist tour or eat at the local cafe.  One of the reasons we took this trip in the first place was to break out of our daily routine and force ourselves to look at life from a different perspective, maybe even walk in another person’s shoes so to speak.  Normally I’d avoid anything that had to do with the typical tourist type activities.  Actually I’ve poo pooed that all of my life, but maybe now that I am older can I see that they serves a purpose.  It’s just a glimpse, a taster, a way to get people interested and what they do with it from there is up to them.

More Road Side Attractions

Ever since we left Marquette, MI we’ve had a strong head wind and it’s been slow going the entire time.  If you’ve never traveled across the Great Plains it’s long, flat and boring.  There are acres and acres of corn, soy bean and sunflower fields.  This seems to go on for days and days.  There are parts that I find beautiful like the old farm houses, barns and old style windmills, but for the most part its monotonously similar for hundreds and hundreds of miles.

Not only is the scenery the same, but so are the radio stations.  It’s nothing but classic rock, raving religious lunatics and new country.  One can say that there are 3 choices right there, but I’ve given them all a chance and for the most part they all suck.

Country music’s lyrics are just pathetic.  They’re all about how sad their poor lives are, or they’re about some sappy heart tugging story about down home values of “Real America.”  It reminds me of a typical Republican speech pandering to gullible people just to gain their vote, or in this case, ears.  It’s not really so much the lyrics, but that gawd awful twang that is ubiquitous in country music.  It sounds like cat’s claws on a chalk board to me.  Where does that twang come from and why is it so popular?

I’ve got to admit that I really couldn’t take to much of the religious stations, so I’ll keep my thoughts to myself since religion and religious beliefs are such a hot button topic and this isn’t really a place I want to take on that kind of argument.

Classic rock isn’t much better though, since the lyrics are just as bad, and most station just play about 60 of the same songs over and over.  It’s like it just one long loop of the same songs played by one big classic rock radio conglomerate.  Don’t get me wrong since I really like classic rock, but it’s the fact they ignore 95% of the great music out there that is just not as popular.

After hours and hours of flipping the station and just when I think I’m gonna have a melt down if I hear one more Boston, Journey or Foreigner song I hit the scan button and thank gawd NPR comes in loud and clear.  The announcer mentions the next story is about a little known National Park called Pipestone in SW Minnesota just as we pass the sign for it on 1-90.  It seems so serendipitous that I think we better go with the flow.

Pipestone National Park Quarry

We watch the little movie of the park and take the ¾ mile walk through the park.  We see the quarries where Indians have been quarrying the rock for some 300+ years.  Its labor intensive hard work under the hot sun, biting insects, and wind, so I decide I’d like to support their efforts and buy one of the ceremonial pipes they have for sale.  I talk to one of the carvers and it ends up the being the same person featured in the NPR story.

"The Oracle" in Pipestone National Park

He seems like a really nice and interesting person.  His name is Travis Erickson and he tells me that he’s been carving for 25 years and it shows.  One the way to the park I noticed one of the tourist traps sells the pipestone in bulk, so I ask him if sells of any from his quarry.  He does, but cannot sell it during work hours, so I shop around the near by town and bid my time until 5:00 and I’m rewarded with a big chunk of some priced red pipestone direct from the person who quarried it.

I also buy one of the pipes they have for sale.  This one is made “Swift Horse” – Mark Pederson who is of the Sisseton – Wahpeton Dakota Nation and fourth generation quarrymen / pipe maker.  He is a direct descendant of Moses Crow, who settled in the Pipestone area in 1927.

Pipestone National Park

For over 300 years, the red stone ceremonial pipe held an extremely high value and historically was valued as worth one of the finest horses in trade.  The pipe is considered sacred and used in all their ceremonies.  The pipe was also used in all treaty negotiations and thus labeled the “peace pipe” by non natives.  Native people believed that the smoke from the pipe carried their hopes and dreams to the “Creator”, and I plan on putting mine to work in the same fashion.

We spend the night in a big box store’s parking lot and press on to the Badlands, SD the next day.  We do a little hike around before the predicted big storm hits.  We decide to call it a day as the sun is going down anyway.  As we’re looking for a good place to spend the night in the Badlands National Park we come to the little town of Interior, SD.  This place is barely a one horse town with next to nothing going on.  We see a little road house that looks interesting and appropriately called “The Wagon Wheel” because it seems to be more wagons than broken down cars.  We open the door and I was surprised that tumble weed didn’t blow out of there.  The place is deserted, but I like how “authentic” it looks, so we go in for a beer or three.  The bar tender is a woman who kind of reminds me of Flo from some 70’s sitcom I cannot remember then name of.  Wait a minute, scratch that.  She looks more like the contemporary version of Miss Kitty from the old Western show “Gun Smoke and by the way she is looking at me through thick black mascara I wonder is she is also in the same line of business.  She is a genuinely sweet older woman, but I can imagine she could probably kick my ass if I got outta line.

The Badlands National Park

Some of the locals from the nearby Pine Ridge Indian Reservation stop in.  They’re having a good time shooting pool and drinking beer.  We see the pizza they ordered and decide to try it.  It was one of the best tasting pizzas that I’ve had in a long time.  Normally I’d never eat at a place like this just from the looks of it, but this is one of the great lessons we’ve learned from traveling is that people and places cannot be prejudged just from their appearance.  Some of the nicest and friendliest people we’ve met on this trip are people I would not normally get to talk to.  For example we stopped off on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere to check my oil and to pull out a tumble weed that was stuck in my radiator and two people within 15 minutes pull over to see if they could give us a ride or lend a hand.  That is one of the things I miss about small town living is that most of the people out there would be willing to stop and lend a hand if they saw the some one in need.  On the other hand it seems like people living in or near major metropolitan cities have been watching too many crimes shows and are fearful or just don’t give a shit weather you need help or not.

The Badlands National Park

Another example is the person who was sitting right next to me at the Wagon Wheel Tavern.  His name is Leon Little Killer.  He’s got a persistent case of the hiccups.  He tells me he’s had them all day.  I tell him I know of a sure fire cure and he gives me that sideways look like I’m BS’ing him.  I tell him “It works every time” and he finally asks me how after trying one last time to cure them himself by hold his breath as long as he can.  I ask the bartender for a wooden pencil.  I tell him he has to put the pencil in his mouth sideways like a horse’s bit and as far back as he can bite down on it.  Then drink 3 solid gulps of water without talking a break.  I forget to tell him to lean over as he is dribbling all over himself and I then realize that this could be a big mistake if it doesn’t work.  He swallows his last gulp and sure enough he’s cured.  He looks suddenly relieved and chuckles to himself in disbelief.

We shoot the shit for a while and he tells me he is a cowboy and he looks every bit the part with the dirty white cowboy hat, boots and jeans.  He’s a burly Native American, but with a boyishly handsome face and big smile.  He offers to take us for a horse back ride the next day for free.  Wait a minute he adds, we have to buy the beer.  I gladly accept and we get his number and direction to the ranch he works at and agree to meet the next morning.

A wicked looking tree in the Badlands, SD

Thinking about it that night it seems a little strange going out onto the high plains desert with a person with the name Little Killer, but he seems trustworthy.  He tells me he really likes taking people out riding, because he likes to show off his country where he grew up.

Unfortunately for us we wake up and there was a cold windy rain storm rolling in which we wouldn’t have lasted long enough to make it worthwhile.  Hopefully he’ll take a rain check in the future.

Read more…

This is a place holder because I want these to appear in order of occurrence.

This is a place holder because I want to go in order.

Sunday, August 30th 2009
Wilson, WY – Stage Coach

Ok, this entry doesn’t have anything to do with the National Parks or the wilderness, but it does have to do with another type of wild, and that is of drunken youth.  Jen says it’s just a story for my guy friends, so those of you with delicate sensibilities please exit here.

This is a great story that I just got to share with you and it’s one of things that never happens to me.  Well, wait a minute; it’s only happened to me a handful of times, way back in my day.  It’s one of those times that that when you tell your guy friends and they say “No fucking way.”

Let me set the scene, but please bare with me, because the first part of this rainy Sunday in Jackson Hole was boring, but gets good right about midnight.

We get up late since we can hear it’s raining out, but after lounging long into the morning we do a quick clean up and head out to the historic Jedidiah’s log cabin for breakfast.  It has a newspaper type menu filled with old time tall tales of local hero’s famous escapes from Indians and outlaws.  It’s actually really interesting to read and I hope that I remembered to save it, because I’d like to add a few good stories here later.

This is followed by a stroll around town and then back to the RV to edit some recently shot photos of our trip into the back country of the Grand Tetons.  It’s everything a boring Sunday can be, but I’m just glad just to be relaxing and catching up on e-mail, Facebook and news while listening to some good music on NPR’s American Roots.

The afternoon slips by fast and the rain has stopped, so we decide that we’ll go out for H.H. at the local Snake River brew pub.  The place is jam packed with locals enjoying their fine brew.  Nothing too exciting here, but it was fun to people watch.  It’s filled with a good mix of young, old, locals and few tourists.

On our way back to the rig I remembered that our friendly neighbor Donavan who lives in his converted 1969 school bus and has been for the last 15 years told us that he was going to the Stagecoach in Wilson, WY for their Sunday night music.  He tells us that this place has had the same Stagecoach band playing Sundays for the last 40+ years and has only missed a couple of dates because Sunday landed on Christmas day or Eve.  The band’s leader was an older man playing the banjo and a local legend for having been the first to ski down from the top of the Grand in the early 60’s.  We see some photos of him in his younger days playing right there on this very stage with Bob Dylan and a few other famous musicians.  A local tells me he was one hell raiser in his youth and by the looks of it you can tell.  After brief self introduction I tell him he must be famous and he gives me this sheepish smile and a quick excited chuckle that says yes indeed he has lived and lead a very exciting life.

The Stagecoach is like any roadhouse you’d pass in any small town of the West They kind of all look alike with their mud puddle filled parking lot and neon beer signs in the window and not more than spitting distance from the road.  We walk in and the place is filled with local folks in their Sunday’s best, freshly washed and ironed Western styled shirts, blue jeans, bolo ties, cowboy hats and boots.  There were more handle bar mustaches and guys wearing cowboy hats and boots than not, so it was locals only for sure.  The music is good and people are swing dancing and having a great time.  There is an 80+ year old out on the dance floor dancing with two young women.  I saw him earlier trying to get the two girls sitting next to us out on the dance floor, but he was politely rejected.  This obviously did not dampen his spirits, since we was really in the groove and could actually dance.  The girls were having a great time too.  He was the one in the bolo tie I mentioned earlier and it looked as if he has had it for decades.  He is at least 80 by the looks of his face, but is in remarkable shape for his age and obviously still interested in the ladies.  An inspiration to us all.

Wilson, WY - Stagecoach

Well the band stopped at about 10:00 and we sipped our beers until about 10:30.  The crowd was definitely thinning out and we were looking to do the same.  We jumped into the rig thinking there would be a good quiet spot just across the street, but after turning down one street that looked promising just ended up going out into ranch country with no good pull offs or quiet spots to spend the night.  I tried to pull in behind the breakfast place that someone had recommended that we try the next morning, but it was right next to a landscape company with heavy machinery and didn’t want to get woken up early by the tractors and dump trucks starting their work week, so we opted to go pack behind the Stagecoach where I saw another camper parked with its light on before we left.

I’m was a little agitated from our failed attempt to find a good spot, since we’ve lucked out almost every time on this trip by finding a free camping site with a glorious view and I was regretting slumming it in this mud puddle filled dirt parking lot.  Jen and I got in to a quick argument about something stupid, and now I cannot even remember what it was about.  The RV is just too small of a space to be sharing it with someone when you’re not getting along, so I did what any typical guy would do and went back into the bar to cool off.

I am expecting to walk into a bar filled with drunken cowboys who just may try to kick my ass for wearing flip flops or for a numerous other stereotypes and cliches I had floating through my head at the time…  I’ve got a ten day old beard, so I walk into the door quietly with my head down trying to blend in with the wood work and I am startled to hear they’re cranking Led Zepplin’ Kashmir.  I look up and there’s just a hand full of 20 and early 30 somethings in there just rocking out.  There are two guys and one girl on the dance floor with their shirts off dancing really hard.  When Rage Against the Machine comes on the two guys look like as they’re wrestling and flipping each other around like something you’d see on WWF.  The young woman is occasionally dirty dancing with one of the two and with only her bra and pants on the guys are yelling “Take it off” repeatedly.

I am still trying to keep it on the D.L. sitting on the end of the bar with my baseball cap pulled down low, but I’m obviously enjoying the show.  Yes, scenes and the sound track of my reckless youth are right there live and on display in front of me.  It’s like I am having a flashback, an out of body experience or have some how stepped into a time vortex which transported me back to the good old days of long lost youth.  You may call me an old perv, but I call it good clean fun.  Well, a little dirty, but nothing I’d have to go to confession over.

So, at this time I had a battle of two instincts going on in my mind.  First one was to run back to the RV to get my camera, because I can tell things are going to start to get interesting and besides if I don’t actually get some proof there will always be questions about weather this really happened as described.

My second instinct is to sit there selfishly, visually gorging myself on the pure, raw, uninhibited sexuality of youth.  I choose the later, since it’s almost a gamble leaving the place thinking at the time they might just lock the door.  I was also afraid that it might be over by the time I got back.  It was also going against my initial intention of blending in, so there that’s my justification for not having any evidence.

I have no clue of what I said to the guy next to me between songs, but he yells to the bar tender, “put whatever this guy wants on my tab.”  This is when more of the yelling “take it off” starts in earnest.  I mean the whole group of guys are now yelling it in unison.  In my effort to blend I am right there with them yelling it to.  Even the only other woman in the bar is helping convince her.  One young pimply face fat kid who seems to have a little money yells out “I’ve got $30 if the bra comes off.”  The kid next to him not wanting to be out done yells “I’ll buy everyone in the house a drink if the bra comes off.”

The two young women disappear into the bathroom for a few minutes and emerge on queue just as AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” comes on the jukebox and man oh man it sure seemed like we were at the time.  The bra gets slingshot over my head and she steps up onto the bar right next to me in her pink panties with a floral lace.  It’s obvious she’s done this before because she has all the moves of a stripper or at least the ones I’ve seen in the movies. (ha ha)  She surprisingly graceful, because my first thought was she might be so drunk that this could easily turn into a disaster, but she is rocking to the riotous cheers of all the guys while the bartender is looking on pleasantly dismayed, brandishing a sheepish grin.  She even is able to make fun of the guy who’s passed out with his head on the bar by grabbing him by the ears and grinding away on his face for a few seconds, which he is oblivious to.

The money was paid, the free drinks were served and it was the most fun I’ve had with my pants on in a long time.

I keep on fumbling, stumbling and tripping over words to describe the scenes and situations that we’ve encounter on our journey, but in an effort to keep it real I’ll try to back up my words with photos to prove it, except where otherwise noted.  Although, I do reserve the right to enhance, embellish and / or downright lie about anything and everything, so please take anything said here with a grain of salt, sugar or what ever adds spice to your life.

Our camping site near the Grand Tetons

I think I am going to add a new segment to this blog and that is “Tips from and for the trail.”
The first tip is to add Jolly Ranchers to your Condiment Library.  (see previous post)  Not only are they a tasty little treats for a hot dusty trail, but can come in really handy when a certain unnamed person forgets to pack the drink mix for H.H.  Well, I am not opposed to doing straight shots, but it’s just not as enjoyable as sitting around sipping on a Gatorita while watching what ever gorgeous scene we find ourselves at.  I figured I’d check the library for anything we might be able to sweeten up our El Jimador tequila and that’s when the Jolly Ranchers come in.  I assorted them according to color and added 8 of them to a quart of boiling water.  After they dissolved I poured this hot mixture into a Nalgene bottle and put it in the nearby ice cold river to cool.  Ten minutes later we have a nice ice cold flavorful cocktail I’m dubbing the “Happy Camper”, since drinking a drink named Jolly Rancher seems kinda strange.

North Cascade Fork near Lake Solitude

Today we hiked over 10,070′ Paintbrush Divide.  It was a gorgeous day with brilliant blue sky, no wind and about 75 degrees.  A perfect temp for hiking over a high divide with a heavy pack.  After quick work of the pass and snapshot at the top we descended down the back side to get our first spectacular view of the Grand Tetons and Lake Solitude.  It was a long drop to the valley floor and I’ve got to admit that I felt a little sorry for the hikers going in the other direction, since it’s now about 85+ degrees in the direct sun with no chance of any shade or water on the entire West side of the trail.

Paintbrush Divide 10,070' with Grand Tetons in BG

We found a gorgeous camping site on the North Cascade Fork just a little South of Lake Solitude with a magnificent view of the Grand Tetons right next to a series of water falls and glacier polished terraced rock outcropping.  After such a hard hot hike we had to jump in.  It’s basically glacier melt, so you can imagine how cold it was.  I hope no one was pumping water down stream at this time, since it was a couple day since our last shower, but felt oh so refreshing.

Got wildlife and Magma?
Well this place has tons of both.  We’ve seen black bears, moose, bison, big horn sheep, elk, coyote, fox, beaver, river otters, eagles, osprey and heard a pack of wolves several times.  We’ve also seen more geysers, mud pots, steam vents, cauldrons, and rivers that run hot to last a lifetime.  Actually there are more geysers here in Yellowstone than in Iceland and Greenland combined.

Our adopted wild animal

I have to admit that hiking in country that I am no longer the apex predator has got me a little on edge.  I am not only not number 1, but I’m lucky if I’m forth or fifth on the food chain.  They’ve got grizzlies, black bear, wolves, mountain lions and bob cats.  Not to mention the other animals that could kill you just for being in there way such as buffalo, elk and moose.  Almost every tree in the park has the scars from some large horned animal sharpening their antlers or horns on them to let you know that you’re small and pretty much defenseless against them.  I was starkly reminded about this at midnight as the full moon first broke the horizon on our second night.  I was woken from a sound sleep by a pack of wolves howling in a chorus around our camp site.  It’s a ghostly sound and as others chimed in it had a deliciously layered surround sound effect amplified by the total silence of Yellowstone’s back country.  My guess is that the alpha male starts and sets the tone and beat while the others scattered throughout the surrounding wilderness chime in add to the rhythm.  I could tell that some where young, some old, some male, some female, some near and some far, but it’s was a sound that I will not soon forget.  This went on for 15-20 minutes four times that night.

Yellowstone has lots of gorgeous meadows in the back country

As I am writing this in my sleeping bag the next morning at the crack of dawn I hear another very strange noise and from my guess it’s a sand hill crane.  A crazy sound from a bird that I would imagine would want to lie low, or maybe that’s just the risk they take to find a mate.

Elk skull

Speaking of crazy sounds and how one’s imagination runs wild when you think you’re being stocked by wild animals.  I was lying in bed just this morning and thought for sure that I heard foot, hoof or paw steps just outside our tent.  I worked up the courage to open the tent flap thinking that a grizzly bear is just waiting to bite my head off, but there wasn’t anything there except the beautiful warm morning light, dewy green leafs and brilliant blue sky.  I crawled back into the tent to catch up on some missed sleep from the night before.  As soon as I get settled in and everything again is quiet I hear it again as loud and clear as ever.  This time I think for sure it’s the ranger coming over to check our permits just as he did the morning prior.  I open the flap and again exasperated there is nothing out there.  I go back to bed and come to realize that my heart beating, a little louder than normal is causing my sub zero sleeping bag, which has a hood is pushing against my whiskers and ear to cause a sound that closely resembles the pace and sound of foot steps.  I think I am going to just get up and make some coffee.

Heart Lake Yellowstone National Park

Does anyone know what “Beaver Fever” is?  No, not that kind you sicko!  The reason I ask is that we have beavers in our front yard so to speak and have been swimming and drinking filtered water what I come to find is down stream from no less that 5 beaver dams, and probably more.  The night prior I noticed that we were about out of water and went down to pump some more before dark.  I was surprised that Mr. Beaver swam right up to me within 15’ or so and just paced back and forth in the water watching my every move.  I’ve never had that happen.  Usually they’re just pissed that you’re in their territory like our first night when we camped on the beach.  Jen was reading late into the night when she woke me up tell me there was some thing big out there throwing something into the water.  I immediately can tell it’s a beaver slapping their tales against the water to let you know that you’re trespassing.

Another interestingly haunting sound happened just prior to the beaver incident and that was the sound of a loon imitating the howling of a wolf.  I’m from Michigan and so I’ve only hear loons do one type of call before, so I was unsure what the hell that sound echoing across a deadly silent lake was. It wasn’t till the next morning when I asked the ranger what it could possibly be and he tells me that they can sometimes sound like an elk as well.

Today we have to just hike a couple of miles to our next camp site, from 8H5 to 8H1 at the South end of Heart Lake.  More beautiful meadows and lodge pole pines.  No wildlife sighting on the hike, but it was nice none the less.  We have a nice new camping site and the ranger tells us that there is going to be a meteor show from 12 – 3:00 am this morning.  It starts to rain so we opt to take a siesta in preparation to try to wake up for the show tonight.  We wake just in time for H.H. of Tequila and Country Time Lemon Aid down by the lake and watch the storms roll on past.  The clouds and rain coming down in the distance is impressive scene, but I am too lazy to run back to the tent to get my camera.

Woke up for the meteor shower, but it’s been dropping down into the low 30’s so we only stayed out for a 15 minutes, but saw a dozen or so good ones streak across the sky.

I was awoken by the howl of a lone wolf this morning at the crack of dawn.  After the second howl we got out of the tent to scan the near by mountain side, since it was so loud and clear that we could tell it was near by.  Jen sees movement on the mountain side, and yells there they are, but it was only two deer running, probably for their lives.

Got packed up quick and sloppy for a two mile hike to our next camp site @ 8H6, so we can summit Mt Sheridan, which is 3,000’ in 4 miles.  An ass kicker for sure, but the 360 degree view of the South side of Yellowstone and the North side of the Grand Tetons was worth it.

View of Yellowstone from the summit of Mt. Sheridan

Our last morning we were awoke by the loon again at dawn and this time decided to get up and get out watch the morning light on the mirror smooth lake and watch a family of river otters eat their breakfast of fresh caught trout.

I know I’ve skipped Bryce and Capital Reef, but I didn’t write much, so please check back soon for an update.

Kings Canyon 1st night

Kings Canyon, Rae Lakes Loop is one of the most raw, rugged and awesome displays of pristine nature that I’ve seen in all of my years of hiking back country wilderness.  It doesn’t have the sheer beauty of Yosemite, but it’s untamed, untrampled and unspoiled wildness seems more wild than pretty.  The sheer size and magnitude of the surrounding mountains and rock faces are hard to put into perspective since everything is so enormous.

The first part of the hike was very hot, sandy and kinda boring, but within 2 miles we were into a green and lush forest with the raging Kings river running next to us the entire 10 miles to our first camp site at Paradise Valley.  Nothing to note worthy except the glacier polished cliff faces and the unforgiving treacherous roar of King’s river.  The water pouring out of the mountain with such force and volume was frightening at times.  There seem to be a pulse or a rhythm to its sound and flow that if I sat back at watched it for a few minutes I could see it like waves in an ocean.

Baby squirrels running around our site

We met a young kid that kinda looks homeless named Ryan.  I actually met him when I noticed he was trying to get a fire going with just pine cones and needles the night before.  I took pity and offered up some extra wood that we could not possibly go through in one night.  I offered up a few nice pieces and introduced myself.  It wasn’t until I was up close did I realize this could possibly be a big mistake.  He had that sort of crazed look on his face like Charles Manson and he had the long hair and equally long beard to reinforce my stereotype of a crazy person.  This guy had literally nothing with him.  He had a day pack that wasn’t even full and was wearing what looked like old ski pant and extra heavy winter jacket.  I made this initial introduction as brief as possible and said good night.  We sat around the fire for an hour or so more and had another drink before bed.

We had a nice camp site surrounded by giant Ponderosa Pines near the beautiful river and a view of cathedral like peaks in the back ground.  It was nothing outstanding in our experience, but gorgeous none the less.

Kings Canyon, California

Next day after coffee and breakfast of instant oatmeal we set out for another hard day and a couple thousand more feet of elevation gain in the hot sun to Woods Creek.  More high Sierra terrain that I’ve come to really enjoy, which is glacier polished granite, monstrous Ponderosa pines and some Bristle Cone Pines sprinkled in sparingly.  Another thing that I’ve really come to enjoy is that every day is the same; a strictly blue sky, warm sun and no clouds.  Perfect!  I am really starting to fall in love with Northern California.

The Woods creek campground isn’t anything spectacular, but very nice none the less.  We camp next to the suspension bridge, which has a good fire ring and some flat rocks that we use as a dining table.  It’s hot and we’re tired and dirty.  We head down stream for a dip in the freezing cold snow melt river.  It takes my breath away as I submerge myself in the only deep spot available in a very swift pool behind a large boulder.  I go under again just to wash up the privates and get one good rinse through the hair and clothes.  Ahh man oh man that feels good.  I get out and sit on a rock naked to air dry.  Jen get inspired and does the same after a lame attempt at a dunk under earlier.  I don’t blame her, since growing up on Lake Superior I feel that I’ve built up a tolerance to freezing cold water.

Kings Canyon, California - Rae Lakes

We sit there naked by the river side and are dry within minutes.  This is a very new experience coming from Seattle where it’s never this dry or hot.  At least in the mountains it isn’t.  I tend to jump into any water available while camping in the Northwest, but to be warm and dry within minutes is a big surprise to me.  Oh my look at the time.  We’re missing H.H. by 15 minutes, so we get dressed and head back to camp.  We make the first of our 2 drink limit and head down to the river side again to sit by another crystal clear fishing hole under the suspension bridge.  Jen seems to be getting into this nature thing by going Au-natural.  I have a nice view, so life in the back country is good.

We invite our neighbors over to enjoy our small fire.  Luckily this time I get to see them in the day light and have a brief chat before making the same mistake as last night.  Actually we see Ryan come into camp a full 3.5 hours after us wearing the same old ski outfit when it’s at least 85 degrees out.  He isn’t the first person we’ve seen like this either.  It seems like everyone is dressed head to toe in long sleeves, long pants and some sort of sombrero type sun hat.  It’s bizarre, but what do I care.  I found that my method of bathing and washing out my clothes as soon as I get to camp keeps the mosquitoes away.  If that doesn’t work I usually smoke myself out next to the fire and that does the trick.  These people would rather suffer under what seems an unusual amount of clothing in hot sun while climbing thousands of feet in elevation than get bit by one or two bugs.  Have you heard of Deet before?  I mean that bugs are bad, but for crying out loud man get a clue.  Wait, I forgot I’ve stopped trying to figure people out.  It’s a waste of time, but sometimes I  have a good laugh.

Kings Canyon, California - Rae Lakes and the Painted Lady

Rachele, Rachele and Tim who are from England stop by for socializing and to enjoy our glorious fire.  It’s funny, but when you’re out in the middle of nature you come to really appreciate the little simple pleasures of life in the back country.  For example clean clothes, a cold drink, something sweet, a good fire, good food and friendly conversation with someone new.  These two have been on the trail for 3 weeks doing the John Muir Trail aka JMT.  Within minutes I could tell that had some interesting stories to tell, so I offer them a drink to share.  They tell me they haven’t had a luxury item for 12 days, so they gladly accept.  I make them one of my now famous Lemon Lime and Fruit Punch Gatorade combos with cold freshly pumped water, so it’s cold and strong.  They tell me the next day after we unexpectedly run into them on the trail that they’ve never slept so well in weeks.  Went right to sleep afterward, which 10,000’ + can sometimes be a challenge.  The night is filled with tales of the JMT and a glorious stop off at the JMT Ranch, which offers hot spring and hot meals for a hot price of $150 per person per night.

Next day is the much anticipated Rae Lakes.  It’s another brutalizing hike up in the hot sun and thousands of feet gained, but it’s beautiful as ever.  Glorious crystal clear lakes that are as blue as the skies above only darker.  The mountains look like a 3rd grader drew them with steep vertical lines rising straight out of the lakes and with lots of snow on top.

Once again I spot a camp site from a mile off and tell Jen that “I want to camp there.”  It’s a glorious spot at the tip of a small peninsula that is in the middle of upper Rae Lake.
It comes complete with a high cliff for jumping into the lake, along with a glorious view of the Painted Lady, Fin Dome and other 12,000’ peaks that surround us.  More skinny dipping and happy hour ensues soon afterwards.  The bugs are really bad here and even though we’ve gone in twice they’re still thirty for fresh blood.  We break out the Deet and they’re gone like that.

Kings Canyon, California - Rae Lakes

The next day is the dreaded hike over Glenn’s Pass.  It’s 12,000’ and we’re at 10,000.  From our camp site I have no clue of how we’re going to get over this enormous mountain, but we have to do it.  We pack up camp and get going.  The trail is gorgeous with High Mountain lakes that are mirror smooth reflecting the ginormous peaks that surround us.  It’s another glorious day and the bugs aren’t too bad this morning.  We start to climb.  “Oh it’s not too steep” I say, but then at the top of one ridge we see what we are about to climb.  It’s straight up.  No fucking way in hell can we do this.  We see people a thousand feet above us that look like ants lost in a snow field.  It’s intimidating to say the least, but I am more worried since we do not have any ice axes and there looks like a lot of snow at the top.  We climb and climb switch back after switchback and never seem to be getting any closer.  We finally make it to the top after a few sketchy snow field crossings, but we took it slow and made sure every step was solid.  The view from the top of Glenn’s Pass is truly impressive.  There is only one peak that is keeping us from having a full 360 view, but that only adds to the sense of scale.  We can see for hundreds of miles in almost all directions.  We sit and have lunch of made of Albacore tuna and surprise, surprise mayo and sweet relish from the condiment library along with some Triskets.

Kings Canyon, California - Glenn Pass

Kings Canyon, California - Jim Mercure on Glenn Pass Summit

The hike down is just the same switchback after switchback.  We pass a lake that looks like it’s been plugged in.  It’s so blue it seems to be glowing.  We trudge on up and up after taking the advice of the ranger that the upper trail is worth the elevation gain.  I am cursing that bastard as I can see a nice low trail with little to no elevation gain below us.  Yes, the view is amazing and after a long day I am glad we’ve made it to Kesearge Lakes.  This lake will go down in my memory as one of the best places I’ve ever camped, at least the most scenic.  Again, I spot the place I want to camp from high above and miles away.  This is where we run into our new friends Rochelle and Tim who decided to bail a few days early and have to go over two passes in the same day.  A big feat for those who’ve never done it and at elevation above 10,000’ where there is 70% of the oxygen at sea level.

Kings Canyon, California - The Southside of Glenn Pass

We spend two nights at this glorious little camp site that has just about everything.  It has a great view, it’s on the Eastside of the lake so we get an extra two hours of sunlight and has a glacier polished granite point complete with jumping off spot with a nice exit onto the hot rock to warm back up on.  What is so great about this spot is that alls that anyone would have to do is get their feet just a little wet to get here, but we’ve watched several people attempt this and turn back.  Ha, ha, we have the whole Eastside of the lake to ourselves and it’s just glorious.  We are bathing in the late afternoon sun while I look at people across the lake bundled up in the shade swatting flies.  I jump in to the lake naked again just to show that we’re living large over here with our cocktail and sun.  I feel like a rock star on some tropical island or something.

Kings Canyon, California - Kersearge Lakes

Kings Canyon, California - Kersearge Lakes

Kings Canyon, California - Kersearge Lakes

The next day wasn’t so glorious.  We decide that we’re going to try to make it out in one day which is 20+ miles and 4,500’+ elevation loss.  It’s brutally hot and dry and one of the hardest hikes I’ve done.  As were hiking down a baby bear gets between Jen and I and gets frightened and is running right toward me.  I have no clue because a mouse fart is louder than Jen’s loudest voice.  I miss it and am a little tiffed that she didn’t tell me there was a baby bear just a few feet away, and even more so that I have a camera around my neck.  Oh well that’s the way it goes.  She got a special treat by this encounter and that’s good enough.  A couple miles down the trail I hear the unmistakable sound of a baby bear’s cry.  I tell Jen “That’s a baby bear” and she’s like yeah right.  I tell her that I know for sure that there’s a baby bear just a few yards away in the brush somewhere, but she still doesn’t believe me.  All of a sudden just feet away the ferns start to move and then there we are face to face with big momma bear and baby bear right behind.  She gives me the stare down that gives me goose bumps.  Its fight or flight here.  I start talking, I am not sure what I said, but with all of the literature that we’ve read says that you should talk and fight back with black bears.  I try to get big, but she gives me that look that she’s not gonna take any BS from me.  They mosey on and cross the path just a few feet from us.  We try to sneak by, but I don’t know if she know that we’re just trying to pass since we see her again, but this time she doesn’t have that same look as if no problem, but more of a I gonna eat you for dinner if you take one more step closer.

Kings Canyon, California - Momma and baby bear

Well, we make it back and I have a cold beer in hand as I write this.  It’s hot out, I mean really hot and the beers are going down like they’ve evaporated before it hits my lips, so naturally I drink more, but to little relief of my thirst.  It must be that we need food, so we order up a bacon cheese burger and that does the trick.

If I could offer just a few tips for anyone who might be going on this hike is to do the loop clockwise.  Counter clockwise would just be so brutally hot and steep that it would just suck the fun right out of it.  Another is to go light as possible.  It rarely rains in the summer time, so just pack a large garbage bag in case it does and save the weight of a rain jacket.

We head back to the previous camp site just outside of the park, because after touring the available campsites in the park it just isn’t worth the $20 camping fee which is next to screaming kids, loud generators and probably the high fivin white guys we’ve seen before.  It’s always the price we have to pay coming back into civilization.