Trip Date: August 9, 2013
The Perseid Meteor Shower happens every year beginning about mid-July, with peak activity in mid-August, depending on the particular location of the meteor stream. During the peak, the rate of meteors reaches 60 or more per hour. They can be seen all across the sky, but because of the path of Swift-Tuttle’s orbit, Perseids are primarily visible in the Northern hemisphere. As with all meteor showers, the rate is greatest in the pre-dawn hours, since the side of the Earth nearest to turning into the sun scoops up more meteors as the Earth moves through space.
We have camped several times around this meteor shower with various results for star gazing and the meteor show. Sometimes the weather doesn’t cooperate and the skies are not clear. Sometimes the shooting stars are very scarce. And of course we usually are not camping at the peak time or gazing skyward at the peak pre-dawn hours. The meteor showers (such as they are) are more of a reason to get out than an event that we are all that into or worked up about. But as usual, like many of us, sometimes we need a little push to get out and do what needs to be done.
There were 6 of us on this trip which is a great number – not too many and not too few. Lately, Bob and Bill have come on the trips and they have been great additions – easy going, not pushy, demanding, or overbearing. They bring food and beverages to share and contribute, and take care of themselves – just right. Steve and Keir have come on many trips over the years, Steve from way back when, but both have been a little scarce lately, so it was excellent to have them both along. Tom and Ken – well enough said! We had 3 drivers which was a lot in one sense, but great in another. Two in each rig so everyone had company. Keir wanted to bring his dog Franklin, otherwise, we may have gone in just 3 vehicles.
I am always hoping more/other people drive, but ideally they would have a good vehicle, such as a large truck or SUV, particularly with 4-wheel drive or All wheel drive (I don’t completely understand the difference, so maybe we will have to research and discuss that someday). I think 4/AWD is very important, if not critical to access the special places that allow us to get away from people, access places with great views – which often means up high, or possibly near water, which also often takes some doing. Also, going year round, you are bound to get into some weather and 4/AWD offers some insurance for those events. Keir drove his Chevy Cavalier so it could have been a limiting factor on where we ended up, but on this particular trip we pretty much knew where we were going, so it worked out fine.
I drove Steve, a good friend I have known for almost 20 years. It seems like in the early days of camping, he was a regular, including trips when we brought our young children. He has 3 great kids and they were really fun to camp with. So, it was great to have him along for this trip, and to be able to spend some time together on the drive up. He is a great gardener, so we spent some time in my garden before we left looking things over, including my massive (near-dead) Blue Oak tree. Just as we were getting ready to shove off, Ken called and said he and Keir were ready to leave his place. Since we live only a couple miles apart, we figured we could caravan up the hill so they headed to my place.
This meant another beverage and many more bathroom visits before all of us old timers were ready to get going. By now, I assumed Tom and Bob had an hour head start and I was anxious to meet up with them so they didn’t have to be sitting around waiting for us. We had agreed to meet at an old snow play spot just above Highway 50 a few miles up Ice House Road. As soon as you leave Highway 50 on Ice House Road heading North, the road climbs steeply on a good paved road. Once you get up “top”, the road splits with 90% of the traffic staying to the right – on Ice House Road to access Ice House, Union Valley, Gerle Creek, and Loon Lake Reservoirs, Wright’s Lake, Robb’s Hut, Van Vleck Bunkhouse or any of the trailheads into Desolation Wilderness. There is much recreating to be done in this area.
The snow play place is a good spot, but it is a little low for snow at about 5200’ elevation. It has a big flat area at the bottom of a road that parallels Ice House road, so if by chance someone really gets a good head of steam going and has a really long inner tube/sled/toboggan run, they won’t end up in the road. We have had many cars, people, dogs, cross country skiers, even snow mobiles all share that space with a big fire and tables for food and beverages and still had ample space for all. I remember we had my son’s birthday up there with 6 or so of his friends – maybe his 10th birthday – and it was an absolute blast. The boys had so much fun and absolutely exhausted each other – a good day for all.
Sure enough, as we gained the top of the hill and rounded the corner, Tom’s rig was parked alongside the road in just that spot. He and his family had enjoyed a few trips in the snow as well, so it was easy and convenient for him to meet there. Luckily, they had not been waiting long, although neither he nor Bob were able to come up with a logical explanation for what they had been doing during the lost hour. Me thinks there was far too much protestation, but that may need too much space to explore here and now.
After a refreshment and many memories of past trips to play in the snow, we headed further up Ice House Road, past Silver Fork campground and Ice House Resort – which has a campground, store, and services. Just a tad past the Resort, maybe half a mile, we crossed the south fork of Silver Creek and one of the roads leading to Ice House Reservoir – the first and smallest of the 3 major reservoirs in the area. Another mile or so, we came to a 4-way intersection with Wright’s Lake Road/Forest Road 11N37 to the right (East) and Big Hill Road to the right (West). We were after a view of the Crystal Range in Desolation Wilderness and a big open sky to watch the Perseids, so up the hill we went.
I have been up here several times before; once with my wife, once with my brother, and once with Steve. I don’t recall why Steve and I came up, but we didn’t camp overnight. We did BBQ, because we lit the back of my truck on fire. After dinner, we didn’t wait for the coals to die out before leaving, somehow figuring that hot coals in a BBQ in the back of a moving vehicle with the air fanning the coals at 30 miles per hour wouldn’t be a problem. I remember pulling off the road at the bottom of Big Hill Road because I thought all the orange light behind me was a fire truck coming down from the US Forest Service fire station. It wasn’t until after we waited for them to pass, with no vehicle appearing, that we realized the growing orange light wasn’t a fire truck, or the cops, or any other kind of emergency vehicle (although we could have used one), it was the light from the growing flames in the back of the truck. That was an experience.
On this trip, I led the three vehicles up Big Hill Road since I had some idea of where I wanted to go. I quickly noticed how different the forest was since the last time I had been here. Massive thinning/harvesting projects had been done on either side of the road on the flat part near Ice House Road. Once we began to climb up on top of the hill, the trees were much larger, maybe 30 feet tall, completely blocking the view I remembered – a good thing for the forest, but not good for this trip. These differences were all good reminders that things do change; fires, floods, landslides, insect and disease damages – these events alter the landscapes in significant ways and it is good to remember and pay attention. Finally, up on top of the ridge, we took the first road to the East we found. I had several other spots in mind, but since the trees had grown so much, I figured none of them would offer the view of the Sierras we were after. The road was dropping more than I had hoped, but on we went, winding in and out of the drainages and ridges. We passed a few wide spots in the road, a couple side roads that could have led to a spot, but we kept looking for a spot at least a little off the road, offering a better view, and requiring less work to investigate and explore.
Finally, we came to a spot that had a very large wide, flat area on the East side of the road. All 3 rigs pulled off to investigate. The view was not spectacular, but the open, fairly flat spot that was far enough off the road looked pretty good. There would be no traffic on this road, so that wasn’t such a big deal, but still, it was basically a wide spot in this road and we usually find better places to camp, sometimes awesome places to camp, so this one was not particularly special in the grand scheme of camping trips. Of course, one always wonders what is just around the bend, or a tad further down the road, so Steve and I hopped in the truck, put on some Buffalo Springfield, and headed on down the road.
There were many side roads leading this way and that, and one fairly significant road that seemed to drop down towards Ice House Road. We were now getting good views of Union Valley Reservoir, and couldn’t help but imagine getting lake side (or near enough to walk/hike to the water) or perhaps having a view of the lake and the Crystal Range. Finally, we came to a large opening, a former landing for the logs harvested in a timber operation, beyond which the road got pretty rough and narrow. Not wanting to get into an area I couldn’t turn around or that was pounding the heck out of the truck for no good reason (even if we got in there and found a cool spot, Keirs Cavalier couldn’t make it), we stopped and walked the rest of the road. There wasn’t much more to it.
In a few minutes, we came to a great wide open camp spot with a massive fire ring in the middle of the clearing. There were logs left partially burnt in the fire and much more wood stacked nearby. There was a ton of garbage, shells of all sizes and calibers, and partially melted glass and metal of all kinds. Even with the mess, this was still a great spot – big, open, surrounded by dense forest, tucked in a bowl 1000’ below a ridge on the South and West sides. There wasn’t much of a view, but a big open sky to the North and East; open sky out over the reservoir even though we could not see the water through the thick forest. We really didn’t consider this spot for this trip because the Keir Cavalier couldn’t have made it, but if there was a road/trail to the water, it could definitely be worth a return for a massive boys blow-out at some later date. Steve and I hunted high and low, but could not find any track or trace leading towards the water. We had been gone quite a while, and should get back up the hill – we were afraid at what we may find if we were gone too long – the boys being left without proper supervision and all).
Arriving back at the wide spot in the road, with eyes only half open and properly diverted just in case, we found the boys having partially set up a kitchen and now lounging in the shade up the cut bank above the road. This spot, although requiring a little bit of effort to scramble up to, offered a very nice view of the Crystal Range and Desolation. It was time to call an end to our hunt and set up camp. This spot was good enough and putting more time and effort into the search didn’t seem prudent at the time. It was about 2:00 by then, so Home Sweet Home it was.
Much unpacking and setting things up – tables, chairs, stoves, lanterns, the kitchen, the bar. There was much walking about searching for flats spots for tents, tarps, and cots. All of this commotion was exhausting and soon we were all sitting on the bank above the road in the shade, beverage in hand like Baboons (sorry Baboons) staring across the valley at the forest where the next faction of Baboons lived – wondering what they were up to and whether it was worth the effort to go see. With a brief rest and restored vigor, the last of the unpacking was accomplished – there was much rejoicing followed by a round of Tom’s special Manhattan’s.
We pulled the three rigs into a fairly flat semi-circle to shield the inner camp from the road, a poor facsimile of circling the wagon trains. What was achieved after much turning, and backing, and several near collisions was a sort of flat semi-circle, a crescent moon at best that could not possibly have repelled a frontal assault by a rogue band of nuns – (they have been reported to be roaming these parts). Not having much more effort for preparations, I set up my tent two feet from my tailgate – making unpacking quite reasonable and leaving open the option of climbing under or on top of the truck if need be (as may be required in response to all sorts of encounters – human and otherwise). I had thrown in some horse shoes and stakes and my thoughts turned to them.
We tried pounding the stakes into the road in several places, but the rock would not be penetrated. After several test holes, we settled for one stake at the bottom of the road cut beneath the spot where we had nestled together in the shade, and one in a soft/sandy spot well off the side of the road. The distance between the stakes was not exactly official, nor was the placement suitable for tournament play, but they did offer interesting and fun challenges to scoring. This arrangement lasted a while, until the second round of Manhattan’s arrived in our little red plastic cups – there was a break in the action and much rejoicing.
Soon enough, Bob, Steve, Keir and I were tossing ringers around trees, rocks, and Franklin; Manhattan’s were flowing, and the scoring was not limited to the field of play. Tom had some great tunes pouring from his rig and we were getting settled into our new surroundings. The temperatures were perfect, not too hot, mild breeze, just about perfect in the shade. As usual, Kenny had his binoculars out and was checking out the mountains and trying to “connect the dots” to the view we had just about a month ago, maybe 30 miles Southeast, looking generally in this direction at Pyramid Peak. Now, we were to the West of it, looking just about due East at the Crystal Range broadside. We thought/imagined we could pick out the ridge that we had camped on or at least the general vicinity –on the South side of the South Fork of the American River and Highway 50 canyon. Life was good.
At some point, the Manhattan’s were gone and the long shadows were telling us to get dinner going. Since the entire El Dorado National Forest was under fire restrictions, we could not have a camp fire since we were not in an established campground. Not being able to have a fire was almost enough to drive us into a campground, but not quite. The air was warm and calm, and we wouldn’t miss a fire for one night, but this was one of the very few times we have camped and not had a fire. We had several two-burner propane stoves and plenty of pots and pasta so we were good. Ken busted out a massive stained and dented pot – a veteran of much excellent cooking for sure, and soon we had water put to boil.
Bob was hard at work cutting up a ton of sausage he brought. I am not sure if the sausage was pre-cooked or if his hands were washed, but it is the leading suspect in the spectacular display of flatulence that followed dinner and lasted an inordinate amount of time, that affected an overwhelming percentage of the population. The resulting haze may have been partially responsible for repelling an attack from the neighboring baboon tribe. I remember Ken breaking up the pasta and dumping it into the pot. I seem to recall the rest of the marinated peppers, tomatoes, and cucumbers we had as an appetizer being dumped in along with some Red wine and fresh Oregano and Basil. This was happening.
The next thing I knew, I had a mound of pasta on my plate and was mowing through it with great vigor. By some miracle, I had a fresh bourbon and coke with a fresh lime wedge and a huge chunk of hot French bread. The pasta was outstanding – the boys were nourished – and rejuvenated, and the thirst raged. Dusk was upon us and there was talk of taking a hike back up the hill to Big Hill road. Somehow, from out of nowhere, motivation ensued. We packed up beverages and the gang started out of camp. Unfortunately, Franklin was having none of this and exhibiting more sense than the rest, held his ground about fifty yards up the road. Keir, being the good dad that he is, relented, and returned to camp with his companion. Later that evening, on the ridge far above, we thought we heard a faint howl of forlorn hound love, but upon our return to camp, all was quiet and all were left to their own opinions.
The rest of us carried on up the road and made pavement without too much huffing and puffing and somewhat unconsciously followed the pavement on up the hill. Apparently, we were headed to the Forest Service fire station and the helipad on the top of the ridge at the end of the road. I was not sure this was a good idea, once I realized – not too swiftly – that this is what we were doing, but analysis was not a worthwhile endeavor at this point. The walking was great, the slope not too steep, the stars outstanding, the conversation provocative, the beverages – shear perfection. Once atop the hill –there was only darkness. A lone vehicle in the parking lot – certainly the milieu for many a godless and immoral act. We steered clear – but barely.
The station was shuttered, the helipad hanger locked tight. This was fine with us. Up and around the loop road, past the telegraph tower, satellites, and radar, past the outhouse, and back towards the station, we were absorbed by the view of space – the stars were so clear and bright; the Milky Way so bright and defined; so quiet and comfortable. We peeked about the station and Bob spied into the hanger, but nothing stirred. Gravity had a hold of us now, drawing us back down the hill. I wish I had taken another moment to capture the sky in my mind from up there, but I was probably engrossed in a discussion about something or another, or not.
Thankfully Steve had his eyes skyward and called out a spectacular shooting star – big bright ball and tail – shooting right to left across the sky for a very long way. Tom saw another one not as big, but a nice green hue to it. With our eyes mostly towards the sky and the group now somewhat scattered, somehow we all made the turn for our road down to our spot. Upon gathering back at camp, a quick head count came up short or long – I can’t remember – and since we were not unanimous in this finding, we agreed to disagree, and quickly turned our attention back to the sky. We arranged our chairs facing East and up, and kicked back to watch more of the show.
At some point, a loaf of French bread was passed around in “no-look” fashion, hand to hand, a chunk torn off and passed in the dark to another waiting hand. All I can see in my mind are hands raised above heads and chunks of bread laid upon them. Nary was a word uttered but communication was fluid, and bread devoured in silence definitely hit the spot as several more meteors were spotted.
I do not think I had anything to drink all day other than beers and whiskey, but I was feeling fine, other than my head was very very heavy and my eye lids were unable to stay erect. After what I assume was a rather short stint in my chair, I weaved off into the darkness and into my comfy bed. I didn’t even zip up the netting or the regular door – it was so warm and calm; and I thought by chance, I might wake up enough at some point to open an eyelid enough to check the sky through my open tent flap. But, sleep was long and deep, not even rising to pee all night, I slept great – not a common occurrence on these trips.
Rising early, as soon as I stood up, I had to poop which is not uncommon – it is rather regular. Luckily, I was prepared with my important papers at the ready and shovel nearby the kitchen area. Off down the road I went with the first early light. It was well before dawn, but I had slept well and I felt pretty good. I knew from trying to pound in the horse shoe stakes that the digging was not going to be easy, but I also knew that the ground is often softer and there is usually some soil under trees where it otherwise may not exist. This country was pretty steep on both sides of the road, so my search focused on the vegetation along the road, in fact, mostly over the edge of the bank. After a few minutes of walking down the road, assuring I was out of site of the lads, it was time to settle down. I needed to find a suitable combination of diggable soil, privacy, and view (well of course I needed a view!).
Like the parting of the clouds and the Jesus rays pointing to the Holy Grail in a Monty Python movie, I saw my spot. In went the metal blade (thank god for metal tools), a few inches of soil was extracted. The blade was thrust into the ground again and again, the earth extracted until a gaping hole had been inflicted. It was rapidly filled with organic material, enough to feed many a root, insect, and microorganism (it could also feed mammals, but it isn’t supposed to). Aw the simple pleasures. Is this going to be the best feeling I have for the next 40 years of my life – essentially until the end of my life- I ask myself?) No, not yet, is the answer, but that day too may come.
I breeze back up the hill – much easier and looser than the trip down. I gather a water bottle, wash my hands (I think), and begin to head up the road beyond camp to see what there is to see. Hark – prey tell what sound is that – a zipper perhaps? Me thinks it may be brother Kenneth. He is emerging from his tent but I cannot tell which end is protruding first. We greet each other in a manly way (as is customary) and he says he will meet me up the hill. As I gain elevation from the ascent of the road, I am losing the site of the mountains behind the trees along the road. I head back to our site to scramble up the embankment above the road where we had gathered upon settling on this camp site. It offered the perfect vista of the Crystal Range and the pending sunrise.
Soon Ken joined me, and every few moments another of the fools joined us on the hill. Keir, Tom, Steve, and then Bob. All the fools were now gathered on in the cool stillness. The mornings are often a little goofy temperature wise. Sometimes I think it is fairly warm first thing upon leaving the tent, but then it may be that I am still toasty from my sleep. Then sometimes, it seems to get cooler just before sunrise, significantly cooler, but that doesn’t seem right. It is coolest before dawn yes, but it isn’t warmer an hour before dawn, and then get real cold, and then warm right back up again? In any event, I was glad to have my sweatshirt. Keir slid down the embankment to get a little doggy sweater for Franklin and he definitely appreciated it.
It was fun to try to guess where the sun would actually peek over the mountains – something the addicts would bet on. It was getting brighter (definitely a good sign if you are hoping the sun comes up), but it was tough to pick out the exact spot. I was a few degrees too far North as the first brilliant orange ray crested the distant ridge. How many times has that happened I wondered – how many times has the sun come up over that spiny granite ridgeline? I was happy to have witnessed it this time – with my friends – in this dusty nondescript bend on this random forest service road that leads to nowhere in particular. As usual, it is being here that makes it special.
Once the sun was up and shining in our eyes, we slid back down the embankment, across the road to camp and got about making coffee and breakfast – always a good time of the morning. I often have trouble making coffee in large quantities. I have four or five methods and each typically ends in some less than satisfactory manner. One contraption I got from my brother still confounds me and others to whom I show it. It looks to be designed for large quantities- pots full-so I often bring it on the group trips. We tried this method again with dismal results which led to much grumbling and gnashing of teeth.
Fortunately Bob is an engineer and he had a very cool contraction that made excellent coffee but in tiny quantities. We went to plan C and that worked but was very slow. Plan D was a free for all and that seemed to be a good alternative. Cereal, fruit, toast, yogurt, granola, hard boiled eggs – all sorts of breakfast-like substances were being consumed. This is the first time I really missed having a fire. It was a little brisk and the warmth would have made for a wonderful start to the day. Nonetheless, the morning movements were labored and we lingered and lounged about for some time, knowing that once the picking up and packing began, it would not be long before we were heading out.
At some point, that time came. The heads had cleared and the coffee and food kicked in powering the electrons to move about more freely. With breakfast picked up, we moved on to picking up the dinner residue, and then backwards in through the trip to the prior days lunch and beverages. Funny how that works. It is like digging through a dump to understand the human history or the layers of soil to unravel the mysteries of the earth. Our trip was now unfolding in reverse, and it was already fun to recall and recount our adventures as told by the leavings. It made getting ready to leave much easier.
Fortunately, all of us were interested in finding the shore of nearby Union Valley Reservoir via a road we intersected on the way in, near the snow play area, so our adventure could continue a bit longer. It is always interesting to compare your thoughts on the way into a spot with those on the way out. Just in general, they are very different in that you are usually very excited at the beginning of a trip and having fun with everyone while finding a good spot to camp. On the way out, it is always a bit sad that another trip has come to an end and you are thinking about going back to work and how long it will be until the next trip. But also, your surroundings and what you thought the area was like on the way in vs. on the way out is also often very different. Sometimes you have explored new country and that is always cool. Sometimes you have gone back to a spot and you compare what has changed since the last time. Sometimes there is development like closed roads or new roads or a new campground. Sometimes the trees are bigger, or a fire has come through or they logged or thinned an area. Many times there is winter damage – fallen trees or slides or flooding from heavy rain, wind, and snow. So when you take your time to look around and see things, you may notice much is different, even though, at first glance, you are just out in the woods.
Our camp site was less than a mile down our little forest service road from Big Hill Road. We were barely two miles in from the traffic of Icehouse Road. It is incredible how once you get settled into a spot you feel like you are all alone and far away and way out in the wilderness, but often you are not that far from a main road, house, business, forest service station, or ranch. We were back to the intersection of Peavine Ridge Road and Ice House road in another four miles. From there, you can see Highway 50.
We were taking Peavine Ridge Road to the backside of Union Valley Reservoir, so at the junction, the three rigs turned right. Peavine Ridge is supposed to be paved, but it has the biggest pot holes I have ever experienced and there are hundreds of them for miles of its length. I weaved all over the place back and forth, side to side, to avoid as many as I could, but we still hit more than our share, and each one was a major impact and battering of the truck. It was ridiculous. I could not imagine driving this road while towing a boat, but many guys did. You really are on a ridge for much of the drive with big trees, many large Cedars, scattered along both shoulders. Before long, we started to drop off the ridge to get down to the water. We crossed a beautiful creek, which below the bridge started to look more like a reservoir. Sure enough, around the next bend, looking back we could see vehicles parked along the shore. It definitely looked like a spot worth checking out sometime.
On we went in our quest for the backside of Union Valley Reservoir; what I hoped to be a rough dirt road with not many people that could be a decent spot for the boys to be boys and yet be near some water. Past Junction Reservoir which looked to be some kind of fore bay for a SMUD power generating operation. Since these reservoirs and many others throughout the Sierra’s are used for water storage and hydroelectric power, it is a safe bet. Around the next bend we were finally at the sparkling blue water with the hazy Sierra’s as a backdrop. Happy to have found it, the area was not as imagined.
Obviously, this is place is no secret. The road crossed the massive earthen dam to a boat ramp. The campground was a surprise, as was the number of people and the ranger and the commotion. We drove through the boat ramp parking lot and without stopping crossed back over the dam to a turn out where we could scramble down to a shelf where we might be able to get to the water. Unfortunately, the entire shoreline was very steep and all imported rock, so it was very difficult to maneuver and next to impossible to get comfortable or find a cool spot to hang out. However, with beverage in hand and a tiny speck of shade from a lone scraggly Cottonwood, we kicked back to enjoy the view and watch the boats go back and forth.
Boys being boys, we shortly found ourselves tossing rocks, and since we had roughly 18 billion at our disposal, we needed a target. Bob suggested trying to hit some pebbles on top of a stump that was jutting out of the lake. So much fun; talking, laughing, beverages, watching the people, enjoying the scenery, and throwing rock after rock after rock. I believe Steve hit the rocks first and many others caromed off the top of the stump, close to but not quite hitting the stones on top. I think many of the boaters were as intrigued at our game as we were, as we had the attention of many a would-be angler (maybe it was because they were pissed off we were scaring the fish away – right!). The wind picked up and it quickly cooled down, and since this wasn’t a great spot to hang, and swimming was out, it wasn’t long before our collective brains led our compliant bodies back to the rigs for a snack (and perhaps a beverage).
I was not quite ready to head back home, so it was suggested we explore the body of water we saw below the road on the way in. Back down the paved, but horrendously potholed, Peavine Ridge Road a few miles to a right turn off some switch backs. That road is also paved but it is unclear who owns the road or the land. Before too long, we came to a huge locked gate, but a dirt side road skirted alongside the gate and dropped down a very steep slope to the water’s edge. This descent is scary for a number of reasons.
First of all, you don’t realize how steep the road is until you are coming back out. I do not think a regular two-wheel drive vehicle could climb back out – certainly not if there was any wetness or anything that could cause a loss of traction. Secondly, what appears to be a fairly broad landing along the water’s edge is really a very small area. If there are people already down there, and there were, you are all crowded into one small spot. The rest of the area is steep rocks and cliff so there are no options to get away, around, or across.
Thirdly, and by far the worst, and so deserving of its own paragraph, is the immense amount of human waste all around everywhere. If you didn’t notice the reams and reams of toilet paper on the way down the steep hill, you did now that you were down at the bottom looking back up at all of it. Unless you have a severe head cold or some clinical loss of smell, the stench slugs you in the face as soon as you step out of the rig. It is atrocious. We tried to focus on the water and options to getting away from this spot or crossing over to the other side, but the stank was overwhelming. Once I saw the big group of several families camped at the bottom of what appeared to be an entire hillside of human waste, I was overcome with grossness.
These folks were just sitting out on their camp chairs, hanging out. The four, five, or six kids in the group were actually playing on and sliding down the hill. Above the hill was a flat spot, the size of several parking places that was absolutely pasted in toilet paper. All along both sides of the steep road we came down was more toilet paper – immense amounts of it, behind every tree, in the bushes, and all down the hillside. We hadn’t been here more than a few minutes and we needed to get out – and fast. We didn’t want to touch the water, touch the soil, breathe the air, anything. Just get out, take a shower, and try to forget.
But of course, we can’t and shouldn’t forget. Waste disposal, human and otherwise, is an important consideration to dispersed/primitive camping. There are no bathrooms so what are you supposed to do? Well, typically, you dig a hole, at least 6 inches deep, deposit your waste, and fill in the hole with dirt burying the waste. Sometimes you might put a rock or other heavy object (log?) over the hole to decrease the likelihood that an animal will dig it up. We don’t want animals getting to the waste so you do whatever is necessary to prevent that. People used to burn the toilet paper, but the risk of fire is too great now so the toilet paper should be buried as well. Nothing should be visible on the surface of the ground – not even the hole that has been used/filled in should be noticeable.
Garbage, on the other hand, should not be buried, nor should it be burned. Nothing should be buried but human waste and the toilet paper or other materials used to clean up that has been contaminated with human waste. Nothing should be burned but well-seasoned dry wood and the little bit of paper needed to start the fire. Fire starters (fuel, chemicals, lighter fluid) should all be avoided. There is no need for more chemicals or artificial highly flammable substances. Some paper and a few matches are all that is needed. Keep it simple and safe.
There should be “no trace” of your waste, of your garbage, of your camp spot, of you being there. “Leave only footprints” (footprints are reasonable) and take only pictures (i.e. don’t take anything home – rocks, plants, wood, birds, animals, snakes, lizards, insects, spiders, vertebrates, reptiles, amphibians, sponges, arthropods, fungi, mementoes). Try not to even disturb rocks, plants, trees, logs or anything because it is probably a home, perch, hunting ground, or mating area to something that lives out there naturally. Your intrusion could mean the difference between being able to mate or not or survive the winter. It is very difficult to leave no impact at all when you go out in nature, but it is very reasonable to expect humans to be conscious about their impact and to minimize it as much as possible.
Please tread lightly.
Find this SpotIce House Road Photo Gallery
