Trip Date: November 15, 2013
Sometimes it is just about the doing. It isn’t always perfect; you aren’t always 100% committed. Sometimes you have to push your way through it or to it. It usually is worth it; on the camping trips I have gone on with my friends it has always been worth it.
Getting a group of people together to do just about anything can be difficult. People are busy, have full lives, have obligations, have priorities, have responsibilities, have good days and bad days, have energy or maybe not so much, are happy and upbeat and positive and excited, or less so. The week had been kind of rough; things just didn’t seem to be clicking, smooth, easy. Lots of the seemingly simple stuff seemed to be complicated and I was feeling like I just wanted to lie down and rest. We had put this trip on the calendar a month or so back, probably at the tail end of the last trip, but I could see bailing on it and just taking it easy at home.
I was talking to Ken and was prepared to ask him if he really wanted to go; kind of get a pulse on his typically high level of enthusiasm for the trip. Just before I could ask him if he was still into it, he said Bob and Tom were on as well, and I instantly got a little jolt to my sagging system. Ken and I have gone on many trips with just the two of us and they are among the most memorable trips of them all. Sometimes I am really looking forward to a mellow trip with just the two of us or three maybe; three people who are all mellow and easy going and the trip is relaxing- more of the kind of trip where you get into nature and fill your senses.
It isn’t so much the number of people, although certainly the more people, the more energy in the group and the more effort it takes to be considerate and conscious of each other’s interests, contributions, perspectives, etc. Sometimes guys are more in the mood to party and live it up and let loose – take advantage of the freedom of being outside away from people and the safety of being among trusted friends. Sometimes, guys are seeking a much more campingesque experience – quiet, calm, contemplative perhaps, mellow. Sometimes everyone isn’t on the same plain, although never has there been an argument or disagreement or any tension or anything like that. Guys kind of just do what they want, cook what they want, drink what they want, hike, bike, or hang or whatever. The music might be the one thing that can grate a bit since if it is playing and someone doesn’t like it or want it, they may just have to go on a walk or deal, or maybe coerce the DJ to at least play something they like.
But this wasn’t about music or who was coming or not coming, but with Bob and Tom on board to join the trip, my spirits were lifted a little bit. I got more into the idea of being out somewhere among my friends, exploring new country, and hanging together. I do sometimes feel a bit of responsibility to drive, since so few of us have good rigs for camping, but mostly I am either into it or not so much. This one my commitment was definitely sagging until I talked to Ken and heard the excitement in his voice and the news of a couple more guys coming with us. It got me out of my funk, off the ropes, and I rose up to meet the challenge of packing and preparing for a trip. This can be, often is, a daunting task. There are quite a few things you bring with you on a trip; some things you need; some things you want; some things you bring for the group and some things you bring for yourself. Then there are the “just in case” items, the emergency stuff, the “cover your bases” stuff, the “variable weather “ gear, maybe something fun or a little surprise for the group. And as always, in the back of your mind is the reality that if you forget something, you simply will have to do without because you can’t just run down to the store or the closet or basement where all your extra stuff is. If it doesn’t get into the truck, that is it.
Now necessity certainly is the mother of invention, and some of our greatest “finds” have been caused by forgetting some gear, food, water, clothes etc. My best memory I believe is when I forgot to bring a sleeping bag for Ken so we tried to sleep in the cab of the F-350 – plenty of space, but it isn’t exactly laid out for sleeping, and it was snowing so it was like being inside a refrigerator. This was way before the days I became an early riser, but the extreme discomfort and cold made going for a pre-dawn walk a reasonable thing to do. Somehow Ken and I ended up at the Saddle, looking down on Slinkard and out over Risue and the Sweets for the first time, places we have since returned many times.
On our 40th birthday trip, Steve forgot long pants and ended up borrowing some very small white sweat pants from someone with “Pink” written across his ass – quite amusing. On a recent trip to Bureau of Land Management (BLM) land around Panoche and the New Idria mine, I forgot the grill and I had to flatten a metal vegetable grilling basket I brought to make a flat surface that 6 guys had to cook on. It ended up looking like a World War II era German Iron Cross. I still have it out in my cactus/rock garden. Many things have been shared out of necessity or so it is claimed, and many have new experiences and memories as a result. Enough said.
It does add a little pressure to pack everything you need and everything else you may need or may want, but that process can be part of the fun or it can be a major hurdle to ever going. You can convince yourself that preparing and packing is such a pain in the ass and takes so long and is such a head trip that you can’t even muster the effort to get that done. You often end up missing many trips – many adventures with your friends; and you may end up not going on many trips that you otherwise say that you want to go on. It is difficult to hear so much interest and enthusiasm to go on camping trips, but to succumb to the static and noise and fail to deal with the preparation. Little in – little out. You reap what you sow. You can’t have any pudding if you don’t eat your meat.
I am a pretty organized guy. I have all my gear in one sizable area in the basement. I have so much kitchen/cooking gear that it is in about 6 plastic containers so I do usually look in each one and maybe pick at a few different things to bring depending on the trip, the menu, etc. But for the most part, I have a plastic container filled with the same stuff I always bring and so long as I grab that I am good to go. I also bring the grill, wood, water, and tables for the group to use, so that does take a bit more effort, planning, memory, but I camp almost once a month, so by now, I usually remember most of the stuff.
This being mid-November, I brought a wide variety of clothes, from shorts to heavy jackets. I didn’t bring so much firewood because I want to get away from burning so much of my hard earned oak and cedar firewood I cut for home and I knew we were just heading into the El Dorado National Forest so with a little time and effort we could gather all we needed. I grabbed an old Forest Service belt pack of medical supplies my brother bought for me just in case we needed some first aid. I did minimal food, just basic sausage and yam for dinner, yogurt, toast, hard-boiled egg, coffee and juice for breakfast. I was going to stop at the Safeway in Pollack Pines on our way up to get a sandwich for lunch, and we would be home early the next day so I didn’t need anything for lunch. Tent, sleeping bags, clothes – that’s about it. Plus, I almost always organize a little each night the week before the trip so it is easy and not a big pain for a couple hours all at once. If you do a little bit over a few nights, it really is simple. If you want to go camping, it is very simple to get ready and doesn’t seem like much of an effort or obstacle. If you don’t really want to go you can make it seem like an insurmountable obstacle.
All of this heavy lifting in my behind, I mean behind me, I picked Ken up at his place a tad before 9:00 and we were off in no time in an effort to meet Tom and Bob at the Safeway in Pollack Pines at 10:00. The timing was good and we met inside the store. I was at the deli counter order my all-meat combo on dark rye with a lot of mayonnaise and a ridiculous amount of mustard. When the cute girl handed me the sandwich, I was impressed with is weight and showed it to Bob who had just walked up to meet me. I was interested in a little warm desert like substance for the night, so I was cruising the bakery section when Ken and Tom joined me. It was funny seeing each other in this store so far from home and out of context, but it also meant we were out and about, and that made it really fun.
I picked out an excellent pumpkin pie for late night warm snack and headed to check out. The checker was also impressed with the shear mass of my sandwich so for fun she weighed it – 1.23 pounds – outstanding. I hope the sandwich girl didn’t get in trouble. We had been to this Safeway, Pollack Pines, off this exit many many times, but this was different. Instead of heading up Mormon Emigrant Road like we have dozens of times, we were headed North into the northern part of the El Dorado NF into new country. It was canyon country much like that of the American, Rubicon, Cosumnes, and Mokelumne rivers that we have explored to some extent on a number of trips. But we didn’t know this country at all; didn’t know the rivers, creeks, reservoirs, ridges, peaks, landmarks – it was all new.
So off we went, around Long Canyon Forebay, and on into the great unknown. As we began dropping into the canyon, Ken checked out the map and saw that this wasn’t a river canyon at all but the upper reaches of Slab Creek Reservoir which is formed by the dam on Silver Creek, Soldier Creek, and many other tributaries coming out of the Sierras, Desolation Wilderness, Ice House and Union Valley reservoirs. Looking at the map all weekend, it wasn’t until I got home and was writing this story that I did realize this was actually the South Fork of the American River – very cool. The canyon was narrow, dark, wet, and cold. As we crossed the bridge, there was a Sacramento Municipal Utility District (SMUD) access road off to the left that brought us down to the river’s edge. Two guys were down the end shooting at a target of some kind which kind of altered the mood. But we had a beverage, picked up a few rocks, and checked things out for a bit. This was not home.
Back on the paved road, up we went a very steep, narrow, winding climb to the top of the ridge. Ken and I had initially talked about getting to Brush Creek Reservoir which was at the bottom of Poho Ridge that we had just climbed, but having just climbed out of that cold dank gorge, the ridge top was definitely the place to be. At the top of the ridge, roads led off in all directions. There were the remains of some old Forest Service signs, an old cow corral and ramp, and much sign of human activity. The sun was warm when you were in it so we gravitated to the South and West to stay in it as long as possible. We followed the pavement down the ridge to the West for a mile or so and then it sharply turned right and started to drop into the next canyon. Fortunately, others in the past had been thinking along the same lines as we were and a dirt road headed further out the ridge.
We stopped at a clearing in the Manzanita to scout about. There were massive power lines and towers, smaller normal-sized telephone poles and their lines, and the enormous pipes that carried the water from reservoir to reservoir to generate power at peak times in the summer to balance the supply with the enormous needs of the population in the valley below. This was heavily used country – not surprising since we were only a few miles from Highway 50, Pollack Pines, and all that. But there was something odd about this place, an eerie feeling, not scary weird, but uncomfortable somehow. With all the human activity, construction, altering of the landscape on a massive scale, it finally become clear what we all were sensing.
Across the canyon, almost on the ridge top, was an enormous tower, long, thin, straight up, towering above the forest and the canyon far below. What on earth was this? Had we found Flesh Gordon’s space ship? This thing was a tad unsettling.
We were close to the kind of spot we wanted but this was not it. Off we went along the ridge top road, passing an enormous blackened area that was formerly a brush pile that had been torched. On up the road, a few potential spots were examined and passed up for one reason or another. Soon our road was about to turn into a motorcycle track, so we stopped, examined our surroundings, our options and another beverage. Back we went, past more power lines, poles, burn areas, flagging, paint, markings of all sorts, and motorcycle and ATV paths. Soon, we pulled into a fairly flat, open, Pine needle covered area right on the edge of the canyon. The trees had been cleared so we could see fairly well over the Manzanita. We couldn’t see right over the edge to the river below us, but we got an excellent view up canyons, five, six, maybe eight ridges penetrating from North and South into the drainage each one bringing along with it a creek or tributary to feed the American River.
This was a pretty nice spot – it was decided. Tom and I backed the rigs into the spot so we could unload and set up the kitchen and fire ring near the edge of the canyon to maximize the view. Once unloaded, we drove across the road and parked. We all got to the work of setting up, regularly looking over our shoulder to see who was there –was someone or something watching us? Could it be Emperor Wang the Perverted leader of the planet Porno and his mighty “Sex Ray”? Did he finally reach Earth in his evil plan to turn everyone into sex-mad fiends? Or perhaps it was the only man that could save the Earthlings from Emperor Wang’s mad plan, star football player Flesh Gordon, his tasty girlfriend Dale Ardent and Professor Jerkoff? Perhaps we should warn them about the Emperor and his whereabouts if one of us – I mean one of them – knew where Wang was.
But for now, we must focus on determining the exact placement of the fire ring. There were several that were used in this spot, but none quite right – too close to the tree, too near a good tent spot, too far away from the view. We decided Bob would build us a new fresh one in the right spot. Stuff was spread out, tables set up, firewood unloaded and more gathered, tarps spread out in the four best tent locations – too close together for my taste/sensitivities but at least we did have four and not…one for instance. Soon I was exhausted and had to sit and relax.
I put my chair in a choice view spot and grabbed my 1.23 pound sandwich. The view was quite spectacular. We were looking generally East up the drainage so the sun was coming around from the South and changing – well everything. New things were now visible, old things lost into the shadows, new ridges, more contrast, new color. Way off in the distance we could now see the high Sierra’s and of course much debate ensued as to what exactly we were seeing. Could it be Pyramid and the South end of Desolation that we have seen so many times before from so many different angles, perspectives, and bearings? My sandwich was awesome – I love that girl.
The tribe had eaten and wetted their whistles and were now getting a tad restless. The thought of a short stroll came to the floor and while no vote was taken, it did not appear to be vetoed either, so apparently the measure was passed. We didn’t intend to go too far or be gone too long based upon the complete and utter lack of gear, supplies, or beers that were brought. I was promised this would be no more than a one beer stroll, so I brought two in case I needed to survive alongside the road for a time. We walked up the road and then back down the road – it was just about that interesting. It may have been the lasting indicators of heavy use, or the power lines, or the proximity to town that blocked my chi, but we just didn’t see anything too spectacular.
The message boards that may have at one time had an exhibit or some interesting information had been blown to hell by the hunters; a large area of oak grove had clear signs of serving as a parking lot many times over; an old corral and loading ramp was largely made of corrugated metal sheets, which isn’t unheard of, seemed a little more strange and sinister; the buckets, pipe, bags of fertilizer and piles of garbage could have been interpreted as clear signs of pot growers. Maybe it was the unsettling feeling that Emperor Wang’s sex ray was just across the canyon in that space ship. Maybe it was a sense that at any minute a herd of high school seniors could appear for their pre- game party before the Friday night football game, or the gun club was going to show up and have target practice, or a hundred trucks would crest the rise and set up for the weekend motocross jamboree.
Not being in the moment can cause a lifetime – many lifetimes of worrying about what was or may have been or might be is a toxic laxative. I let the group get ahead of me while I fumbled with the camera and took a few random pictures of nothing in particular. I needed to reboot; out with the weird in with the positive. Don’t let the tiny imperfections ruin the whole deal. Stop, rest, listen, have a drink, relax, lighten up, enjoy, remember what it is – why you are here – what is it that you like. OK, better now.
Rather than scurrying to catch up, I sorta waited for the boys to turn around. We hadn’t found the view East that we had kinda been hoping for, but it had been a good walk and it was getting dark, and it was getting close to cocktail hour. As the boys now caught up to me on our way back, I felt much better and took a few photos along the way. The sun continued to illuminate new vistas, ridges, and sections of the canyon and to hide, darken, and shade the past – all but the space ship.
Bob got a great fire going with Pine needles and twigs and cones and Tom made a nice pile of wood from scrounging near and far. Several years back, a bulldozer was probably used to eliminate a lot of the underbrush, a mechanical brush removal activity that reduces the competition for young trees, seedlings and saplings, allows for more trees to regenerate instead of brush, reduces the fire danger, and provides a hell of a lot of great firewood. It was pretty easy pickens to wander about picking up good sized chunks of Manzanita that burns really hot and fast. Almost the entire bag of briquettes was dumped into the fire and we were off.
Tom had made a small but most excellent batch of Manhattan’s and they were decanted with much beauty and grace. A menu was arrived upon and the kettle put on to boil.
After dinner, had settled in a bit, I got out my pumpkin pie we got from Safeway in Pollock Pines. Someone had some aluminum foil and I wrapped four pieces in foil and laid them outside the fire ring on the rocks. After a while, someone remembered they were there and someone checked them and said they were done. We each had a warm piece of pumpkin pie sitting around the fire
I am almost never the last person to bed and such was the case this night, but I was one of the last. It was a great evening; no wind, great moon, great tunes from Tom’s rig, full belly, good buzz, great fire. We had burned an immense amount of wood most of which was gathered nearby which was of marginal quality. But it burned well and left a heaping pile of coals. I get excited at the site of a great mound of glowing orange coals because I know it will make the morning fire comes quick and easy and help ward off the morning cold.
I went to sleep with a grin on my mug caused by the comfort of having lived a great day and knowing another one was in front of us. It had nothing to do with my dreams of Emperor Wang the Perverted, the excitable leader of the planet Porno. He had sensed a tremendously high level of arousal in Pollack Pines so he came to town with his mighty “Sex Ray”, turning everyone into sex-mad fiends in his sinister effort to take over the earth – or at least California. Only one man could save the Earth, All-American boy Flesh Gordon. Along with his girlfriend Dale Ardent and their close friend Professor Flexi-Jerkoff, they set off towards the source of the Sex Ray, unaware of the perils that face them!
I had to get up to pee twice during the night. I have gotten to the point of setting my tent to the back of the tarp which leaves a two foot tarpaulin porch in front. This is a good area to leave shoes, wipe feet or shoes off before entering the lodge, or putting out your dirty dishes for room service to pick up. It also serves as my night time pee ledge. This way, my urine all around the tent protects me from dangerous animals, evil spirits, and threats of all shapes and sizes. It also saves me from having to put shoes on and stumbling about the woods at night.
On my second trip out, I took the time to wake up a bit and look around. Camp was still quiet and orderly. The moon light lit up the canyon ridge enough to make out the outlines of the power line towers and some of the larger trees that rimmed the upper layer of the canyon. I felt special, exhilarated; the low moon light, the black and white scene, the moist air, the fresh scent with a tad of fire smoke. It all made me feel like I was doing something right it really felt good.
Just out of the corner of my eye, I saw the massive shaft of the spaceship. Whose was it though – I could not be sure if it was Flesh or Emperor Wang. If I made a mistake, I could be stunned by the sex-ray and made to roam the earth in a heightened state of arousal forever. Oh those poor catholic school girls. Who would protect them? I could not afford to make a mistake, so I changed into my special cape and shorts for protection and darted out into the dark woods to stay concealed. I got within earshot of the sleek shiny craft and listened intently. I could not make out any words, but sensed from the strange sounds coming from within, someone needed saving. I thrust through the door and much to my surprise was the strangest site, inexplicable really, nothing like Sister told us about in 7th grade. It was…it was fantastical.
Overall, I didn’t sleep that well, but I felt pretty good in the morning. Ken already had the fire going, but the sun was still a ways off. Bob got a couple pots of water going and a round of coffee made. I decided I would be impatient waiting to get enough coffee in me to really get going, so I tried a pot of cowboy coffee – just pouring the grounds into the boiling pot of water and let it go. It is much like a percolator without the guts of the coffee pot. You just boil the grounds in the pot for a few minutes as you would in a regular coffee pot and you are done. I pour the coffee out slowly just to keep most of the grounds in the bottom of the pot and I usually pour the coffee into a strainer above my mug to catch some of the grounds that are more adamant about getting into my cup. This usually results in the best coffee I can make, but that is nothing to brag about.
As usual, we left much food out from the night before; meat, some pasta, and the pie, but nothing seemed disturbed, except my psyche by the reoccurring flashes from my dreams. We lounged about for a while and then the discussion turned to what to do for the day. The original concept from looking at the maps and Google earth was to get up and down and up and down again to Slab Creek Reservoir to check out and possibly camp at. But since it was so cold in the bottom of the South Fork of the American River Canyon, we were most excited to find a great view camp spot up top on the ridge out of the cold, damp air. So, getting to our original destination would be a cool thing to do, and we were within a few miles, so after we picked up and packed up, we headed further North, down the back side of Poho Ridge, down, down around twisty turny corner after corner. It couldn’t have been more than a few miles, but it took a long time. At last we saw a glimpse of the reservoir, seemingly on top of it. This road was steep and carved out of solid rock for the sole purpose of creating and maintaining the reservoir, so comfortable travel was not on the list of objectives for the construction.
Past the dam, the road literally dropped into the reservoir, transforming from road to boat launch in a couple hundred feet. A maintenance road that was gated off offered the minimal amount of room needed to turn around. We stopped and got out to poke around, but there wasn’t anywhere to go or places to get out to. It was reservoir on one side, rock cliff on another. It was intriguing to think about coming back with the canoe or a small boat to see what was down the end of the reservoir. I could imagine a sandy beach and some amount of flat land to camp, but nothing from what we had seen indicated such a place would exist. This was steep, rocky, rough country.
The nearby shooting above us signaled time to mount up and clear out. As we climbed up past the dam, I noticed the road up to a small clearing that obviously is a popular target shooting spot. The boys were having a good ol’ time in there so we gave them plenty of space and headed back up the road. A few bends away was a fairly large clearing, enough to get some of the sun’s rays this far down into the narrow canyon. As I pulled off the road, Tom, who was already parked and out of his rig heard what Ken and I had been hearing – a flop flop flop coming from the front – something in the tire presumably, hopefully not a flat, but more like something stuck in the tread. Fortunately, it was just a small rock, but somehow made an inordinate amount of noise. Tom plucked it out with his teeth (not really) and we were good.
I celebrated the sun and the tire repair with a beverage as the boys investigated the dump that had been created from what appeared to have been many years of many people’s use. Up into the clearing was a well used trailer parking site. I could see it – a good spot tucked plenty off the road on the edge of the woods with a 100 or so foot diameter clearing to get sun and play in or park rigs and toys. But, golly, the amount of garbage and semi-burned debris was astounding. This wasn’t as bad as the poop slide from the oxbow reservoir below Union Valley Reservoir, but it was pretty much straight up a garbage dump.
I know from many real time experiences that public lands near metropolitan/ populated/urban areas get heavy use – that is a good thing. It is great that people get out of the city and out of the suburbs to recreate, have fun, experience the forest or park or was used to be a semi-natural setting. But, all too often, these areas are left in bad shape. Pack-it-in-Pack-it-out? Hardly. Vandalism, garbage, shooting up signs, and leaving beverage containers, millions of shells, cigarette butts, diapers, and waste of all kinds is the norm. It is not a good thing for people to leave such a massive, unattractive, and inappropriate indication of their presence. People could leave a nice bench, or table, or ice chest of unopened beverages. People could leave a tent, a first aid kit, something beautiful, helpful, or natural (carved log, tree branch sculpture). Not necessarily no trace, but nothing that doesn’t belong. It isn’t wilderness, I get that. Leave nothing but footprints…NOT! But that also doesn’t mean you can just trash it and leave garbage or the burnt remains of the fire that you tried to burn all your garbage in. That just isn’t cool.
I stayed away from most of it, preferring the sun and collecting more positive memories. It was getting to the time I needed to head home. It had been a great trip, a new area, a new spot, a first for the South Fork of the American River, but such killer Canyon country, canyon views, and of course, I got to meet Flesh Gordon.
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