and of ever greater surrender to the creative action of love and grace in our hearts.
Never was it more necessary for us to respond to that action.”
— Thomas Merton
“How much farther is it to Little Bear Lake?” Miles asked cautiously.
Dimari pointed up at the hidden cirque, “It’s right up there, isn’t it?”
“Yup,” I nodded as best I could with my pack bumping the back of my head. “Just a few hundred yards more.”
As we wove our way around the shoreline, I noticed a lot more deadfalls than last year, which now made excellent hiding places for snakes. I resisted the urge to set a brisk pace in the hope of witnessing Jordan’s reaction when he saw Little Bear, and instead thoroughly whacked the bushes left and right as we proceeded carefully, poking my sticks way underneath the logs to reveal any vipers that might be waiting to leap out and sink their fangs in our necks. We soon passed safely across the trickle of Mama Bear Springs and her garden, and made the final ascent to the lake. Jordan came down from Dis Butte just as we reached the campsite where I stayed at his age, and with happy chatter and more whacking of bushes, we crossed to the most excellent campsite and shed our packs for the last time that day. We had the place all to ourselves, and the boys were anxious to explore, despite their fatigue.
Jordan immediately claimed the best tent spot in the shade, and announced, “I’ll fill the water bottles. Where’s your pump, dad?” He and Miles floated away, light as feathers on the wind.
Dimari shook his head with respect, “That trail’s no joke, man. A couple of spots back there were as hard as anything we ran into on Shasta.”
I was impressed to hear that, “Yeah, but Miles and Jordan made it!”
“Jordan went about twice as far as any of us.” Dimari poked around the large clearing for a level spot to pitch his tent. “This shady spot looks good.”
“It’ll be in shade most of the day, yes.” I carried my pack to another flat rock a few yards away. There were at least 5 good spots for tents in this clearing, and more in the surrounding rocks. I slapped a mosquito. “The bugs are glad to see us.”
Just then Jordan came back with a sheepish look on his face and one full bottle of water. “The other bottle floated away from me. Can I borrow your binoculars?” The need for visual aid didn’t sound encouraging, but Jordan always reported misfortune as if he already had it under control, and therefore it shouldn’t be a big deal. It turned out the empty bottle skimmed all the way to the far side of the lake near Bumblebee Springs, and he’d have to go half way around the lake to fetch it. Oh well, that was one way to explore!
The quick introductory tour involved showing the boys where to jump off from White Bear Rock into the water, which they were too tired to do the first day. We set up the kitchen rock and made dinner, and sweaty trail clothes were rinsed in the lake and set to dry out in the sun, or draped across the accommodating boughs of Mountain Hemlock shrubbery. A few bold chipmunk scouts emerged from the rocks to see if we brought anything they could steal right away. Blue Jays scolded us from the trees as they flitted from branch to branch, also coveting our food and possessions. It seemed as though they were sizing us up for a big raid later, and I informed Dimari and the boys to secure their larders, lest the local varmints make off with the whole kit and kaboodle.
After the bustle of setting up camp had abated, and the adrenaline of the trail wore off, I waited for the right moment to ask coyly, “You guys wanna see the cave?” I had kept it a surprise, just for this moment.
“There’s a cave up here?” Miles’ ears perked up immediately.
“Yup, and it’s just a stone’s throw from where we sit!” I announced with relish. “Get your headlamps and follow me!”
“I’m not too sure I want to see what’s inside there,” Dimari speculated tactfully. He practiced an abundance of caution when it came to the local wildlife.
“Don’t worry, we’ll let Miles go in first,” Jordan volunteered facetiously. “Ow!”
I took them around the longer way, so they could see the lay of the land leading to Baggins End, and witness the odd jumble of boulders that formed the terminus of the huge rockpile next to our camp. Around the side where the cave opening could be seen as a dark crack, I advised it was prudent to start throwing stones inside, to see if anybody was home. A hail of projectiles ensued, which would have surely awakened any hibernating skeezix or woozles that might have been concealed inside; giving us ample time to make a hasty getaway. “We probably should have done this before we unpacked everything,” observed Dimari drily.
We climbed up the slope until we could see inside. I warned them sternly about keeping their heads low, and pointed out the blade-shaped rock in the ceiling that cracked my skull and left a scar some 40 years earlier. I went in first, fearless in knowing there had never been anything larger than a chipmunk inside… except for a few privileged backpackers, of course. The boys scrambled in afterwards, with big smiles on their faces, happy to be doing some unexpected spelunking. Dimari followed bravely, after listening to be sure there were no sounds of ravenous beasts consuming his children. He was able to stand up in part of the cave, even though he was over six feet tall. I pointed out the now-famous amenities: the storage shelves, a sleeping area big enough for five, and most amazing of all, the natural stone fireplace raised three feet off the floor with a perfect chimney. Everyone was impressed, and totally amazed that I had actually spent a night inside the cave, with my son, Logan. They couldn’t believe their uncle, “Tito Boi” – who was afraid of bees and lizards – was brave enough to do something like that. But it’s true!
“This is what Durin would have built, if he’d ever moved to the Shire!” I announced with enthusiasm, slapping the granite walls with gusto. The idea of a dwarf building a Hobbit hole was amusing to me, anyway. Only Jordan head read The Lord of the Rings; however, and my clever literary analogy was lost on the remaining members of our cave exploring team.
When the dubious charms of the stone Hobbit cottage wore off, the intrepid explorers didn’t hesitate to return to the light. We all quickly crawled out the opening, and took the short way back to camp – a mere 50 yards away. The troops politely tolerated my hyperbolic wonderment at how such a functional structure could have been created by natural forces, but they were less excited about the discovery than I was. I think they all realized for the first time that they were miles away from home, and had reentered the food chain. I sensed a pervasive yet unreasonable wariness at the possibility that Mr. Bear might come home sometime soon. Dimari immediately started gathering the food to be hung in a tree, leaving out just 3 meal packs to be rehydrated for dinner.
By the time the sun left us that first day, the Epps Men were finishing their evening meals with spoon-licking alacrity, due to the fact that they suddenly found themselves to be on the dessert menu. As soon as the shadows embraced our little camp in the forest, legions of mosquitoes that had been hiding in the trees promptly descended upon us, which caused a scramble for long sleeves and repellant. It had the look of basketball practice, as we all had to change positions constantly, to avoid being part of the bug buffet. With protective measures in place, I broke out the s’mores supplies I had brought. Miles quickly scampered off to find a suitably long stick he could whittle with his new knife. Meanwhile, I showed Jordan how to light a tiny fire (just big enough to roast a few marshmallows), and how to clear away the debris that might catch fire. We only needed a few handfuls of sticks and twigs that would fit inside a hat, and that would make enough coals to get the job done. The paltry smoke was enough to deter the hungry vampire bugs for a few minutes, and we enjoyed the sweet treats with genuine camping flair.
After our dessert, I made a big show about how to properly kill a campfire, using the water I had set aside already for that purpose. The coals only covered an area less than a dinner plate, and hadn’t burned down deep yet. The white ashes hissed, and steam shot up like a small geyser, and our useful marshmallow fire was no more. Where does fire go when it goes out, anyway? We pondered the mysteries of the physical universe for a few minutes; then the conversation lagged, and tired legs wanted to stop carrying anything… even our own bodies! We strung up the food bags on principle (even though I was certain there wasn’t a bear for five miles), brushed our teeth, and zipped ourselves into our nylon condos before the last vestiges of daylight left the top of the rim around Little Bear Lake. Dimari reminded me that he wanted to do some stargazing before the moon came out, but I doubted we’d be getting up after our tired muscles found repose on fluffy sleeping bags. Sounds of snoring quickly validated my hypothesis. The stars would have to wait for another night!
“Sacred or secular, what is the difference?
If every atom inside our bodies was once a star,
then it is all sacred and all secular at the same time.”
— Gretel Erlich