With Dimari, Jordan, Miles, and Sam
“Let us salute the silence
And certainty of mountains:
Their sublime stillness;
Their dream-filled hearts.”
— John O’Donohue
Prologue
Another year went by fast, and summer rolled in with the Bay Area fog. The magnificent “Epps Men” were all busy with their lives, but Dimari managed to set a few days aside for a Bear Lakes sequel on the July 4 weekend. This time, the league of “men” would be enhanced by having Jordan’s girlfriend, Samantha (aka “Sam”), along for the trip. She was an EMT, and brought some welcome skills to the party… even if she had never camped before! Never even spent a night in a tent! I expected that Jordan would help prepare her for the ordeal of the long drive and challenging hike, but I already knew she was tough! Her First Responder duties were served in the city of Oakland, famous for its rough assortment of inhabitants. Bears and chipmunks should be no problem!
That was the beginning of my intention to make another pilgrimage to the Holy Lakes, at which time I would typically experience some sort of physical injury intended to test my mettle. This time, however, my usual physical woes were somewhat tamed since the last few trips. The knee that gave me so much trouble was better, if not completely “healed.” My back and elbow still gave me problems, but I had long since learned how to live with musculoskeletal pain. As long as my body could get me up there, I was going! While the rest of our party planned to stay for just 3 days, I could enjoy an entire week! They all had to return on the 3rd day, but I would borrow another car, allowing me to stay and camp solo for another 4 nights.
Meanwhile, other events in the world threatened to spiral out of control. Writing about all the crazy, historical happenings would require another blog, and a staff of journalists! In summary: inflation was rampant, politics were vile and toxic, cruel wars still ravaged the world, and climate change was worse than ever. Business as usual, it seemed. All the more reason to get away from it all!
Life decided to present me with another sort of challenge, but not one that would make it more difficult to go on a vacation. For the first time in my life, I was unemployed. I used to have two work-from-home jobs providing an extra layer of security, and I lost both of them… within a week of each other, in February. When it became apparent that I could not qualify for another job at a similar skill level and pay rate, I opted to try my hand at online sales. We had accumulated a great deal of quality, superfluous stuff over the years, and I figured I could sell it off and take care of two problems at the same time. This worked out well enough for a few months, but by the time our Bear Lakes trip was scheduled, I was running out of good stuff to sell, and looking for a doorway to another, unknown way of living. One might say I was on the threshold of enigma, if one’s prose leaned to hyperbole.
While it was suddenly easier to get away from it all, for the first time I wasn’t sure what would be there for me when I returned. That’s why I wanted the additional time by myself, to sort out what I wanted to do with the rest of my time on this earth. I had worked in one or more jobs since I was fourteen, but never with so much time off between them. I usually had to find ways to trade my life for money as soon as possible, lest the pursuing hounds of debt eat me alive. We still had a Marin County mortgage to pay, and I couldn’t let Joy take that on all by herself. The Bear Lakes were free, and remained my spiritual home, but the physical one required money to maintain its reality.
I got up early as usual, watered the yard, fed the cats, and hit the road by 8am. The plan was to get up near the trailhead and find a cool spot to hang out until the Epps Men (plus Sam) arrived sometime after midnight, due to various commitments. It’s a straight shot from Sac up Hwy 5 to Redding, which was already 95 (and rising fast) at 10:15 in the morning. Even more troubling were the hot, extremely gusty winds that behaved like a firestorm without the fire. It was a hellhole wind tunnel, just waiting for a match! I prayed there would be no fires in the region over the long, hot July 4 weekend. They still sold fireworks in Shasta county. Idiots.
I made it over the Buckhorn summit at over 4,000 feet, where it was a little cooler. When I paused at a rest stop near Douglas City, I met a local who said it would be 108 the next day! He had a little pit bull mix puppy that he said was found wandering along the highway. He appeared to have Native American ancestry, and said the pup was a “spirit animal,” come to teach him something. I figured it was teaching him how to accept change, and wished them both well.
I stopped for lunch in Weaverville, at the old Chinese restaurant downtown, across from the famous Joss House. It was decent food, in an awesome setting inside an old building, decorated with detailed murals of pioneer life. I was glad that they showed Chinese and White settlers co-mingling in what appeared to be a happy, fully integrated society, but I knew that to be a modern fantasy. The Chinese had it pretty rough in California, but at least here they has a small temple to identify with.
When I launched north on Hwy 3, it was already over 95 degrees. I drove at a leisurely pace, knowing that I had plenty of time before my family would arrive, and besides – the car’s air conditioning felt much better than the outdoor temperatures! I just puttered along, letting the hybrid engine conserve fuel, and pulling over frequently to let others pass in their hurries. I noted with satisfaction that the overall health of the forest had vastly improved since the drought years! Back in Redding, even the massive Carr burn was making a strong (as of yet scrubby) comeback.
I took full advantage of being in an air-conditioned capsule, and explored a few turnoffs from the highway. I drove up the Stuart’s Fork road a ways, to see the historic resort and “Bear’s Breath” inn. Developed almost a hundred years ago, it had a rustic charm for those who require cabins, electricity, and wi-fi. To me, that hardly qualifies as “camping,” but it makes for a nice vacation in a community of other campers. I also cruised around the “town” of Trinity Center, to explore the local amenities. There was a small cafe and a post office, along with many vacation homes for sale. I supposed they were being sold due to the many years when the adjacent Trinity Lake was low, and ugly, but now it appeared to be over 80% full, and stretched away on all sides, as blue as the sky, and matching the memories of my family’s earliest trips to this region when I was a boy.
A few miles farther up the highway, I stopped at Coffee Creek to get wilderness permits, and a sandwich for dinner from the shabby little deli. Except it wasn’t shabby anymore! It had new owners, who lovingly remodeled it to look more like a well-stocked wine tasting room. There was a local winery that produced interesting vintages from the local soil. and I made a mental note to pick some up on the way home. The nice ladies behind the counter crafted a large, “breadless” sandwich for me, because I had been experiencing sensitivity to gluten lately. I was also enjoying the new air conditioning inside the store, and I settled on a plan that might keep me cool for the rest of the afternoon. I didn’t want to stay in a building (there was a guy in there using a laptop, for crying out loud!), when there was so much beautiful forest around, so I decided to drive up to the Scott Mountain pass, which was only about 8 miles past the Bear Lakes trailhead. It was over 5 thousand feet up there, and likely to be the coolest outdoor spot around.
On the way up to the pass, the highway gets remarkably steep and windy, similar to the coastal highways back in Marin. Logan’s Rav-4 was fun to drive, and handled the bumpy side-roads with ease. I explored the Ramshorn short-cut that leads east to Castella and Highway 5, about 28 miles as the road is measured. On the maps, that always seemed to be a tantalizing shortcut to reach the trailhead. Unfortunately, it’s a lonely, infrequently-used gravel road, with steep grades cut out of the rugged mountains, and no services whatsoever. If one breaks down on that road, one might camp out for several days before help drives by! One would need a rugged vehicle, with tools and the right supplies to be safe. I turned back to the highway after about a half mile, after it felt like 25 mph was too fast to travel on the dusty, uneven surface. That’s no shortcut!
I continued on up the valley, where it was already 98 degrees. The ascent to Scott Mountain pass was swift and steep, and it started to cool down. 95… 92… by the time I reached the pass itself, the trees and scenery had changed, and it was a beautiful 84 degrees, with a gentle easterly breeze! This would give me a chance not only to spend the afternoon outdoors in relative comfort, but also to acclimate to the altitude. At 5,401 feet, I was almost as high as Big Bear Lake. I drove a mile or two past the summit, to watch the trees and topography change even more. Soon I saw a large mushroom cloud of brown smoke, evidently from a wildfire that had just broken out a couple of ridges to the northwest. The direction of the wind was blowing it all to the west, but it was no less of a concern. I y=turned around, hoping the wind wouldn’t change and blow all that smoke south. In such a remote area, it was likely to get big, and fast! I parked where the Pacific Coast Trail crossed the highway on top of the saddle, where the sapphire sky was still nice and sparkling clear. I decided to invest 3-4 hours in this place, which had a big, interesting signboard and map posted, and the access road to Unalayee camp began nearby. I was 2,400 feet above the Bear Lakes trailhead at that point, and 15 degrees cooler!
It was a beautiful summer afternoon on the ridge, which bade well for the prospects of similar coolness at Big Bear and Little Bear lakes, at 5,600 and 6,200 feet, respectively. Even if it were to get unbearably hot in the valley, the mountain lakes should remain pleasant. The Epps Men were planning to leave on Saturday, when the valley temps were expected to reach 110 degrees! They’d be much better off staying in paradise for a few more days, rather than returning to soon to the hot mess of the rat race. I would be staying until Wednesday the 10th, to return Logan’s car before he and Clay returned from Japan. I checked out the USGS topo map that was posted, and met 2 hikers crossing on the PCT. They said they expected the area just to the west would be burned out from the 2021 fire. The map, however, showed many nice little blue lakes scattered about that area, so maybe they would find something green to enjoy.
Through the trees, I saw a sunny meadow just off the highway, and moved the car closer. A flat, open space of about three acres was covered in a carpet of wildflowers, upon which hundreds of butterflies were dancing and frolicking in a spontaneous rave of pure insect joy! I set up the camping chair in a shady spot, and gratefully inhaled the pure mountain air, fully enchanted by the scene. Only the occasional passing of a car broke the spell (for me – the butterflies didn’t care). The sunny meadow was also inhabited by every other species of insect in the immediate vicinity, and the ambassadors of each tribe landed on me to get better acquainted. Thankfully, there were NO mosquitoes! That was also a good omen. I lounged in the shade for a time, happily scribbling in my notebook, and communing with the butterflies as they guzzled on the riotous orgy of nectar. Before too long, I was successfully detoxifying from the hyper-responsible duties of paying for the privilege of living in the Bay Area. I gradually readjusted my soul’s radio to tune in the splendor of the unspoiled wilderness, and life was very good, indeed!
After such a long drive, I stood up and stretched often. moving my chair with the shade. I surveyed the meadow’s glory from several angles, stalking pictures of colorful wildflowers and butterflies. I counted 8 different types, including an aggressive, blue species that was in constant motion, trying to chase away even the larger ones. The slow, meditative movements were good for my back and legs. It was funny how physical maladies always seemed to show up in my body, whenever I was looking forward to a backpacking trip. Of course, it didn’t help that I spent a month digging out a huge stump in our backyard, paving it over with bricks, and hauling in almost 2 tons of field stone to build a garden wall. My hands, arms, and shoulders were pretty worn out, already. My hips and knees, however, which had been the source of much suffering in recent years, felt surprisingly strong… but were late in realizing that I planned to give them a similar workout very soon! They tried to get all stiff and tender after the drive, but I was smoothing out the rough edges on this beautiful afternoon. I expect they will get the job done tomorrow, and be faithful throughout this trip, owing to the astonishing variety of braces, stockings, and poles I had brought to assist in hauling my ass up the side of a mountain again.
I was thrilled that the landscaping work helped me lose 15 pounds, though, which literally meant there would be less to haul. Maybe my grandsons would help out their Grampy, too, and carry some of my stuff for me. Already, my pack weighed less than 40 pounds (without water). For now, I’m happy just sitting, and standing, and ambling around this gorgeous meadow like a lazy bumblebee. This is way better than hanging around a hot, dusty trailhead for hours, I thought to myself, waiting for the rest of the crew to roll in after midnight! Up at the enchanted meadow, it was 80 degrees in the shade, and utterly gorgeous! Oops! I noticed it was cool enough that the bloodsuckers were starting to look for an appetizer… time to change from driving clothes to camp attire, and remove myself from the menu. Camping is often a contest of contentment vs. comfort, and I had perfected the art of ignoring most itches and minor nuisances. I had a few heat-rash bumps on me from the recent yard work, but I paid them no mind. The sunny spots were still hot, and I continued moving with the shadows as they wrote their afternoon story on a field of blossoms and butterflies. How softly time was passing! I had brought a thick book for camp reading, The Mountain Shadow, by Gregory David Roberts. It was a sordid yet philosophical tale of life in Bombay’s underbelly of crime and gangs. Not exactly the right vibe for the moment, despite its promising title. I preferred to make like Ferdinand the Bull, and sit contentedly beneath a tree, smelling the flowers.
The camp clothes made my bumps uncomfortable, but I was successfully ignoring them. The hot hike tomorrow could make them worse, but I didn’t care at that point. I was free! The key approach to enduring discomfort is to relax, and lose the anxiety that comes from wishing a sensation was not what it was. It just IS, regardless of one’s opinion, and accepting it pushes it all to the background. No strenuous thoughts or deeds were allowed that afternoon, the day before a hot, grueling hike to my ultimate destination (with 40 extra pounds to carry). I could hear my backpack laughing at me from inside the car. I happily ate my picnic dinner: the excellent roast beef “lettuce wrap” from the local deli. There was little or no traffic on the highway to disturb my reverie, but eventually it was time to say farewell to my lovely meadow, and drive down off the summit to prepare our temporary camp at the trailhead. In just a six-mile descent, the temperature rose 10 degrees, but I found the trailhead camp to be deep in the shade, right next to the North Fork of the Trinity River, and it was tolerable even in long sleeves. (Which was a good thing, because the local vampire bugs were very happy to see me.) There was already another group camping there, but they had very small children, which made it unlikely that they would be hiking all the way up to the lakes.
I fumbled with the ratty old tent I had brought, to save Jordan the trouble of unpacking the tent he would be using for the trip. That way, he and Sam could just crawl in when they got there, and not have to set one up in the dark. There was no cell service, and no way to communicate with them. I hoped they had left already! I expected that when they arrived, they would be too tired to care about the ugly, flimsy tent. Later, as it started to get dark, I took my chair down to the riverside, where there were a lot fewer bugs. I waited there until it got hard to see, then crashed in the back of Logan’s car with the seats down, so I wouldn’t have a tent to deal with in the morning. The Epps Men would find me soon enough, happily sawing logs (or so I hoped).
Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.”
— Anais Nin