“Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.”
— James Baldwin
The Eppsmobile rolled into camp around 2 in the morning, and our heroes quickly went to bed. Jordan and Sam gratefully occupied the funky tent I set up, and it survived intact for the few hours until dawn. Dimari and Miles occupied the back of the Highlander, and I tried to sleep in Logan’s Rav-4. Alas, I had forgotten the foam pad I prepared, which made for a very uncomfortable night, indeed. As soon as I could see, I was outta there! Predictably, the Epps Men slept in for a bit, while I explored the effects of the dawn on the dusty woods and river. Everything came together after breakfast, and we hit the trail by 8 am,,, when it was already over 70 degrees! The first part of the trail always sorts out the kinks, and it turned out Sam was a very deliberate hiker, indeed. It was her first time camping or backpacking. She had a soft, city body, but the courage of an ambulance driver. I watched her closely all the way to the bridge, and although she was very measured in her pace, I could see she was tough. We often slowed down or waited for her and Jordan, who solicitously followed her every step.
Dimari and Miles were the most athletic hikers, and they kept distancing themselves from the group, finding it more comfortable to hike with a strident rhythm. They often waited for us, but I could tell they wanted to just keep going. I was calm and careful, owing to my long history of leg injuries, but was pleased to find my wheels were well aligned for this trip. The temperature was almost 80 by the time we crossed the bridge and headed up the dusty switchbacks to access the ridge. Getting into the rocky edges of the forest, I noticed that the trail had been rerouted in places, avoiding the biggest deadfalls and obstacles. I caught up with Dimari and Miles, and together we waited for Sam and Jordan, who were far behind by now.
Suddenly, we heard voices coming down the trail, and a most astonishing sight: a woman on crutches! She was about 50, a bit heavy, and unable to put any weight on her left ankle. She was accompanied by 2 other hikers that appeared to be her husband and son, and a pair of medical personnel (who must have brought the crutches up the trail). Several things were immediately apparent: the woman was in a lot of pain, and had been using the crutches for quite a while already. She was still game, and gritted her teeth at us in the shape of a smile. “Don’t fall!” she offered by way of ironic advice. We gave her so much encouragement and respect, suppressing the urge to applaud her grit and determination. The medical guys were carefully descending the trail backwards – one in front of her, one in back – and they all moved at an understandably slow and delicate pace. It was going to take her a very long time to make it down to the cars like that! Her face was red and sweaty, but she tried to be cheerful in spite of the hardship. “It’s so beautiful up here!” she exclaimed with sincerity, and turned her attention back to using the crutches. Jordan and Sam arrived, and were suitably impressed – both by the woman’s fortitude, and the seriousness of an injury far away from medical assistance.
When they had passed, we all wished her (and each other) the best of luck, and continued on our way – like zebras that just lost one of their herd to the lions. We made it to the Twin Towers by 12:30, where the air was still comfortably cool. I checked the creek bed for azaleas like I always do, but found no sign of blossoms. The climate wasn’t regular anymore, so it was beyond my ken to tell whether it was too early, or too late in the season. Sam was duly impressed by the woman on crutches; for all the right reasons. Everyone agreed we would take the hint, and be extra careful. I knew that disaster could happen at any time, having experienced scary falls up here, myself. We ate a quick lunch, and headed off for the more challenging parts of the trail. Sam didn’t complain (that I could hear), but she became even more deliberate. I wound up going ahead at my own pace, but stopping frequently in places where I could keep her and Jordan in sight. He was big and strong now – approaching 200 pounds, and stayed close to her at all times. I started using my oxygen now that we were over 4,000 feet up, just to allay any problems. Meanwhile, it was getting HOT, and the others were far ahead of us. Sam’s slow pace was causing our party to be exposed on the open parts of the trail during the hottest part of the day. The tall ferns and aldersnarl parts of the trail were particularly hot and humid, pushing 100 degrees in places. There was lots of water on the trail from continued snowmelt.
By now, Sam was looking pretty tired, but she was still game, and Jordan ministered to her every need. When they reached my shady spot, I offered her one of my oxygen bottles to perk up her metabolism. She had scratches all over her legs, and seemed pretty spent already. We were almost to the pools below Big Bear, but still had the most challenging part ahead: the crossover to Little Bear Lake! I began to consider alternative spots where we might spend the night, as the sun was advancing towards the western rim already. Spirits were lifted noticeably when we reached the pools, where we took a long rest and considered our options. Everyone, including Sam, wanted to press on the Little Bear, and I figured we had about 2-3 hours of daylight left. At least the sun would be at an angle on the hot, exposed rocks of Dis Butte as we crossed up and over. We all preferred the rugged rocks to the steamy, tangled “alderfuck” we had just passed through. How did that lady on crutches ever make it through there?
It was hovering close to 100 when we set off towards the preferred route over the Lego cliffs. Sam was moving very slowly now, using her hands, and often Jordan’s as well. Dimari, Miles, and I went ahead to scout the best routes, taking the familiar shortcut across the gully. There was a 10-15 foot drop there, where one had to proceed along an uneven ledge using handholds. Just when we were getting close to the final crossing up to Wee Bear, we heard Sam sobbing and shrieking far behind us! Fearing an injury, we dropped our packs with concern. Miles scurried off back to where they were, apparently in that gully where we couldn’t see them. “I’m afraid of heights!” we heard Sam scream, and that was both a relief and a shock. Apparently she was uninjured, but immobilized with fear, and wouldn’t stop sobbing. Dimari and I looked at each other. This didn’t look good! The sun was nearly setting behind the rim from where we were, and we considered our options for about a half hour more. Could we carry her and her pack? Should we let them camp there, on the rocky slope? It was too late to go back to the pools.
“We’re almost to the lake, let’s go set up camp there, then come back to help,” Dimari suggested, as I could finally see Sam emerging from the gully, and crawling on hands and knees. Jordan was right there with here, patiently talking her through the crisis, just like he does often in his job helping autistic children. Sam was a strong, capable woman, but at that moment she needed professional crisis management! Dimari went back to get Sam’s pack, while I watched through my binoculars. I was plumb worn out from the heat after 10 hours on the trail, and my legs only had enough energy to make it up to the lakes. With Dimari carrying a double load, we left Miles as a “scout” to come and get us if serious help were needed, and pressed on the final few hundred yards up to the lake. By the time we dropped the packs, the daylight was shifting towards twilight, and we hastily set up the tents so they’d be ready. Miles arrived after only a few minutes with his pack, reporting that Sam had started moving again, and the two of them were coming along. Apparently, when we pressed on ahead, it spurred her into action. She probably didn’t want to camp anywhere near the cliffs! They arrived about an hour later. It had taken a very long time for Jordan to convince her that up was best, where there would be shade, shelter, and water! It was now about 8 pm, and still 90 degrees at 6,200 feet!
There wasn’t any time or energy to explore. Mosquitoes were already dropping out of the trees, above a big puddle of melted snow where they had been hatching in droves. Now, we were the only meals available at the entire lake! We had set up the tents away from the forest, but repellent was a must. There wasn’t much time for exploring. We cooked a hasty dinner while we could still see, then everyone jumped in the lake to wash off the trail dust and sweat before retiring in our nylon cocoons. I slept well, waking frequently, with vivid dreams about a military invasion of Little Bear Lake. Outside, the mosquitoes buzzed in close order drill across my tent, whining in utter frustration at the scent of so much blood that couldn’t be reached! There was no moon, so the starts were bright and numerous across the sky, and we all slept like the dead.
After breakfast, Dimari and Miles tried their hand at fishing, but could only cast out about 20 feet, and caught nothing. Jordan and Sam hung out on “the beach” at the foot of WBR, and speculated on jumping off its various levels. Sam was full of vigor on this day, unlike the inglorious ascent just a few hours before. I supposed that having others carry your pack would do wonders for your energy level! It was clear that she was a very inexperienced camper, but she was game for most anything, and tough enough to stay the course. Mostly, she just wanted to be with her boyfriend wherever he went. I admired her willingness to try the unfamiliar things that Jordan liked. I wondered if he could handle accompanying her on her hair-raising ambulance shifts in Oakland. (He probably could.) They made a very sweet, doting couple, which was heartwarming to watch.
When the three of us returned, we found new campers at the “Grunge Camp.” Surprisingly, it was a young couple with their infant, still under a year old! They had two protective dogs with them, which made the whole enterprise much safer, and they used a backpack infant carrier. Still, I wasn’t too sure about their decision, after watching Sam’s grown-girl struggles the day before! I hoped this would be a very positive trip for the baby – he was visiting Little Bear Lake earlier in life than anyone I had ever known! I hoped this would instill a sense of adventure, and many satisfying treks in the future. Moving on, we found a pair of teenage boys had claimed the Forest Camp (which would keep the mosquitoes well-nourished). Everyone must have snuck in while we were down at Fairy Falls. All this time, Sam and Jordan had been discussing the return trip tomorrow, preparing her to recross the rugged steps and ledges leading back to the pools below Big Bear Lake. They proposed to the group that they should leave that afternoon, to give them plenty of time for delicate navigation. Dimari and Miles considered the merits of going with them, and camping that night at the pools, or further down the trail at Twin Towers (depending on Sam’s speed), which would put them in position to reach the car in a couple of hours the next day. It was predicted to reach 110 degrees in the valley tomorrow, and hiking in the morning was a very sensible plan, under the circumstances!
So they took down the tents they had erected just a few hours before, and I watched them go, after wishing them well. Personally, I couldn’t imagine staying just one night in such a beautiful spot, after working so hard to get here, but that’s exactly what they did. I had intended to camp alone for a few days anyway, but now I had new neighbors. The baby was fussing, the teenagers were slapping at mosquitoes and cursing, and it promised to be a non-silent night. I stayed near camp as the day dwindled down to twilight, moving my chair with the spot shade, and enjoying the breezes that played across the surface of the lake. I prayed often for the safety of my loved ones, and reflected with gratitude that we had experienced no serious injuries on the way up. Down was easier, as one could more easily see one’s path, but no less of a trigger for Sam’s agoraphobia.
I estimated it had reached 95 degrees today at the lakes, and the sun was still fiercely hot as it angled to the west past Altamira. I shifted my mind to solo mode, and blended with the deepening shadows of late afternoon. Insects, spiders, and flowers were all in bloom, stimulated by the abundant solar energy. The remaining pockets of snow around the lake were diminishing rapidly, keeping water levels high, and nourishing little moss gardens and lush plant life everywhere. On one of the hottest days of the year in this region, I had found a comfortable place in paradise! I continued praying for the others, as I’d have to wait until my return next week to learn how Dimari, Miles, Jordan, and Sam had fared. When the blazing eye of Sol finally dipped below the rim, I quickly made my dinner and tidied up camp for the night, knowing the vampire bugs would soon drop out of the trees, looking for fresh blood. I was happy that they had other options on the menu, but they started swarming anyway, and I hustled into my nylon cocoon to do some reading and writing while the evening light lasted. Thankfully, the baby had calmed down, but the teenagers started a fire (they were banned in the region), and I decided not to play Forest Ranger and tell them to put it out. Frankly, I enjoyed the smell and sounds of a campfire, as I drifted off to sleep lying on top of my bag in the overheated evening.
“A place within a landscape corresponds to a place within the heart.”
— Václav Cilek