Meadows Mishaps
April SEAHA note from the editor
In the heart of the Gila Wilderness there is an ancient caldera that forms a deep canyon several miles across. Those that venture in and stand on the rim can see hoodoos pointing up from the sides of the abyss and the riparian glimmer of river beaconing far below. The rocky fingers snap me from the trance of the green below, and question, "you again? Are you sure you want to do this again?" The first time I was in the meadows it was with prior knowledge my backpacking days were numbered. My knees were starting to give out when carrying weight. Therefore I left the tent behind; sleeping under the stars, or rain, would be worth 6 pounds saved. Hours later at the rim my aching knees let me know it wasn't enough, but we headed down the steep trail to the bottom. There I threw my pack off, stiffly extended my legs as I sat in the grass, and prepared to die. It didn't help that my companions were close to 20 years older than me and were fine. I popped a prescription painkiller, wondering if being 6 months out of date would be a problem. Maybe age boosted the drugs effectiveness, causing the psychedelic experiences to come. All I got at the time was a severe stomachache. That night I planned my sleeping spot carefully, near the fire, but not too near. I have a lot of backwoods experience, but had always used a tent too keep the bugs off. And the eastern skunks, but that's another story. I instinctively needed something over or around me, so I laid my bag beside large driftwood log. Gus and Li called goodnight from the safe comfort of their tent as I passed out, bag cinched tight over my nose. Keeps the skunks out. My slumber ceased as a large branch from the log fell on me, broken off by something…or someone, clattering and creating a ruckus all around me! Bear or skunk, something was attacking. I know enough that making serious noise will scare off either, so I started yelling. My half-awake mind could think of only one statement: Yee-haw...yee-haw? YEE-HAAA! I yelled over and over trying to unzip my bag so I could see. Gus started calling, "Garrett, what's going on?" I fought my way out, threw the log off, and found…it was gone. Several elk had apparently wandered into camp, spooked at the smells and jumped my log getting away. Elk prints were everywhere in the morning. The last time I was in the meadows was two years ago on Horace, packing cricket, to give my knees a break. Nancy and Dennis joined me on their horses. The trip down off the precipice was a thrill-a-minute, several times the horses were practically doing headstands and other circus tricks over the stair step boulders. We made it, and had a nice night at camp. Dennis' horse needs his room going up, so Horace and I stayed back. Cricket had torqued me off so much the previous days I turned her loose to scramble up the trail on her own. She curiously stayed back too. One switchback ahead of us Dennis and Kiowa met the steepest section, and it won the fight. Horace and Cricket's ears went into full alert as Dennis struggled to keep Kiowa on the trail. To no avail, he stepped off on the high side as Kiowa rolled and slid down the slope in front of us. Attentive but calm ears and eyes followed the horse's slide in front of us and down the next level. Kiowa wedged safely in some downed timbers. The next time I go to the meadows may be the May 14th SEAHA ride. Who's game!?
In the heart of the Gila Wilderness there is an ancient caldera that forms a deep canyon several miles across. Those that venture in and stand on the rim can see hoodoos pointing up from the sides of the abyss and the riparian glimmer of river beaconing far below. The rocky fingers snap me from the trance of the green below, and question, "you again? Are you sure you want to do this again?" The first time I was in the meadows it was with prior knowledge my backpacking days were numbered. My knees were starting to give out when carrying weight. Therefore I left the tent behind; sleeping under the stars, or rain, would be worth 6 pounds saved. Hours later at the rim my aching knees let me know it wasn't enough, but we headed down the steep trail to the bottom. There I threw my pack off, stiffly extended my legs as I sat in the grass, and prepared to die. It didn't help that my companions were close to 20 years older than me and were fine. I popped a prescription painkiller, wondering if being 6 months out of date would be a problem. Maybe age boosted the drugs effectiveness, causing the psychedelic experiences to come. All I got at the time was a severe stomachache. That night I planned my sleeping spot carefully, near the fire, but not too near. I have a lot of backwoods experience, but had always used a tent too keep the bugs off. And the eastern skunks, but that's another story. I instinctively needed something over or around me, so I laid my bag beside large driftwood log. Gus and Li called goodnight from the safe comfort of their tent as I passed out, bag cinched tight over my nose. Keeps the skunks out. My slumber ceased as a large branch from the log fell on me, broken off by something…or someone, clattering and creating a ruckus all around me! Bear or skunk, something was attacking. I know enough that making serious noise will scare off either, so I started yelling. My half-awake mind could think of only one statement: Yee-haw...yee-haw? YEE-HAAA! I yelled over and over trying to unzip my bag so I could see. Gus started calling, "Garrett, what's going on?" I fought my way out, threw the log off, and found…it was gone. Several elk had apparently wandered into camp, spooked at the smells and jumped my log getting away. Elk prints were everywhere in the morning. The last time I was in the meadows was two years ago on Horace, packing cricket, to give my knees a break. Nancy and Dennis joined me on their horses. The trip down off the precipice was a thrill-a-minute, several times the horses were practically doing headstands and other circus tricks over the stair step boulders. We made it, and had a nice night at camp. Dennis' horse needs his room going up, so Horace and I stayed back. Cricket had torqued me off so much the previous days I turned her loose to scramble up the trail on her own. She curiously stayed back too. One switchback ahead of us Dennis and Kiowa met the steepest section, and it won the fight. Horace and Cricket's ears went into full alert as Dennis struggled to keep Kiowa on the trail. To no avail, he stepped off on the high side as Kiowa rolled and slid down the slope in front of us. Attentive but calm ears and eyes followed the horse's slide in front of us and down the next level. Kiowa wedged safely in some downed timbers. The next time I go to the meadows may be the May 14th SEAHA ride. Who's game!?
posted by Garrett | 4:00 PM
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