Wisteria & Flagstone

A Great Idea

“That’s a great idea! I want to do that tonight!”

I’m surprised that belief lasted as long as it did, as I trekked up the hill in 40-degree air and pitch blackness, armed only with my digital camera, a heavy jacket, a flashlight, and my hunting knife. Cresting the hill and beginning my descent, faith in that belief began to falter. I began to think it would be so much easier to just crawl into my nice warm bed and get some sleep. But no, I still pressed on, hoping for some excitement tonight.

As I started on the shortcut between the giant water tanks, my dim light fell upon a six-inch evidence of my target, impressed upon the soft mud. It was at that moment all faith in this “great idea” shattered and I was struck with the inevitable “what the heck am I doing?” moment. Quickening my pace, I tried to answer that burning question, but no good explanation was found. I attempted to content myself with the original motivation: “That sounds like fun!” though the six inch bear track in the soft mud brought hard contrast between “fun” and “mauled.”

Reaching the trash compactor, a quick scan convinced me I had arrived before the bear, and I turned my attention to getting atop one of the ten-foot-tall shipping containers directly across from the compactor yard. I finally succeeded in pulling myself up, and I settled down for the wait. My iPod was on, quietly feeding some old-school Petra into one ear while the other kept alert for any animal sounds. I knew I wouldn’t hear the bear coming--that’s the whole point of being a bear. What good is being the toughest, meanest animal in the forest if people can hear you coming?

Time passed, and sleep began encroaching upon my desire to see this through. It was nearly 10:30pm, and no sooner had I began considering coming down, I raised my eyes to a black bear looking curiously at me from across the road. I say curiously because his look was that of a small child gazing at the cookie jar on the top shelf, wondering if they could reach it.

The bear stared me down for seemingly hours. I kept waiting for him to realize I was out of reach and the trash compactors were only a few short steps away, but they couldn't stop looking at me like one admires the luscious candies behind the counter. So close but yet so far.

Finally, with clear remorse, the bear proceeded to the compactors. Armed with my camera and certain my fingers were spared the task of identifying me, I set about taking photos of the bear, which I now present for your viewing pleasure. (Which is actually a fusion of this first night plus a second night with much the same events.)

A bear track with reference. Of course I was wearing a size 13 boot, so below is a reference with a tape measure.

The same boot with scale.

Quadruple Digits!

About two weeks ago, I was able to bring up my road bike to Hume and have since gone on three rides. There isn't much variation in possible routes, with only one paved road in and one paved road out of camp, but going out one and coming back on the other makes a decent loop of 27 miles. The loop starts with an 1800' climb for the first ten miles, followed by rolling hills through Grant's Grove up to Cherry Gap at 21 miles, an incredible high-speed 1800' descent over the course of about two-and-a-half miles and five minutes, and then gentle hills for the remaining few miles back into camp along the Hume road. I'd left my bike odometer at about 930 miles when I went off to college a couple years ago, and hadn't added any since. At least until this month, when my bike and I are now in the same place at the same time! Needless to say, I have finally broken the 1,000 mile marker on those tires!