Posts Tagged With: Camping

Hell’s Backbone 2

Sunday June 15th

To the Other Side of the Mountain

We’re new in the neighborhood. A neighbor stops by, a curious ground squirrel visits in the fresh morning sunshine that beams in our camp’s clearing. He hasn’t gotten around to the huge red object beyond him with its the strange smell of rubber. He heads first to the strange dome shaped contraption caging us humans. This might be a first for the tiny young critter. It shows no fear, coming right up to the net tent’s side wall, close to my face.

I lie sideways, awake, newly opened eyes adjusting to the light. I’m a bit surprised by the local greeter. The eyes placed on each side of its head, tell the direction of its vision.  It stands up on hind legs, as we exchange staring looks with each other. It seems that we are each wondering, “How far will the other go?” I wonder how close this encounter will be, once my resting body moves.

The diminutive student of the world retreats to a nearby log. I later find debris there. It shows that it has spent quite a bit of time there, chewing on pine-cones.

As the morning passes, I sit in my chair, read and put some time into looking out to the far distance and the foreground, listening, smelling, taking note of my circumstances and my relationship to it all.  

A grosse slowly strolls through camp, not ten feet from my feet! I’m acknowledged, as it lumbers. This is a bird the size of a very large pigeon, a small chicken, enough for dinner! Yet, it acts like it has no concept of human behavior. I’m a stranger, just another animal, not a predator, as I sit and observe. I’m being treated to a sight not ruined by the treachery of man. I’m a part of a gift delightfully received. I’m free to experience the uninterrupted observations, a close up of nature, the feathered arrangements, the critters movement and actually my sense of comradery and trust between species.

After breakfast, we’re heading up the trail past the barriers into forest behind the ridge that we’re camped on. We’re just planning to see what we find and to move freely.

We take nothing, expecting to see no one. DF has a small towel to comfort her shoulder strap, maybe to sit down on at some point. We desert rats always have some water, not knowing how far our adventure may continue. Stripped down, there is an additional sense of freedom and sensuality.

NOTE: I have divided this story into three parts. It may feel a bit long, maybe not. I’m still in the middle of computer issues and change over. I was able to get this done without blowing up the old computer. Looks like I’m changing over to Mac soon and hopefully, I’ll learn that quickly. So, I apologize for any delays.

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Mosquito Vista

Utah 2025 #6

2025-06-13

We’ve just left Kodachrome State Park in southern Utah. We wander down a two lane highway through little Mormon towns and settlements. This is beautiful country where green pastures and creeks pass through colorful hills, buttes and mountains.

Each farm has an old homestead house. These are the remnants of standardized homes provided for pioneers by the church community, when they would settle an area. These early shelters are still there for memory and identity.

This valley has the meandering Pariah River running through it. It is currently only a small creek maybe six or eight feet across. We’re heading to the mountains instead of more slot canyons. It is too hot for DF and maybe me, the diehard. A temperature of 83F was nice, but well into the 90F’s with little or no shade is uncomfortable. Perhaps another time, we did get a late start this year. There is another concern, fire. We smell the smoke which is emanating from the west in a towering cloud. There is a fire out west and we’ll head north-ish for cleaner air.

Off of a bend in the main highway that connects the local towns, we find the dirt road that leads up a canyon to higher elevations. Supposedly there are pine trees and cooler temperatures. I’m tired. There is a creek running along this route, which is encouraging. I find a small rough road, a two track jeep trail that is running through tall brush and trees to something, perhaps campsites.

Eventually, it leads to the base of a “North Creek Reservoir’s” dam.

Driving along the bottom of the dam it stops at a fine camping area. We are delighted by the good fortune. We park under the tree’s shade. Through a thicket, there is a creek. The only sound that we hear is its calming trickling waters.

After a sigh and a deep relaxing breath, we get out and walk around. Down a trail at the end of this kind of a road, there is running water out of a concrete shoot from the reservoir. The creek is the excess water from the small lake.

There is a second small dam here and this presents us with a small swimming hole. This coupled with the shallow mountain creek, may cause us to stay a couple of days. We take note of the colorful river rocks under the clear mountain water.

The trail coming in was rough, winding and tight. It would discourage most drivers. We would hear a slow lumbering visitor with plenty of notice. This spot is looking very good.

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White Mountain Reminisce II

Bears Ears, Utah #42

 

One Moment Leads to the Next:

We walk off and away from camp, down the raspy forest service road, attempting to stay off on the side to avoid the dust puffs. They are little clouds at each step of our feet.  Just a few strides and our shoe’s colors blend into the surroundings. DF hangs back as my puffs head her way, traveling in front of her. It’s not sandy here. This is dried soil churned by vehicles. It turns to thick gooey mud when it rains and it then washes away, exposing the local rocks more and more. This is good for us. It makes a terrible trail, fit only for thick tires, 4×4 and destructive ATV’s. The latter churns up the soil deeper, making more dust, but this creates the solitude. Few people come this way and they move slowly, with caution.

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White Mountain Reminisce

Bears Ears, Utah #41

2024-06-11

We’re camped in the White Mountains. We’ve returned to our favorite spot, where we spent a month  glamping in the big top tent, back in 2023. It is 11am. It’s Dry, with a capital “D”. We are returning to Arizona from Utah in anticipation of the monsoon rains, but the “Monsoon Season” is still languishing down in Mexico.  Late yesterday afternoon, we pulled in and the dust that we made while parking made a foggy cloud that just hung there. It finally floated off, as the aspen leaves began to quake.

The Color of Utah

Familiar with the whole area, from years of wonderful explorations, we are noticing change. Back at camp we see that the small tree that we used to hang dishes to dry has fallen over, perhaps the snow cover from winter, or perhaps a large elk callously used it. Our aspens that we saved by placing our tent just so and using them to decorate our tent’s patio, remain and have kept growing.  Nobody has come by to chew of the leaves, or rip them out of the ground. We take measurements for the first time. Perhaps, we’ll see how these saplings do as the years go by in this harsh environment.

(To see the rest of this post, you’ll have to find the “2” and click the page turning button, below.)

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Sleeping on the Bear’s Back

Bears Ears #35

2024-06-05

We’re up here in Manti-La Sal National Forest, in the Bears ears National Monument. The morning has been casual, late rising, reading.  We have a breakfast, then it is time for lunch.

A boy, a young buck scampers around, only about 50 feet away from camp. He decides to have a green snack and stops. This isn’t the female who directed us to this spot in the woods last evening. This guy is decorated with emerging antlers. We stand and watch, then, moving quietly, easily; we grab cameras. This gentleman is fearless.

We snap a few as we creep forward. He backs away eventually several feet to match our move. We know his boundaries.

Relaxed, after a restful afternoon, we decide to walk.

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Right Between the Ears

Bears Ears #33

2024-06-04

It’s time to gather provisions and gas.  We’ll be heading up the road that cuts right in-between the Bear’s Ears, on top of its head and then onto its back. We’ll be lounging and exploring in the Manti-La Sal National Forest for a week or so.

In Blanding, Utah, I spend too much time for my liking. I’m stuck shoring up home insurance issues over the phone and checking internet texts and messages, after several days of no service. It has been a pleasure to be out of electronic contact, but this is the price. That process of waiting takes us to the visitor center, where I am able to spend some good time with a new hostess. She once lived up in those hills with her mother. I shamelessly grill her for insider’s information.

Just before we leave to backtrack to where we were this morning, which is 45 miles of carnuding. I pull off of the road at that sign that says ominously “Next services 121 Miles.” We strip, stuff away our clothing and resume down the now familiar road, to out west. For now, the wind blows through partly opened windows and the vent, circling, sensuously dancing all over naked bodies.

We find the road that will take us into the mountains. It is soon dirt. After a pickup truck passes,  I get out to switching into 4×4 for stability. We are alone here at the base of this mountain. I turn off the motor. Now in silence, I look up into the steep walls before me. They circle around us. The vast Canyonlands are behind us now. This is the beginning of an entirely new terrain and set of unknowns to set off into, naked. There is a sense of adventure, a new beginning and freedom.

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Fish and Owl: Bears Ears XXIX

2024-06-02

I’m continuing our series into Bears Ears National Monument in southeastern Utah. We’re looking for places to bivouac, set up camps near destinations and then get earlier starts on hikes.

We couldn’t leave our last camp soon enough because of gnats and the afternoon heat.  The harsh part of Summer isn’t far off. The plan is to situate in higher elevations and the better weather, climbing to suit our lack of suits. We’ll need a place to stay to get an early start near a trailhead, which leads to a ruin that we intend to explore.

A camping spot is found near a very fun old wooden bridge.

The solid old conveyance is filled with character, there are trees for shade and a dry creeks ambiance, maybe cool air will flow down the wash as evening passes.

The spot should suit our needs, but now we need another spot in proximity to Bridges National Park, our hike for the morning. Fish and Owl sounds like a good spot. There is a Ranger Station nearby. Our information is sparse at this point and they will help.

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Oversite Canyon Day I

2023-09-27

We’re heading down to the Huachuca Mountains again. This time not up high on the spine, but nestled down below in the foothills of scrub oak forests. We’re looking for a short retreat away from it all in a remote canyon.

Near the turnoff, the Border Patrol has a couple of fellows in custody as we drive by. This has always been a smuggling corridor. Lots of propaganda has been created in recent years about bands of thieving murdering alien people along the border. Contrary to the media ingrained fear, smugglers are busy with their own business, wishing to be in stealth and those whom they guide are focused on a better life and getting out of the border region as soon as possible. They avoid everybody. I’d suppose that our desire for minding our own naked business with stealth corresponds in some ways. A better life is many things to many people.

The old two track road into the hills is looking very ragged.

It has been a while and I don’t feel familiar with it. I decide to turn around and try a quiet spot that I know. It will be a longer walk, but seems just right today.

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Lemmon Pool’s Fire Escapade Part I

Back packing into the Wilderness of Rocks

2024-09-10 into 11

The article “Ultralight Path, which I published here on November 8th, 2024, was first published in “N” magazine, a couple of months previous. As we sat reading and browsing through the magazine’s pages, we saw the images of ourselves as sort of the poster children for naturist backpacking. A revelation then hit hard; we realized that we hadn’t been actually out backpacking in a couple of years! We felt a bit hypocritical. We have been four wheeling into day hiking situations and luxuriating at the hot springs mostly. Taking in our own sales pitch, we realized that we were missing something, too.

When our planned trip into the Blue River region got delayed, an apparent solution presented itself to us. On our hiking bucket list, was the re-exploration of the Lemon Pools on Mt. Lemon. Our last visit ended the day before the entire mountain went up in flames, back in 2020. We have been reluctant to go back because of the chance of having our hearts broken by the sight of the destruction.

Last year, looking down from above and into that valley, it had looked mostly untouched. It has been about four years and we figured that the dense brush should have had a chance to return…

…The first ten minutes are a steeper slope up at around 8700 feet through Marshall Gulch. I’m feeling that I have a challenge in front of me. We’re in thin air and haven’t had this size of a bulk to carry in a while. I’m beginning to feel out of breath. When I inquire about DF, she mentions that she is feeling a bit “wobbly” with her pack.

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Miller Peak IV: Heading Home

2018-09-24

We are in the Huachuca Mountains. We have spent a couple of days here and accomplished our climb to Miller Peak. We have a casual day planned, heading back down the mountain.

Here is the rest of the story, which is in three other parts:

https://thefreerangenaturist.org/2019/04/12/miller-peak-bathtub-spring/

https://thefreerangenaturist.org/2019/04/18/miller-peak-camping-and-a-surprise/

https://thefreerangenaturist.org/2019/04/23/miller-peak-ascent-to-a-parting-day-2/

DF has heard an owl in the night. She tells me that she is grateful that it came. She says that it felt big. It had a big sound, “I’m here. Anybody else here? Who, who?”

After my climb out of the tent, I stand stiffly and take in the wilderness. These trees all tell a story; it is their history they speak of. It is like a mother’s stretchmarks or an old soldier’s wounds. These are tangled, bent, burled and shaped by their lives. The rings have a tale, too. There is an old hulk with a twisted trunk near the watercourse. The twist says that it had had a ley energy shape it. When the fires came, they burnt it to be like a barber pole.

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