where I would pitch my camp this time, but thought I would check out some new places.Decided that it might be nice to climb up on top of the bluffs over the Eye of the Needle, so found the crack in the rocks and scrambled up. I had climbed up on this bluff once before after my son told me where he and a friend had scrambled up. The notch looks like a butt crack, as you can see, but is the easiest way I could find to get up ... and there is a little trail up the side, so it's obviously where others have scrambled up.
It was late in the afternoon when I got started, so I knew that I would need my headlamp before I got to the level spot on the bluff. This was a pretty good pull up the side of the bluff, and I ended up climbing up a section and then pulling my pack with some small rope I had. Took a while to get up that way, but I was determined to pitch my tent on the top.
One should always be prepared for the dark ... while I was getting my headlamp out of my fanny pack, the case opened up and one of the batteries fell on the ground in the dark. Fortunately, I knew it hadn't gone far and I used the light from my Indiglo Timex to see well enough to find the battery ... getting my headlamp on made getting through the pine thicket much easier.
I have pitched my tent so many times, I can do it with my eyes closed, so that was not a problem. Then I boiled some water, hydrated my Turkey Tetrazinni, and had a delightful evening before turning in. Evening time is always good for me. I love to take care of my pack, tie my food up over a limb--something I do no mater where I am--brush my teeth and turn in. Getting in my tent at night is always a soul experience for me ... not sure exactly why, but it is always good for me.
My goal the next morning was to get to the confluence of Bee Branch and the Sipsey. Twenty years ago, my friend Paul Baird always talked about camping on the Bee Branch. I haven't yet hiked along it, but was determined to find it. I followed FT 206 until it hit FT 209 and, after a few miles, found the confluence.
In my hikes into the Wilderness, I have seen many evidences of feral pigs, but I have never run into one ... until this day. While I was hiking along the Sipsey, I saw a movement and, looking down near a riverside campsite, saw a large black pig ... he looked at me ... I looked at him ... he grunted ... I swallowed ... he started walking away ... I walked on down the trail.
I hiked to the intersection of Bee Branch and main channel of the Sipsey and found it disappointing ... not much water in Bee Branch (I even jumped across on old legs). Hiking back toward my campsite, I spotted Mr. Porker and followed him for a while. He was mainly checking in with all the campsites to see if sloppy campers had dropped any morsels for him to clean up--he seemed to be a real pig about the leavings (sorry about that!). I kept trying to get a good shot of him with my point-and-shoot camera, but all I could get was his backside. Eventually, he went up the hill off the trail and I was able to get by him and shoot back at him from the front. He kept a warry eye in my direction, and finally just lay down in th
e leaves to see if he could out-wait me ... I blinked before he did and went on down the trail.On the way around FT 206 or 209 or whatever it is following around the Sipsey, I ran into a fairly large bluff in which someone had spent a weekend building a throne-type chair out of sticks, twigs, and vines facing a fire ring. My mind conjured up interesting scenes at night with shadows from the fire on the walls of the bluff. I think there's a picture here somewhere ...
Quarter of a mile or so I ran into a guy and two girls who had been camping near the riffles at Eye of the Needle. Incidentially, they guy had the longest dreds I had seen since the 60s, when I passed them at their campsite, wondered how he would hike with such long dreds. Passing them on the trail I noticed that he had the dreds piled up on top of his head ... I swear, it must have been ten pounds of hair. Dang! that was a lot of hair. Interesting, but way too much trouble while backpacking ...
Okay, so, other than the pig, not much exciting about the trip. Camping on the top of the bluff at the Eye of the Needle was pretty cool. And waking up Sunday morning with someone with a deep baritone voice singing hymns was intresting, also. It was early morning and his voice echoed up and down the Sipsey River Valley. Wish I had the voice to do that, because hiking and camping is a spiritual experience and sometimes I can't find an adequate way to celebrate the joy, freedom, security, and comfort of being in the woods.
At least I was able to pass that along to my son ...
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