Not far out of town it started raining so I started thinking about what I would need to do. I decided to wear rain pants instead of shorts to hike in (good decision). I have a pack cover for my stuff and a good Marmot Preclip rain jacket, so I'm okay there ... have good boots and short gators to keep my feet dry. I hiked all the way down off of Mt LeConte to Newfound Gap in a pouring rain once, so I know that one never stays completely dry hiking in the rain ... Not knowing how much it had already been raining in the Sipsey Wilderness, I was somewhat concerned that White Oak Creek would be up some and I might have to splash through it calf-deep. Anyway, I had plenty to think about on the drive over.
When I arrived at the Thompson Creek trail head, the rain was down to a drizzle, but still enough to need my hood up on my rain jacket. I have a small car, so it takes a few minutes to strap pads and such onto my pack, but I was off on the FT 206 in about 20 minutes. White Oak Creek was up a few inches, but the crossing rocks were still just under the surface, so
nothing to worry about there. My plan was to camp on top of the bluff at the Eye of the Needle and I made a good pace, but stopping now and then to photograph a wildflower. The early wildflowers are just beginning to peek out, so it was a good trip in for me. About halfway in, though, I begin to feel water running down my back ... don't know where that was coming from, but I felt the same thing hiking down from LeConte ... oh, well ... whatever -- I was in the woods!
The climb up to the top of the rock was relatively uneventful at first. I had to take off my pack and shove it up on the first rock, then climb up a crack in the bluff. One more shove of my pack up the next shelf, and climb up that part ... I was doing fine, until ... after I had put my pack back on and was negotiating a relatively mild climb, my foot slipped out from under me and I fell on my knee and my elbow on some rocks ... not good ... much groaning (and cussing) ... and rubbing and groaning. I didn't fall off of the cliff or anything, just fell forward on rocks with my pack on my back ... oh, well, I said, if I die, I couldn't pick a better spot! Of course, I wasn't close to death, just pained with a bruised knee and elbow ... but the prognosis was excellent.
Fairly quickly, I limped up the rest of the steep part of the climb and got to the wooded area where the trail wanders through the rhododendron and the pines ... I was noticing stumps and other places where I might return to get some dryer wood. The wood on the ground would no way be dry enough to burn until possibly Sunday afternoon -- if it cleared up. The weather forecast had said that a cold front would follow the rain, so I was going to need a fire.
I had been up on the top of the Rock a few times previously--once with teenagers and even camped up there once in November (I was younger then)--and I thought I knew where I wanted to pitch my tent. When I got there, the place I had thought about was pretty wet and I had to find another place that was in the pine needles and leaves so as not to be too muddy. I found that place, though I had to disturb some thorny "wait-a-minute" vines. Although the spot wasn't perfectly level, it would do well for one person. Since it was still steadily raining, now would be the challenge of putting up my tent without getting it soaking wet.
Normally, I put up my REI Halfdome tent by securing the poles to the footprint, followed by clipping on the tent, and then adding the fly, if necessary. Of course, that process wouldn't work because my tent would be soaked by the time I got to the fly. So, the process changed (a change I had thought about while lying awake during the previous few nights) to opening the poles (a large X) and draping over the fly and securing its grommets ... now I had a shelter to keep my footprint and tent relatively dry while connecting them. The footprint was not a huge challenge, although it got wet around the edges, but clipping on the tent from the inside was quite a tight squeeze. Fortunately, the Halfdome has two big vestibules, so I had some room in which to work fastening the clips. I am happy to report that the process of putting up the tent in reverse order worked to keep my gear relatively dry.
I had purchased a light-weight 6x8 tarp before I left, so I had to figure out how to create a shelter under which to cook. Of course, in a phone conversation with my son (who lives in Oregon), he asked why I didn't take the ENO rain fly that keeps my hammock dry. I said because I'm stupid ... but, whatever ... after I strung some nylon cord between two trees, I was able to fix a space large enough to cook under and even found a sitting log to drag over ... it all worked...
The next task was to find wood dry enough to burn when everything was soaking wet. I finally found a pine stump that had broken off about five feet above the roots. After sawing and pulling and prying I finally got down to the dry stuff inside both the stump and the fallen tree. I got a sac full of a lot of good little pieces with pine sap inside and really dry. I was able to cut and pry off some bigger pieces to get a fire going big enough and long enough to dry out other pieces of wood I had picked up. I saved it all for Sunday night's fire ...
I woke up during the night Saturday and was aware that the rain had stopped. Sunday morning when I woke up mostly dry, I cooked breakfast pancakes and set off down to the river to gather water. I have a big Base Camp First Need filter, but because I had not back-washed it after my last trip, the filter quickly became difficult to force water through, but enough to get about eight to ten liters, I got three liters of unfiltered river water to boil in case I needed it. Fortunately, I had taken my empty pack down with me and was able to stuff all of the water bottles/bags in the pack and climb back up to the top of The Rock.
While I was down I hiked around to the part of the Sipsey which is normally littles rapids I call riffles, but, after the rain, were full-fledged rapids ... they were roaring like crazy. I saw a hippie-looking couple and a dog camped nearby and frightened them as if they had been smoking weed, or something ... they didn't hear or see me coming. Their dog didn't take well to strangers, but they were able to corral him before he could attack. I tried to be friendly and warn them to watch the river levels because sometime the Sipsey rises fast and furiously.
Being down on that side of The Rock also gave me a chance to check out The Notch, a place right up against the bluff where I had weathered a 14 degree night when the river froze. I thought it might stay dry from the rain up under a ledge -- it had not.
I climbed back up on The Rock and sorted my water bags/bottles and strained my unfiltered water through one of my bandanas to get out the big chunks of stuff. I spent the next couple of hours gathering and sawing wood for Sunday and Monday nights' campfires. It stayed cloudy all day Sunday even though the weather forecast had said "partly sunny." At least it wasn't raining, so I put up a clothes line and hung up some of my wet stuff in the afternoon breeze. About 4:30 I decided to build a fire.
Campfires are magic. As I have said over many a campfire, "It's no wonder ancient man used to worship fire." A good campfire--and I can build a good campfire--has the ability to change one's attitude about life. As I sat on the log staring into the fire and feeling its warmth, I felt all of the stress of being chilled and fretting over the weather fall away. My soul and spirit began to be warmed and comforted and began to dry out. I cranked up some good tunes on my phone and smiled.
As an aside, let me say that the only thing a cell phone is good for in the Sipsey Wilderness is for pre-recorded tunes. There is no data or voice connection. The first time some high school student went to the woods with me they couldn't believe that they couldn't get a connection on their phones. They went through a brief period of withdrawal, but soon realized the freedom of no connections.
After the fire burned out Sunday night, I crawled into my warm bag still smiling from the fire and the tunes ...
Monday morning I woke up to a little fog and still overcast skies. Bummer! Monday was supposed to be fairly sunny, but I never saw blue sky all day. The clouds were high enough, though, that I could tell where and what that big light was. Spent some of the day gathering more wood for the last night's campfire. I love a big fire to celebrate good days in the woods. That night I tried some cherry turnovers I had read about in Backpacker Magazine ... actually in the magazine they were apple turnovers, but I had a taste for something a little spicier. They actually were surprisingly good. I thought they would burn, but they didn't. I will try them again.
I also spent some of the day reflecting on some of my other forays into the woods. I've about decided to call the bluff I think of as Tick Bluff my home base in the woods. I've probably spent more quality nights there than any other spot in the Sipsey Wilderness. It is such an awesome place of comfort, solitude, security, and access. When I hike in at night--as I often do--I seem to gravitate toward Tick Bluff. It's big enough to stand up straight and stretch, and close enough to the trail to get in to when I need shelter. There I have spent several stormy nights and days; once a horrendous lightening storm in which I lay in my tent and smiled, knowing I was protected from a strike and from falling trees.
There is another bluff in which I have spent some great days and nights sheltering, but I think of it as a vacation cabin in the woods. It's sunny and comfortable, but occasionally drips after a hard rain; and after a really hard rain, develops a small stream through the middle that I lovingly refer to as Feng Shui Creek ... there is an ambiance to the place, but it's not quite home.
Anyway, I digress ... Monday night was a good night. I had a great meal with great music from my almost-out-of-power phone. Had I had a partner and some fruit of the vine I might have danced a little. Knowing that I was going to the woods alone again, my wife asked me if I was going with my best friend ... and, indeed, I was with my best camping buddy.
Tuesday morning I woke up dreading the hike-out ... I always dread the hike-out. The sky was again cloudy and threatening rain, so I decided to not spend a lot of time putzing with small stuff the way I usually do. The wind was blowing and gusting, so I hung some stuff on the lines, and when I broke the tent down I faced the bottom of it into the wind to let it dry ... which it did pretty quickly. The inside of the tent's fly was, of course, wet from condensation, so I had to drape it over the bushes to let it dry some. Because of the breeze and gusts, most of my remaining wet stuff got to dry out before I packed it. That's good on two fronts: I had a slightly lighter pack hiking out and I didn't have to rush to hang my stuff in the attic before it began to sour.
The hike-out was uneventful. I passed a couple of guys hiking in. They were in a hurry to get to a campsite and get set up before the rains commenced. We chatted a moment and then moved on. I arrived at my vehicle and was glad--as always--that a tree had not fallen on it during the days/nights I had been in the woods ... always happy about that ... and just about the time I got in my vehicle and started up the hill out of the gorge, the rain began ... not hard ... but enough to keep the road damp.
At my age, that's probably the last time I'll haul my pack up to the top of the Rock ... not my last climb up, but probably my last time with a full pack. It had been three years since the previous camp on the Rock. I will be close to 70 in three more years, so probably won't do the tough stuff. I'll probably hobble in to my favorite bluff and enjoy watching the hikers scramble in and out of the woods and think how fortunate I have been to have traveled these trails again.
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