Camping Swanking - June 28 - July 3

[innerSpaceman]

In a rare move, I’m going to cross post an entry from my el jay, because it’s a trip report about one day of the LoT Camping Trip.

The Last Day.

My Birthday.


It was one of the bestest birthdays ever.


July 2, 2007

Though I love being one of the few to consistently wake up soon after dawn when camping in the woods, our Swank Camp was especially good in early morn because deer would be grazing in the small meadow behind our tents, and sometimes wandering through camp itself.

There were four of them this fine morning. Only one the "plain" kind without antlers, and two with quite the rack on them. I’d never seen mule deer with antlers before this trip, and it was a pleasure to pass the sunrise hours watching them from very close range. They were not scared of people ... but dogs are a different story. So when Palfry came running out of the tent to chase the deer away, it was a perfect consolation to see the graceful creature bounding away in leg-locked bounce-step.

After lingering around camp to give any other early risers the chance to join me if they so desired, I headed out alone at 8 am on my solo hike to Little Baldy - a granite dome with a commanding view of the territory.


It’s so nice to hike alone in the woods, even though it’s not really recommended for safety. Admittedly, the dark and brooding forest at the trailhead was a little foreboding, and I kept my attention sharp lest there be bears (or worse) lurking in the trees. The trail climbed steadily, but blessedly without switchbacks ... and I was soon far enough toward the treetops to enjoy a view of the forested mountainsides, green-blanketed with conifers.

As I continued upward, the trees thinned out a bit, and the views became more open and inviting. At the top of the ridge, I was greeted by an explosion of wildflowers ... and this area with sparse trees, large boulders and pretty pretty posies was a delightful forest of fairytale delights - a pleasure to wander through.

Then the view finally opened to the east, and I gasped at what suddenly lay before me - - the snow-clad, craggy peaks of the High Sierra glistening in the rising sunlight.

It was literally breathtaking.



And entirely unexpected. I didn’t anticipate a view towards the mountains till I reached the summit of Little Baldy. I had been a bit disappointed that the human areas of Sequoia Park were clustered on the outer edge of the Sierras, with most views facing downhill to the alarmingly smog-shrouded central valley around Fresno. I was not getting the feeling I was in the Sierra Mountains that I’d hoped for and expected. Apparently, the Giant Sequoias grow only on the outer slopes.

My startling view towards the heart of the fabled mountain range was teh awesome, and I finally felt as if I were in the wild mountains I’d traveled so far to see.

After a little more climbing, the bare summit of Little Baldy afforded an even more marvelous view of the jagged, granite peaks. As the sun steadily rose, different sections of snow patch would glisten in the daylight, and the wide stretch of daunting mountains was an ever-changing panorama of mighty nature as I watched in awe and splendor.
The view also took in the forested slopes on all sides, and I could see parts of our campground, and even the granite shelf where we paused on our hike to the Muir Grove. Alas, the Giant Sequoias of that grove were hidden behind a ridge. And though the hike to that secluded hideaway of the giant trees in their natural setting was the best excursion of the camping trip, this solo journey to Little Baldy was quite amazing in its own right. It was so serene and wonderful to be on top of the Dome all by my lonesome. Forest and Valley and Mountains below and above, surrounding and enveloping. There’s a certain feeling from exploring the wilderness alone ... a style of communing with nature that even a single companion will dispel.

I stayed at the summit for as long as I desired, enjoying the solitude and the splendid view. Not three minutes into my eventual descent, I encountered two other hikers heading for the top. Perhaps my senses or some other force whispered when to leave, because their presence on the summit would have changed the atmosphere and hastened my departure anyway.

I couldn’t possibly have heard them approaching, because I’d started listening to my iPod on the summit to enhance the experience of magnificence. And I listened to it all the way downhill, less wary of the road already traveled - with music erasing any subtle boredom with a road already traveled. And with sights already seen, my mind began to wander. I was enjoying myself immensely, and I couldn’t help but praise whatever forces delayed my trip until I could trip alone.



The previous day, I had been constantly stymied in my attempts to get to Little Baldy. Wanting to get as much adventuring in as possible, I’d planned a different hike for my birthday - - one which, as it turns out, would hardly have been a time of solitude (in the ultra-touristy Giant Forest). Yesterday morning, I set off on a trail directly across from Swank Camp. As I was leaving camp, Kara asked if she could come along - with her dog, Palfry. I warned there might be some climbing at trail’s end and that dogs were not supposed to be on trails anyway, but was fine with the company. The sign at the campside trail read "Little Baldy 1.5" - which seemed a perfect stroll of there and back by the camp’s usual late breakfast time of 10:30.

I’d never spent any time with Kara before. She was not part of the LoT group that had planned the camping trip. But she and her girlfriend, Traci, were invited by Not Afraid and turned up at Swank Camp under very unusual circumstances that will figure heavily in my eventual report of the entire adventure. This small part is already overlong ... so suffice it to say for now that I’d only spent a few brief moments with Kara and Traci at a New Year’s Eve party, and was to learn much more about them at Swank Camp. For purposes of this tale, it’s worth noting that Kara was the consummate outdoorsman, the very boyish sort of lesbian at ease with manly stuff. I mention this because when the trail petered out and we could not find it again, I want it to be clear that it wasn’t simply because of my cityboy’s poor wilderness skilz. The trail really did disappear.

Later in the morning while still waiting and waiting ... and waiting some more for camp to come alive, Kara and I, now with NirvanaMan in tow, decided to drive to the real trailhead a little ways down the road, and take the abbreviated hike up to Little Baldy before breakfast. But when we arrived at the roadside trailhead, we discovered that the hike from there to the summit and back was nearly four miles long, and would take a minimum of two hours to complete. Turns out the "1.5" from camp was the distance to the Little Baldy trailhead, and not to Little Baldy itself. While we were weighing whether we could attempt the long hike in the short span available to us, my camelback water thingy sprung a leak - and water began to pour all over my back and fill my backpack. Case closed on that. We headed back to camp, foiled in two attempts to make the trek to the granite dome.



Now looking back on it from the tail end of the hike eventually realized the next day, I had to admit how much more enjoyable the journey was with no company, and how much more significant it was to me to commune so serenely with nature on my birthday. For one reason or another, I’ve rarely spent any of my birthdays away from home. Finding myself in a mountainside forest was a very pleasant change of pace.
I also had to wonder whether the forces that stymied two previous attempts on the previous day were truly forces working for my benefit, or merely coincidences that I interpreted as magic. It’s certainly true that the human mind is adept at picking out patterns, perhaps "recognizing" them where no such patterns really exist. It’s also true that I happen to believe strongly in magic - - the magic of manifestation brought on by human energy (perhaps in concert with a stronger spiritual energy).

What really was the difference, after all? Both the recognition of coincidences into patterns or manifestations of events through magical energy are experiences solely in my own self. There’s no external anything about them. They are felt solely by me, and they might as well be magic as not.

And just as I decided that magic was as good an explanation to me as coincidence ... better, in fact ... a piece came on my iPod that started off with bird calls. This as real birds were busy with their real calls in the trees all around me. And as music slowly mixed with the birdsong in my earbuds, mixing further with the birdsong in the world all around me, the delightful sonic effect also affected me as an affirmation of sorts. A happy nod of the head from the universe.

Then I saw the road a little ways down below, and my beautiful morning revelry in the woods was at an end.

(but if you want a tiny sample of the cool little musical moment, click here, then click on Listen to Samples just under the CD artwork image, scroll down to Track 9 "Kalimando," and double-click to play. Close your eyes, picture forest, and you are there.)


(continued in next post)