Mountain Drama

Wednesday, June 30

11:30 a.m.

I woke up on and off all night, rather uncomfortable, but didn’t emerge from my cocoon until close to 6:00 this morning. In the two years since I last camped, it’s gotten much more painful to rise from the mat, whatwith my twisty old spine. 

By 8:00 I was on the road, searching for the trailhead for the Curtz Lake to Summit Lake hike, a 1.8-mile loop. I’m out of cellphone range here so I couldn’t GPS my way, but with the aid of a sketchy map I’d printed off the Internet, I had no trouble finding it. 

Hoisting my 25-pound daypack (food, water, bug lotion, sunscreen, binoculars, my loaded purse, a first-aid kit, heavy emergency blanket, and more), I started up the trail, where I didn’t see a single soul. It was a pleasant little hike, though somewhat lacking in drama. 

Actually, there was the tiniest bit of drama when, at the furthest point from my car, I suddenly developed a knifelike sensation on my lower-left side every time I took a step. Weird. But by creeping along at a snail’s pace, all was well.

There was another little hike I wanted to try before I leave tomorrow: a three-mile round-trip from the Grover Hot Springs campground to a waterfall. Thinking that it was maybe the weight of the pack that had caused my earlier problem, I shed all but the water and a snack, and had no problem getting there.

On the way back, I lost the trail three or so times: clambering up granite boulders only to reach precipitous drop-offs and have to backtrack. What I don’t understand is why there were cairns marking these non-routes. Tricksters?

Back in the campsite (it’s over 90° now) I’m sitting in the semi-shade of my screen tent, with a little battery-powered fan blowing on my face. I find it disconcerting that for an hour there have been helicopters circling and low planes flying overhead. In fire season, this is worrisome. 

4:30 p.m. 

I don’t know what was up with the air surveillance, but it continued for maybe three hours. Apparently all is well.

I had reserved a time slot for this afternoon at the thermal pools in the park, but because it has been lightning-ing and thundering since noon, with strikes within five miles, the establishment wisely closed them down. No biggie. I don’t like appearing in public in a bathing suit anyway.

I’ve been hanging out in my screen house a lot today, mostly reading. It is, of course is designed to keep the bugs out, but it seems to have the opposite effect as well. The inside of the mesh is currently covered with an array of opportunistic entomological specimens large and small that must have charged in during the millisecond that the door was unzipped. As I sit here, I keep hearing the sound of rain on the roof, but no: it’s the sound of large flies hurling their pest-y bodies against the fabric.

As much as I love me a good thunderstorm, I’m not too big on getting drenched in one. As dinnertime approached, I heard the thunder get louder, so I prepared my food and ate way too fast, to avoid having to abandon it mid-meal. Just as I finished gorging, I noticed that, this time, it really was the sound of rain pelting the roof, so I rushed to lock up the bear box and fled to my Eureka Copper Canyon. The downpour was so hard that it splashed dirt two feet up the sides.

This is how the sky looked when I emerged.