Mt Whitney Zone Forums Trip Reports A Walk in the Woods . . .

So whaddaya do on a holiday weekend when the family's out of town visiting other family, and you're all alone? Well of course! You take a nice, relaxing backpacking trip to the mountains, right? That was the plan, anyway.

Easy peasy - a one-nighter to one of my favorite spots in the Georgia Blue Ridge mountains. No problemo. The sweet five mile stroll from the trailhead went great. Set up the tent, enjoyed a nice high-carb pasta dinner courtesy of my JetBoil, Snickers (two, actually) for dessert, slung my food bag, then off to bed to enjoy the peaceful, sleepy night-sounds of the gentle forest. Right.

About 2:00 a.m. the storms came - torrential downpours, enough lightning to read by, and sonic-boom thunder that rattled my teeth. Two hours of this crap. Fortunately, I had camped on relatively high ground, but not too high and not under a tree. The squishiness under my tent floor told me I was in for a messy morning, though. Back to sleep about 4:00.

More storms at 5:00, lasting about an hour this time. When things cleared around 6:00 I said, "screw it" and started to strike camp and head back to the trailhead. Hmmmmm - didn't I sling that food bag right over there? No food bag - just my line still slung over the limb, clearly chewed through. By this point I could have cared less if it was a really smart bear or an annoying racoon - I was hungry! Now, Backpacker's Gourmet scrambled eggs are really pretty crappy - we can probably all agree on that - but it beats nothing for breakfast, especially on a cool, soggy morning with little sleep in my rearview mirror. No coffee, no power bars, no Snickers, no jerky, no Gorp, no peanut M&Ms, no nothing - it was all in the bag. And no sign of the bag anywhere around my camp. Looking at the line placement, it was obvious I had just been going through the motions the night before - way too close to the tree trunk. My grandmother could probably have gotten it down.

The soggy mess that was my camp went not-too-gently into my pack, and off I went. Only five miles back to the trailhead - less than 2 hours, easy. Then a hot breakfast somewhere along the route home! But Momma Nature wasn't done with me just yet - did I mention that it started raining again? Heavy? Footing became slippery and I had to take it slow with 25 pounds on my back (at least that would have been the weight if the damn food was still there). It took me about two hours to cover the 3 miles to the creek crossing - slipping, sliding, and re-adjusting soppy wet stuff as I went. Only 6 weeks left till my date with Whitney, so taking no chances on getting hurt.

It wasn't a creek anymore. It was a freakin' storm drain. The foot-deep, babbling brook I had crossed the previous day was a frothing, whitewater amusement park ride. At least 3 feet deep, 20 wide, and moving like it was seriously late for the lottery deadline. I briefly thought about trying it. I had barely loosened my pack straps when a heavy branch about - oh, my size - shot from upstream and disappeared really quickly downstream. Scratch that idea. And a brief survey of the creek bank up and down from the trail crossing told me I was unlikely to find anything better nearby.

So I took my soggy self to the nearest really big-canopied tree I could find and decided to wait it out. The good thing about low mountains is that run-off subsides pretty quickly when the rain stops. I wouldn't have to wait that long. I had settled down reasonably comfortably - not a lot of rain was getting to me - when the thunder started up again. Really close. A string of vibrantly colorful, creative, and anatomically impossible expletives, and I was out in the downpour once more - sans my trekking poles and tent poles. For about 45 minutes I squatted as best I could on my pack while the early Memorial Day fireworks show went on all around me. I was soaked, cold, miserable, tired, and pretty damn hungry - but at least I had water. Lots of water. I swear, a chipmunk that was nearby most of the time was laughing his furry little ass off at my predicament. I hate chipmunks, by the way.

Long story short, the rain finally quit about an hour later, the creek became crossable about two hours after that, and I managed to drag my sorry, pathetic, sopping-wet self to my truck about 5:00 p.m. I had left camp about 8:00 and it took 9 hours to cover the 5 miles to the trailhead. Oh yeah - the sun was out and it looked like it was just a beautiful day to go for a hike. Of course.

I gorged on fast food the first chance I got, and pulled into my driveway about 8:00 last night. My garage is still mostly a tenement of drying gear hanging everywhere, and somewhere along the way I managed to lose my water filter and headlamp. I am soooooo glad my wife isn't witnessing this. She called a little while ago from Minnesota and asked what I had been up to the last couple of days. "Did you go hiking?" she asked. "Uh . . . uh . . . uh . . ."

Epic! Way to slog it out, Gary!

Only out about 25 hours, but it was beginning to feel epic. I don't like getting rained on and I hate lightning, and I had more of both this brief little trip than I've had in years.

Addendum: I'm not as inept as I thought yesterday. I had really been kicking myself about losing the headlamp and filter - I've never lost a single piece of gear in 20-plus years of hiking (blown-away hats excluded). I found both under the back seat of my truck this afternoon. They've now moved into the tenement section of my garage and are drying nicely. At least I hope the headlamp is.

Nothing like a torential downpour when you are back packing.At least you were outside.It is so good to get outside when you are caged inside at work.

Lol awesome trip! it's amazing how different the mountain ranges can be! I went up San Gorgonio this weekend and it was 3 days of perfect blue skies, even as I sat on the summit there was not even a slight breeze!

I love a good storm though.

What a trip! Still shaking my head.

I would have eaten that raccoon or bear or whatever if I could have caught it. Are you going to consider a canister?

Like I always say - Food is over rated.

Good call waiting it out..............................DUG

Prob'ly should, huh? The old food-bag-over-the-tree-limb trick has never failed me before, but I usually take the time to hang it properly. I clearly wasn't thinking when I chose my tree Saturday. At least if I bought a vault I wouldn't have to rent for those trips out west where it's required or there are no trees to sling a bag on. I've never liked the idea of the extra weight, but I'd rather eat.

Rogue, you would have been in storm-lover's heaven here this past weekend. In the spring and a lot of the summer the forecast is pretty much the same every day - always a chance of afternoon/evening thunderstorms brewing up from the heat of the day - so I don't pay a lot of attention unless there's a real system moving in. Luck of the draw this time around - I damn sure wasn't looking for this experience . . .

DUG, I wish you would share that nugget of wisdom with our furry, four-legged friends!

Now I know our trip to Whitney is going to be an adventure. Better put the speed dial to SARS on my phone now. Let's see, last week, I slid down Baldy on my ass because I listened to some woman who said, "no, the bowl doesn't have much snow, it's pretty clear". This week, you almost drown in a T-Storm. My God, Whitney's gonna be great. Why do I get the idea people are going to be "giggling" when we hit the trail. I can already hear the words parents are saying to their kids. "See those two....watch them, they're funny".
Gary....I can't wait!

p.s. I have a bear canister and a water filter. Never used the filter, so get the video camera out to catch my first chance at making an ass of myself! I LOVE adventures.

Joe, drowning was the least of my concerns. Not being transformed into a crispy critter at Mother Nature's holiday BBQ was all I really cared about. I once had a lightning bolt strike about 15 feet from where I was standing, and I've had a more-than-healthy respect ever since.

Almost all of my backcountry trips are non-events, but every once in a while . . . remind me to tell you some time about a group camping trip a few years ago. It involved several buddies who weren't really hikers, a trunkful of booze and beer, a curious, persistent bear, and one idiot's idea of the cool photo that might be had if they could just get the bear drunk . . .

Don't worry about an eventful Whitney backpack - it's not exactly a wilderness experience, with the exception of no cellphone reception (forget that SAR call, dude). Pesky marmots will be the only four-legged concern, so don't sweat and we'll be OK (they love salt).

Bulldog34, it may not have been funny during your adventure, but I am doing the "LMAO." I, too, have had my share of "rainy days." Routine backpacking trip gone soggy. Yep, been there and done that. I didn't have the "storm drain" but oh did I have the mud!

Sounds like good material to send to Backpacker Magazine. Glad you survived your ordeal...

I am still LMAO!

I don't think it can rain in Lone Pine on July 15 and 16, but after the winter we had anything can happen.

Better pack galoshes!

Anyhoo, in any event, wifey-pooh and I will make sure you and QS have a cold one and a warm fire just in case of "inclement" weather.

'Tude, in my mind I still see that freakin' chipmunk poking his head up every so often, giggling at the sight of me trying to balance on my pack in that downpour, then ducking back in his dry little burrow - only to do it all over again a minute or two later. I learned to hate chipmunks when they destroyed the foundation of one of the decks on my house.

Ever see the "Alvin" movie from a couple of years ago? There's a scene where he dies (then, of course, we find out he didn't really die, dammit) - we're watching it at home, my daughter's sobbing like crazy, and I have to leave the room to keep from LMAO - and earning a stern lecture on compassion from a nine year-old who's never had to fork out thousands to repair a cute little chippy's destructive habits. I know - cold. But like I said I HATE chipmunks. Squirrels I merely despise - but only if they're on my property. They're cute in someone else's landscaping.

You absolutely CAN NOT leave a statement like that hanging out there open ended like that...

Sounds like quite an adventure Gary...never "ASS-U-ME" that you are going to have "a nice quiet relaxing trip"...that's usually when things get a little nutty! Glad you made it home safely.
I can't wait to hear about your Whitney trip with Joe!
Stacy

Chris, honestly it's a story that simply can't be properly told anywhere except over several lazy beers.

Oh my holy GRACIOUS.... I have tears running down my cheeks... BullDog, my friend, if thats "a few salient points" and the story is best told over a "few lazy beers"... I'm buying just tell me when and where Buddy!

Oh MAN! That must have been... a memorable trip!

I'm still laughing thinking about the varied reactions of those three.

Incredible!

Really Stacy, I'm usually prepared for the worst - we all should be in the backcountry - but it's extremey rare that anything occurs worth writing home about. Of course, I mean other than brilliant sunrises/sunsets, natural wonders, wildlife (from afar), and all that other pretty stuff that draws us out there to begin with. I've hiked thousands and thousands of miles in almost every corner of this country you can name, and there may be a half dozen stories worth telling where the norm varied to any real degree. Snakes, skunks, scorpions and the occasional bear are bound to present themselves, but if you cautiously ass-u-me ( ) they're around every corner or under every log, and conduct yourself accordingly, that pretty much takes most of the risk factor away. There is always the weather, however . . .

Joe's convinced we're going to have an adventure. And we are - just the good kind! Count on a TR from a couple of perspectives. Since I've not been able to train like I wanted (so far) Joe's TR will probably mostly read, "Hiked a couple of hundred yards, stopped, waited for Gary to catch up. Hiked another couple-hundred yards, stopped, waited for Gary to catch up . . ." Repeat refrain.

I'm still laughing... as apparently you and Aaron are... oh to have been a squirrel in the tree (as opposed to a fly on the wall)....

I never saw the movie, but why does "Caddyshack" come to mind here?

And at half-time, the score is Chipmunk 1, Bulldog34 0...

We'll be back after a word from our sponsors...

Great stories Gary.I am sure that actually being there and being one of the guys makes the bear story even funnier.I have had several hillarious adventures with my buddy that are so funny we literally fall on the ground laughing when we re-tell them to each other. But we get mixed reactions when we tell the stories to others.Something about being there makes it even funnier to the participants.

Rod, there's definitely a you-had-to-be-there aspect to a lot of the story, which is why it needs a good hour of casual drinking time just to construct the framework for the real comedy. Knowing the cast of characters also goes a long way in building appreciation for it - oh my God, does it!

And dare I ask... exactly what the rangers reaction/actions were (other then the aforementioned accusation of fibbing)???

The other campers took understandable exception to a bear being deliberately drawn to the campground, having overheard much of the animated back-and-forth after we returned from our hike.

This story gets better and better with more background details. Love it!!!Thanks Chris for squeezing the story out of Gary.

Oh my gosh! This story just keeps going. I'm sitting here laughing ...again!

...so I have a bear and beer joke. I'll pass it along soon.

Rod.. my pleasure.. believe me... if laughter is truely the best medicine I won't be sick for a very very long time after this story! I was trying to read it to my Momma the other night and couldn't barely talk I was laughing so much...



Ok.. so Gary.. I have this whole mental movie going on in my head narrated in a voice I'm going to assume is yours. You ever think of writing this story down and contributing it to one of those books that collects short stories about dumb stuff that happens in the wilderness??? You could make a fortune... start it out... "So one day.. my friend Aaron and I decided to go on a nice hike. We left Dweedle Dee, Dweedle Dum, and Dweedle Dip (actual names have been changed to protect the identities of the rocket scientests involved) at the campground to fish... Well.. after a nice little walk in the woods we returned to our campsite and OH the mess we found.... "

If you'd like my input... Dweedle Dee should be Jose... Dweedle Dum should be Terry and Dweedle Dip should be Fouad...

Personally Chris, I think of them as Curly, Moe and Larry. We've all been working together for between 20 and 25 years, and we know each other like our favorite books. Aaron, sadly, accepted a transfer to Orlando a few years ago (Happy hiking there, Einstein. How'd that big 100-foot gain day work out for ya? Cumulative, that is.), but the rest of us are still here in the ATL and manage to get together every so often outside of work. No group camping or wilderness trips though - I think we burned most of the available bridges there. Terry still thinks fishing licenses are some wiseguy's form of a practical joke ("What's a brother gotta do to eat, dammit?!"), and to hear him relate his personal philosophy on the difference between whites and blacks - using a valley between two mountain ranges as the exemplary setting - is just side-splitting.

I'll see if I have some photos of these guys to post so you can put faces to names.

You need to have a reunion weekend... and set up video recording equipment. I promise not to show ANY of your wives any details of the "male bonding" experience...


Everytime I think I've heard the last, my co-workers start looking at me like I've gone off the deep end... if I'm not careful the Deputies are going to show up with the love-me jacket in a few minutes here...

In his boxers... up a tree... refusing to come down until blackmailed with his clothing....

And I can TOTALLY picture Terry in a blond wig with a surfboard under his arm wagging his hand in the hang10 sign...


OOOOhhhhh my sides hurt from laughing......

. . . and giving Allah a sharp piece of his mind. To me that was the funniest part.

Well Chris, the will is certainly there but it's physiologically impossible. Hang Nine-and-a-Half is do-able, though. Poor Terry managed to slice off half of his thumb with a mitre saw about a year ago while building some cabinetry in his garage. Like most drama surrounding Terry, this was of his own making. Takes the guy a while to figure out what the hell that object was that came flying out of his last cut, and finally sees his thumb stuck to the ceiling.

Nonplussed, but calm, Terry goes in and tells his wife Amanda, "Hey baby, I know you got stuff to do, but we need to like, go to the hospital." He holds his hand up and she naturally freaks out. A devout power tool aficionado, while Amanda is running around finding purse and car keys, Terry goes back out to the garage and turns off his saw. Even takes the time to put the cover on. He babies his tools, but can the guy remember to maybe take his own damn thumb with him to the hospital? Hell no. Sooooo Terry.

Of course, once they get to the ER the doc wants the thumb for possible re-attachment. Terry has one of those, "I could'a had a V-8!" moments, and calls a buddy, Keith. He calmly explains the situation and asks Keith to run by his house to pick up the thumb and bring it to the hospital. "Seriously?" Keith asks. "You want me to go get your thumb and bring it to you? You're not f@#&ing with me?"

"Yeah dude. The doc like, ya know, needs it. Dude says put it on ice. Can you do it for me dude? I'd be like, ya know, really grateful. Dude, it's worth like, ya know, a 20 year-old bottle of scotch or somethin', OK? Just put the damn thing on ice like the dude said, OK? You're like, da man, dude!"

So Keith retrieves the thumb off the ceiling and finds his way to the hospital ER to deliver it. The problem is that Keith is a Type-A over-achiever. Tell him you need a tree-house built, you'll get a Swiss Family Robinson arboreum. Ask him to chill half a thumb for a 20-minute drive, he'll put the damn thing on dry ice. If you're not aware, dry ice is way colder than ice - at about fifty degrees below zero. But Keith is bound and determined that Terry's thumb is, by God, gonna be nice and cold for the doc-dude. Frozen solid and ruined, as it turns out. No re-attachment for Terry, and no 20 YO scotch for Keith. Terry said the doctor was absolutely incredulous when he opened the cooler (a fish bait cooler, at that - thanks, dude) and found the severed thumb 100% frostbitten on the dry ice.

But hey, that's the kinda crap that seems to only happen to Terry. Sorry to drift so far off topic, Chris, but your "Hang Ten" comment immediately percolated that story up in my memory, and I thought you'd appreciate it. Got to hear Terry tell that for the umpteenth time last week, so it was fresh.

So....Gary, Does it feel kind of weird that you know TWO guys with 9 1/2 digits? Or Two guys with a half a thumb?

I knew that was coming! When we're climbing Whitney, just say "dude" a lot and I'll feel right at home.

I haven't laughed out loud for a while.

Holy Crap Gary... you're killin' me here Dude. I haven't laughed this much in awhile...

When are you and Joe gonna be in the Whitney area? I might just have to make sure DougSr has a couple of nice cold brewskis waiting for you...

"Laughter is the shortest distance between two people" - one of my favorite quotations.

My family and I are in the Mammoth area July 9-14, then down to LP the 14th-17th. Joe and I plan to head up Whitney the 15th and down the 16th (Friday), assuming permits can be had. We have beers reserved at Gary's campsite (+ @ti2d) that Friday afternoon after we come down, and plan to treat a certain Moose to a WPS burger and a beer that same evening if she's not off conquering the state of Nevada, or something similar. Then, long after Joe opens up the bar on his dime, my darling wife will chauffeur my undoubtedly skunked ass down to the Hostel to sleep it off while my daughter chastises me endlessly for drinking too much (I allow myself only a couple of get-hammered nights a year - I suspect 7/16 will be my inaugural for 2010).

Saturday the 17th we're just hangin' out at the Portal to watch and photograph the bears. Joe's bringing the Porterhouse steaks and I'm bringing the beer.

Well... I can't promise I'll be able to drag myself up from SoCal... but I will most definately make arrangements for a couple of drinks on me... I have a couple of connections in the area