Saturday, July
13, 2013
The drive took
me back down I90 past the Little Bighorn Memorial, so I stopped off again to
walk Last Stand Hill, which we had not done the day before when I visited with
Mike and Katie. It’s a remarkable site,
in that it just begins to touch on the magnitude of the tragedy that was
perpetrated on the native American peoples.
The site appears to be slowly becoming more of a recognition of its role
as a victory for the native peoples’ within the overwhelming destruction of their
lands and culture during the nineteenth century. The grounds are dotted with the small stones
for soldiers who were killed there, marked with the simple phrase, “____ fell
here,” and a date. The markers for the
Cheyenne warriors who were killed include the phrase, “defending the Cheyenne
way of life.” It’s a powerful and simple
acknowledgement of the state of mind of the native peoples who were engaged in
violent conflict with the army and settlers of the west. Somehow, because their societies were not
constructed around the kinds of formalized, written, constitutional governments
of the European intruders, we are agonizingly slow to recognize their
fundamental right to the resources of this land. A century and a half later it is hard to find
a suitable path to compensation given that we have already seized, used, and
deeply assimilated all the best lands and resources into our own culture.
My goal was to
find Circle Lake Campground, which I had read was a wonderful camping spot in
the Bighorn National Forest. I stopped
in Ranchester hoping to get a map and some bear spray, and found a charming
little welcome center and an outfitter, but both were closed at 10AM on a
Saturday. So…on to Buffalo, where I
found the Wyoming Welcome Center to be very helpful, though lacking a map of
the Big Horn National Forest that showed the campgrounds. I was directed to a local outfitter and
headed into town.
The Rocky
Mountain Discount Outfitter is a plain rectangle of supplies sharing a building
with the local Dollar Store. When you
walk in, the first thing you see is the long wall on your left which is covered
in rifles. Every kind of rifle; from
little tiny pink rifles for cousin Suzie as well as a large utilitarian unit
that looks like it comes from one of the Die Hard movies. On the other side of a row of low shelves
covered in ammunition and gun accessories is a display case with an equal
number of handguns. I walked gingerly
through this display to find a smaller section in the back of the store with
camping and hiking gear. The other half
of the store, which mirrored the gun section, contained gear for bow hunting
and fishing.
After finding
some propane and determining that there was not an affordable attachment for a
water bottle that I could put on my belt, I was directed to the maps and found
a good map of the Big Horn and asked at the counter about fishing. I decided to purchase a one day fishing
license that is good on Sunday (tomorrow) and before finishing I approached the
rack of bear sprays.
I circled the
rack for a while without much success in determining what made the most
sense. There were options ranging from a
five dollar personal pepper spray canister about the size of a roll of pennies,
to a fifty-five dollar canister advertising top notch bear protection in a can
about the size of a can of tennis balls.
There was also a thirty-three dollar option that also indicated it was
for bears and of which they had the largest quantity on display. It didn’t seem like the right time to be
cheap. On the other hand, bear spray isn’t
to be used until all other strategies have failed and bear has moved
aggressively to within twenty or thirty feet of you. They are likely to be moving fast. At that point, does it really matter which
bear spray I’ve got? Will any of them
really make a difference? Aren’t I
pretty much fucked at that point? I
gathered a seasoned looking employee to me and took him by the shoulder. “What do you get when you spend more on bear
spray?” I asked. He walked me over to
the rack and began discussing the various features that one could find
described in the fine print on the packages.
I noted that he was not looking at or indicating any of the less
expensive options. “What would you take
if you were out in the wilderness?” I asked.
“Well,” he says, “I guess I’d like to have the best spray I could.” Seemed like good advice so I took the
thirty-three dollar can (I don’t think I could have reasonably had the bigger
one with me when hiking) and figured it was a kind of insurance policy. Pay the piper and on my way.
I have a couple
of spots on my arms that are red and swollen, could be from deer flies or maybe
spider bites from sleeping in the Yurt or the cabin’s bunkhouse? Anyway, I took an antihistamine and that
seems to be helping. As I drove up into
the mountains out of Buffalo the elevation rose quickly and I reached the turn
off for Circle Park Campground quicker than I had anticipated. I drove back into the campground and there
were a couple of open sites, but there was no lake and I was interested in
being closer to water. I drove back out
to the road and continued on to the South Fork campsite, which is situated on
the south fork of Clear Creek. The creek
floes into Tie Hack Reservoir and there were some lovely walk in sites within
site and sound of the rapidly running creek.
I dropped my bag on the picnic table and spent a little time setting up
camp, including the first use of my new one man tent. It was easy to set up, so we’ll see how it
works later tonight.
After setting
up, I reorganized the backpacks so that the smaller pack contained my camera,
water bottle, swimsuit and towel. With
hiking poles (actually my ski poles, but they do good service as hiking poles)
in hand, I followed the trail out of the East end of the campsite and headed
for Tie Hack Reservoir, which Pat, the campground host, had confidently told me
was about a mile and a half down stream.
The trail was easy to follow for a good long distance, wandering along
near the creek and revealing some great deadfall that I planned to snag on my
way back so that I had some smaller kindling and wood for the evening
fire. The trail mostly made itself
known, though at times deadfall would cause detours that were largely minor. Before long the reservoir came in sight, and
at that point the industry of the local beaver population started to make the
trail considerably less apparent. In
addition, as I reached the reservoir proper, I found that the terrain on both
sides of the bay into which the creek emptied rose steeply away from the
water. On the far side, there was a
cleared space below a steep rock face that had a path on it which was being
used by two guys who were fishing from the bank. A bit further up that shore the ground sloped
more gently away up the hill to woods which I assumed bordered the Tie Hack
campground area. There were two guys on
the water in a canoe, and they were fly fishing to apparently no real
purpose. On my side of the water the
hillside was covered with large pines and outcropping of rocks. The beavers had been very busy and I
discovered a large beaver den not far down the shore. There was also a steep ravine coming down to
the water at about
that same point. The
bay appeared to open up to a larger section of the reservoir and I was curious
if there was a developed spot where I might put my swimsuit on and go for a
dip. The going was difficult, and pretty
soon I could see the larger section of the water with a dam off around the
curving shore across the bay to the left.
In any event, there was nowhere to go, so I had some water, took a few
pictures, and determined to begin the return journey.
The terrain here
is rocky with a decent layer of sandy soil.
The trees appear to be two types of pines, one with short needles and
the other with longer needles. The long
needled trees only have needles in the upper reaches as they get older and
taller. I seem to remember these are
white pines, the short needled trees look like scotch pine. In any event, I took pictures and I’ll check
later. There also is a variety of aspen
or birch but there are relatively few of these.
I saw a snake, a rabbit and one deer who saw me before I saw him, so I
couldn’t get close enough to get a picture.
No bear.
For the return
hike I endeavored to make my way up the hill above the lake, figuring that if I
stayed high I could avoid the worst of the beaver construction zones, which
were really quite maddening in their capacity to require detours and create
traffic jams. I also figured that if I
went high enough, the ravine might be shallower and it would be easier to get
back to the creek. So I did just that
and sure enough before long I found myself walking along the ravine as it
became gentler and kinder. I found a
good spot to begin crossing the ravine and was about to shift my direction to
more directly head for the creek when I realized that the rock formation in
front of me appeared to be quite scalable and might afford a great view of the
reservoir. I am not by nature a daring person,
I hate heights, and I am in horrible physical condition…so up I went.
Then back down
the rocks and by following the high ground above the rocky peak I was soon
above the creek and working my way down and back upstream to the
campground. The trail presented itself
again, I snagged some deadfall for my evening fire, and am now comfortably back
in camp about to start dinner. While
there are mosquitoes and deer flies here, they are sparse and not terribly
aggressive. Anyone from Minnesota would
barely notice them.
Time to eat,
read and wait for dark to settle in for sleep.
If I can keep finding campsites by rapidly rushing streams I’ll never
miss my white noise box.
Monday Morning
Sunday was a
quiet day. I didn’t sleep all that well
Saturday night, so I was tired. The
first night in the tent is usually a time when I sleep more fitfully. Also, the lightweight sleeping bag I have
doesn’t seem to be working out very well.
It’s not very warm in the cold nights at high elevations, and it’s a bit
binding as it tapers quite a bit. I have
a heavier bag that Katie had been using, so I used that last night to much
better effect. The campsite was full
Saturday night and at one point when I was putting away some gear in the car an
older couple from Minnesota drove into the campground and asked if there were
spots open in the walk-in area where I was camping. There weren’t but I offered them the option
of using my site and they decided to take it.
Dick and Susan are from the cities and were on their way to Jackson, WY,
for a week’s stay in a Teton Treehouse.
Sounds like a blast. In any event,
they were pleasant companions and
covered part of the camping fee.
I woke up early
Sunday intending to hit the road right away to do some fishing. By 6:30 I was headed back into Buffalo to get
some worms and enjoy a few moments of cell phone connectivity…pause by the side
of the road and reply to emails…then back into the Bighorns in search of
fishing holes. There is lots of water
here, and I’m sure that if a person knew what they were doing they could catch
some fish, but I was not particularly lucky.
I headed down the Crazy Woman Creek Canyon as I had been told that this
was a popular spot for fishing. The
creek was never more than fifteen feet wide or so, but at one point there was a
bit of a pool which I fished for a bit.
I caught a little trout on the first cast, but he was quite small and I
released him. That was the last bite I
would have.
While the
fishing was sub-par, the canyon was extraordinary. At first wide and meadowed, the terrain
quickly narrows and the canyon walls close in over head little by little. The one lane gravel road drops precipitously
at times and I was wondering if my little Prius would have the juice to come
back up the hill after I turned around.
The road runs for about five miles before it hits the edge of the national
forest, at which point private lands with little shacks start to appear. There are two one lane bridges in the
descent. About a mile in, people were
camping in distributed campsites (no fire pit or table, just a place to park)
and by about the second mile the road was hugging the creek because there
wasn’t
anywhere else to put it. The
final mile of the forestry area is a canyon so steep and so narrow that it’s
hard to believe they have a road there.
In the spring it must be underwater as the spring melt would fill the
canyon. Driving it in my Prius was a bit
like arriving at a monster truck rally in a pink golf cart. I felt out of place and had legitimate
concerns about my ability to clear the rocks thrusting up through the gravel of
the narrow road. I stopped a few times
to enjoy the creek and fished the one time, and when the national forest ended
I turned around for the journey back to the top. As I hit the steeper sections, the loose
gravel under my wheels slipped and the cars warning light for lost traction
kept appearing…a little gas and we continued to make headway, though a few
times I had some lateral drift that was a bit unnerving. About three and half miles from the top was a
camping site that looked particularly appealing, so I am going to see if I
might head back there for Monday night.
It’s above the worst of the steep and winding section, so the drive in
and out is tight but not unreasonable.
After leaving
the creek I could see from the map that there was a section of the southwest
area of the forest that had a number of fishing spots, so I headed that
way. It didn’t take long. The south end of the Bighorn is not that
large and its easy to move from area to area.
I drove by Meadowlark Lake and fished from the shore for a bit, then ran
up towards Tensleep creek hoping to have better luck. I did find a nice section of pooled water
that I fished for a time until an older campground host hiked out and harassed
me about having parked in a campsite. He
was funny since rather than open up by saying that I can’t park in the campsite
unless I’m staying in it, he said, “You need to pay $8 for the campsite,” and
then started explaining how you paid the camping fee with the envelope and the
pay box. I just agreed with him and
continued to chat about this and that as we walked back. The whole area is covered by these blue
(purple?) flowers, so I asked him what they were. “I’m not a flower guy,” he says. Hmmm…
I was ready to leave anyway. The
water was so clear that I could see the fish, or lack thereof. There were a number of smaller fish, but
nothing of any size appeared.
By now it was
approaching lunch time so I decided to drive down the Tensleep Canyon and grab
a sandwich in Tensleep. The canyon was
dramatic, with enormous cliffs climbing hundreds of feet on either side of the
winding creek and while it was considerably wider than Crazy Woman Creek
Canyon, it was also grandly statuesque in scale. Tensleep turned out to be large enough to
have a few bars and I had a burger at a bar while listening to two old rednecks
move through a litany of racist musings.
Fox news was on the tv over the bar, and I was once again reminded of
the article I had read that cited a survey of some sort which indicated that
Fox news viewers were less informed than folks who don’t watch the news at
all. As they did not include me in their
conversation, it didn’t seem the right time to offer alternative viewpoints.
I am struck by
the way the people are creatures of their environments. Live in a small town in Wyoming and watch Fox
news, and it would be hard to believe anything other than what these two guys
were espousing. Send them to college and
put NPR in their dorm rooms, and what appears on the other end is something
entirely different. It has nothing to do
with how generous or tolerant they might be as individuals. Either one of these guys might be incredibly
tolerant and supportive of an offbeat relative or friend, but they live their
lives in an environment that has, over time and for possibly good reason,
developed a ethos which values the practice of constructing the rest of the
world as other as a means to protect the immediate community. I have had the privilege of living in a space
that values other as a part of self.
Yet, I can see that my ethos struggles to respond in the face of
organized evil such as sometimes plays itself out when a oppressive leader is
abusing their neighbors or their own people.
These two guys would have no problem dealing with that situation…they
would find the biggest gun and wipe the bad guy off the face of the earth. There are bad guys. Even though I believe that evil can be traced
to some kind of illness or personal need (in a book I’m reading right now a
wise man opines, “show me someone who needs to be noticed and I’ll show you
trouble”) it also seems to me that there are times when evil needs to be met
with force.
Anyway…at first
I continued west out of Tensleep, thinking to head north and check out the
north end of the Bighorns. The terrain
immediately turned into the beautiful, yet hostile and barren, environment that
Dad and I had experienced earlier in the trip.
Realizing that I would be in this for fifty or sixty miles, and not
really being in the mood, I turned around and drove back up the canyon.
It had been
overcast when I got up that morning, but it cleared off by noon and was
beautiful all afternoon. Around five, as
I was starting to think about making some dinner, it clouded up again and then
my preparations were interrupted by a couple of short rain showers. Apparently when it rains at 8,000 feet, it
also hails…or its common anyway since the odd host from earlier in the day had
mentioned hail falling the week before. Fortunately,
I had the tent set up and my sleeping gear inside, so it was easy to throw the
lid on the cooking gear and duck into the car to wait out the rain. The rain did have the salutary effect of
chasing away the various picnickers who had been wandering the area, leaving it
to just a small group of young folks and myself. The young’uns (it seems so weird to write
that, but it is actually accurate as I am clearly about thirty years their
senior) snagged a couple of sites out of site and a ways from me where I could
sometimes hear them but couldn’t see them.
I was a little concerned that they were out for a party experience, as
one of them opened a beer immediately upon exiting his truck and had a beer in
hand every time he wandered by, but they were quiet neighbors and seemed to be
doing just what I was doing, enjoying the forest. After the rain passed it cleared off
completely and it the sky was a brilliant blue as the sun set over the
lake. Lovely.
So, it’s mostly
clear this morning, with a few clouds wandering by. I slept late (a bit past seven!) and am
sitting here drinking my coffee and enjoying a small fire from the remains of
my deadfall scavenging last night. I am
tempted to drive up and scout out the north end of the Bighorn, but I also want
to hike up toward the wilderness area below Cloud Peak and tonight I would like
to stay in Crazy Women Creek Canyon in the spot I had scouted out yesterday. So we’ll see.
It’s still early, so if I get my hike done before noon, I might do all
three things.
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