A cool and foggy welcome to July
A lone wild sunflower, waiting for all his buddies to come out
(complete)
(pictures and text are unedited)
7/1/00 Another classic morning at Cloudland. There was so much fog that the bears slept in late. As the fog quickly burned off, I found that the sea of wild sunflowers is about to burst open. There are a few groupings right now, but with a bit of sunshine and heat the entire meadow will be yellow.
A number of you have asked questions about Aspen, and caretaking the cabin while we are gone to Colorado for the week. Aspen will be staying at my mom's house, with my old bud Stable the Guard Dog (he is a cocker spaniel, and getting long in the tooth - he is 15). There are also three other dogs there, so the five of them will have a big time all week.
And yes, there will be caretakers staying at the cabin the entire time that we are gone. In fact, that is what we just spent an hour doing - cleaning up the cabin for the caretakers. It will be sad to leave the old place, but I am really looking forward to getting up into the mountains around Ouray in Colorado and spending some time in the high, thin air. No camera. No work of any kind. Just R&R, and LOTS of good food! I take that back, I am taking the little digital snapshot camera, so I may post a picture or two if any turn out. But I won't be leaving the warm bed in our suite at the B&B at 4am to go out to take pictures! Maybe next time.
So this will be the last post until probably July 10th or 11th. It might be interesting to go back and look at the July 1998 and July 1999 posts to see what was going on back then - links are below. Hope you have a grand holiday weekend!
The trip to Colorado was a grand one. Lots of incredible wildflowers, low humidity and cool temps. Oh yea, and we ATE a lot! Since this is a journal of life at Cloudland, I won't get into too many details about the trip. But I will give you a general rundown, and post a number of snapshots from the high country.
7/2/00 After passing through the heat and dullness of Oklahoma, Kansas and eastern Colorado, we arrived in the Rocky Mountains, and stopped for a bite to eat in Idaho Springs. The temp was in the 70's, and quite delightful. From there we drove up the highest paved road in north America, and found ourselves gasping for breath atop 14,000'+ Mount Evans. Like many of the "fourteeners" in Colorado (there are 50+ of them), this one is capped with a pile of rocks. The highway ends at the base of the pile, and the last hundred feet of elevation up through the rockpile is via a wide, crowded trail.
This was only the second fourteener that I had ever been on, and the view was nothing short of spectacular. Coming from near sea level just the day before, the altitude did have an effect on us, but it wasn't all that bad. I was a bit dizzy, and Lisa (who beat me to the top of the peak) wound up with a headache. And just before we made the climb, we were pelted with "snail" - a cross between snow and hail, or snow pellets. The temp was in the upper 30's. It felt WONDERFUL!
We saw a herd of mountain goats, a pika, a marmot, and a stand of bristlecone pines (some of the oldest living things on earth).
And as we wound our way down out of the mountains towards Denver, we stopped by the namesake of Cloudland - the Cloudland Picnic Area. It was many moons ago when I pulled into this little spot to rest and reload during a fierce snow storm. It was sometime in the 1980's, and I had come to Colorado to photograph the incredible aspen groves in the fall. Cloudland. Hum, I filed that name away, and would dig it up soon after I purchased my own bit of heaven many years later. Once again it was storming, only this time it was a cold rain. But I was determined to get a picture of the sign there, and Lucy was willing and even anxious to get out and help.
We spent the night with some dear friends of mine who had recently moved from the wilderness right into the middle of town. They lived in a very nice neighborhood, and I was stunned to see how friendly and hospitable the place actually was. I tend to shy away from big cities - even small ones - and don't like to spend much time in them. But Denver had made a comeback of sorts from the days of horrible air. Still no place for this wild critter, but I did not mind the stop.
7/3/00 It just so happened that one of the largest art fairs in the United States was going on three blocks from my friend's house, so we got up this morning and strolled on over and looked through the exhibits - there were hundreds of them, from all over the place (including one from Fayetteville, Arkansas!). There was some really wild stuff there. But I found myself looking over my shoulder and up into the nearby mountains most of the time.
After we left our friend's house, we stopped by this great store. I can't actually recall the name right now, but they sell a lot of stuff from the old days - new stuff, but of the old designs. Even old time books and candy. I discovered this neat star book there. It goes through and points out the stars and constellations in very simple terms that even someone like me can understand. The perfect book for a new owner of a star-gazing deck.
Then it was back up into the mountains. I had wanted to show Lucy the Durango-Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad, but knew it would be an all-day ride, and didn't really want to take up a while day with it. So we stopped and rode the trail at Silver Plume. It was a much shorter ride, and a lot of fun.
After having our daily ice cream at a shop in Georgetown, we headed up an old dusty road towards a high pass. We found a great campsite along the way, next to a creek, and with a wonderful view of the surrounding mountains. Lucy had only spent the night out a couple of times in her life, so my little two-person backpack tent would be quite an experience for her.
But before dark, we drove on up to the pass, which was above treeline, and afforded one tremendous view of the mountains. As the sun began to drop, the light on the peaks before us turned many colors. I love alpenglow, and this was one textbook display of it.
We opened the front door of the tent and stuck our heads out into the night. The sky was coal black, and there were stars out like you wouldn't believe. I learned from my new star book that a person can only see about two thousand stars at any one time with the naked eye. It did say that it was OK for writers and poets to talk about "millions" of stars though like I often do. That is more of a feeling than actual fact.
7/4/00 The temp was 36 degrees just before sunrise. Our little campsite above 10,000 feet was surrounded by ponderosa pines and aspens, and the thin air smelled great. When I was a kid and mom took me to the grocery store, I used to spend my time doubled over the frozen foods section, sucking in that frigid air. The high country has the same effect on me, only better. I just LOVE to take that mountain air deep into my lungs!
We drove to a nearby trailhead and went on a little hike up through the pines and down in to a basin to a large mountain lake. It felt great to stretch our legs, and our pace was better than it had been up on Mount Evans - we were getting used to the altitude more with each step.
We backtracked down the mountain and into Georgetown, but were literally stopped in our tracks by a parade - the highway was closed off until it was all over. It was amazing to see how many people had crowded into this small town for the parade. Made you feel pretty good about it all.
Next we high-tailed it on over (well, actually under) the Continental Divide, stopped in Frisco for supplies and lunch, then on to Leadville and beyond. We passed the very beginnings of the Arkansas River. This was both a pleasing and disgusting sight. The high peaks there were wonderful - including Mount Arkansas. But it all was soured by the fact that most of the area has been and is being chewed up by one of the largest ore mines in the world. It was quite a horrible sight indeed.
We left the Arkansas River Valley and headed up through Twin Lakes to a campsite at the base of Mount Elbert, the tallest peak in Colorado. I had camped in this area many times, and it is a favorite cross-country ski destination of mine. While we were in an actual forest service campsite, our site was a "walk in" site, and was away and completely out of sight from everyone else. It was right on the river, which was raging and making a lot of noise.
After getting everything all set up, we got back in the car and drove up the winding road to Independence Pass, hoping for another light show. The wind was blowing pretty good, and since there were no picnic tables there, nor were you allowed to get off of the trails and out into the fragile tundra areas, we elected to sit in the car and feast on wine, fresh bread, cheese, and an apple. It wasn't until nearly dark that we realized we were spending Independence Day at Independence Pass (it was named because gold was discovered nearby on a 4th of July back in the 1800's).
There are many magical moments when out in the wilderness, but some are very special indeed. One of those happened this night - not at the pass, but back down at our campsite. It was dark, with only the faint light of the stars and the tiniest sliver of a moon showing through the aspen trees. We managed our way through the darkness and found a spot next to the river of music. I don't know, but it was just one of those times, sitting there in the faint moonlight, surrounded by aspens and pines, sipping on wine, and while the night air was crisp, the warmth of Lucy next to me was wonderful. I can live on moments like this for a long time.
7/5/00 The temp was cool at first light, but up in the 40's, and very tolerable. Our camp was visited a number of times by our own very fat chipmunk, Alvin. He never got into anything though, but did give Lucy a startle once when he climbed up on her back while we were napping. Never seen her move so fast!
One thing that I found odd in Colorado was the wild roses that were everywhere. I mean the very same kind of roses that had been blooming so great back in Arkansas. We had a number of them surrounding our campsite, and they were in full bloom and quite a visual delight.
Today was to be another long day in the car, back down along the Arkansas River Valley, then up and over Cottonwood Pass, through Gunnison, and Montrose, and finally to the little mountain village of Ouray, where we would spend the rest of the week.
When I travel, or stay in the mountains, my normal routine was to camp out - often in the car - but always too cheap to sleep indoors. But this was a genuine vacation for me, and while I do love to camp, I wanted to stay at a nice B&B for a change. We checked into the best one in Ouray - the Damn Yankee Country Inn. And it was a fine place indeed. Rather fancy, with friendly folks, and a terrific view of the mountains surrounding Ouray. For those of you who have never been to Ouray, I highly recommend this town. It is small, with a perfect location right in the San Juan Mountains, with lots of great dining and small shops to visit. It was that great dining that I was most interest in on this trip.
7/6/00 Breakfast was served up on the third floor, in a small room with great views of the mountains. I am not much of a coffee drinker (except, of course, for my mocha), but the coffee there was sooooo good that I had two cups - with lots of real cream.
We decided to go for the best first, so we packed up and headed to the trailhead for Blue Lakes. This area is one of my most favorite spots on earth. The hike up through giant aspens, pines, firs, spruce trees, and open meadows was slow. The wildflowers in the meadows were beautiful. I won't even begin to list all the flowers in bloom, but suffice it to say there was a wildflower explosion going on, with all colors of the rainbow represented.
And speaking of rainbows, there was part of one hanging around Mount Sneffels, which was the highest peak in the area, and the name of the wilderness that we were hiking in. The rainbow "cloud" was very odd - I had never seen anything like it before.
At last we arrived at the lower Blue Lake. Even before we reached it we could see the deep blue color of the water through the trees. This is one magical, special, wonderful, incredible place! Instead of spending our time at the water's edge, we opted to climb even further, and found a spot that looked down on Blue Lake. Our picnic spot was beneath several trees, and surrounded by one of the most amazing meadows of wildflowers on earth.
We munched on wine, fresh bread, cheese, an apple, and a bit of trail mix, then took a quiet nap in the shade. No place on earth like this. I breathed deep, and smiled a lot.
The hot tub at the B&B was out of order, but there was one in our room. We also had a private balcony that looked out over the town, and the surrounding mountains. I must say that I had never stayed in a room like this one before. A suite actually, more than 60 feet long, with a number of open rooms adjoining.
The restaurant we wanted to dine in this evening was booked up a bit, so we made a reservation for later and drove on up to the lookout where you could see the entire town of Ouray. It was quite a sight, and you know that few town views excite me. We dined outside at the restaurant, and it was well worth the wait. We had trout and salmon.
7/7/00 Today was a mixture of shopping and hiking and eating. We drove down to Montrose to visit a wood carver there (hum, could be a new bear in Cloudland's future), had a wonderful lunch at this little cafe in Ridgeway, spent some time in the shops back in Ouray, then finally headed on up into Yankee Boy Basin.
This basin is one of the highlights of Colorado for many summer visitors. It contains one of the highest concentrations of wildflowers there is. You can actually drive up into it, if you have a four-wheel drive vehicle. Even the drive up the narrow, windy dirt road is spectacular - some parts a bit too much for some folks. It is scary here and there, but the waterfalls and other scenes are well worth it. Lots of aspen groves along the way too.
We inched the truck up into the basin just as it began to rain - the first on the trip so far. We sat in the front seat and watched it rain, while playing with the little draw poker machine that Lucy had brought along (she had a six-hour game while we were crossing Kansas on the way out). This little machine is a bit addictive. Just as we came to the end of our competition (we actually tied, but Lucy won the tie breaker), the rain stopped and we got out and wandered around the meadow.
Paintbrush - at least FIVE different shades of them, plus lupine, columbine, bluebells, and on and on and on. Quite literally wildflowers everywhere. I had been here to photograph the display before, but it was as good today as I had ever seen it. Good thing my "real" camera was back at home, so that I could stroll through the flowers and enjoy it all instead of being on my belly working. Yankee Boy Basin - a must stop for anyone visiting Colorado in the summer.
We had an early dinner back in town, shopped a bit more, then hit the hot tub in our room. This would be our last night in Colorado.
7/8/00 It was an early breakfast up in the observation room, then we headed south and drove the "million dollar highway" past Silverton and Durango. Some of the best stands of white-bark aspens line this route. There were also dozens of old Porsches along the way - perhaps a couple of hundred in all. There must have been a rally today.
Our last stop in Colorado was at Mesa Verde. I had never been there before, but had often admired the photographs of the ruins there. The tour of the largest ruin was all booked up (a ticket is required to go the three most popular areas), so we opted to visit one of the lesser ruins, and then hike a long, dusty trail to see some petroglyphs.
It was an easy hike down to the Spruce Tree House, and I found it most interesting. A big crowd there as expected, but it was nice just the same.
Then we headed on out on the trail to the petroglyphs. Hardly anyone on this trail. I was a bit surprised at how much vegetation there was along the way. In fact it was covering the entire mesa. Douglas firs were the largest trees, but there were lots of others too, and plenty of thick brush, and even a bit of poison ivy!
We were following along the trail guide which listed quite a few numbered stops along the way. And we discovered an little area above the trail that had a number of ruins - these were not in the guidebook. Then we made it to the petroglyphs - an entire wall of them. These are small pictures that had been hammered out of the stone (as opposed to being painted on like many historical images). Neat stuff.
Then we turned the truck towards Arkansas and hit the road. It was a long, boring trip back, but we decided to drive on straight through, and made most of New Mexico, Texas, and Oklahoma in the darkness - the best times to see these places! The highlight of the trip was this incredible thunderstorm that we passed through in New Mexico near Ship Rock - tons of lighting bolts, and weird clouds and skies, and a lot of rain. But mostly we just drove on through the night.
7/9/00 After a seventeen hour drive from Mesa Verde (plus an hour for gas stops, and to collect Aspen at my mom's house), we arrived back at Cloudland. Roy and Norma were just leaving - they had been the house sitters all week, and reported no major events (except that the incoming phone line was out all week, so my answering machine did not work).
It was hot and humid, especially when compared to the high altitude thin air of the rocky mountains. Once we got everything unloaded, we hit the sack, and napped on an off the rest of the day. After all, we had been up for more than 30 hours straight, so I figured we deserved a nap or two.
It was one terrific trip. I was glad for Lucy's company. She is mostly a city girl, but did extremely well in the mountains, and can go with me there anytime.
7/10/00 Today was Lucy's birthday, and I brought her a special cake in bed - a pile of trail mix with a candle in the middle! Ha, ha. I think she had seen enough of trail mix. Since she had to get back to work in Little Rock, we had a quick breakfast out on the back deck, then she was off.
The heat and humidity and the pile of stuff that had been unloaded from the truck were too much for me to bear this morning, so I wandered on up to the office. It was hot and humid too. I logged on and found more than a hundred e-mails waiting for me. It would take some time to wade through all of those. Plus I had the journal to write, and all of the digital images to sort through from the trip. But the first order of business was to install the air conditioner that had been sitting in the middle of the warehouse floor for months. I really needed it now.
This is a large air conditioner, but necessary for me office and warehouse. I had built a window just for it, and even wired in a separate plug and breaker for the extra load. The only problem was that the unit was VERY heavy, and tough for one guy like me to handle. But it was hot and humid in the office, and I was the only one around, so I got after it. Dropped it on my little toe first thing. Oops.
But after an hour of struggle, I had successfully moved the big rig into place, and it was humming and pouring out cool air.
I drove up to the mailbox and waited for the mail man, and collected the week's worth of mail that had been collecting in the post office at Pettigrew. I wasn't really in the mood for e-mails and journals and digital pictures and mail, so I ended up spending most of the afternoon napping down in the basement - that is the coolest spot in the cabin.
The cabin remains pretty cool - usually 10-15 degrees cooler than the outside air. But it was very hot outside - in the 90's - so was warming up inside more than I like. I do have central air conditioning, but I hate to use it much. I set it at 77 degrees, which put the basement temp down in the upper 60's, and very nice. There are 14 ceiling fans in the cabin that help out a lot too.
Speaking of electric bills, for some reason they did not get out to read the meter last month, so they did an estimate - this is fine with me, and I often wonder why they don't do that more often. Only problem was that they estimated my usage last month at 1400% more than the previous months. Good grief, that was silly, and I called them up and told them so. No problem, they would change it.
As dark approached, and after a couple hours of office work, I wondered on out into the forest for a short hike. It was actually quite pleasant - there was a nice breeze blowing. There were many birds out singing, although I never got a good look at any of them. After growing up hating summers in Arkansas, I now have learned to appreciate them now, and even look forward to them. You can't get out in the middle of the day and hike around and expect to enjoy it much. But if you pick your times - early and late in the day, and even at night - it can be most enjoyable. One thing that I noticed on my little hike was how "soft" everything was as compared to the harshness of the mountains in Colorado. It does sound funny, but the rocks here are a lot softer than those of Colorado.
Back at the cabin I retreated once again down into the basement to watch a couple of movies. But as I later slipped into the hot tub, I realized that right now was the perfect time to be out hiking in the nighttime - the half-full moon (and growing) provided perfect light for hiking. I was still worn down from the drive home though, so the joys of wandering around in the moonlight would have to wait.
7/11/00 Aspen woke me up early, very early. Clear blue skies and bright sunshine. But a bit of wind too. It was most pleasant outside. The temp was 74. It was 76 in the cabin. Window management is very important at this time of the year. Anytime the outside temp is below that of the cabin, I need the windows open. Once the temp is higher outside, the windows get closed. I probably could just leave the thermostat set and not worry about it, but I do enjoy bringing the wilderness air inside, at least when it is cool enough.
I spent the morning working on the electronic and regular mail, and writing this journal. It will take me the rest of the day to get through it all, but then I will be FREE (to go nap again?)!
It was nearly dark when I emerged from the cave/basement, having spent the last several hours there trying to stay cool and watching the tube. I strolled on out into the forest, then sat down next to a large maple tree to see what nighttime would bring.
Boy, it got LOUD in a hurry! Cicadas, tree frogs, crickets, and no telling what else. They all chimed in and turned up the volume. It was a classic summer eve in the Ozarks. Then a whip-poor-will started yelling.
It never really got dark in the woods tonight. Instead, it seemed to get lighter with each passing minute. Shadows appeared and grew across the forest floor. This seemed rather odd to me until I realized that a nearly 3/4 moon was high overhead - moonlight had replaced the fading light of the sun.
Next we wondered on up to Aspen's meadow, and it was really bright up there. While the sun had set nearly an hour before, the high clouds were full of pink. It must have been one terrific sunset. The new deck remained only 1/3 decked, which reminded me that I really needed to get it finished before the deck boards all warped.
Since the moonlight was so bright, and it was cool out, I decided to continue my little stroll, and headed on over towards the Faddis meadow. The forest was lit up now too, with lightening bugs and moonlight. I've never seen so MANY lightening bugs before!!! I recalled being eight or ten years old and running through a field that was nearly solid lights, collecting them in a mason jar. In the years since the population dwindled quite a bit, but it seems like they are making a comeback these days. Hurrah for the lightening bugs!
It was bright in the Faddis meadow, nearly daylight. I could see Aspen romping around way over on the other side of the meadow. The corn in the garden was getting very tall - over my head now. The bears should be visiting soon.
Everything felt just right, so I continued walking through the moonlight, dressed in only a pair of shorts, t-shirt and tevas with no socks (and no flashlight). Before I knew it I was standing next to the mailbox - after a two mile hike. It was so bright out that I could read the envelopes - got one bill and one check. Hum, I hoped they were at least equal.
There is a long straight tunnel of maple trees along the route, and this was the darkest stretch of the entire hike. Not much moonlight was getting through. But there were a few spots of bright light here and there hitting the dirt road, so it wasn't any trouble to hike along. Aspen spent most of his time out in front, and I could barely see his white fur from time to time.
Towards the end of this dark tunnel area he came to a halt right in the middle of the road. The uttered a deep, guttural growl like I had not heard from him before, and began to back up. Uh oh, something out there in the darkness that he did not like. I froze too, and had chills running up and down my spine. Aspen continued to growl, moving ever so slowly backwards. It was dark enough that I could not really see what was ahead, although I felt like I could see enough to detect movement, and there was none.
The growls and the chills continued, but I really had no choice but to go get on with it and see what was up ahead. If it was indeed a bear like I suspected, it would either run off, or stand his ground. If the later happened, I had no idea what Aspen would do. Gulp.
We both moved on down the road and never saw or heard a thing. I was already soaked through with sweat from the hiking, and the chills made me shiver. I quickened my pace to get out of the area.
There is a large patch of blackberries right next to the road, and it is in an open area and so was lit up pretty good by the moonlight. I knew there were some ripe ones in there, so I decided to see if I could pick a few.
Moonlight is great, but you really can't see color, only shades of grey. I had to get really close to the berries to tell how dark they were - the dark ones being ripe. What I discovered is that not all dark berries were ripe, or rather sweet - ate a couple of sour ones before I figured this out. I found out that the sweet ones were very soft, so I spent ten minutes squeezing berries until I had a hand full of perfect ones. Gulp again, and they were all gone. A simple pleasure, picking blackberries in the moonlight, but one I rather enjoyed.
Beyond the blackberry patch is another tunnel of darkness, only this time it made a couple of turns. I knew the area well, and had no trouble negotiating it. Good thing there were no mud puddles as there usually are in this area, as I'm sure I would have gone right through them in my nearly-bare feet.
Just when I was getting in a groove of hiking through the tunnel something came out of the darkness and slapped my shoulder. The next split second was kind of like they say a car accident is - happening in slow motion. I saw a dark object out of the corner of my eye coming toward me, then it hit my left shoulder, and I could feel the sting of something digging into my flesh. Was it the bear - had he followed me and was now making good on the horror that I had always dreamed about? Or a bat flying in the darkness getting a drink of fresh blood? All I knew was that it hurt.
Well, that second did pass very slowly, but it only took me until the next second to figure out exactly what was going on. I had simply walked right into a wild rose bush that was growing out into the road corridor, and its thorns had dug into my shoulder. Still hurt, but I was greatly relieved!
Out across the Faddis meadow once again. Man, it was BRIGHT. Then we plunged back into the nearly total darkness of the deep woods. It hadn't seemed so dark before, but I guess my eyes needed to get adjusted to it after being in the bright meadow.
One thing for sure was that the lightening bugs were simply everywhere. They hung in mid air like brilliant jewels. I tried to figure out exactly what jewels they were, but could not come up with anything. They were as bright as diamonds for sure, but with a yellow-orange color. I could see into the forest for a long ways, and the jewels extended on forever.
Funny, how I used to be so afraid of the dark. It really is just like the daytime with less light. Now I spend many nights wandering around in the darkness, with no flashlight, no weapon, sometimes not even any shoes. I'm not sure if I am braver than I was as a kid, or just smarter - knowing that there really isn't anything out there to harm me, other than my silly self. Yet I still get a big chill when faced with the uncertainty of SOMETHING unexplained out there in the darkness. I often wonder if I am grown up yet, and adult, a man. Or still just a little kid wearing larger clothes. I guess I am a little of both, and hope to remain there for the rest of my life.
7/12/00 I was up early for a change and out on a little hike. I drifted on down to check on Bob's cabin - no bear activity that I could see. The sun never really came up - it just got lighter. I found a batch of hickory nuts covering the ground, mostly smaller ones, and bright green. Looks like it is going to be a great nut year, just like the flowers, and lightening bugs, and blackberries.
As I was heading back towards the cabin, a shot rang out, then echoed through the wilderness. Not a gun, but lightening. A very sharp crack. Then several large rain drops pelted the trees overhead. Hum, I hadn't thought much about rain, but I guess a layer of clouds is why there was no sunrise. The raindrops stopped, and I continued on.
Another loud crack, a long rumble, then the sky opened up. Oops. I had been caught, and it wouldn't do me any good to run - I was instantly soaked to the bone. At first I did not mind at all - the rain felt great, and the ozone-filled air smelled heavenly. But it began to really pour, and I soon realized that it was a COLD rain, and I was totally unprepared. Oh well, that's what I get for wandering around in the wilderness!
It was almost comical how drenched I really was when I arrived at the cabin. No need for the hot tub or a shower this morning for sure! And if it was possible, Aspen was even wetter than I was. I think both pups really enjoyed the downpour.
Long after dark I ventured out onto the back deck. The moon was shining brightly, lighting up the bank of clouds laying low in the valley below. And directly overhead, a dark thunderstorm was raging. It was very odd - all that moonlight, and then lightening flashes! I sat down and got to watching the fireflies out in the forest, which were really getting after it. Then every time that a lightening bolt would go off, the bugs all would seem to quicken the pace of their own little flashes - like they were energized by the big flash.
Eventually the dark cloud came tumbling down and engulfed the cabin, wiping out the moon. And it began to rain. Before long the moon popped through the clouds again, and the scene got really strange. Try as I might, I could not find a moonbow anywhere.
7/13/00 A heavy cover of fog and clouds this morning - couldn't see out much. It remained warm and muggy, with the humidity above 90%.
I was bound and determined to get some work done on the star deck today, so I hauled all of my equipment up to the meadow and got to work. Boy, some of the wet, treated boards had bowed up like a cork screw - it was going to be really difficult getting them to straighten out as I screwed them down. I should have bit the bullet and stayed with the job until it was complete several weeks ago. But I wimped out.
And speaking of wimping out, I was only able to get TWO rows of boards on before the heat and humidity sent me packing - I just could not take it for long. But I did choose the worst boards of the lot to tackle at the beginning, so there are that many less bad boards to deal with. I find that life goes best sometimes if you take that attitude - do the most difficult stuff first, then the rest of it will be cheesecake.
An absolutely STUNNING sunset today! And when I say sunset I am not necessarily talking about the actual sun itself. More often than not it is the clouds that light up and provide a nice show long after the sun disappears. That was the case today - lots of big puffy white clouds in the western sky that turned the most amazing shades of orange and red. And to top it all off, a giant 3/4 moon danced among more colorful clouds high in the eastern sky. The full moon is coming up on Sunday.
7/14/00 I got up very early today, stumbled down and splashed into the hot tub. When I opened my eyes I found a classic Cloudland morning in front of me - a big fog bank covering the valley below, with the ridges sticking up into the sky. And the rising sun cast a delicate yellow glow on it all. Very nice.
I closed my eyes and lay back into the warm water, the sound of the ozone gas bubbles purifying the water being the only sound that I could hear. It was dead still out, and not a single bug or bird talking. And it was cool - in the upper 60's, so the air felt terrific.
Don't know how long I laid there, but when I opened my eyes again it was an entirely different world - the fog bank had risen, and I was now engulfed in heavy fog. It seemed to get even quieter with this thick blanket of white air. I drifted off again. Life is really tough sometimes out here in the wilderness you know.
But before long I could feel someone watching me. Aspen had long since bounded on down the hillside chasing something or other, so it wasn't him (he will often sit at the corner of the tub and wait for me to come to life). I turned and looked over my shoulder and discovered not one, but hundreds of guys watching me. There were wild sunflowers as far as I could see, all turned and looking right at me. These are not the giant flowerheads that most of us are used to, but wild ones, 2-4 inches in diameter, and they have taken over the meadow below, and now the forest beyond.
OK, I had nothing better to do but sit in the hot water and relax, but for some strange reason I felt compelled to count all of the flowers that I could see. There are three parts of me that are pretty strong - my legs (good thing, since I am a hiker), my jaw (it is often difficult to get me to shut up), and my eyes. I have always been able to read the bottom line on the eye chart (Made In Japan), and even make folks mad when I can read highway signs long before others see the sign Sometimes, just for exercise, I like to give my eyes a good workout. Counting wildflowers seemed like just the ticket.
So I spent the next ten minutes counting. One, two, three, four, well, you know the pattern. One hundred seven, one hundred eight. Three hundred fifteen, three hundred sixteen. Whew, that was a lot! Nope, wait a minute, three hundred seventeen. That was it. I could see three hundred seventeen wild sunflowers in bloom from my seat in the hot tub. A large group of them was covering what is supposed to be the horseshoe pit. I built that pit last summer, but had to quit when I lost one of the shoes in the sea of wildflowers (that I refused to cut down to make way for the game). Then beyond that were dozens of the flowers stretching way out into the forest. I think this flower is normally crowded into open places, but here at Cloudland, they grow in the forest as well. Part of the difficulty of counting the ones way out there in the forest was that after a while, they got really small, which is where my eagle eyes came in. It was great exercise, and time well spent.
"What did you do this morning my dear?" "I counted all the wildflowers in the forest!" Simple minds need simple tasks...
It didn't take long for me to count the real sunflowers in Bob's garden - they were towering over me!
As the hot afternoon drew on, I mounted the bike and rode out to get the mail. I came across a fresh pile of bear scat right in the middle of the road, near the Faddis cabin. Looked like old Mr. Bear had been raiding the blackberry patch. It was a small bear, probably a young male that had been pushed out of the nest by mom and chased out of the territory by a larger male. I wondered if I had walked past him in the dark recently.
It was still very hot after dinner, so I spent some time down in the cave watching one of my favorite movies of all time - Jeriamiah Johnson. Love the scenery (Utah), the acting, and the story in general. It has a note of realness about it.
Just before dark I put on my hiking shoes and headed out to do bear patrol. I wanted to search around and see if this bear was just passing through, or if he was moving in. I got my answer pretty quick. Found another fresh pile of bear scat within 200 yards of the cabin, this time right in the middle of the trail! Same size, and a blackberry turd as before. This explains Aspen's recent fits of late. He has been running out into the woods and barking at the wind a lot, and I suspect this bear is what he has been smelling.
As I passed through the Faddis meadow I found two sets of bear tracks going in opposite directions. Probably the same bear.
Couldn't find any tracks in the garden, so he hasn't been inspecting the corn yet, but I bet he will get to that very soon, as the corn is about to be ripe.
Now my search intensified. My stride was more direct, the eyes peering intently into the shadows, studying each dark movement. And Aspen was into it as well - he was quiet, more serious, and stuck close in front, not wandering off in all directions. He could tell something was up.
No problems at Bob's cabin that I could detect.
We took the connecting lane towards the East meadow. At one point I could see through the forest up to Aspen's meadow. The giant and nearly full moon had risen and was shining brightly in the dark blue sky, right over the Wildman's lodge. All was calm and quiet.
I stepped slowly out into the East meadow, hoping to find a bear there. The grass was so tall that I probably couldn't even have see one if he had been fifty feet in front of me. But I stopped and studied the scene anyway. No sign. No movement.
We continued through the meadow on the road trace that runs along the top of the meadow. It borders the forest and my property. It was beginning to get dark, and while the meadow was still light, the woods were nearly black and quite eerie. My steps were cautious, but my spirit was lively as I really wanted to see a bear. Still, a fear of the unknown hung onto me.
And then it happened. One of the four things that I dreaded most of all out here. Aspen came charging back towards me, barking at the top of his lungs. And within inches of his nose was, was, a SKUNK!!! Falling off of a bluff, bitten by a snake, attacked by a bear, and sprayed by a skunk. The skunk was perhaps what I feared the most, and one mad dude was headed right towards me.
Aspen could not have had his noise in a worse place. There was nothing I could do. Fortunately, the skunk veered off of the trail and went into the woods, so I was spared, but I knew my dog had taken a direct hit, perhaps several.
He quit barking, then emerged from the dark forest and immediately began to dig his nose into the dirt, trying to rub it off. I had to laugh just a little, but I knew better. This ordeal was just beginning. Few things in life stink more than fresh skunk! No odor is harder to get rid of. And I didn't have any tomato juice, which is about the only thing that I knew of to neutralize the stink. All I could do at the moment was wander on and hope that he rubbed a lot of it off. He certainly did try.
We crossed the rest of the meadow and entered the woods following the trail towards the cabin, and then the lights went out - it was pitch black in there. But the air was filled with thousands of lightening bugs, and while they really didn't add enough light to make any difference, their flashes lifted my mood - it was quite an amazing sight to behold.
The trail had grown up a great deal, and I was moving slowly, sometimes having to feel the earth to figure out exactly where the trail was. I could see some, but there was so much ground cover that the trail was mostly obscured.
And then another horror struck. Aspen came running down the hillside and chased a dark object across the trail right in front of me. I could not tell what it was, although I knew it was rather small, and coal black. He was in hot pursuit. Oh my, he had run across a bear cub I thought, and the cub was running to momma, who would in turn soon be paying me a visit. I stood there in the darkness, not knowing if I had seen my last sunset, and held my breath.
Aspen ran in a circle down below, still in hot pursuit of whatever it was. I decided the only thing that I could do was to move away from the area as quickly as possible, so I yelled at him and then trotted on through the woods towards the cabin. One of these days I must carry a flashlight on these nighttime strolls. No, on second though, I probably don't REALLY want to know what is out there!
As my faithful dog came alongside me, he veered away and dug his nose into the dirt again. Had to have been another skunk. Or perhaps even the same one, but it would have had have followed us down into the woods from the meadow, which would have been a bit odd. Of course, running into two skunks in the same hike was very odd - I have only seen one out here before in all of my hikes. Whew, that dog STUNK!
We made it back to the cabin without being eaten by a bear or sprayed by a skunk again. Now I had to come up with a plan. I couldn't let him into the cabin or he would ruin whatever he brushed up against. Skunk stink really is bad, very bad. I though about raiding Bob's garden and trying to come up with enough tomato juice to help, but I really didn't want to ruin that many tomatoes, and they weren't ripe yet anyway. Then I got an idea - the internet!
Sure enough, there are many skunk sites on the internet. I was trying to see if there was anything else that would naturalize the odor besides tomato juice. I learned a lot about skunks, but didn't find anything that I could use. Except for one line - "tomato juice may help out a little, but the only real thing that works is TIME." Oops. Looked like I was going to give the super dog a new name - SKUNK DOG!
So he would have to spend the night outside. No big deal. Although Aspen has never spent the night outside before, so I could tell he was not at all happy about it. OK, so I would set up a bedroll and stay outside with him. After a few minutes of sitting around on the back thinking about it all, and being eaten by tons of noseeums, I realized that I was not in for sleeping on the deck with the heat and all the bugs (some tough mountain huh).
In an attempt to try SOMETHING, I filled up a large tub with hot water and mixed in about half a container of lemon-scented Joy dishwashing liquid. Got him all soaped up, then rinsed off with cold water from the spigot out in front of the cabin. Much to my surprise and delight that actually took care of most of the stench. The basic odor was still there, but at least I could get within a few feet of him and still breathe. A big can of tomato juice is now on my shopping list though.
The next time the super dog runs off into the woods barking at night, I know I will be terrified - not so much of the possibility of a bear attack, but knowing he may bring back another skunk!
7/15/00 Both Aspen and I survived the night under the same roof. While he is mostly odor-free, I can still detect a faint scent of skunk, and have no problem following him through the woods. I have received a number of e-mails and faxes from concerned journal readers - THANKS for all of them! The next time that the superdog gets his nose at the wrong end of a skunk, I will be prepared.
Today was another hot day, with plenty of sunshine and no wind. We made a quick trip on the bike out to gather the mail, then stopped by the Faddis meadow to have a look at the pond there for bear tracks. There were some old ones along the bank, but nothing new. The pond was a nice as I had ever seen it - nearly full with spring-clean clear water. Aspen jumped right on in and swam a couple of laps. I quickly dug out the camera to get him in action, and realized that the disk was back at the office, so I couldn't take any pictures. Since I was standing right in the middle of hot bear country, with no film in my camera, I figured a big bear would stroll right on up any minute and sit down in front of me to pose. That is when things always happen - when there is no film in the camera.
The afternoon burned on, and I thought it was about time to go visit the pool. We have a nice swimming pool out here at Cloudland - as good as any in the country. Only problem is that the pool is at the bottom of the hill - a 700 foot vertical climb back up. No problem - it was hot and I was ready for a dip.
So we loaded up the fanny pack and headed on down the trail towards the river, Aspen in the lead. Once I am out in the woods and all sweaty, I don't really mind the heat all that much. The summertime forest is a wonderful place, lush and thick and GREEN. The only two things that I really don't care for are nats and spider webs. (By the way, since we try to be reasonable people out here at Cloudland, we spell "nats" as "nats" and not the wrong way that most people spell it - "gnats." That is simply a waste of a letter, space on the page and printer toner, not to mention the extra time it takes to type the g. The rest of the world may have lots of gnats, but we have NATS out here at Cloudland!) Both were in ample supply along the trail today, so I was anxious to get to the pool.
Even before I reached the river, I knew the world down there had changed. From the looks of the high water marks from the recent floods, it appeared that the river must have been several hundred feet wide last month at times - I'd never seen flood marks that high here before. Piles of sand and small gravel had been moved around, as had many trees. And the final stretch of trail to the river was completely blocked with debris.
When I stepped out onto the big gravel bar, what I had been looking at from the cabin finally came into crisp focus. There was a brand new island right out in the middle of the river, made of smooth sandstone stones. And the raging waters had dug into the far bank, removing a couple feet of earth and rock, and a number of large trees. A couple of the trees were hanging on by a few roots, but the trunk and top were down in the river.
As I stepped into the first channel of the river I got a bit of a start - the water was COOL, very cool. How could that be - the river was very shallow upstream and I'm sure the sun kept it rather warm. Then I realized that what I was standing in was actually Whitaker Creek and not the Buffalo River. The island out in the middle was a separation between the two. In the past, Whitaker Creek ran directly into the Buffalo at nearly a right angle. But the flood rearranged everything, and now the creek runs alongside the river for a couple hundred feet before coming together. The waters of Whitaker Creek were very cool because they were coming out of the deep forest where the sun hardly penetrates in the summertime, and it is fed by many small springs as well. The Buffalo River side of things was indeed quite warm.
At last we arrived at the head of the swimming hole. It looked marvelous! Deep green, clear water extended on for more than a hundred yards. I couldn't get in fast enough. And the water was simply PERFECT! It was clear, and clean, and most important to me, just the right temperature. I can handle jumping into a frigid pool every now and then, but I don't like to hang out in cold water. My entrance into the pool began one of the finest hours that I had ever spent outdoors.
The water felt great, but when I put on my mask and stuck my head underwater I was stunned. It was like peering into the ocean. The water was SO clear that I could see all the way to the far end of the pool, and across both sides - never been able to do that before. There were rays of sparkling sunlight penetrating the water, going all the way down into the deep pool, and creating moving patterns on the bottom. And there was movement and color everywhere - fish!, and lots of them.
There was an active fish nest just a few feet from where I was standing. I bent down and took a close look. The water was so clear that I could observe just fine from the surface of the water, my head peering down, breathing through the snorkel.
There was one head fish as usual, a large bluegill, and she was defending her nest with a vengeance. There was a swarm of other bluegills all around her, each taking their turn to charge the nest area, and each being shooed away by the mom. And then a large shadow passed over the scene and I nearly peed in my shorts. Aspen swam by - I had completely forgot about him!
This is the very first time that I had gotten to swim with him. He wasn't exactly sure what was going on, since all he could see was my head, and it was a funny-looking one at that, since I had the mask and snorkel on, topped off with my floppy hat (to protect my bald head from the summer sun - I was wearing my shorts and t-shirt too to keep from burning). I diverted my attention away from the fish and played with my swimming dog a while. Springers are very strong swimmers, and in fact have webbed feet to aid in it. But Aspen has never really taken to water like my other springers had, but then this was his first summer, and I know that will change. He looked so funny swimming because his blunt tail stuck straight up out of the water, wagging all the while.
At one point I reached out and pulled him in close and let him rest on my shoulder. He was quite happy sitting there in the middle of the pool on his own private rock. Just when he was beginning to get comfortable though, I slowly sank down into the water, leaving him afloat. You should have seen those webbed feet get going!
I turned and headed into the deep water. My oh my it was incredible! The water was so clear, and warm, and deep, and wide. I swam along the left bank, which was made up of a series of large boulders that extended down into the water - lots of hidden caves and stuff along this edge, where both fish and me like to play. I just couldn't believe that I could see all the way to the other side - some 30 or 40 feet away - and way ahead to a spot where a couple of other boulders blocked the pool. All of this area was 7-8 feet deep, and clear of any debris on the bottom. In fact the bottom was all one smooth, flat rock.
When you swim in a creek like this one with your mask on, you can do so for a long time without ever lifting your head. The rest of the world sort of goes away, and you lose track of time. At least I do.
I was lost in my underwater world when I reached the big boulders out in the middle of the pool. They come up to within a couple feet of the surface, but none sticks out of the water. When I turned around to take a look back towards the beginning of the pool, I discovered that I had been followed. Not by Aspen, but by about fifty fish! I felt like the pied piper. There were several species in the group, all just hanging there at different depths and spread across the pool, looking right at me, waiting for the next instruction. I really didn't know if they were looking to me as some sort of a giant fish god, or they were trying to figure out how they were going to eat me. Either way I felt honored.
Past the submerged boulders the pool bends to the left some, and has always been pretty shallow. But as I swam along the left side I found that the floods had scoured out this end of the pool a great deal, and there was now a deep channel that extended nearly all the way to the far end of the pool. This would give me another 20-30 yards per lap of swimming. But today was mostly just a relaxing dip in the pool and not a workout - those would come later. In the past I have hiked down to the pool nearly every day in late summer, put in a pretty good workout of up to a half mile, then a brisk hike back up the steep hill back to the cabin.
Aspen was following along on top of the boulders on the left bank, trying to figure out what the heck I was up to. He wasn't too sure about this pool.
About half way down the new channel I ran into a smallmouth bass. I swear it looked like he wanted me to follow him, so I did. After a couple minutes of swimming behind him I decided that he simply wanted to give me a tour of the new channel. Even though I got very close to him, he never spooked. And every now and then he would stop, turn around and have a conversation with me. I had no idea what he was saying, but listened as best I could.
While following this fish I noticed his belly was covered with an interesting pattern of black spots. Since he seemed to be quite friendly, I named him. Couldn't think of anything but Spot. Spot the bass. And I got to looking at the patterns and colors on his back, which looked a great deal like the patterns and colors of the rocks and sunlight on the floor of the pool. Pretty darn good camouflage.
When we reached the end of the long pool Spot turned around and swam off in the other direction. I stuck my head out of the water and motioned for Aspen to join me in the shallow water. He was hesitant at first, especially since he could not tell how deep the water was. But soon he jumped right on in, and was splashing through the warm water towards me. I wanted to get him across on the other bank so that he would have an easier time of following me as I swam back up the to the other end of the pool. The other bank was made up of smooth gravel. He got the message, and I turned around and headed back.
Within a few feet a looked over and saw Spot right next to me in about six feet of water. Now he was following me, or actually swimming along with me. Smallmouth bass are normally quite shy, especially when they get as large as this one. He really wasn't a large fish - too small to make much of a meal out of, and I would throw him back if I ever caught him on a fly rod - but he was large enough to be considered a mature bass in my book. Since sizes are so distorted when it comes to fish (just ask any fisherman how big his last catch was!), I won't even attempt to talk about actual size.
Me and Spot wandered on up the coastline underwater, with Aspen close by on the bank. We visited an old fish nest that I had seen last year, and found it active once again. Mom was a very smart fish, and had put her eggs in the gravel under an overhanging rock, thus protecting the nest from circling fish. She was there today, all by herself, with no invaders to deal with. I guess that while she had successfully protected her nest, she didn't really have any of the neighborhood hanging around to talk with. We stopped for a minute, then moved on.
Once again I was startled by the large shadow and then trashing feet of Aspen swimming by. He must have jumped right on in. The water was about six feet deep all along this side of the pool, and with a gravel bottom. He circled me a couple of times, then disappeared. A few minutes later I popped my head out of the water to see where he was and found him on the opposite bank, standing proudly on top one of the giant boulders. Several more times I would see him come swimming by, going from one side of the pool to the other. I think he was beginning top warm up to this playing in the water thing.
Spot and I continued our underwater tour. The next stop was a mound of gravel where there was a lot of activity. There were five fish nests on the crest of this gravel mound. Fish nests are easy to spot in a creek like this one. You see, most of the gravel bottom is covered with a thin film of some sort - just the accumulation of everything that settles to the bottom, including a lot of fish poop I would think. When a fish makes a nest in the gravel, she first goes around and cleans off all the film from the gravel, and then keeps the film off while the eggs are there. So the nest, which is usually a foot or so in diameter, is made up of clean gravel. If you get down real close you can see the tiny fish eggs there, clinging to the clean gravel stones.
I said there were five nests, but only four of them were active. The fifth one had been abandoned and the gravel was beginning to get that film on it again.
But out of the four active nests, I could only detect one momma fish defending her nest. She was a large bluegill, and was busy chasing everyone away. The other three active nests were being raided by the swarm of bluegill and other fish in the area. Then an odd thing happened. Spot took over one nest, and began to guard it, chasing off the other fish. I don't know if this was an instinctive act or if he (or was it a she now?) felt compelled to help out. It was funny to see that smallmouth bass in the middle of all those bluegills.
Aspen came splashing through, and I left the nest area to go play with him some, out in the deeper water. Once he got tired and swam ashore, I floated there awhile and stared down at the bottom of the creek. It was smooth rock - no gravel or boulders. The sunshine beaming through the ripples on the surface of the water created an endless array of patterns on the bottom, and they moved across the smooth rock floor. I was still amazed that the water was so clear that these patterns could make it all the way to the bottom of the eight foot depth of the pool, and that I could see them plain as day. Later in the summer the water will become murky and I won't be able to see the bottom at all.
I swam past an old submerged tree that had been engulfed by the raging river years ago. It has remained firmly attached underwater, and is laying flat up against the side of the east bank. (An editorial note: please forgive my misuse of "lay" and "lie" and their various forms - I have never been able to get that right.) I think it is a sycamore.
As I approached the upper end of the pool - where the river pours over smooth boulders into it - I could see a swarm of fish around another nest. It was sitting in about four feet of water. When I first approached, all I could see were dozens of bluegills, and I could not identify a specific leader or guardian of the nest. These fish were brightly colored, and the clear water and shiny polished stones around the nest created a kaleidoscope of brilliant color in the sunshine. It was a stunning sight of color in motion.
The bluegills had this incredible bright blue color pattern around their gills, kind of like the fire painted on the fronts of some fighter planes and race cars, only blue flames instead of red. I don't recall seeing such intense color on them before.
Spot swam up and got right in the middle of all the bluegills, and then much to my surprise, a second Spot joined him. And then a third. All three were about the same size (probably from the same litter), with similar patterns on their backs. And when I looked closer, I found they all had about the same number of spots on their bellies. I guess that is common with these fish, but I had never noticed it before I saw the original Spot. They did not defend the nest, but rather were just hanging out with all the other fish.
Then the BIG MOMMA swam up. A giant bluegill, twice the size of any other bluegill in the area, and nearly as large as the bass. She immediately took up her spot in the middle of the nest and began to chase away all the other fish. It was clearly her nest. She was huge, but was not as brightly colored as the rest. I guess she had outgrown all of her color in her old age.
But she was one busy momma for sure - and was in constant motion chasing the other fish away. I took a step closer. Then another, until I was about three feet to one side of the action. There were perhaps 40 or 50 bluegills surrounding the nest now, and her job was an impossible one. I could see many bluegills inch their way onto the nest, suck up a few eggs, then dart away. Big momma would turn to pursue, but it was too late.
And then Spot went into action. In fact all three of the bass began to guard the nest. The odds were now a lot better as there were four fish chasing away the intruders. I looked closely - there was no interaction between the big momma bluegill and the bass at all. They basically ignored each other, and continued doing their guarding jobs. It was a very strange, yet harmonious existence, that I was privy to.
One of the bass suddenly swam away from the nest and the swarming bluegills. I turned to watch. He went out into deeper water, then spit out three stones, each a couple inches in diameter. They fell to the bottom of the pool. Then he turned around and returned to the nest. I could only assume that during one of the mini battles to protect the nest he had somehow sucked up the stones. I don't know why he wanted to deposit them out in the middle of the pool.
I went back to watching the show. And what a show it was! In the clear water I could see the color of the backs of the bass - it was deep green with yellow patterns weaving through it. These are often called "brownies" and will look brown from the side, but they had this wonderful color on top. And when they moved just right the bright sunshine turned their lower fins this incredible gold color. The entire scene was like watching jewels tumbling in a bin. I was mesmerized, and hung there quietly in the water, with my head underwater and my toes touching the bottom, breathing out of my snorkel. I must have watched the fish for thirty minutes or longer.
Once when I took my head out of the water to look around, I found Aspen curled up on top of a boulder that was sticking out of the water nearby, and he was sound asleep. I could not think of a more wonderful time that I had ever spent in the wilderness.
While I was looking around, I noticed a bat flying up the river towards me. Bats don't usually fly around during the day, but this guy sure was, snagging little bugs as he flew. He was working the open air above the long pool. He would fly a somewhat regular pattern for a while, going off course to grab a bug here and there. Then he would swoop down and skim the water surface, then pull back up into the air. I wasn't sure if he was snatching a bug there or getting a drink. He did this several times. After he would work his way up to the head of the pool near me, he would gain altitude and fly all the way back to the other end of the pool. Then he would work his way back towards me again. Sometimes he would fly in erratic patterns like bats do, but often he would just float up there, like a butterfly. Just another magical scene in this amazing afternoon.
Before long the shadows cast by the setting sun through the trees moved across the fish nest and much of the dazzling color became subdued. I figured it was time to get out and dry off, so I bid Spot and Spot and Spot good-bye and sloshed on over towards my dog. He rolled over and nearly fell into the water, then got up, stretching and yawning, and began to wag his tail.
All of the stream was in shadow now, but the rocks were still very warm from the hot sunshine. I found a comfortable spot on top of a large boulder and laid down for a makeshift Hot Lava Rock Massage. I didn't get a massage, but the heat penetrated my body and felt great.
I opened my eyes once and found a tree towering over me that was covered with bright red fruit. It looked like a darn Christmas Tree! It was a cucumber Magnolia (cowcumber tree to us locals), and the odd-shaped fruit was turning red, which looked a bit out of place in the sea of green everywhere else. No two individual fruits from this tree ever seem to turn out alike, each taking on a unique shape. Kind of like people.
Cowcumber fruit
Then it was time for "the climb." After spending such a delightful hour or two in the pool, I didn't mind the steep trip back to the cabin at all. And since I had worn all of my clothes in the pool, they were wet anyway, and I never noticed any sweat. But by the time I reached the cabin, I was one pooped little boy. The rocking chair felt great, and so did the cold homemade brew!
I know that I live and work in one of the most beautiful spots on earth, and I will often be so totally consumed with it all that I take everything for granted. But then I have a day like today, a simple swim in the river that turns into one of the golden times of my life. And it washes all of the skunk odor away!
We took a short stroll up to the Faddis meadow after dark in the bright moonlight. No skunks this time.
7/16/00 It was 9am when the phone rang and woke me up. The sun was high in the sky already but I eased into the hot tub anyway to greet the day. While sitting there in the bubbles, Aspen let out a bloodcurdling scream and took off into the woods. He stopped and looked intently into the forest below, barking as loud as he could. Try as I might, I could never locate anything that he might be barking at. This has happened many times lately, and I often wondered if he was smelling or seeing a bear out there somewhere, coming in close for a view.
A few minutes later Aspen came bounding up onto the deck with something in his mouth. He will often do this in the morning, standing there proud as punch at whatever stick or leaf he had collected. But today it wasn't a stick. After I got out and dried off I inspected his catch. It was a pile of dried bear scat. Hum.
I spent most of the morning at the computer, then all afternoon visiting with friends from Fayetteville who had stopped by for a chat. I had wanted to return to the river for another swim, but ran out of time. How could it have been even close to the magic of yesterday?
It wasn't until I had watched a couple of very scary movies that I realized it was the full moon tonight - probably not a good idea to be watching scary movies while the moon rose, especially with all those bears close at hand. It was very hazy and a bit eerie outside in the moon light.
7/17/00 I awoke early today to hazy and cloudy skies. The radio said it was going to be near 100 degrees in town today. Hum, a tad warm for me. I may have to stick around here and stroll on down the mountain later to the river and take another dip.
But first, I wanteed to show you what bear scat looks like, so I gathered up the dried poop that Aspen had brought in and laid it next to the pile that was made up of mostly blackberries. This fresher pile had already begun to break down.
The temp never got above 80 degrees today, and it wasn't much warmer in town - the weather folks missed it big time. A typical day for them. I'm sure everyone was glad for the cooler temps though.
7/18/00 I was up and on the road by 6am today - the best time of the day to be up! It would turn out to be a 16 hour work day, which I really don't mind at all. Only problem was that it was spent away from Cloudland.
After a few meetings in town, I headed down into the Ouachita Mountains. I am updating the Ouachita Trail Guidebook, and need to go take a look at a couple of new trail shelters that the Forest Service has built along the trail recently. These are really nice log shelters, and are located so that you can hike a long stretch of the trail without having to carry a tent.
I have maps that show the new shelters on them, but I never really trust maps, or signs. Constantly finding incorrect information posted is what led me to begin writing guidebooks in the first place. Pretty much everything in my guidebooks was gathered by me, in person. I take along a tape recorder and a measuring wheel. I push the wheel along the trail or route and record the exact distances, as well as interesting things and the actual description of the route, in the tape recorder so that I can't get it wrong. Every now and then I do make a mistake while transcribing or re-typing the info, but I try to make it as accurate as possible.
The radio said that the heat index was 111 degrees when I stopped the truck at the first trailhead. Yikes, that was hot!!! And I had a bit of a hill to climb to get to the first shelter. It is called the Brown Creek Shelter, but it is nearly a mile from the creek. There was water in the creek though, and Aspen was happy to see it.
We left the creek and climbed up the hillside, following the Ouachita Trail. This is one of the oldest hiking trails in Arkansas, and the longest one in the region at 223 miles. You may see this mileage listed as somewhat less, but that is because the Forest Service refuses to recognize the last portion of the trail that goes onto Pinnacle Mountain State Park for some strange reason. And most people who write articles about this and most other trails seldom actually ever visit the area - they merely call up someone and write down what they are told. They usually call the Forest Service, and are given bad information. Oh well, that is the way the system works. Many journalists just don't seem to be concerned with accuracy anymore. I remember talking with a reporter last year from a major national magazine about hiking in the Buffalo River area. He asked me over fifty questions. It turns out that he wrote the entire article from my answers, and never visited Arkansas. The article sounded like he had done all of the hiking, and no resources were listed. And this magazine advertises themselves as being "real people on real adventures." Yea, right. I cancelled my subscription.
OK, back to the trail. We found the shelter just fine. It is located in a wide saddle near the end of a long ridge close to Flatside Pinnacle. These shelters are three sided log structures, with a nice floor, a picnic table and a fire grate. They are just perfect for hikers. This one was the last of nine to be built on the Ouachita Trail by the Forest Service.
Good thing that I went to see this shelter first hand before I put it in the guidebook - the Forest Service had it located on the wrong side of the trail on the map that they sent me. They get their information from GPS data that is plotted on a topo map inside the computer. The shelter location was actually correct on the map, but the Ouachita Trail location was way off, so it showed the shelter on the other side of the trail. Oops. Good thing you will have the guidebook to show you the way.
On the way back down to the truck we stopped at the creek. Aspen did a bit of swimming while I poured cool water over my head over and over again - that felt GREAT!
Next we drove on over to the opposite end of the Flatside Wilderness (no shelters located in the wilderness). This shelter was pretty close by, since the trail follows very near the road through this area. The shelter is located close to where an old fire tower used to be (it was removed many moons ago). We hiked on down to the shelter and got ready for a nap. I wanted to take a digital picture of this shelter and include that picture in the new guidebook as a test to see how good the digital images would look in a guidebook. I want to make sure that the waterfall pictures in that guidebook will turn out OK, and the only way to know for sure is to get a book printed and see what it looks like (once again, I don't trust other folks opinions!). Only problem today was that the sun was shining brightly, and I could not take a good picture in the sunshine - too many shadows and harsh light patterns of the sun shining through the trees.
So I laid out on the picnic table and tried to take a nap. For someone who likes to hang out in 60 degree weather, that was not an easy thing to do. It was still about 98 degrees, but there was a nice breeze. This shelter is located in a beautiful open forest area. And nearby there is a good view to the west, so the sunset during leafoff would be pretty nice. This shelter is located on Oak Mountain, which is also the name of the shelter.
Like many of the other shelters on this trail, there is a notebook inside for hikers to jot down their thoughts. This shelter was built in 1997. There was a note in the book from the Forest Service lady who helped get the shelter built (Robin Vaughn), welcoming hikers to the shelter - a class act I thought. I spent twenty minutes reading the entries of hikers since that time. Many of them were glad to find the shelter, as it was raining on their hike!
After about an hour of waiting, reading, wandering around, and napping, a cloud passed in front of the sun. I jumped into action and managed to get the picture that I wanted before the cloud moved on. Bless that little cloud!
We got back to the truck at 7pm and headed home. It was after 10pm when we rolled into the driveway. After an hour or two of computer work, I called it a day, and slipped into the hot tub. Off to my left a giant orange moon rose above the distant hillside. The moon never looks very good when it is in this phase of getting smaller, but the brilliant orange color made it look pretty nice to me. I enjoyed my little trip to the Ouachitas, but was glad to be home.
7/19/00 Another early start today, but I remained on site all day. It was warm early on, but I spent all morning in the office, working on the guidebook update. I am still here at the computer this afternoon, but not for long. Roy is on his way out, and we are going to try to get some work done on the star-gazing deck. But first, we will be forced to hike down to the river and swim for a few hours - that will feel great.
CHECK BACK LATER - It is the birthday today for one Cloudland resident, and there will be a picture of the birthday boy in his birthday suit posted here!
We had a wonderful swim down at the river, and got to visit some more with Spot and many other fish. The pool was shaded by the time we arrived, so the colors and patterns were not quite as terrific as before, but visibility was still quite spectacular.
The Superdog is one year old today, so I thought that all of you would enjoy a picture of him in his birthday suit, doing what he now admits is one of this favorite pastimes - swimming!
7/20/00 We got up early and found the cabin in a total white out - lots of fog. After we spent a bit of time boxing up books, we got to work on the star deck. The thick cloud cover help keep things cool, but it was 93% humidity. After we got several rows of boards screwed on, a huge black bank of clouds came racing in from the north - I mean at really high speed - and within minutes it was pouring. Just before the rain hit us, the temp dropped about 15 degrees in an instant, which felt terrific. Right now, thanks to the wonders of a backup battery on the computer, I am able to type this - the power has gone off a couple of times as the rain continues.
We made it back up to the deck project after an inch of rain fell - very much needed and welcome rain. The work went fast, and before long we had about 3/4's of the deck board put on. Then the sun came out, the temp soared back up, and I had to go get cleaned up for a program, so we packed it all in. A couple more hours of work and the deck will be usable.
I loaded up the truck and made a quick trip to the Ozark Natural Science Center near Eureka Springs. This is one terrific facility - not only the location, but the dedicated staff that puts in a great deal of work to make it all happen. I gave a presentation to a group of talented high school folks in their Wet and Wild program. The kids had been there for the past two weeks, crawling around in caves, rattlesnake hunting at night, wading in the river collecting bugs, and doing all sorts of neat outdoor education things. Tomorrow they will float the Kings River, but tonight they were forced to sit there and listen to this old man and look at pictures. I would have given anything to have been involved with such a program when I was in high school. A great group of young folks for sure, and it was a treat to meet them.
Dogs are not allowed at the Center, so Aspen had to camp out in the car while I was inside speaking. I heard that he was visited by an entire swarm of girls - lucky dog.
It was very late when I arrived back at Cloudland. After unloading all of my audiovisual equipment, I filled the truck right back up again with power tools and such. I will be leaving out of here at 6am tomorrow to head into town for a day of working on my house there. I am trying to get it fixed up and put on the market to sell. It is a wonderful and unique contemporary house in town, surrounded by woods, with a small creek in the front yard (you have to walk across a 30 foot bridge over the creek to get into the house). This will be the first of several trips to get things in order. Anyone want to buy a house?
By the way, I must tell you about this great birthday card that my Canadian friend sent along via e-mail. It shows a skunk with birthday party attire on, and the greeting HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASPEN. I have tried to post the image here, but so far have had no luck.
And speaking of skunks, I got a fax the other day of a nice article about skunks, but I could not find a remedy in it to get rid of the stink. It turns out that the fax was too dark and covered up all of the vital information. My good friend Nancy from Little Rock had sent the fax - I received the hard copy from her today (along with some terrific Cloudland stationary!). I will be prepared for the next skunk attack!
7/22/00 The cabin was totally engulfed in thick fog at daylight. It remained around long into the morning. I guess it was created from the wonderful rain that we had the day before - about an inch fell, which brought down the temps too.
Leah was out for the weekend, and Roy and Norma showed up about mid-day. Before long we all were headed down the trail to the river. The sun popped out just in time, and while the water was a wee bit cold for my taste, we did have a wonderful swim. Spot was there, along with Spot, and Spot. Not nearly as many other fish though, and most of the fish nests had become inactive.
While I was taking Leah and Norma over to a spot where a large momma bluegill with bright white fin tips was defending her nest, I happened upon a large and ugly cottonmouth snake. He was laying at the edge of the pool on a flat rock, gazing into the water, hoping for a fish to swim by I guess. We swam by instead, and he was not very happy about it. These snakes are the only ones that I would really say are ugly and mean. I have heard that they will go out of their way to get you, and while I'm not sure that is entirely true, I always keep my distance when I can. Nice snake.
Later we all laid out on a rock ourselves while Norma read the New York Times book reviews out loud. It was a most pleasant afternoon in the wilderness. Then we made the steep climb back up to the cabin, which didn't take all that long. The toughest part of the climb for me was being stuck between two wordsmiths. Both Leah and Norma were giving me grief about my spelling here in the journal (in particular "lightning," which I almost always mis-spell).
It was a late dinner of grilled salmon and tuna, plus fresh corn from the garden, and a variety of drink. It really cooled down outside, the stars came out, and everyone went to bed.
7/23/00 It was a nice foggy Sunday morning for all to sleep in. Except for Aspen, of course. He was up at first light, wanting to go out and hunt up a bear, or skunk. A number of birds came out and showed themselves during breakfast out on the back deck. Before we knew it the clock stuck 11am - time to go for a hike!
We took the trail through the forest and past the Faddis cabin, then on down to the Woods cabin, where Roy inspected their CB radio set up. Along the way he and I got into a pitching match with hickory nuts - throwing them at skinny tree trunks out in the distance. It was close for a while, but Roy finally blew past me and won going away.
When we stopped by the Faddis cabin on the way back we discovered a resident there in the middle of breakfast. It was a giant timber rattlesnake, and he was eating a full-grown rabbit, head first. It was both a scary and funny sight - this really large and dangerous rattlesnake right there in front of us, with two fuzzy bunny feet sticking out of his mouth. He didn't seem to notice us at first, but soon snapped to attention and began to rattle. This guy was 42 inches long with eight rattles. It was difficult to figure out how big around he was because that rabbit had enlarged his belly so much. Hum, we paid a little more attention to where we stepped after that.
Later in the night - much later - as I was returning from a going-away party for my good friend Beth Motherwell at Beaver Lake, I stopped at the Faddis meadow and got out of the truck to gaze up awestruck at the INCREDIBLE sky filled with stars! I guess the cold front that had passed through the area had swept the atmosphere clean, and the stars were quite brilliant. It wasn't until I was walking back from the middle of the meadow that I remembered the rattlesnake. Oops, where was that flashlight?
7/24/00 It was a long night for me, as I could not find a comfortable position in bed. I had put a two-inch gash in the side of my leg at the party, and kept rolling over onto it during the night. That was OK, because it was a total white-out once again at daylight, so I rolled over and went back to sleep - yikes, that hurt!
Each and every morning brings a new and wonderful scene out here at Cloudland. My first thought is to grab the digital camera and post something on the web page. But you have seen it so many times before, I don't want to keep repeating the scene. But today while sitting at the map bar munching on my toasted bagel, I just could not resist the view from inside. So here is my postcard to you today:
The fog burned off in a hurry once the sun got up, and it is now a bright sunny day with deep blue skies. The temp was 58 degrees early on, and it feels like a fall day outside. Oh darn, fall in July. Think I will wonder on out and see what the rattlesnake is having today...
7/26/00 A clear, bright and warm day today. Yet the humidity was still very low - about 52% - so it felt great out. Seems like everything is falling apart out here. The hot tub is on the blink. Incoming phone calls don't work half the time. The battery charger on the new power drill that I bought for the deck quit working (which is OK since I ran out of deck boards anyway). The "out" button for the automatic gate no longer works. And my swim mask leaks. When it rains, it pours.
But it wasn't raining today, so after a bit of office work, I went on a bear patrol hike around the property. There continues to be lots of hickory nuts and now walnuts on the ground, including some pretty good sized ones. And some of the poison ivy is turning this brilliant red. I think we are going to have a grand fall color season in the Ozarks!
One thing that I noticed with this bear patrol stuff was that it seemed tougher to have a nice relaxing hike. My mind was focused up close on the trail - watching carefully for any tracks or scat - but also scanning the edge of the woods for any movement or black objects, and also searching in between for sign of recent bear activity like overturned rocks or torn up logs. Man, it was a full time job trying to spot something. And it seems the longer I go without finding anything, the more determined I am to see something.
No fresh tracks in the garden, nor at the pond. Aspen was happy to see the water, and did a lap or two in the cool water.
As the afternoon began to heat up, we biked on out to get the mail, then decided to hike down to the river for a swim. I jogged on down the rocky trail, which seemed easier to negotiate at that speed instead of my usual slow careful steps in the loose rocks.
The river was still cool from the lower temps of late, but warm enough for me to jump in and spend time exploring the swimming hole. It was early enough in the day that sunbeams were hitting the water, lighting everything up.
As I swam along towards the far end, I began to watch my shadow on the smooth rock bottom of the river. There was no wind, and the surface of the water ahead of me was calm. The small wave just ahead of me that I created as I swam was lit up and defined by the sunshine, making this wonderful pattern on the rock bottom. It was kind of like a yellow shock wave out there in front, preceding me everywhere that I swam.
In another part of the pool I took a seat and watched the patterns on the rocks below, slowly moving across the bottom - tiny ripple patterns of gold. I decided to play another eye game. I tried to see if I could match the ripple on the surface with its pattern on the bottom. Try as I might, I was never able to match a single one - the ripples were just too fast and varied for me.
There were a few fish out, but fewer than before. I came across one smallmouth bass that was just hanging there in the water motionless, and in the shadow of the submerged tree trunk. And later, a larger bass, suspended in mid air, staring off into the distance. He didn't notice the strange creature hovering above. That was a beautiful thing to see for some reason - this quiet creature of the deep, motionless, with the ripple patterns moving across the sandy bottom below him.
As I swam back towards the head of the pool I could see a bundle of fish gathered around a fish nest. This was a new nest, and in an unusual location. Most of the nests are located on a level spot, but this one had been dug out of the side of a steep bank, in the middle of six feet of water. I moved in slowly. There didn't seem to be anyone in charge, just a mass of bluegills hanging around with nothing in particular to do. Was this a fish bar?
Then Spot swam up. He always seems to get in the middle of things, and he proceeded right to the center of the nest. But he too just hung out, and didn't bother the other fish. Then another Spot showed up - this was the original Spot (he has brighter colors than the others). The two Spots took over the nest and began to stir things up a bit. And the bluegills began to react, and started attacking the nest, which of course made Spot and Spot more excited. I guess it is all the fish version of a soap opera.
My mask was leaking, so I got out of the water and wandered upstream to see what I could find. Boy, the flood really piled up the stones, and created a very wide bank of them.
The river was wide too, but shallow. I found out that I needed about two feet of water in order to be able to swim without scraping the bottom. Some of the river was that deep, but I often had to get out and walk along the bank, looking for bear tracks as I went. No tracks today.
There was one large flat-topped boulder out in the middle of the river. Right over the edge the water was about six feet deep and clear as a bell. A few out in the river on one side a large pile of stones rose out of the water. It looked like a giant beaver lodge made of the stones, and was nearly five feet tall. Gosh, I wondered how in the world all those rocks got deposited that high up, and in such a pattern. High water does many amazing things.
I am on this fitness kick these days - trying to lose a pound a week. I did OK the first week, but broke even last week. So I was determined to expend a few calories on the hike out, and I hit the steep trail with quick steps. I love pushing myself sometimes, and it felt great today. I was already wet from the swim, so the additional sweat did not bother me at all.
Right in the middle of one of the really steep benches, Aspen let out a wail. This was no ordinary bark - he was concerned about something. So I left my climb and went on down to see what he was up to. We both cautiously creeped through the thick brush, but nothing. He could have run across a bear - or the scent of one - but the brush was just too thick to see very far out ahead. I returned to my climb.
I wondered though, about your heart rate. I know that getting it up high is a good thing - like it was when climbing up this hill. But as we were in the thick brush searching out a possible bear, my darn heart rate was much higher. So was I losing weight from being scared to death?
The rest of the trip was quick and painless, except for all of the heavy breathing. After a shower and dinner of fresh veggies and rice, I spent the rest of the evening out on the back deck, sipping wine, listening to the last of the day birds singing and the first of the night bugs coming out.
7/27/00 It was 3am when I woke up. When I get up this time of the morning I often have trouble going back to sleep. Such was the case today. Yesterday a phone call woke me. The day before it was a loud noise. But I couldn't figure out what had done it today. Of course, I rolled around in bed trying to figure that out.'
About a half hour later I had my answer - it must have been a sudden drop in the barometric pressure. The wind began to howl, and lightning flashes appeared in the dark night (did I spell it right this time?). Rain was on the way! Then I realized that in my attempt to diagnose the hot tub problem, I had left the cover off of the electrical brain. I had no choice but to get up out of bed and go down and put that cover back on.
While I was screwing in the dark, I remembered that the truck was parked up at the office, and the windows were open. Plus I had power tools out on the deck up there - they were under cover, but with the wind blowing, they could still get wet. So I raced off into the night. It wasn't until I was half way up the hill that I realized that I was only wearing boxer shorts and no shirt. No matter - the critters didn't mind, and the cool breeze felt great.
So then I laid awake for a couple of hours waiting for the sound of rain, which never came. Just as I finally dozed off, the alarm went off - time to get up! I was out of mocha and the hot tub didn't work, so my only choice was to drag myself on up the hill to the office and see if I could get some work done before heading into town. For some strange reason, I picked up the digital camera as I walked out the door.
There were a few clouds around, but the sun rose into blue sky - so much for the big storm. Just as I passed the outhouse and got onto the trail up to the office, I heard a loud crash in the brush off to my right. Aspen? Nope - he was off in the opposite direction. More loud crashing. Then Aspen appeared, and this dog was as electrically charged up as I had ever seen him before. Only one thing could have made those crashes. We looked at each other, then ran on around the hillside to see if there was something there.
Wildlife will often follow patterns in their everyday lives, but also when they are spooked. I knew just where to run to get a better look. And within a few seconds, I stopped dead in my tracks. Right on up the hillside above me, about two hundred feet away, was a large male bear on all fours, standing broadside and looking right down at me. Aspen had not spotted him. Then I remembered the camera - I had ACTUALLY brought the camera! But it was dark, and this bear was relatively a long ways off. I zoomed the lens all the way, then steadied myself against a tree, and snapped the shutter - it was a very long exposure, but at least I got it.
Aspen began to move on up the hill, which spooked the bear. His coal black fur turned away and quickly disappeared into the forest. Aspen finally spotted the retreating bear and began to charge, but I yelled at him and much to my great delight, he stopped, turned around and came right back to me (Aspen, not the bear). Thank goodness. Having to deal with a skunk-sprayed pet is one thing, but digging a grave is quite another. Good dog.
This was no doubt the same bear that had been hanging around the area all summer. And perhaps even the same bear that I had seen last summer up close and personal in the Faddis meadow, and the friendly bear that I had gathered hickory nuts with the summer before that. He was a big boy, with small ears, and all that black fur. I know the picture did not come out very well, but it is the first photo of a live bear that I had taken since shooting grizzly bear pictures back in Montana and Alaska in the 1980's.
Normally I would have followed the bear, trying to get a better look and picture. But with Aspen around, I did not want to take any chances. Maybe next time.
After posting the journal to the web, I hustled on back down the hillside towards the cabin - I was late for a meeting in town. My eyes were glued to the forest ahead, searching for any little movement of black. When we passed by the area where I had first heard the bear, Aspen came running up growling. I had never seen him growl like that before. He stepped carefully, and moved towards the open spot where the bear had been. He was a bit braver now than before, and that growl would send anyone fleeing.
We never saw or heard anything else, so I suspect that the bear scent had remained in the air and along the ground, and that is what Aspen was all upset about. He is a stud bear dog now.
It is now about 11pm, and I have just returned from town. I parked at the cabin and hiked the trail through the darkness up to the office to work a little while. It is both pitch black outside and LOUD! The night bugs are going full tilt. Once I get a bit of work completed, I plan to ease on up the hill to the new star-gazing deck and see what I can find high above. This will actually be the first night that I have used the almost-completed deck for real star gazing - the sky is absolutely perfect tonight - dark with no moon, and crystal clear skies. Hum, I wonder if that old bear is up there too? Yep, I might have to sick the super-stud-bear dog on him.
7/28/00 I was blasted awake from my afternoon nap by not one but two large beasts charging towards me - HC-130 Air Force planes flying low and right over the cabin. These are the big dudes with four props and that huge tail sticking up. Made a lot of noise.
Two beautiful maidens had spent all morning scrubbing the cabin clean inside, and the floors shined. This is one civil indulgence that I allow myself every month.
It was growing warm outside, and after a bike ride to the mailbox, and a swim in the pond for Aspen, we took off towards the river. A group of folks had already been down and back up the trail today, and all of the spider webs had been cleared out.
As I got to the bottom of one bench I found Aspen off to one side digging his face into the forest floor. It appeared that he had been stung or bitten by something. I looked around but could not locate a snake, and hoped it was only a bee. He was a bit tentative after that.
The sparkling waters looked like liquid gems. But it was a chilly gem, even though the sun was out and it was in the low 80's. I brought down a couple of new masks to try out. One was just right, but the other distorted the scene a bit. Not too many fish today, and all of the nests were inactive. All except for one at the far end that was being guarded by the large perch that has bright white fins. This is the most protected nest in the river, tucked way back under the bank, and flanked by two boulders. I have seen this same fish and nest for three summers now. The poor mother fish. I really don't think that she has too much business normally. But every time that I swim up, I bring a whole herd of fish with me, and they all converge on her nest.
Aspen came swimming over to me once and stood on top a large rock that was all underwater, but almost sticking out of the water. Poor little guy. His right eye was almost swelled shut. He wanted my sympathy, and he got it. I paid close attention to his tail after that - to make sure that it was still wagging - that meant that he was OK.
After the swim I laid out on a large hot rock next to the moving part of the river. The heat of the rock penetrated my chilled body all the way to my bones and felt great. And the music of the river sent me off into the world of my mind. Some time later I was awakened by the shaking of a wet dog, his eye in better shape now.
Then we made the steep trip back up to the cabin at full bore - that felt terrific! I love to lean into the hill and sweat. And once on top, I turned on my new deck fan, stripped down to next to nothing, laid back in the porch swing, and let the afternoon march on without me. Aspen retreated to the cool of the concrete floor in the basement.
I spent the evening down in the cool basement, watching When Harry Met Sally and chomping on salad (with a Reeses peanut butter cup or two on the side just for good measure). Aspen's eye was back to normal, but he was sticking close by. I peeked out the back door and didn't see any stars. Hum, it felt like a good time for a hike.
As I made my way up towards the office in the darkness, it began to rain. The softness of the raindrops on the forest floor combined with the harsh music of the night bugs to create a wilderness symphony. I am sitting here at the computer now with all of the windows open. I wonder if Mr. Bear is out there somewhere, looking in on me and my work?
There will be no journal in August - the regular posts will resume again in September.
.
May 1998 Journal | June 1998 Journal | July 1998 Journal | August 1998 Journal | September 1998 Journal |
October 1998 Journal | November 1998 Journal | December 1998 Journal | January 1999 Journal | February 1999 Journal | March 1999 Journal | April 1999 Journal | May 1999 Journal | June 1999 Journal | July 1999 Journal | August 1999 Journal | September 1999 Journal | October 1999 Journal | November 1999 Journal | December 1999 Journal | January 2000 Journal | February 2000 Journal | March 2000 Journal | April 2000 Journal | May 2000 Journal | June 2000 Journal | September 2000 Journal
Cloudland Home Page | Cloudland Pictures Page | Cloudland Comments Page | Cloudland Recipe Page | Tim Ernst Home Page
E-mail Tim Ernst
Copyright 2000, Wilderness Visions Press
This page is courtesy of Arkansas USA, The Net Connection