Loud Silence

No BearCows to join me last night.  They were out there, but not sleeping on top of me like they were last time.  It was a very restful night for me, actually.

After a thunderstorm had passed, complete with plenty of rain and hail, I was able to build a fire from some damp wood and a candle.  The sun set quickly, and as I settled into my warm tent I listened to my fire fall asleep with soft crackles.

Eventually, silence.

I fell asleep quickly and only woke up a few times during the night.  When you're surrounded by such a deep silence, the slightest sound amplifies tenfold.

The creaking of a tree was the only sound to stir me out of slumber.  A brief pause in my sleep, not a disturbance.  The tree and the wind finished their duet and silence began to play again.

Loud silence until morning.

LaSal Again

Camping in the La Sal Mountains again. This time at Geyser Pass.

Cool air.
Rain.
Thunder.
Lightning.
And hail.

Beautiful.

The BearCow

Watch the video introduction before further reading...

[and crank up that volume]



This was actually my first time camping solo, and I'm so glad it finally happened. The La Sal Mountains are beautiful and provide a refreshing place to escape from the hot desert down below. But here's the lesson I learned on this solo trip:

Trust, and do not panic.

As you may have noticed in the video, I was accompanied by some sort of large animal throughout the night. For the first six hours of darkness I was kept awake by approaching sounds: branches snapping, heavy breathing, snorts, growls, rumbles, sneezes, footsteps and some other noises I can't even classify.

Earlier I had heard the cow. A large bull, to be more specific. I had never heard an animal, let alone a cow, make that sort of sound before. Very weird. Somewhat terrifying.

I knew it was the bull in the beginning. I saw him approaching and he was making typical bull moans and groans. I was just a little paranoid that he would get startled and maybe trample my little tent with me inside. I kept yelling and blowing my whistle (feeling like a lame little boy) to scare him off. Eventually (and by eventually, I mean several hours later) he sauntered off and I slept for about an hour.

Then I heard it.

The distinct sound I often work so hard to imitate in order to scare my friends.

Bear.

I sat up in my sleeping bag and strained my ears. Maybe it was just the lonely bull again, coming back for a midnight story from the boyscout he met earlier. I kept listening.

No moaning. No groaning. Just heavy breathing with a few snorts mixed in.

BEAR.

I began yelling. "GET OUTTA HERE! GO!" *whistle blow* "GO AWAY BEARRGH!"

My voice began to waiver, because this guy wasn't leaving.

I begin to pray (Why don't we do this at first? I'm often guilty of waiting until a desperate moment to call upon my Creator). I pray for the thing to go away. To leave me alone. Lord, give me peace. Keep me safe.

The heavy breathing continues, and it sounds closer than before. I can't see him but it sounds like he's moving towards the car.

Where the food is.

"GET OUT OF HERE BEAR!!"

I set off the panic alarm to my car.

Panic.

What am I doing? I can't even see what it is. I haven't even looked. I'm basically hiding in my tent, unwilling to see what is really out there.

My shaky hand grabs my light and begins to unzip my shelter. I peer out into the dark night and see nothing.

Nothing but stars. The sky is full of them. More stars than I have ever seen in my life.

Two stars are staring at me from the bushes.

Twinkling. Blinking. The head turns and lets out a long, deep sigh.

The bull.

Asleep in the bushes. Snoring. The poor guy is just trying to sleep, while I'm honking my horn, blowing my whistle and yelling for my life.

Relief pours over me, and I realize my lesson for the day.

Trust.

Why did I abandon the idea of my prayers being answered? I prayed for peace and for protection.

A snoring cow. Hm, looks pretty peaceful to me.

I feel like an idiot (and still do, kinda), but that doesn't matter because I look up at the sky again.

The most awesome sky I have ever seen.

Thank you, Lord. And thank you, BearCow for helping me learn that lesson.

You don't need to push that panic button.

Psalm 19:1-4

"The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they reveal knowledge.
They have no speech, they use no words;
no sound is heard from them.
Yet their voicet goes out into all the earth,
their words to the ends of the world.
In the heavens God has pitched a tent for the sun."

Of Mice Chipmunks and Men

The Hopi Chipmunk.

These little guys are everywhere; this particular one was found at Partition Arch. He approached us as we were taking a break in the cool shade. He, no doubt, could recognize the sight of hikers pulling out lunch sacks and sandwiches, as he quickly began to move in closer and closer to where we were sitting for our lunch break. At one point, I literally could have reached out and handed him a piece of granola bar. Tempting, but illegal.

This is a common regulation posted in National Parks. The animals need to be able to feed themselves, otherwise they will become dependent upon humans for handouts and could harm their natural way of life (or in the case of bears and other large animals, could present danger to humans).

After realizing that the intern drive-thru was closed, the little Hopi chipmunk scampered over to some European tourists and started looking as cute as ever. Sure enough, the family dug out some Funyuns and began holding little pieces out in the palm of their hand. Drive-thru now open, would you like fries with that?

Not being on duty or in uniform, we couldn't exactly tell them to stop, but we could still voice our concern as fellow lovers of the park. We donned our packs and gently walked over to the feeding session, harmlessly scaring off the chipmunk, and with smiles on our faces said, "Hey, that doesn't look like chipmunk food!"

They managed a brief chuckle, and as soon as we passed by, the Funyun hand stretched out once again.

I wished them luck, knowing that we also have bears and mountain lions in the area.

Survival

It's hot.

I don't know if it's actually the heat or just the constant and direct sunlight that's making me as lethargic as I am. The eight hour geology lesson may have also had something to do with it.

I'm drinking lots of water (you kinda have to in the desert) and eating lots of granola bars (thank you, Chris Benson).

So far, the desert is more appealing to me in early morning and late afternoon/evening. But no matter what time of day I'm out, I'm constantly being reminded of how so many plants and animals are able to survive in this harsh environment.

For example, the Utah Juniper tree can live for hundreds of years in the desert. Hundreds of years! It will make use of the water it receives by shooting its roots deep into the cracks of rocks and crevices, collecting water that sometimes gets trapped long after rainfall. When that isn't enough, the tree will decide to "cut off" one of its limbs by restricting water flow to that limb. That branch's water valve is closed off, but the tree as a whole continues living.

It's like if you decided to cut off your arm so that you could survive. The Aron Ralston tree.

Survival.

Looking out from Grand View Point in Canyonlands National Park.

Exploring Devil's Garden

Went hiking yesterday through an area of the park called Devil's Garden, passing several different arches including Landscape and Double O Arch. Hiking at sunset is definitely the way to go right now. Cool and absolutely beautiful. Both my hikes the past two nights have resulted in me walking a couple miles back in the dark, with only the moon and my occasional headlamp to guide me. I love it.

Shortly after sunset.

Arrival at Arches

As I'm posting this, Delicate Arch stands before me. The wonders of technology (specifically the iPhone) are enabling me to update on location, since I realized today that I have no internet in my new house. Therefore, most of my updates will be coming from my phone, I feel.

I'm currently waiting for the sun to set, and from where I sit I can see several other arches off in the distance. There's also some tourist posing beneath the arch pretending to meditate. It's come to my attention that nobody is even photographing him (and yet, everybody is whether they like it or not).

I'll try to post another photo at sunset (with or without tourist Ghandi).

Almost to Arches

Tomorrow I will be arriving in Moab where I will begin getting situated at Arches National Park. Excitement and slight nervousness are running through my body - but mostly excitement. My brother and I left Georgia on Sunday morning and it's been a fun-filled and breathtaking couple of days traveling across our country.

We camped in Missouri on our first night and spent the next two nights in Colorado, where we were able to take in some sights exploring and hiking a bit.

Missouri was humid, and the nighttime noises of cicadas and other insects were almost deafening. I found it quite fascinating and was fortunate enough to fall right to sleep after I heard enough. I don't think Ben was as accepting of the ruckus.

Once we entered Colorado it began to get cooler, especially when the sun set. We intended to stargaze a little after the bright moon traveled its way across the sky, but once in our sleeping bags it was unthinkable to force ourselves out into the cold night wind (that is, for two Georgia boys under dressed in shorts and sandals). After giving in to a warm and comfortable sleep, I was fortunate enough to wake up during the middle of the night and briefly glanced up at the sky through the mesh roof of our tent; and there, during that brief moment, a bright meteor flashed across the dark sky.

I audibly said, "Whoa," then closed my eyes and fell back to sleep.

Hiking in Colorado at Eldorado Canyon State Park.