Armchair Adventures

I like to say that I write this blog as much for other people as I do for myself. It gives me a reason to get out and explore so I have something to write about, even when I don’t quite feel like it. Now is one of those times. It’s too cold to go camping in the mountains, but there’s not enough snow to enjoy snowboarding or snowshoeing. Compared to the rest of the country, the weather in California is pretty ideal year-round, but if I had to pick an off-season, late fall/early winter would be it. 

All that to say we haven’t gotten out much recently. Luckily, Owen and I went on a few trips this fall that I haven’t written about yet, so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed reliving our misadventures.

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Back in early October, when the days were longer and the Sierras were accessible, I convinced Owen to go backpacking over a three-day weekend. Some convincing was needed because he was already spending a lot of time outside those days. You see, Owen and Denali were on the tail-end of a cross-country road trip back to the west coast from New Jersey, and camping almost every night. We made plans to meet up at a trailhead in the Sierras that we were both familiar with by noon on a Saturday. 

I arrived at our designated meet up spot, parked in the shade, and hung out. 30 minutes turned into an hour, an hour and a half… where was he? There was no cell service so I couldn’t call him. I ate a snack, journaled, took a walk to see if he was parked around a bend: nothing. I got a dribble of cell service and fired off a text, which didn’t go through. I took inventory: I had a sleeping bag and sleeping pad but no tent. I had a Nalgene and trail mix, but no other food and no stove. (He had most of our group gear and food for the weekend.) I was too tired to drive all the way back home, which was over five hours, but I could drive to the nearest town to get provisions and camp that night solo. Practicalities aside though, I was starting to get worried: where was he?

Finally, three and a half hours after we were supposed to meet, an old, light pink truck pulled up and as it got closer I realized it was Owen. The bright red 4Runner was completely caked in mud, giving it a pink-beige patina. At that point it was late afternoon and I insisted we stay on schedule and hike a couple miles to camp. Owen tried to tell me what happened but I was distracted while I quickly divided up group gear, packed, and wolfed down lunch. Something about 50 miles of mud pits, maybe yesterday or maybe this morning? It wasn’t until we finally started hiking that I could focus on his story. It turned out that he met up with an old coworker who also was on a road trip and they took some backroads in Nevada that turned into mud bogs and slowed his progress to a crawl for the good part of half a day.

The rest of the weekend was, luckily, not filled with 50 miles of mud pits. We set up base camp in a clearing alongside Wolf Creek and day hiked to a meadow that made a perfect lunch spot. In researching the trail I’d found a trip report from a couple years ago that mentioned an old cabin in the area, not far off the trail. Old cabins aren’t really my thing so I didn’t pay much attention to its location or any details, but when I mentioned it to Owen he insisted we look for it. (He is a child at heart: faint trails, garbage, and abandoned buildings are like sirens calling for him to explore them.) For miles, we kept our eyes peeled for side trails that might lead to a cabin, even following a few that disappeared in dense brush and swamps. Finally, he saw a glint of metal off in the distance and we bushwhacked to it. The “cabin” was completely destroyed, the roof caved in likely by heavy snowfall last winter. Somehow that made it even more intriguing to Owen and he carefully crawled inside it to explore the remnants.

We took a somewhat last-minute trip at the end of October to Colorado. I know late October isn’t exactly Colorado’s prime season but we were eager to visit my sister and my friend Evan from college before winter set in out there. We made tentative plans to go camping, but decided against it a couple days before we flew out, worried it might be too cold. Little did we know…

We got to enjoy fall colors in the foothills of the Rockies for approximately a day and a half after we arrived, and then it instantly turned to winter. I’m talking lows in the teens and several inches of snow. We went on a beautiful snowy hike with Evan and his girlfriend in a national forest and explored the small town of Golden another day with Kelli and her boy/friend. California’s climate had given me zero preparation for this weather and I froze my ass off the entire time! So we mostly holed up inside, gorged ourselves on delicious food, baked cookies, and binge watched tv and movies. It wasn’t camping, but it was pretty damn nice. 

In early November we went on a backpacking trip in the Ventana Wilderness of Los Padres National Forest. This was not our typical kind of trip. For one, Owen got up earlier than me each morning and hiked further than me each day. Why? He wasn’t out there just for the good views, chill vibes, and freeze-dried meals. He had a specific, singular purpose: he had drawn one of only 25 harvest tags for a deer in the designated wilderness area. (My friend was convinced the term of art is to “catch” a deer. I explained to her, the deer hunting "expert" I am, that the correct term is to “harvest” a deer.)

It was Owen’s first time backcountry hunting. I was just along for the ride, and to help carry out the meat if he got a deer. Big emphasis on “if.” I didn’t know how I’d react, or what all needed to be done if he was successful but I tried not to worry too much. We set up camp a few miles from the trailhead and went for a scouting walk the first night to look for deer. I always enjoy the views on our backpacking trips, but this was different. This was a much more heightened sense of awareness, a deeper stillness, a stronger sense of connection with the landscape. When we finally spotted deer grazing, Owen was so elated he had to steady his shaking hands on my head to see through the binoculars clearly. Denali knew something was afoot since her humans were whispering and moving about excitedly. 

Very early the next morning he headed out to sneak into his hunting spot before sunrise and wait for a deer. We made a plan the night before: if I heard a gunshot, I was to wait 30 minutes, and then hike out towards where he was hunting. A couple hours after he’d left I was perched in a tree eating breakfast when a gunshot pierced the air. I leapt out of the tree, adrenaline racing through my body, cleaned up camp, and packed my backpack. Denali and I hiked briskly toward his hunting spot as I scanned the landscape for his blaze orange hat. Finally, I spotted him, hiking on the trail towards us, which I was not expecting. He was just as surprised to see us. It turned out the gunshot wasn’t his! Ultimately he didn’t end up getting a deer on that trip, but it was still a useful scouting exercise. He returned to the same spot the next week, and 18 hours later came home with our source of meat for the foreseeable future. Denali was by Owen's side each evening as he processed the deer lending her support in catching any scraps that may have been left unattended.

We went on one final backpacking trip of the year over Thanksgiving. We usually go somewhere far away for Thanksgiving, some epic spot in the desert, but this year our hearts weren’t in it. We wanted to be outside for the holiday but not travel too far so we settled on Big Sur. Pretty much anything that could go wrong did. We got a late start and didn’t arrive at the campsite until dark, no big deal except Owen forgot his headlamp. We also forgot a lighter. Denali was wet, muddy, and covered in dozens of ticks. And the clincher was we discovered a puncture wound on her foot. Needless to say, we hiked out a day early and were more than happy to spend the extra day back home getting a Christmas tree, decorating, and enjoying the great indoors. After an incredible spring, summer, and fall spent camping and backpacking, it is now time to take a little winter hiatus.