Indian Valley - July 2021

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Back Out In The Backcountry

 

"I hate to say this," I said to Mrs. Ted as the two of us walked back to camp from inspecting the damage, "But I think his mother must have dropped him on his head when he was little to cause him to be this dumb."

"His mother dropped him on his head two or three times," Mrs. Ted replied. "He is really really stupid."

 

We were talking about the guy in the gold Dodge Ram 2500 pickup. I'll get back to him.

 

Our last trip was back in the middle of April. It had been a long break from travel for the Lady and me. The Lady was now ten weeks out from her first total knee replacement surgery. We conducted "the test" in our driveway the prior weekend. She lifted the pop up top on the camper and easily climbed up and down from the overcab bunk. She passed.

 

We were also in the middle of our second historic brutal heat wave of the season. We wanted to go high and find cooler temperatures.

 

Julie's physical therapy with Michael was Wednesday afternoon. We loaded the camper Thursday morning. Our friends, The Teds, arrived at our place in their new Tiger at ten am and we were off shortly after. Around noon our camp was set up just above Indian Valley. The Lady - me too - was so happy to be back out in the outdoors.

 

 

 

 

 

It is a narrow rough road out to our destination and we took care watching how the Ted's larger vehicle negotiated the tight narrow road.

 

 

 

 

 

It was an adventure for them, a chance to use four wheel drive and get the new vehicle dirty.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Lady was especially careful. This was a different trip for us, no long hikes. It was a trip of baby steps. We reacquainted ourselves with this favorite area of ours - a beautiful high country meadow surrounded by eroding volcanic peaks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our accomplishments for this first day were darn near perfect - watching the shadows grow long and the color of evening surround us. It was quiet and it was delightfully cool.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning the Lady wanted to try her first short walk. The topo map slowed a small lake under a half mile away. There is no road or trail to it so we were pretty well assured we'd be alone. Mrs. Ted joined us.

 

 

 

 

 

The lake was over a small granite rise.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At 8000 feet in elevation, this is the crest of the Sierra Nevada here. The small lake ahead is in the Great Basin. Our camp is on the Pacific Ocean side.

 

View back of the Pacific slope.

 

 

 

 

 

It was a wonderful place to relax.

 

 

 

 

 

Water fowl were on the water. Mule deer wandered by. Big birds soared above. It was the brilliant damsel flies that caught our attention.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are several nearby small reservoirs, an old time project for storing irrigation water in the headwaters of Pleasant Valley Creek, a tributary of the East Fork of the Carson River. Small Wet Meadows Reservoir was a little over a quarter mile - cross country - away. The Lady plotted a course with the map over to the near empty, wet spot of a reservoir.

 

 

 

 

The rough road out to the Pacific Crest Trail trailhead runs along its southern edge. This was our route back to camp. We intersected with the road. The Lady found a nice stopping spot and Mrs. Ted and I walked out to show Mrs. Ted the PCT trailhead. We made it a slow comfortable walk back to camp where the Lady went to work on her daily (4x a day) rehab exercises.

 

These, of course, were modified for our outdoor location. The Tiger made a great anchor for the resistance band and a rock made a good balance point for the left leg.

 

 

 

 

 

Extension and flexion work was accomplished by sliding up and down the Tiger exercise equipment. Gravity and the weight of the left leg help with increasing bend in the right leg, already more than she's had in the last 15 years.

 

 

 

 

 

"I paid $125,000 for this new knee, I'm going to use it!" is the Lady's mantra. It looks pretty darn good.

 

 

 

 

 

The Lady also used the freezer compartment in the Tiger's refrigerator to freeze her ice packs. After exercises the Lady and I explored Indian Valley and circled back to camp.

 

 

 

 

 

With the wet meadows and dwarf willows - and all of our experience in the Rocky Mountains - we kept looking and wishing for moose. No luck. No moose anywhere around here. Only a Tiger.

 

 

 

 

 

I should mention that Julie and I took a drive on the fourth of July west over Ebbetts Pass, just to the south of this area. Both the North Fork of the Mokelumne River (Pacific side) and the East Fork of the Carson River (Great Basin side) were running chocolate brown from cloud bursts from thunderstorms. The roads in this area still had standing puddles of brown water. Clouds built during the late afternoon and we hoped for cooling rain showers. We walked down to the edge of the meadow to watch the clouds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We also found a puzzle, new tracks in a section of mud. They were not here on our previous wanders by. No vehicles had driven through. We had seen no other people, especially no one barefoot. And, why would anyone walk through the mud with all the bare ground or cool grass to walk through? It was a puzzle and our conclusion was there was a juvenile bigfoot about and we'd just missed seeing it. These are around size thirteen in length.

 

 

 

 

 

This was late Friday afternoon and we expected to see vehicles coming in for the weekend. The condition of the road tends to thin out visitors. A few began to show up. One was the guy in the gold Dodge Ram pickup, an extended cab with an eight foot bed. It had an obnoxiously loud rattling Cummins diesel and we knew he had to pay extra to make it so damn loud. He idled at the intersection below us as he contemplated what road to take. He revved the old diesel and headed south.

 

The Lady and I wandered down later to stretch the legs and maybe get an idea where this fellow went. The two roads from the intersection are both dead ends and each around a mile long. We did not see him. We kind of like to know where the neighbors are. On our walk back we talked with a man and woman coming in on bicycles. The woman was excited to share photos of a large cinnamon black bear they had seen the day before in Hope Valley. The thought occurred to me that all we needed now was a mountain lion to make the trip complete - lions, tigers, and bears, oh my!. The couple continued out. We'd see them again. We returned to camp to make dinner and enjoy  the wonderful evening light.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our dinner was interrupted twice. First by the young fellow with the gold Dodge Ram pickup, although he was without the truck. He was walking with a backpack on. He had a cell phone in his hand.

"How far to get cell service?" he asked.

We did not know.

"I should have went that way." He pointed in the direction of Wet Meadows Reservoir. "I'm suppose to meet friends. My truck's stuck. I need cell service."

He continued on the way out down the road.

 

The second interruption was the couple on bikes returning. "Did the guy with the backpack walk by?"

We answered.

"He stuck his truck good. There was no reason for him to drive into that mud hole. The road goes around it. He said he was meeting friends at Wet Meadows. We rode out there and there's only one truck with people camped out there. They don't know him."

"He's looking for cell service," I replied. "You will probably run into him on your ride out."

"Yeah, we don't have any service with our AT&T phone," the fellow added and they were on their way. I contemplated the horror of being without cell service for a few seconds and then turned back to our wonderful large salad for dinner.

 

I noticed how soft and warm the light had become. I excused myself from the Lady and The Teds. It was an exceptional evening.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I returned to camp and found the Lady and our friends also enjoying the light and pointing out the nighthawks appearing.

 

 

 

 

 

One last photo before the mosquitoes drove us inside.

 

 

 

 

The little bastards weren't that bad, we just didn't want to dose up with repellant before climbing into bed.

 

Now you're probably wondering, as we surely were, what was happening with the guy with the gold Dodge Ram pickup. Would he find cell service and get a hold of help? Would he run into his friends driving in? Would he run into another group that would offer to help? And, when would anyone return? Around a quarter to eleven pm.

 

"Right, you go right here!" his voice carried above the roar of the Japanese four banger. I don't believe the owner paid extra for the loud exhaust but, rather, the muffler had just fallen off. It was a lifted big tired old small Toyota pickup. Another one, just as loud, was right behind. They both headed to the south. Two quieter vehicles arrived and headed into Wet Meadows Reservoir. All his friends? A fifth vehicle arrived and also headed south. In the quiet night air we heard the entire drive and rescue although they drove over a mile out. Their return - around twelve thirty - was accompanied with the noise from the diesel. He was saved. They all parked at the intersection below our camp and left all engines running to allow them the opportunity to shout over the noise and give the vocal chords a good work out. The diesel was turned off, doors were slammed. The three other trucks drove into Wet Meadows Reservoir. Yup, we heard them the entire way.

 

I found the gold Dodge Ram at dawn the next morning parked about 20 yards away, right on the road. It was not his friends who had rescued him. I kick myself for not taking a photo for an outdoor safety poster. A pad was down inside the open bed of the pickup. The end gate was down. A blue sleeping bag was atop the pad with our hero sound asleep inside. He was up against his large ice chest. Yup, sleeping curled up with his ice chest in bear country. You wish I had taken a photo too. He slept well into the morning. The Lady and I wandered past twice on our morning coffee walk. The Teds joined us later at the truck. He never stirred. A few vehicles drove in during the morning to head to the PCT trailhead, including a similar Ram diesel. The vehicles had to maneuver around him. He never stirred.

 

We enjoyed a lazy morning. The Teds were heading home this day but in no hurry to return to the sizzling Sacramento Valley. Late morning we saw movement at the gold Dodge Ram pickup. He started the truck up, and a true diesel owner, let it idle while he got ready, enjoying the noise his hard earned dollars (or maybe a loan from his parents) had paid for. He climbed into the truck and started out and we were to soon see why Mrs. Ted was convinced he'd been dropped on his head two or three times.

 

Our campsite was on a small knob that gave us view of the road below us. We saw the gold Dodge Ram on its way out.

"Why the hell is he driving in there!" Ted cried.

"Jesus Christ!" another of our group yelled. "No! Can he be that stupid?" (I may have been the one.)

Between the willows, the man turned the large truck off the road and into an open wet meadow. He slid on wet flat ground and came to a halt with spinning tires cutting into the grass. With the truck in low range, the diesel roaring, and tires spinning, he accomplished a four point turn and ripped the meadow up getting back on the road. Once back on the road he drove into the deepest part of a water hole and buried the truck up to the axles in the mud. He was "stuck good" as the bicycle riders from the day before had said. There was absolutely no reason to drive into that mud hole. His attempts at extricating himself were relentless and long in duration although most of it was out of our field of view. His idling truck noise from a short time before was nothing compared to this racket. We knew his only hope was another vehicle coming in. They'd have to help or just turn around. The road was blocked.

 

A Nissan Exterra appeared. Loud talk drifted up to us over the continuing noise from the diesel. The Exterra turned around and then backed into position to help. One of them had a tow strap. The rescue was a success. The gold Dodge Ram drove out. The Exterra also drove out. They did not want to attempt getting by the ruin created by this idiot.

 

How about the Teds getting out? How about all the others on our side of the mess? We walked down to assess. It was a muddy mess, the ruts were deep. But, it was easily skirted. A new Subaru Crosstrek was the first to make it through.

 

So getting intentionally buried in mud twice and needing rescue, illegally driving off road and ripping up a meadow, and sleeping with his ice chest in the open in bear country - I agreed with Mrs. Ted that this level of stupidity would take more than one drop on his head to achieve. Sadly, we also agreed it was probable his friends had ditched him, told him they were going to Wet Meadows Reservoir and then went somewhere else.

 

We put together lunch and enjoyed our remaining time with The Teds. It was time for them to head back home.

 

 

 

 

 

Here is video of the Tiger driving out below our camp. Mrs. Ted is walking ahead to spot Ted past the mud hole and through the narrowest section between two lodgepole pines.

 

 

 

 

It was wonderful to spend time with our friends.

 

With the excitement and noise over, quiet and peace returned to our high country getaway. We had the remainder of the day and one more night to enjoy here. We initially decided on taking a longer hike but then, wisely, changed plans and returned to the small lake. In route we came upon fresh tracks of a small black bear.

 

 

 

 

 

We wondered if the bear was aware of the juvenile bigfoot in the area. Maybe they were buddies? Why did both of them pass on the ice chest?

 

We settled in at the lake for the afternoon.

 

 

 

 

 

The Lady, of course, had her see mores that we passed back and forth as we watched Canada Geese on the water along with a mother mallard with 11 little ones. Especially delightful were the family of Buffleheads, a mother and four ducklings who popped to the surface like little corks after each dive. The songs of Red Winged Blackbirds filtered across the lake from their hideouts in the tall grass that lined parts of the shore.

 

 

 

 

 

The lady was confident but careful putting her new knee to work. She remarked several times about how pain free it was to walk, an excellent report.

 

 

 

 

 

After dinner we moved our chairs to two places to sit quietly and take in all our surroundings with the fading light. In the quiet there is such a sense of being home for us.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We climbed up into our cozy camper after dark. All the windows were open. We slept like babies. We woke Sunday morning with the smell of wildland fire smoke in the air. A haze hung over the area. We expect the smoke was coming over the from the east side wrapping around from the Beckworth Fire to the north.

 

 

 

 

We still walked in the dawn's light with our coffee mugs and lingered, watching the Marsh Hawk attempt to ambush blackbirds.

 

 

 

 

 

It was our turn to return home after this wonderful - mostly - stay up here in the high country close to home and this first adventure with the Lady's new knee. It was a great first start. We don't know how many, if any, more short trips we'll get in between therapy sessions and before the total knee replacement surgery on the left leg scheduled for August 27th. Like walking on that granite we are both confident all will go well with excellent results. It will just take a bit of work. We are up to that challenge.