Day Two began with a one mile hike to our nearest source of water… our source of life! We each filled a 5 gallon jug of water, plopped the jugs in our backpacks and like a group of pack mules proceeded to hike a mile back to camp… with 40 lbs of water strapped to our backs. This water would last us a few days until (yes) we would need to return for more.
We then hiked two miles to begin work (that’s a 4 mile total hiking so far...) We cleared brush for about ¼ mile, when our lookout tower sent word that another crew member was about to hike to our camp (yes, the lookouts look-out for us! We mostly communicate with lookout ‘Whitehawk’ though we know his real name is JT). According to policy, we cannot hike alone, so two crewmembers placed the brush work aside, ventured down the trail, and two of us were left to continue working.
Left behind, my crewmate and I decided a two-man clearing team was far too inefficient to continue. Instead, we decided to return to the stream, filled another 5 gallon jug of water each and again completed our pack-mule routine.
6:30pm. We prepare dinner for the three crew members still hiking back to camp, and wait… wait… wait… until about 8:45pm they finally arrive – panting, sweat glistening in the rapidly sinking sunlight. We eat a quick meal, then sleepily prepare our three bearhangs just as we are losing light, exhaustedly thrilled that we are moments from snuggling into our sleeping bags after a long day of work and hiking.
9:30pm. I run to grab my headlamp as none of us are prepared for darkness. As I stumble in the darkness back to the bearhangs… SNAP. OOF! THUD. The rope of bearhang #1 snapped, sending the three bodies that had been heavingtumbling backwards in a heaping cluster. The bags on the opposing end came smashing to the ground, shattering a jar of marinara sauce everywhere.
9:45pm. The sun is now gone. By the light of our headlamps, we sop up the garlic-tomato mess, and redistribute weight to other bearhangs.Bearhang #2 slides up the tree as we throw our body weight (and trust) into our rope-pulley system. CREEEK. The branch of Bearhang #2 bends under its new weight, and our bags slowly slide to the end and slip off, down, down, down, THUD.
10pm. We have now lost 2 bear hangs, only one remains. Tossingnalgene bottles attached to rope, into trees, in the dark, we attempt to create new bear hangs. Ever heard that Nalgene bottles are indestructible? Us too. Nalgene #1: lid-loop snaps apart on 3rd toss. Nalgene #2: first toss, bottom blows out on unknown object in the tree. Still no new bearhang, Nalgene myth busted (literally).
10:15pm. Bats are now swooping at our headlamps, delighting in the swarms of bugs attracted to the light. Stars are out, watching our mess.
A rock is now tied to the end of the rope as a tossing device… seems to be logical at this point. Victoriously (it was all crewleader, Ben) we (he) successfully tosses 3 new bearhangs in the dark. Up the bags go into the tree. Garbage bag snags on the way up... PLOP. There goes the peanutbutter. PLOP. The olive oil falls next. Where is the lid to the olive oil? Will a stick plug the lid?! Duct tape! Duct tape fixes everything.
10:45pm. Olive oil secure. New garbage bag. All bearhangs successfully hoisted into the trees. Up since 6am. Several miles of hiking. Down a jar of marinara. 2 broken nalgenes. Hundreds of exhausted giggled... at least the mashed potatoes at dinner were amazing!
Fears in a Tent
One night, as we were returning from work, the wind picked up and dark clouds rolled in from every angle of the big, wide, Idahoan sky. We struggled to hang a tarp above our 'kitchen' (proving to be more of a sail than a sheild...). I started cutting cheese for our favorite grilled cheese dinner when the radio revealed the impending storm: quarter-sized hail and 60 mph winds, "seek shelter away from rivers and streams." We packed away the cheese for another night, ate some instant rice, and packed everything away - under rocks, in heavy bins. We were about to retreat to our tents when the skies cleared and the sun shone brightly. Too tired to take down the bearhangs (because we've been down that road before...) we sat under our flimsy tarp, painfully laughing at our miserably memorable situation.
Later than night, the storm finally hit. Hard. The lightening was terrifying. The rain and hail sounded like it was slowly chiseling away at my rain-cover. I imagined it piercing through the sheer material, landing on my face, filling my tent, drowning myself and belongings. I can smell the forest fires in the distance (there were 4 simultaneously in our area – we were never in danger, but the smell of the smoke was still freaky).
My mind always imagining the worst, "Lightening just struck the tree next to my tent... and now it’s on fire... what am I doing out here?!” Tiny animals crawl under my tent, seeking shelter and warmth from the storm I guess, their scratching noises keeping me up all night. (Photo: taken near Bozeman - yes, that is a forest fire next to the road... No Julie's were injured in the taking of this photo, and the fire has been controlled since this was taken).
Other nights, each noise outside of my tent sounds like a giant grizzly bear plotting my death. My crewmate snoring is the snorting of a big, bad wolf. A creaking branch is an elk about to trample my little yellow tent. Defenseless, I try to put my headphones on to relax… but the gentle voice of Ben Harper is even more terrifying because I can’t hear my impending doom outside. Ha. The mind plays tricks, and I always emerge safely from my tent... slightly tired, but always safe =)
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