SODIUM Trilogy Part One Read online

  With the campsite clean, we donned our packs and proceeded on to the next leg of the journey. I again managed to be in the middle of the group, not wanting to be surprised by whoever or whatever had been spying on us the night before.

  The day’s hike would be to the northern edge of Hetch Hetchy Reservoir. We would have a stop at Tueeulala Falls, Wapama Falls, and finally Rancheria Falls. Bull had a trail map with topological info on it, and with our trusty compasses, it seemed rather easy to navigate our course.

  We made our way back to the south, down the other side of Frog Creek. When we left the creek at a big bend, we continued on for a short distance before starting to make our way down to Hetch Hetchy. It was a fifteen-hundred-foot drop over the next several miles. The downward trek compared to our prior day’s ascension helped to speed us along the way.

  We arrived at Hetch Hetchy about a half mile up from the dam and proceeded eastward toward Tueeulala Falls. It was a high fall and made for impressive pictures during late spring and early summer. The creeks and streams that fed it were all at high levels from the spring snowmelts. It took us two hours to hike to the top of the falls; at close to nine hundred feet of incline.

  We broke for lunch and a rest while we gazed over Hetch Hetchy Reservoir from our lofty perch. Again, the scenery was breathtaking. And as I had suspected might happen early, Susi had used her last roll of film. We rested for a half hour and then began our hike back to the trail below. The almost two-hour trek going up turned into a half hour hike on the way down.

  It was just after lunch when my legs began to feel a burn from the hiking. I found myself happy that Wapama Falls was only a few hundred yards further on.

  Wapama Falls was huge compared to Tueeulala, easily three to four times the volume. When we again reached the edge of Hetch Hetchy, we took a break and rested. With the wondrous scenery, the fear and the troubles of the night before seemed to have faded away. I hoped it to be a permanent situation.

  From Wapama we proceeded on along the shoreline of Hetch Hetchy. We had a fantastic view of Kalona Rock, which jutted upward from the opposite shoreline. Kalona was a massive piece of granite that rose almost a thousand feet up. It seemed to loom above you, as if offering protection from the wilds as you walked. Beyond Kalona, the elevation continued to increase as we hiked toward Rancheria Falls.

  There were several sets of falls along Rancheria Creek, and our planned path would take us past them all. As we continued, the terrain had turned rocky and once again uphill, so our forward progress slowed. I was getting fatigued, and I was certain the others were starting to hear it in my increased grumpiness and short complaints. The intent of my moans and grumbles was easily known. When we arrived at the second set of falls, we decided it was as good a place as any to set up camp.

  I was exhausted, but somehow my sister seemed as chipper as ever. Since her college days, she had worked on her fitness through walking and running. It was something both she and Kyle enjoyed doing together. For Bull and Allie it was their natural way of life.

  I, on the other hand, usually spent my spare time cozied up to the bar trying to entertain clients. My few hikes before coming on the trip had apparently not been enough. I slid out of my pack, removed my boots and socks, and walked over into the icy-cool water of the creek.

  The cold bit into my feet and I immediately hopped back out, but after another try, I began to feel relief. As I stood in the water, I turned to see the girls setting up the tarps while Bull and Kyle headed out to hunt dinner.

  Even though Yosemite was a national forest, back in the 1950s, the rangers did not seem to mind if wilderness hikers in the back-country took small game for food. Since there were not a lot of visitors, there was no real danger of over-hunting. Commercial hunting, was absolutely banned. If you were caught, it came with hefty fines and possible jail time.

  Minutes later, Bruce and Kyle returned triumphant. This night we once again had squirrel, and we chopped up three of the six potatoes I was carrying in my pack. I was glad to be rid of the extra pounds I had been carrying, and the squirrel stew hit the spot.

  After eating, the girls had asked us politely to go off into the woods because they wanted to bathe in the falls. We were all in need of a hygienic overhaul at that point, so we obliged and walked downstream. We were soon out of sight. With an hour of daylight remaining, they washed, hung their clothes, and got into the spare sets they had in their packs. We returned after twenty minutes and then sent them downstream so we could do the same.

  The water was frigid, but it felt good to once again be clean. We had been on the trail for three solid days. It had brought an odor that would be completely unacceptable when back in the business circles of Atlanta. I found it funny how back then, body odor did not seem to bother men quite as much. It was considered part of one's masculinity. Deodorants use by men was only beginning to be in widespread use.

  We had planned on staying around the area a little late in the morning to allow for extra rest, which would be followed with a shorter day of hiking. With the coming elevations, the terrain was only going to get tougher. I was looking forward to the extra rest.

  With the sun was setting, we still had a bit of daylight left. Bull and Allie decided they would take a walk up the creek as a sort of evening stroll. I got nervous that Kyle and Susi were going to want to do the same, leaving me behind and making me the old fifth wheel, sitting at the camp alone, waiting to be devoured by a large animal with glowing, red eyes. But the two of them made no effort to take a walk of their own, so I continued to hide my cowardly thoughts.

  Bull and Allie came back after twenty minutes. He began telling us about a butchered animal just up the creek about a quarter mile. It was another jackrabbit someone had filleted open and then chopped up as if poking around inside. He thought it curious and was now of the opinion it probably was poachers, criminals, whom he had the pleasure of shooting at the night before.

  Bull was an avid hunter, and he detested sport hunting where no effort was made to make use of the animal. To him, it just seemed like the senseless killing of a living creature. Why not just shoot a stump or a rock, he had often said. Someone had done a very precise carving job on the jackrabbit and had not kept the fur or the meat. What bothered him most was the fact the rabbit was still fresh. It had been there for less than a day, which meant whoever had done it was likely still in the area.

  As we settled around the evening's fire, the topic of the red, demon eyes again came up. Bull thought it was probably poachers, or worst case, it could have been someone looking to rob us. The outfitter had told Bull he had never run into trouble himself, but he had heard the occasional story of a hiker or two in the Sierra Nevadas who were robbed at gunpoint. I was not fond of this new revelation.

  We talked about how we might defend the camp if someone chose to confront us, and about how we would each take a two-hour turn during the night to keep watch. Bull was irritated as he thought and talked about how this could ruin his adventure-package plans. Irritating Bull was hard to do, as I had tried many times over the years to get him riled up. He would usually break down and laugh at my attempts. He was a good guy and great friend.

  As we settled in to sleep, I decided to take the last watch at 4 a.m. I was usually up at five in the morning at home so I could get that first cup of coffee. I had planned to get Susi's coffee tin to make a cup to start my day off right. I was also keeping Susi's .22 handy in case there was trouble. I was a terrible shot, and a .22 would not do much to stop a large animal or even a man, but I reasoned a single shot would give off a sufficient warning.

  We gathered enough wood to keep a decent fire going through the night and then bedded down with Susi staying up first. The day’s hike had me worn out, and that night I was the first to nod off into nowhere-land. The night’s sleep was blissful.

  Chapter 4

  * * *

  My time at sentry duty came. I was awakened by Bull for the final watch of the night. I got up, threw a f
ew extra pieces of wood on the fire, and began to make my coffee. First light started to show about 6 a.m. The night had passed without issue.

  Fifteen minutes later the others began to rise. We ate, packed, cleaned up the campsite, and decided to get an early start on the next leg of our adventure. We were heading all the way up Rancheria Creek to Tilden Canyon Creek, where we would camp for the night.

  The first several miles of the hike were at a decent incline. We would be steadily climbing up 2,000 feet of elevation. The thought of going uphill and being at higher altitudes had me preparing myself for a tough day.

  Ten minutes into the hike, we came upon the rabbit that had been butchered on the rock. Bull pointed over to it as we passed. I had to stop to take a look. I then asked Bull what the other animal was, and he stopped and turned toward me with a look of concern. There, on a lower rock, was something else... or at least the remains of it.

  He and Allie walked over to inspect the carcass, determining it was a doe, probably only a month or so old. Again, it had been filleted open. I wondered if it had been dissected for study. We could not fathom what other possible use someone would have for doing such. All the parts of the animal remained there, neatly positioned about.

  Bull looked it over carefully while Allie watched over his shoulder. Their inspection determined it had only been dead a few hours. Whoever had done this had once again been near our campsite. Leaning my bat against a rock I slowly raised my hands in the air and pulled them behind my head. I wondered if the red-eyed demon was following us. I became nervous with my eyes darting around, looking for any sign of the beast in our surroundings.

  We took several minutes to evaluate the situation. We could turn south and head for Tioga Pass Road, we could head back to Hetch Hetchy and head for the dam, or we could continue onward. After a short discussion, we came to the conclusion that although this was odd, we had yet to be in any real danger from whoever was out there. As long as it stayed that way, we would continue the hike.

  Our current heading was taking us further from civilization. We were well armed, and with Bull and Allie being extreme outdoorsmen, we felt confident enough to continue. Again, we had to think about the business aspect of the adventure. If completed with no issues other than what we had so far been confronted with, the Yosemite Sportsman Adventure Package would still be a go.

  We hoisted our packs and began our slow climb up Rancheria Creek. I tried my best to stay in the middle of the group. The further from civilization we got, the more rugged it became. We were constantly having to climb up and over large boulders or find a way around. The scenery was still spectacular and the temperature and weather had been perfect, but this part of the hike was becoming a continuous workout for my short legs.

  An hour and a half into our day's hike, we stopped for a break. Just as we did so, I turned to slip off my pack and saw a rock tumble down a ridge a hundred yards behind us. I wanted to say I had seen something move on the ridge where the rock had come from, but I wasn't certain. And with the fatigue I was already feeling and the jittery start to our hike, I thought my mind might be playing tricks on me.

  I called Bull over and pointed to where I had seen the rock tumble. He pulled a small pair of binoculars from his pack and looked intently for several minutes. I told him I was unsure of actually seeing anything, and he gave me the old better-safe-than-sorry line.

  When we started back, curiosity was getting the best of me, so when we donned our packs, I took up position in the back. Every chance I had, I would turn my head to look behind us, which only worked to wear me out faster. By the time we broke for lunch, I was exhausted. I once again slipped off the pack, found a big, flat rock in the shade, and lay down on my back.

  Our hike that morning had been a constant uphill climb. Susi was in the same condition as I was and was beginning to grumble to Kyle. The joy of the journey for the common man was starting to fade as utter exhaustion set in. I glanced at the others and scowled as Bull and Allie were chipper, showing no real signs of fatigue.

  After a quick lunch and a good rest, Bull was once again ready to hit the trail. Susi and I both lobbied for an additional half hour of rest. Our argument was that we had made enough progress on the day's hike with the early start to buy ourselves a short reprieve. I could not have been happier at the time, but as it turned out, the longer rest only made us stiff by the time our extended break was over.

  I slid on my pack, glanced back down the trail, and once again started moving forward. The trail continued upwards, around and over boulders and fallen trees. In reality there was no trail to speak of. It was just the path through the wilderness that we had chosen.

  After a relatively steep section of trail, talk once again surfaced about a rest break. We were just coming into flatter terrain, and I still had the suspicious feeling we were being followed. So, I ducked behind a large rock and stayed crouched as the others proceeded. I figured with the easy terrain I would be able to catch back up to the others if they got too far ahead.

  I waited a full five minutes behind the rock and then slowly peered around the sides back down the trail. If there was someone following us, I was certain I would catch a glimpse of movement. After several minutes of spying, I came to the realization that I was all alone. The others had moved well out of sight.

  It was not a good feeling to be alone in the wilderness where there are known to be bears, mountain lions, and possibly hostile people roaming around, especially given the fact my only defense was a hickory bat. I slipped on my pack and made my best time to get myself caught back up to the others.

  Several minutes into my hurried pace, I saw Bull coming my way at an equally fast jog. As I reached him, he turned and we made our way back to the others. As we walked, I told him of my spying game and that if anyone was back there, they were doing an excellent job of hiding themselves.

  When we reached the others, a half hour was taken for rest. My first course of business was to get out of my boots. I wanted to get my tired, hot feet into some cool mountain water. As always, the initial feeling was of bitter cold. After the initial shock the temperature was soothing.

  I dried my feet, rinsed out my socks, and made my way back over to my pack. I hung them on my pack before putting on a spare pair. If anything, the rest had brightened my spirits and taken my mind off my tired legs... and any potential followers that had been trailing us.

  Soon our rest was over and we got back on the trail. We still had an hour’s hike to our next campsite. I took note that my sister and Kyle had been having a quiet discussion between themselves. Every once in a while I would catch a glimpse of an angry face.

  Susi had been with Kyle for more than three years, and this was the first time I had ever noticed any discord between them. Given my lack of judgment when it came to relationships, I logged it as nothing unusual. It wasn't long before the discussion had reached an impasse. It abruptly came to a less-than-happy end with both parties going quiet.

  As we walked, Allie had taken note of several caves that inhabited a nearby ridge. She remarked they were the right size for bear, to which I insisted we continue our hike. Bull was in agreement. Kyle and Susi, in their less that happy moods, had nothing to say.

  It was approaching 4 p.m. when we reached Tilden Canyon Creek. We found another good spot for crossing and made our way up through the canyon. The terrain was tight by the creek, forcing us to climb up and over many boulders along the way. It was only a short distance to a flattened area that supposedly held a small shallow pond.

  As we came out of the tight canyon the terrain opened into a beautiful meadow that was full of summer wildflowers. It would be our spot for the evening. After slipping off my pack I was all too happy to call it home. For the next half hour, I performed my now-daily duty of gathering firewood and setting up the tarps.

  As I walked and stooped, picking up dead wood, it occurred to me we really weren't all that far from the bear cave, so I hustled up a load of sticks and hurried my w
ay back to center camp. When I arrived with my bundle, Bull and Kyle had just left to go back down the creek for a shot at a trout or two. The girls had left across the meadow to hunt for small game.

  I dreaded being alone in bear country, so I decided I needed to keep myself busy. My first job was to set up a fire pit. I had watched Bull enough times to know how to stage a fire with the kindling and rolled-up dry grass on the bottom. To my satisfaction, after using a single match, the fire came to life with a fervor.

  The sun was just above the canyon walls, leaving several hours of daylight still in the day. My next task was to push some larger rocks around the fire for our front-row seating. Even though tired, I needed the workout as again it kept my mind off thoughts of ravenous animals.

  I next moved over to our tarp area and began to build a small rock wall surrounding it. I had made it to about eighteen inches high when Allie and Susi returned with a rabbit. I felt a small twinge of guilt over the death of the furry, fuzzy bunny, but that guilt quickly faded when the image of it slow roasting over our fire popped into my head. I could picture it being taken off the spit and handed to me as I sat by the roaring flame. My stomach began to growl.

  As the sun dipped behind the canyon rim, the temperature began to fall. We had climbed to almost 8,000 feet above sea level and the thin, dry air cooled quickly. Allie skinned the rabbit by the creek and was finishing just as Bull and Kyle returned, having six good-sized trout on a line. Like the rabbit, they were cleaned and brought to the fire.

  We pulled the last of the potatoes from my pack and made a pot of rabbit-trout stew that again would have brought raves back home in any elitist restaurant. Allie had several small bags of spice she had packed that seasoned the stew perfectly. After chowing down, I sat back against a rock to relax.