Juneau and me at the trailhead
The trailhead
I was planning to be gone for two nights but only ended up staying for one. I was hiking in a location I'd never been to before and I wasn't sure what the landscape would be like, although I did know that the weather would be warmer and sunnier than where I live. I guess I should have done more research.
Getting some sun felt amazing. As you can see, the trail is pretty wide-open and there wasn't a lot of shade. A jumble of trails near the trailhead made navigating difficult for me at first (as I am not great with directions and when backpacking with other people I am usually not the one in charge of the map). When I couldn't find one of the main trails I was looking for, I had to find an alternative route.
Happy hiker
However, I was rewarded multiple times with stunning views.
Looking back on the hill I had just hiked up
I am smitten by the snow-capped rockies in the distance.
Glad I'm only at 7-8,000 feet in elevation! No 14ers for me (yet).
The snow glows in the sunshine.
Just thought this was a neat-looking hill
The trail widened and leveled out again and the sun was getting low. However, none of the creeks promised on my map had made themselves known; in fact, everything I saw that looked like a creek bed was dry as a bone. For being so early in the summer, I was surprised that there would be so little water. I didn't have enough to last me two nights or really even one, as I had been counting on being able to find some in the alleged creeks in the area.
The low sun made me nervous about having enough time to set up camp, so when I got to a fork in the trail, I climbed a hill in between the "tongs" of the fork, hoping to look down and spot some water. The trees blocked my view, but there was a wonderful camping spot up on that hill so I decided to just park it for the night and then figure out what to do the next day.
My body was ill-prepared for the hiking and weight-bearing required for backpacking, but I have all the skills and knowledge necessary, so I was pretty pleased with myself that I was able to set up camp and cook dinner over a fire with no issues. Juneau was wonderfully well-behaved and occupied himself with a jawbone he found.
It was pretty brittle and made a nasty crunching sound when he chewed it.
The sun was down and I had run out of things to do to keep busy. I lamented being "alone" and having no one to talk to. Contemplating this, I decided that I didn't really care for solo backpacking. It gives me a nice sense of autonomy and self-accomplishment, but I am too much of an extravert and need someone to talk to (who talks back). I settled down next to the fire with my bum in the dirt and started reading "Jacob have I loved."
When it was about 9 or 9:30 it was too dark for me to continue reading even with the light from the fire so I went to bed. I saved a little bit of water for both of us to drink in the morning, but I was almost out. I brought my ENO hammock instead of a tent and tried out the new 15-grade sleeping bag Evan got me for Christmas.
Meanwhile, Juneau was attached with a long cord and harness to one of the trees my ENO was strapped to. Lexi had prophesied that he probably wouldn't sleep much nor even want to lie down on the ground because of his aversion to being dirty. She was right about him not sleeping. I had trouble sleeping simply because I was in a hammock and unable to sleep on my belly, but Juneau was busy playing watchdog all through the night.
I frequently heard him growling and even barking, sometimes from right under my hammock, at things I could or couldn't hear. I was terrified of a mountain lion smelling our food and coming into camp. With mountain lions, you're supposed to make yourself look big and talk to it in a low, firm voice. If Juneau saw one, I was sure he'd foil my attempts to ward it off by barking and possibly attacking, which would result in both of our deaths, so I was a little freaked out. I never saw or heard any humans or animals larger than a bird the entire time, though.
I had heated some rocks around the fire so when it came time to go to bed, I put them under my hammock to keep me warm. It worked pretty well for a couple hours. Here's a video on using hot rocks if you're interested.
At some point, shivering in my sleeping bag, I peeked out and realized it was morning. I sat up and saw this:
When I was able to keep Juneau off of me long enough to get out of my sleeping bag and put on my shoes, I gave him breakfast and we finished the little bit of water we had left. I had decided that without any water and no guarantee that there would be water further up the trail, the safest and smartest thing to do would simply be to head home. We packed up and were on the trail by about 6:45 a.m., going a different way than how we had come in.
The view from my campsite at sunrise.
Camera batteries died so this was taken with my phone.
On our way out, we passed a tiny flowing creek and I was able to get some water for the rest of the hike. It was so tiny that I could see both where it started and ended from one spot. My mind had been made up about going home so I didn't consider getting water from it and then turning around and camping somewhere, nor did I consider camping by the creek as it was so tiny and only about 8:00 in the morning when we found it. I don't know what I would have done all day just sitting there. Napped, I guess. Juneau was too thirsty to wait for me to filter water for him and he drank heartily directly from the stream. He seems to be suffering no ill effects.
I reached my car at about 9:20 and was home by around 11. I'm disappointed by the pseudo-failure of my trip, but I learned from the experience. My body was pretty sore the next day (yesterday), so I'm also glad I didn't push my body to do more than I was really prepared to do. Still, I hope I can go out again soon, next time with a (human) friend.
God bless.
