Upper Upper Bidwell, part IV

Upper Upper Bidwell, part IV

So I found myself continuing up the road. Now things were getting strange, because I really had no idea why I was walking forward, and I was increasingly worried about my energy levels, foot endurance, not to mention mental health. Being goal-oriented, I decided that I was looking for some place to sleep, and then stay there until the morning. Easier said than done. The complicating factors? 1. getting too close to the thick bushes made me worried about wildlife. I knew that probably no predator would attack a human if he is upright and not running away like prey, but laying down and within easy claw reach? I was not about to sleep anywhere near the brush. 2. The wind was bone-chilling and gusting. As long as I kept walking and generating body heat it was no problem, but I knew that in 10-15 minutes of inaction that body heat would be gone, and that kind of exposure would probably be more dangerous than any animal in the forest. 3. I couldn't get the picture out of my mind of the hypothetical person who had been sleeping on that blanket in the abandoned building. He sees a light coming and ducks into the forest, then he watches as some kid walks around and pokes through "his house." The kid then shows signs of nervousness, and continues to walk down the road. The man decides to follow, and see what this invader is up to, and why the kid is in "his forest." And if the kid finally goes to sleep...

There you have it. I couldn't sleep out in the open, I'd freeze. And I couldn't be too close to cover, I'd be eaten. And I couldn't be near the road, I'd be found. But I couldn't go off-road, I'd get lost, and then frozen, and then eaten. You know, I'm naturally an optimist, really.

So I kept walking, I guess hoping to magically find some place where I could sleep that met all these criteria. I think you can see that my logic was starting to break down a little. After another hour and a half, and after thinking I'd found the end of the road three different times, only to realize that it continued, I finally found a place to rest. It was a large slopping clearing, filled with layers of large flat rocks. Well, the clearing itself provided a buffer against the forest, I felt far away enough from the house and any inhabitants, and the final ingredient was finding a small "wall" of rock about two feet high that I could lay behind. After walking for about 11 hours, I was ready to rest.

I huddled down against the rock and tried to relax. I admired the stars for a while, which were beautiful. I was slowly getting more drowsy, but figured I should eat something first. It took about 20 minutes to convince myself to make the effort to open up my bag. You know, at the end of the day, I'm a pretty lazy person. If it weren't for my suicidal sense of adventure I doubt I'd ever bother to get out of bed. Well, when I finally did decide to eat instead of just sitting there falling asleep, I realized that I am also pretty stupid. I'd forgotten that I had brought a nice big beef stick along with me... It wasn't hard to imagine myself sound asleep, the sweet smell of meat drifting through the forest and into the nostrils of lions, bears, and coyotes from miles around... I nearly smacked myself for almost falling asleep like that.

So I decided that I would either start walking back immediately, or if it seemed like I could sleep then at least I would put my bag somewhere on the other side of the clearing. Well, then I tried to decide by seeing if it would be possible to sleep. I could feel the icy wind coming over the rock behind me and blowing over my head, but I felt pretty sheltered. I even started to feel comfortable and drowsy again, but suddenly the wind changed directions. It was gusting, sometimes blowing from behind, sometimes directly at me, sometimes just brushing past me. It's really hard to understand the frustration and torture of this if you're never spent a night out in the open. The wind finds any opening in your clothing, any exposed skin, and hits it with everything it's got. So you turn around to protect that area, and the wind finds another place. You know those nights when you just can't get comfortable? Now imagine that 99% of the comfortable positions you DO find are also impossible to sleep in. Having had a few experiences with this kind of environment, I'm absolutely in awe of the homeless people around the world. I understand why they look the way they do, since I don't think I would even survive many weeks of that kind of life.

When I felt my feet going cold, I knew I had a problem. No amount of positioning would help that problem, and I knew my feet would only get colder and colder until after I had been walking for at least 15 minutes. Before long they would start getting painful, and if I still ignored them the pain would go away, but that wouldn't be a good thing. There was really no question of sleeping at this point.

But still I didn't get up. It wasn't that I was lazy, or too tired to get up. It wasn't that I was thinking about the long trip back, or the perceived dangers along the way. I certainly wasn't enjoying myself lying there on the rocks. So why didn't I want to get up?

The answer came to me suddenly, and it was the most important moment of this whole trip. I've already said that I started trip this because I needed to clear my mind, and this was certainly a moment of clarity. I simply didn't want to go back. I was nearly miserable here, and home sounded so comfortable, but I still didn't want to leave this place.

I had spent the last month of winter vacation doing basically whatever I felt like doing, which pretty much meant sleeping, TV, a few family trips, and that's about it. I half convinced myself that I deserved a break between semesters, and that I "shouldn't push myself too much". The more I lived like that, the more disgusted with myself I became. I knew that every day was one I would never see again, and I started to hate going to bed each night, thinking of how much nothing I'd done that day, knowing that I'd be too lazy to wake up until the afternoon, and then it would start again. I was so focused on making life pleasant and comfortable that I was shutting out anything challenging or real. I just wanted to be happy with life, but I was sacrificing everything that made me happy with myself.

And now here I was, in the middle the the night, miles into the wilderness, in the freezing wind, on a rock bed, and I still didn't want to leave and return to that artificial life of distractions from that which is real. At least here I was alive, and knew it. Here I was not letting a speck of energy go unused. Here I was not unreasonably and uncontrollably frustrated when the Internet connection is too slow, or when my favorite TV program isn't on. I was living in the moment, and living it to the fullest extent of my abilities. There was even enough danger to make me think about survival, and nothing strips all superficiality from your mind like the whisper of death. In one moment I realized that a large part of me would rather stay and freeze in the dark than return to that useless world I'd created for my own pleasure. I almost laughed out loud at the irony.

Well, this was a realization worth the trip. I felt a new motivation to discipline and focus myself. I knew that if I couldn't monitor and balance the vast luxuries our society offers, then soon I'd be out on a freezing rock somewhere again, and I really didn't want that. Okay, I was ready to try again.

So I stood up, and prepared to start the long walk back. At this point it was about 9:30. I figured I'd been walking over 11 hours, so by starting back now I should get home around 6 am. A little early for me, but I'd had enough of the cold, and I was ready to go home.

The way back was pretty stressful, but for many hours nothing interesting actually happened. I was worried about my flashlight battery dying. I was worried about lions. Every time I heard a noise in the bushes I flashed my light at it to discourage any attack. Several times I disturbed birds sleeping in the bushes as I pushed past them, and they would burst into flight with loud screeches. That always made me nearly wet my pants.

Besides that there was always the interesting experience of seeing the lights of Chico whenever the trail curved towards the ridge and out of the trees. It was strange, seeing so many lights of so many people, so close and still it all looked very far away when I thought about walking there. Hey Matt and Daniel, you remember our trip to Ishi Wilderness? It was kind of like that. It was a different kind of lost, because I knew the direction, I could even see where I was going, but I really had no idea where I was.

I kept walking, sometimes making plans about how to avoid letting my life get so distracted in the future, sometimes just putting one foot in front of the other. At one point my dad called on the cell phone. He said that there were weather alerts on the news about the cold, and they advised everyone to stay inside. The police were driving around to make sure no one was staying outside too long. Needless to say my parents were worried about me, and wanted me to call them as soon as I was near the Upper Bidwell road so they could come and pick me up. They sounded like they were more convinced that I was crazy, which I'd already discovered was pretty much true, so I didn't argue.

Thus it went for about five hours, and then it started getting interesting again. See, up in the higher hills the thick brush made it very clear where the road was, but as I came down into the lower hills the terrain was more flat and open, which made me more comfortable, but also made the road much more difficult to follow. Usually it was nothing more than an area where the ground was a little clearer than other areas, and in the dark that's a distinction easy to miss. I constantly caught myself walking off the trail in the wrong direction before I realized my mistake. I wasn't too worried about loosing the direction (the lights of Chico were impossible to miss), but I was worried about getting caught in the bushes, and also about finding the gate to take me from the reserve into Upper Bidwell. Every half hour or so I would notice a landmark that reassured me that I was on the right road, but then the landmarks stopped. I was still on the road, but I was more and more certain that I hadn't come this way. It seemed like I should have reached the gate already. I was also aware that I didn't have a lot of time to waste, because I was starting to feel the effects of asking my feet to go from relative inactivity to walking all day and night. Blisters were growing, and it was slowly making it more difficult to walk on the rocky ground. But I had little choice, and the road was in the right direction, so I kept going with growing unease, wondering how far away the gate was.

It's amazing how something like this can captivate your whole mind for hours, even if it's useless to think about it. For two hours I kept thinking that the gate would be just around the next bend, that maybe I'd gotten turned around, maybe I'd just forgotten how long it was, etc. Then finally I saw a gate ahead of me. The rush of relief in my heart lasted a moment until I got closer and realized that this was not the gate I'd crossed 15 hours ago. And I could see a clear dirt road on the other side, traveling down a gently slopping grassy hill. That certainly wasn't the rough and rocky land of Upper Bidwell! I had no idea where I was, but I decided to just keep the right direction and continue on. I climbed over the fence and tried to take stock of my surroundings. I didn't recognize anything, and I had absolutely no idea where I was in relation to the park. But one thing I did know, I was out of the reserve. Also the terrain was much more pleasant, and judging from the tall barbed-wire fence I'd just left, there wouldn't be much wildlife in here. That was a wonderful relief by itself!

As the road headed down the hill I felt strangely relaxed and calm. I could see clearly all around me, there was no close brush, only widely spaced trees and low grass. I felt like I'd left the dark part of the adventure and was moving slowly towards the sun. The valley floor was laid out below me, twinkling with lights. I could even see cars moving on the road, looking like little pinpricks of light. Even though the road was very rocky at times, and that was becoming more and more of a factor to my blistered feet and weakening ankles, this was finally starting to feel like a night hike should; quiet, peaceful, and picturesque. I even started enjoying myself.

After about an hour of thinking through what I knew about my position, I got a pretty good idea of where I was. Those of you who are familiar with Upper Bidwell know that as you drive up the road into the park on the left is a wide area of property used as a cow ranch. I was now pretty sure that I had stumbled onto that land. Apparently it reaches as far back into the hills as Upper Bidwell itself, but is much gentler and grassy. Knowing this (or being pretty sure that I knew it), I became a little more conscious about my light shinning out over half the valley from the hillside, and a little more concerned with bumping into anyone. But by this time it was after 3:00 am, and I wasn't too worried about anyone being up and about.

That all changed very quickly when I came around a bend and heard sounds in the grass in the shadows on my far left. I froze, crouched down, and waited, my eyes wide. The distinct sound of something large slowly moving through the grass continued for a moment, getting closer, and then stopped. I stayed as still as I could, and then decided that it couldn't be a man, and if it was an animal I would just have to face it . After all, if a mountain lion had somehow gotten down this far and was watching me, then sitting still on the ground radiating nervousness was probably the worst thing I could do. So gathering up my courage, I jumped up and waved my hands around wildly. About 10 feet to my left, a very large something leaped back, making loud animal sounds. At that moment large figures all around me jumped off the ground and started running fast in all directions. I almost yelling in fright before I realized that they were cows. You probably figured that out already, but somehow it hadn't entered my mind. And I've never seen cows move or sound like this! I guess they only do that when you sneak into the middle of their group when they're sleeping in the middle of the night and suddenly jump out at them like a madman. By the way, if any of you know the rancher who owns these cows, and he mentions that all his cows suddenly stopped giving any milk, please forget that you read this story, okay? Thanks.

Anyway, I stood there breathing hard and giggling to myself for a few minutes before continuing on. It was about this time that the moon finally came out. It wasn't much of a moon, but it was enough to walk without my flashlight, and that made me feel a lot better. Walking by moon light is a great feeling, especially on land like this. I even thought about laying down under one of the trees and calling it a night, especially since I was now limping along and really concerned about twisting my ankle in the dark. But I was more worried about the rancher being up and about by the time the sun rose, and now the darkness was my friend if I hoped to get out of here without being noticed. So I kept going.

I walked for about two hours over the hills, crossed several small creeks, found ways around little valleys, and eventually found myself on the flat grasslands level with the still distant lights of the city. Then came my last little adventure on this journey. I looked ahead and saw a gate. It was a big gate, taller than me, and on the opposite right side was a large fenced farm-yard. It looked like the area where the cattle were loaded into trucks for transport. Everything was as quiet as a graveyard, and I wanted it to stay that way. There was always a small chance that the rancher lived here in one of those buildings.

I approached the gate and considered the best way to get over it. It wouldn't be difficult to climb, the challenge would be in keeping silent. The middle of the gate was locked with a padlock and a lot of chain, and the hinges looked very rusty and squeaky. I started up one side, and was moving pretty stealthily until I reached the top and swung one leg over. And then, well, you know that thing that sometimes happens when you're climbing over a fence and you stop at the top and the fence starts shaking, and you shake with it to try to keep it balanced, but really only make it worse, and the movement keeps getting greater, until you end up making a noise like a small marching band for several minutes? Okay, maybe some of you haven't experienced that personally, but it happens, and that's what happened to me at this moment.

So there I was, tottering back and forth at the top of a 6 foot gate, making a noise to wake the gods of thunder, and then over in the farmyard I heard dogs barking. Bad news, that. So I forgot about getting stabilized before climbing down, and instead half fell half scrambled like a frightened squirrel down the other side of the gate, and I started walking, fast! If it had been an option I would have been running, but it hurt enough just walking fast, so running was completely out of the question. I think that even if a crazed farmer with a shotgun had charged out of the farmhouse with both barrels blazing I still could not have managed to move faster than a one-legged kangaroo. I'm not sure where that image came from, but work with me on that one.

So I tripped along, very aware that my footsteps sounded very loud on the loose gravel. The dogs kept barking, but the sound slowly faded into the distance as I walked to safety. I still didn't feel completely safe, and I kept looking over my shoulders looking for headlights that would be the sign of a wild-eyed rancher coming after me, and I was ready to through myself into the ditch on the side of the road at any moment. It's unflattering to think how much time I spent on this trip looking over my shoulder. But anyway no lights came, and the countryside grew quiet again.

From there it was a matter of finding my way out. I eventually recognized the Upper Bidwell road on the other side of the fence, and after about half an hour I found a place to climb over the barbed wire. By the way, that particular fence is one of the best I've encountered of the barbed-wire variety. The bottom wire leaves no room or flexibility to climb under, it's too high to think about jumping over, and the posts are just wobbly enough to make climbing over very very precarious. If you're considering getting into that land, I suggest you go about 10 minutes past where I stumbled over the barbed-wire and go over the nice iron gate at the end of the road.

Anyway, it felt strange to be back on public land after about 18 hours of worry about getting caught trespassing. It was like the feeling after you get into bed and put your feet between the freezing sheets, and then you feel them slowly warm up to a cozy, comfortably temperature. Still I was in pretty bad shape, and quite glad that my father had "ordered" me to call for a pick-up, instead of having to try to walk across town to get home. I don't know what would have happened if I'd tried to walk another few miles.

After a few minutes I arrived at the playground at the beginning of the upper park. I checked my watch and saw that it was 5:50. Right on time. I sat on one of the playground platforms and caught my breath, drank the rest of my water, and then called my dad. When his sleepy voice came on I told him where I was, and asked if he was sure he wanted to come and get me, because I could still walk home if he'd rather stay in bed. He said he'd come and get me. Even though I kind of wanted the satisfaction of making it all the way back to my front door, I was relieved that my walking was over for the day.

At home I peeled my socks off (found that I had actually burst two blisters by walking on them, which I didn't think was possible), took a long shower (no ticks, amazingly!), tended to my poor feet (which was difficult because my feet refused to speak to me and tell me where it hurt. Only now are they beginning to trust me again), and headed to bed. I had been out for almost exactly 20 hours, and at least 18 of that was walking. I figure I walked at least 25 miles round-trip, although all my efforts to figure out exactly where I went have failed. That's no Marine's hike, but I was pleased with myself. In the 24 hour period after that trip I probably slept about 15, but I didn't feel guilty at all! It wasn't very difficult to justify that!

All in all, I felt it was a successful trip, whatever that means. I'm sure each of you reading has a slightly different evaluation of the experience, but I'll leave that for you to decide. I also had the adventure-urge beaten out of me for another several months at least, so for now I have to make my peace with the "real world," or whatever it is that we've decided to call real, and try to find a balance without staging a prison break and running into the hills. But knowing me, I'm sure that sooner or later I'll find myself out on a freezing rock bed, wondering how I could be crazy enough to be out there, and what it will take for me to be "normal." For the record, if anyone out there is wondering, I don't plan on ever being normal. Besides, if I was then I'd have nothing to write about!

-The End

I have few last thoughts from this little story. Although it was only one day, it was a significant day for me. I realized how quickly and how radically the wrong life philosophy can turn my heart sour. And although I didn't meet anyone but myself in the whole journey, it does involve a number of other people. It may not seem like it, but I put a lot of time into writing this story over the last month. I enjoyed it, but I wouldn't have finished it without knowing that many people were reading it and encouraging me to "get on with it!" :-) Thanks to everyone who kept asking me what would happen next. I'm sorry I dragged it on so long, this last chapter especially, but I hope you enjoyed it and got something to think about from it. Also, this story is only one small example of how much my parents have learned by having three sons. :-) I am grateful for their understanding and support in all the craziness behind and ahead of me. Last of all, I thank my God for making it clear that He will always be my "Real World" whenever I'm willing to step away from the counterfeits I've built up around me. Take care everyone, and live well, this is not a rehearsal!