backpacking

Into the Red Butte Wilderness… Backpacking at 71

/ Curt Mekemson / 46 Comments
Old Growth Cedar in Red Buttes Wilderness of Northern California and Southern Oregon.

There is much to be impressed with in the Red Buttes Wilderness, including magnificent old growth trees such as this cedar.

I know a bit about backpacking (mild understatement). A few years back, in 1974 to be exact, I was working as the Executive Director of the American Lung Association in Sacramento. The organization needed a new source of funding; I needed an excuse to play in the woods. So I combined the two. I proposed to my Board of Directors that I lead a nine-day, hundred mile backpack trip across the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range with the participants raising money to fight lung disease.

So what if my longest backpack trip ever had been 30 miles.

“You are crazy,” the board said. “You are crazy,” my friend in the backpacking industry said. It was like I had inherited a parrot.

And they were right. The only point they missed was just how crazy. Sixty-one people aged 11-71 showed up– many who had never worn a backpack in their lives. One immediately claimed she was a witch and would be over to bite me in the middle of the night. And how was I to know that my co-leader had participated in burning down a bank in Santa Barbara, or that my go-to guy in emergencies was a Columbian drug runner, or that the big fellow who got me through the toughest days was an explosive experts on the lam from the IRS. You can’t make these things up, folks! But this is a story for later this summer. It’s one you won’t want to miss.

Lets just say by the time I walked into the foothill town of Auburn, California nine days later on deeply blistered feet in 104-degree weather, I had persuaded myself that the money raised from Christmas Seals was more than adequate to support our organization, forever.

But then a strange thing happened. These people who I had almost killed and who had come close to killing me, started coming up one by one and demanding to know where we were going next year. I heard things ranging from, “This was the greatest experience in my life” to “I have lots of ideas for fundraising.” It took them several months to persuade me…

But persuade me they did. I would go on to add bike treks in Sacramento and eventually take the program nationwide where I became the national trek consultant for the American Lung Association. Millions of dollars were raised to prevent lung disease and thousands of people were introduced to long distant backpacking and bicycling as a result. More importantly, from my perspective, I got to play in the woods. For 30 years, I spent a part of each summer leading wilderness expeditions. And when I wasn’t leading treks, I was off backpacking by myself or with friends.

Founder of the American Lung Association Trek Program, Curtis Mekemson.

A much younger me gracing the front of the American Lung Association’s National Bulletin in my role as founder of ALA’s Trek Program.

Sadly, my last backpacking trip was seven years ago. Life happens, right? Peggy and I bought a small RV and decided to wander North America for three years; our kids started producing grand babies; we bought our property in Oregon and travelled to Europe and Alaska. I took up blogging and decided to write a book.

It was all good, but I missed backpacking– a lot. And there’s this thing. Our home looks out on the beautiful Red Buttes of the Siskiyou Mountains of Southern Oregon and Northern California. The mountains spoke to me, over and over and over. Finally I could no longer ignore their call. Peggy and I decided to hit the trail. So last week, we did.

Red Butte mountains of the Siskiyou Range.

The Red Butte Mountains as they appear from our house in spring through the lens of our camera. How could we not set out to explore them?

We planned a short trip: three days and 14 miles. It was to be something of a test to see how well we would do. After all, we had aged seven years. At 71, I couldn’t expect my body to behave the same way it had at 21, or 31, or 41, or 51, or 61. And even Peggy, a young woman of 64, was nervous.

I immediately pulled out maps and begin planning a route. I was like a little kid on Christmas morning (or Peggy at the chocolate store in Central Point). Had I been a dog, I would have been wagging my tail like my basset hound, Socrates, used to at the sight of a hotdog.

This forest service map shows the location of the Red Buttes Wilderness. The X marks the approximate location of our home.

This forest service map shows the location of the Red Buttes Wilderness. The X marks the approximate location of our home.

I planned out our route on a US Forest Service Topo Map. We followed the Butte Creek Trail to Azalea Lake.

I planned out our route on a US Forest Service Topo Map. We followed the Butte Creek Trail to Azalea Lake. I wrote in the small, circled numbers which I will refer back to.

A close up of the map shows the beginning of our hike. "T" marks the trailhead where we parked the truck. Topo lines reflect the steepness of the trail. The closer together, the steeper!

A close up of the map shows the beginning of our hike. “T” marks the trailhead where we parked the truck. Topo lines reflect the steepness of the trail. The closer together, the steeper! We started by hiking down into the canyon following the well switch backed trail. Down in the beginning, meant up in the ending. (grin)

Next came the gear. It was hiding out on shelves, in drawers, and long ago packed boxes. Would my MSR white gas stove still cook? Would the Katadyn Filter still pump safe water? And possibly even more important, would our Therm-A-Rest air mattresses still be filled with air in the morning? When you are disappearing into the backcountry, you can’t be too careful.

Here's my gear and backpack. The larger bags are tent, sleeping bag and pad, food, and clothes. Smaller bags are organized according to function: kitchen, bathroom, first aid, etc.

Here’s my gear and backpack. The larger bags are tent, sleeping bag and pad, food, and clothes. Smaller bags are organized according to function: kitchen, bathroom, first aid, etc. Total weight with food, fuel and water: 35 pounds.

Go light is the mantra of anyone who carries his house on his back. Fortunately, the backpacking industry is constantly developing lighter equipment, such as this fully functional folding bucket.

Go light is the mantra of anyone who carries his house on his back. Fortunately, the backpacking industry is constantly developing lighter equipment, such as this fully functional folding bucket.

There was the inevitable last-minute trip to REI. And Peggy and I even drove up to check out the trailhead on Mother’s Day. (Now, before all of you moms get excited, she got breakfast in bed first and we took a picnic lunch that we ate on a grassy knoll with a grand view. Peggy even managed to spot a hungry mountain lion disappearing into the forest. Maybe it was coming to join us for lunch. What more could a mom ask for?)

Peggy enjoying her Mother's Day Picnic. We saw the mountain lion a couple of hundred yards down the road on our way out.

Peggy enjoying her Mother’s Day Picnic. We saw the mountain lion a couple of hundred yards down the road on our way out.

And how was the trip? Forget for the moment that it was cold and rained much of the time. Forget that we were dead tired and went to bed at 7:00 PM. Forget that the trail came close to disappearing in the brush and we spent a fair amount of energy crawling over and around downed trees that blocked the trail. And forget about the noise we heard in the middle of the night that sounded like Bigfoot pounding on a tree trunk with a large limb. And why should you forget? I just got out my thesaurus. The trip was wonderful, beautiful, invigorating, marvelous, educational, and stunning. We laughed our way through the whole adventure.

I’ll let our photos tell the story.

Butte Creek trail in the Red Butte Wilderness.

After following switch backs down the dry mountain side, we came upon the verdant canyon of the Butte Fork of the Applegate River with its almost rainforest feel. (This and the following three photos are located near #1 on the map.)

Butte Creek trail in the Red Buttes Wilderness.

In 2012 the Ft. Goff fire had swept through the area. While the forest was relatively unharmed, some large trees had fallen across the trail and since been cleared to make way for hikers.

Smokey the Bear tree in the Red Buttes Wilderness.

We loved this tree poking its limb up in the middle of the fire area. Peggy at first saw a unicorn but I saw Smokey the Bear… reminding people to be careful with fire.

Horsetail fern growing in the Red Butte Wilderness.

We found this horse-tail fern growing in the canyon. Pioneers reputedly used this plant for scrubbing out pans.

CCC Cabin in the Red Buttes Wilderness area of Northern California and Southern Oregon.

An old cabin made out of red cedar shakes was built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 30s and then used by the forest service for storing fire fighting tools. (Located at #2 on the map.)

Roof of cedar shake cabin in Red Butte Wilderness area.

The hand-hewn cedar shake roof.

Chinquapin forest in Red Butte Wilderness.

Not far above the cabin, we came across a chinquapin forest. I had seen chinquapin bushes but never trees.

Chinquapin nuts, encased in these spine covered shells, are apparently quite tasty.

Chinquapin nuts, encased in these spine covered outer shells, are apparently quite tasty.

Flowering dogwood in the Red Butte Wilderness.

The trail at this elevation also featured beautiful flowering dogwood.

Peggy Mekemson hikes along the Butte Fork Trail through the Red Buttes Wilderness of Northern California.

Here, Peggy poses under a bower of it. I was going to point out that her pack weighed 32.5 pounds. She quickly corrected me. It was 32.8 pounds.

Small creek in Red Butte Wilderness area.

We had been hiking across dry slopes for quite some time. It was getting late, we were tired, and I was beginning to feel a bit of a grump coming on when we heard this creek. “I hear camp,” I told Peggy. (#3 on the map)

Camping out in the Red Buttes Wilderness.

There was barely room for our small North Face tent. But it was home. (Shortly after this photo it started raining.)

Old growth forest in the Red Buttes Wilderness.

This was our view looking up from our campsite. The Red Butte Wilderness includes some of the most impressive old growth forest I have ever seen including pine, fir and cedar trees.

Massive sugar pine tree in the Red Buttes Wilderness.

Peggy caught me standing next to one of the massive sugar pines. (Photo By Peggy Mekemson.)

Gravesite in Red Butte Wilderness.

This beautiful mound of rocks is found on my map at # 4. It’s a grave for three people buried here by family members after their plane crashed on July 28, 1945.

Burial site of airplane crash victims in Red Butte Wilderness.

The grave marker shows that Sylvan Gosliner, Ruby May Gosliner and Alma Virgie Pratt are buried here. Remnants of the plane can still be found in the canyon below.

Tree torn apart for bugs in Red Butte Wilderness.

Someone had a grand time ripping this rotting tree apart for it bugs. Was it a bear? Or how about Bigfoot? We found a large pile of scat (poop) nearby.

Cedar Grove in the Red Buttes Wilderness.

Cedar Grove is aptly named for its magnificent cedars. (Found at #5 on the map.)

Corn Lilies in red Butte Wilderness.

We also found corn lilies growing nearby in a meadow where the Goff Trail joins the Butte Fork Trail.

Trillium growing in Red Buttes Wilderness.

As we did this trillium.

Tree blaze carved into a cedar tree in the Red Buttes Wilderness.

Ever hear the phrase, “Where in the blazes are we?” Foresters, cowboys and other outdoors people used to mark their trails by cutting out this symbol in a tree, which is known as a blaze. I’ve followed them through forests from Maine to Alaska, often over trails that have long since grown over.

Curt Mekemson backpacking in the Red Butte Wilderness.

It was a tad wet in the cedars, as this photo by Peggy demonstrates.  The bottle on the left is filled with wine, BTW. It helps assure that Peggy will follow me up the mountain. (grin)

Peggy Mekemson stands on trail in Red Buttes Wilderness.

The trail between the cedars and Lake Azalea almost disappeared on one occasion. Peggy is standing on it.

Azalea Lake in Red Buttes Wilderness.

We finally reached Azalea Lake. Have I mentioned it was wet out?

Curtis Mekemson camping in the Red Buttes Wilderness.

We found a drier, more protected camp farther away from the lake and settled in. I’ve carried the coffee cup backpacking for 45 years. Once it spent the winter buried under 20 feet of snow. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Azalea Lake in the Red Buttes Wilderness.

The sun rewarded our trip the next morning by providing a lovely view of Lake Azalea. It was time to pack up and head back for civilization.

Curtis and Peggy Mekemson in Red Buttes Wilderness.

Selfie of two happy campers at trails end who have seen some beautiful country and proven to themselves that they can still put on backpacks and disappear into the wilderness.

 

Things that Go Bump In the Night… Backpacking with Socrates in the Sierra’s

/ Curt Mekemson / 16 Comments
Socrates was not actually built for backpacking but he loved it. His grand daddy, so his papers claimed, had been the the American-Canadian champion for his class.

Socrates was not actually built for backpacking but he loved it. His grand daddy, so his papers claimed, had been the American-Canadian grand champion for his class. Check out his digging paws!

I’ve been following a fun blog called Animal Couriers where these folks travel around Europe delivering pets to people. They were just in Greece and that reminded me of a Basset Hound I once owned named Socrates. Or maybe he owned me. It was hard to tell at times. Anyway, Greece plus dog brought Socrates to mind.

About the time Socrates came into my life, I took up backpacking. Naturally I decided that Soc should go backpacking with me– you know, a guy and his dog. So off we went to my all-time favorite spot in the Sierra Nevada Mountains of California, a small lake basin that had been carved out by glaciers north of the I–80 Freeway half way between Sacramento and Reno.

The Five Lakes Basin north of Interstate 80 in the northern Sierra's of California.

This is one of five lakes snuggled down in a small glacier carved basin north of Interstate 80 in the northern Sierra-Nevada Mountains of California. This is the first area I ever backpacked and I have returned dozens of times over the years. The Black Buttes, which can be seen from I-80, are in the background.

Sharing the lake with Soc was close to being totally alone. His concept of a quality wilderness experience was disappearing into the woods and seeing how many holes he could dig. He never seemed to catch anything so I am not sure of his motivation. I’d get up in the morning and cover his handiwork. I almost felt like I needed to file an environmental impact report. Socrates would end up limping back to the car with sore feet.

On this particular journey, I packed the Carlos Castaneda book that features things that go bump in the night. Don Juan takes Carlos out into the middle of the Sonoran Desert on a pitch-black night and abandons him. Not long afterwards, the monsters come hunting. It wasn’t the best book for a solo night in the woods. As I read into the evening, I found myself paying more attention than usual to wilderness sounds.

I ingested a little medicinal herb to lighten things up. It was the 70s, after all. Bad idea; instant paranoia set in. Soon I could hear the wind stalking me through the treetops. An old snag turned into a ghoul. Off in the distance something big and ugly was digging and snorting. Socrates, I hoped.

This long dead pine turned into a ghoul in my imagination.

This long dead pine turned into a ghoul in my imagination. The mountains in the background are the Sierra Buttes.

“Here Soc,” I called. “Come here boy.”

The digging continued and grew more desperate.

“Come here!” I yelled. Still no response but now I could hear large claws scratching at granite.

“Does someone want a Milk Bone?” I added in a quiet, conversational voice.

The digging stopped. ‘Someone’ started coming through the brush toward me. Whatever it was, it was apparently interested in Milk Bones. Soc’s head, long body and wagging tail made their way into the firelight. He might love digging, but he loved food more. There was the reason why our low-slung pooch weighed 70 pounds.

“Good boy,” I said while digging out a Milk Bone. I knew I was buying companionship but it seemed like a good idea on this strange, dark night. Meanwhile, Socrates had started to drool in expectation. Soon he was shaking his head and shooting dog slobber off in a dozen directions. I ducked to avoid being slimed.

Unfortunately, my supply of Milk Bones was limited. I tied Soc up to assure his faithfulness. It was time for bed. I put the fire out and was greeted by a moonless, dark night. But hey, who needed the moon when I had my faithful companion and a million stars. I invited Socrates to snuggle up on my sleeping bag and laid my head down on the coat I was using for a pillow.

CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH!

“Gads what’s that!” (A translation of what was actually said.)  I sat up straight and grabbed for my flashlight. Socrates joined in by barking at my sleeping bag.

“No, Soc, out there,” I urged and pointed the flashlight off into the woods. Soc glanced up at me with a curious ‘what are you talking about’ look and started barking at my pillow.

“Look Socrates,” I pleaded, “just pretend there is a garbage man out in the woods.” Soc had never met a garbage man he could resist barking at and I wanted his teeth pointed in the right direction.  What Soc did with my advice was make three dog circles and plop down on my bag. I gave up and reluctantly laid my head back down on my pillow.

CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH!

I sat straight up again. Soc growled at me for disturbing his rest and started barking at my sleeping bag again.

“Fine watch dog you are,” I growled right back at him while straining my ears for the smallest of sounds. When Soc shut up, I was rewarded with a faint ‘crunch, crunch, crunch.’ It was coming from under the sleeping bag. I had a proverbial monster under my bed! Gradually it dawned on me that what I was hearing was a gopher tunneling his way through the ground, innocently on his way to some succulent root. I put my head down on my pillow. Sure enough, the ‘crunch’ became a ‘CRUNCH.’ The ground and the mystic weed were magnifying the sound. Soc had been right all along. I was lucky that he only barked at my sleeping bag and hadn’t started digging.

Don Juan would have appreciated how I had been tricked. Reality isn’t always what it seems. Following are a few photos I have taken of the Basin over the years. It’s an easy place to love.

Five Lakes Basin north of I-5 between Sacramento and Reno in Northern Sierra's.

The five lakes are small and intimate. This photo is from my campsite.

Five Lakes Basin in Northern Sierra mountains.

I camp out on a small peninsula. This reflection shot is also taken from my camp but looking in the opposite direction.

Juniper snag in Northern Sierra Nevada Mountains of California.

Junipers thrive in adverse conditions. And they make great snags.

I also liked this snag form what was probably a sugar pine tree. Granite rock forms the base of the Sierra's. Socrates considered the rock as freeways.

I also liked this snag from what was probably a sugar pine tree. Granite rock forms the base of the Sierra’s. Socrates considered the rock as freeways.

Mariposa Lilies are a common flower of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Both Native Americans and early pioneers considered their bulbs as food.

Mariposa Lilies are a common flower of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Both Native Americans and early pioneers considered their bulbs as food.

One of the first things I did when I met Peggy was introduce her to backpacking. (I took her on a 60 mile backpack trip.) Here she sits beside a small waterfall in the Five Lakes Basin.

One of the first things I did when I met Peggy was introduce her to backpacking. (I took her on a 60 mile backpack trip.) Here she sits beside a small waterfall in the Five Lakes Basin.

I liked this pine tree silhouette against the fluffy clouds.

I liked this pine tree silhouette against the fluffy clouds.

Sunset in the Northern Sierra Nevada Mountains.

A golden sunset lights up the Black Buttes.

Sunset north of I-80 in the Sierra Nevada Mountains of California

This dramatic sunset in the Five Lakes Basin was created by sun being filtered through smoke from a forest fire before lighting up the evening clouds.

NEXT BLOG: We return to Europe and Portugal.

A Rabid Wolf Wandered through Camp: The Wind River Mountains of Wyoming

/ Curt Mekemson / Leave a comment

The Wind River Mountains of Wyoming are a premier destination site for backpackers. A number of years ago I took six months off to backpack various locations in the western United States and added the area to my itinerary.

Mountain men were there first.

Place names such as Sublette County, Fremont Lake and the Bridger Wilderness recall these larger than life characters who were kept busy between the 1820s and 60s pursuing beavers, exploring the west, keeping their scalps, serving as guides, working as frontier entrepreneurs, and, in the case of John C. Fremont, running for President.

Many were also great storytellers and participated enthusiastically in the creation of their own legends.

One of the most popular locations for weaving tall tales was the Annual Fur Rendezvous that brought the various trappers together with suppliers out of St. Louis.

Six of the Rendezvous were held near the small town of Daniel, which is located on the Upper Green River 11 miles from Pineville. I stopped by and tried to imagine what the river valley would be like filled with over 1000 trappers, Indians, suppliers, missionaries, and wayward journalists.

The Mountain Men pursued their dangerous and often lonely profession during the winter when the fur pelts were at their best. The two to three-week Rendezvous in the summer was an opportunity to sell their furs, catch up with friends, gossip and resupply for another winter. It was also an excuse to party.

‘Whiskey,’ pure alcohol watered down and then flavored with tobacco, was passed around in a cooking kettle. Horse racing and shooting contests soon deteriorated to drunken debauchery. Old journals report the results.

One new guy was baptized by having a kettle of the alcohol poured over his head and lit on fire. A rabid wolf wandered through the camp and bit people at will. Several trappers were witnessed playing poker on a dead man’s body

A contract between William Ashley, the creator of the Rocky Mountain Rendezvous, and the trading firm of Jedediah Smith, David Jackson and William Sublette listed some 50 different items to be delivered to the Mountain Men.

Many of these items such as gunpowder, lead, beaver traps, and butcher knives related to their work. There were also cooking kettles, flour, sugar, allspice, dried fruit, coffee, grey cloth, and washing soap for every day living. Some items such as beads, ribbons, rings, bracelets and calico were probably trade goods for the Indians

As one might expect, ‘fourth proof rum’ (80 % pure), regular tobacco and the more high quality Smith River Tobacco were included for long, lonely nights. Slaves were producing the Smith River Tobacco in Virginia at the time.

Reviewing what the Mountain Men carried with them into the mountains led me to look at my own backpacking list. It appears life is more complicated today. My list contains over 60 items and I rarely travel for more than seven to ten days without checking back into civilization!

But then again, the Mountain Men apparently didn’t worry about such niceties as toilet paper and toothpaste, not to mention maps and reading material. They also shot much of what they ate.

Wednesday’s Blog: “There’s a Beaver Standing on My Tent.” I have my own mountain man experience.

Exploring the Grand Canyon by Car, Mule, Foot, Helicopter and Boat

/ Curt Mekemson / Leave a comment

The Grand Canyon provides a vast panorama of ever changing color and seemingly endless space.

“Golly, what a gully,” President William Howard Taft was heard to mutter when he first saw the Grand Canyon.

Teddy Roosevelt was more profound: “Leave it as it is. You cannot improve on it. The ages have been at work on it, and man can only mar it.”

Each point along the Grand Canyon rim provides a unique and rewarding view.

Both of these thoughts are rumbling through my brain as I think about the 18 days Peggy and I are about to spend rafting 280 miles down the Colorado River.

Few people come away from the Grand Canyon untouched and we are no exception.Its vastness, beauty, and geology have pulled us back time and again, as have its natural and cultural history.

There are many ways to explore the Canyon. For the vast majority of people, some 5 million a year, this involves a drive up to the South Rim and a quick tour of the most popular overlooks.

Sitting on the edge for an hour or two enhances the experience several times over. Hanging out on the rim for a few days while roughing it at a campground or luxuriating in one of the lodges, is even better.

For those wanting for a bird’s eye view, a helicopter trip is a tempting option. (National Park rules limit the obtrusiveness that helicopters and airplanes flying in the Canyon would otherwise create. Specific routes and altitudes are mandated.)

Beyond these more sedentary approaches to the Canyon lies adventure. Even a half hour hike down one of the more popular trails provides a trip through millions of years of history, incredible views and the heart-pounding thought that only a few feet separate you from a thousand foot tumble.

Longer hikes and especially backpacking trips provide a perspective that only a small percentage of Canyon visitors ever have.

"Don't even think about climbing on my back," this Grand Canyon mule seems to say.

If you want to visit the inner canyon but fear you’re lifetime warranty will expire hiking out, check out the sure-footed mules that carry tourists in and out of the Canyon. It’s an outing your rear will remember for years.

At some point or the other in my life, starting with a Rim drive in 1968, I have experienced all of these approaches to visiting the Grand Canyon including trips by mule and helicopter. (Our son Tony provided the latter while he was working for Papillon.)

My most challenging journeys have been six backpack trips into the Canyon, including a week alone. Read about the latter misadventure in “The Tale of a Tail” under Stories on the sidebar.

I view our 18 day raft trip down the river as an exclamation point to my explorations of the inner canyon.  Even here there are options. For example, commercial companies offer trips on large, motorized pontoon boats. These tours are quicker and definitely less work… but my sense is they lack the same level of intimacy and adventure as a private trip.