arvyart

I stopped and talked to guys for a while. “Unfortunately, I think you’ve made a tardy appearance. There was a wild shooting a few days ago. So there is no living soul left! All the elk crossed the ridge or left this place”, I replied them. They were two so-called hunters from Portland, OR driving their quad painted in camouflage as their clothes were too. One of them was wearing a silly red knitted cap. Each of them had a gun. I noticed they had canned beer on the bottom under their feet. That was illegal, of course. And I’ve seen some pollution in the form of empty beer and coke cans on mountain roadsides. Fortunately, their quad made a lot of noise that was frightening every single wild being. They also had powerful torches.

I have to fess up I told them a shameless lie. I have seen some five doe-deer cows going to their hideout in the thicket as I was passing by just 20 minutes before I met those guys at the end of trail still available for a quad ride. I hate when somebody kills live beings just for having fun. I hate when any governmental organization sells permits/licences for doing that by explaining away with absurd reasons. I know some hunters as great guys, however, I cannot understand their hobby to kill anyway. Yes, they have no any fear for starvation!!!

I was coming back from Taft peak on Schell Creek Range. The sunset was pouring its orange gold upon mountainside above the confluence of North and South Forks of Timber Creek. I was close to my vehicle when I heard and saw those two driving back. I could do nothing but I was hoping either the beautiful wild creatures won’t show up at night or the hunters will get drunk and fell asleep.

That was a year ago soon after the hunting season has started. This time I was struggling up through a jungle of thick alder bushes and young bush-like aspens above the Lizzie’s Ponds. My goal was to climb the HIM (Hole-In-the-Mountain Peak), the highest one (11,306 ft.) in the East Humboldt Range of the Rubies and also the most interesting. That pentagonal Lizzie’s Hole, aka Lizzie’s Window, is a strong magnetic lure. HIM Peak has 4849 feet of prominence and comes in at #11 for Nevada peaks with the most prominence. I have to add that Wheeler is #2 on that list, and is higher (13,063 ft.), but just a children’s toy comparatively to the HIM. Well, a few thousand ft. Wheeler’s northern wall would be a big challenge, but nobody does that self-killing ascent because of the heavily eroded rocks. Another thing the paved road approaches Mt. Wheeler as high as slightly above 10,000 ft. Plus there’s a well-developed trail to the summit.

I arrived to Clover Valley in the evening.

Also you can click HERE for a map. My camping place is centered on that link. Click on map type and select either satellite or google satellite. Also you may select google panoramio. Then click on a thumbnail that pops up and then click again on bigger image to view a larger image.

I drove my famous blue high clearance van. There were two front seats and a comfortable mattress behind. So I had a tent on wheels. I always was so proud of that invention even if there was nothing new invented. Generations of new settlers lived in their wagons. Anyway, I had to leave my tent on dirty Weekend Access roadside half a mile from a few other campers who all had 4WD. They were camping on a bank of mountain creek and some even at the Lizzie’s Ponds a few miles higher. It was the hunting season. All those campers were hunters, of course. I heard shots here and there time by time.

I spent a cold night on a queen bed. I got up early and left at sunrise. No earlier – it was really cold.

Going up and down on the intricate, bush covered and sometimes sloppy terrain was not an easy walk. Sometimes I even had to crawl. There was a basin shaped jungle of brushes, between two very steep shoulders (mountain ridges) going down from the main range. I heard shots somewhere behind me. I got out of that brush jungle and continued my way up. I know, there was an easier route around that jungle, but I’m an adventurous guy. That way you win sometimes, but sometimes not. That time I got wet instead of a reward.

I have frightened a doe-deer cow. She ran away to the side of the circus making a loud sound galloping on the big hard rocks. “Go up, go up!”, I mumbled perhaps more to myself than to that graceful creature. My camera didn’t work to my big disappointment. I tried to make a few shots earlier, but the result was the same. It is “frozen”, I thought. (I still have the same camera: sometimes it works, sometimes not. It makes me more problems when it is cold.)

That was an exhausting climb up a small steep canyon. There was a jagged ridge on my left and huge eroded vertical walls on my right. I had to be careful as the sun started to warm up the frozen rocks and some stones were falling down making sound and ricocheting away. The latter really worried me. Fortunately, I passed by the most dangerous place as the walls on my right now moved back and didn’t hang straight above my head. I was slowly approaching snowline. The sound of falling stones griped my attention again. But this time the sound was different, i.e. as if they were more sliding and falling down than just falling down from a high wall. I stopped looking at the huge eroded rocks on my right. The scale in the mountains makes problems even to experienced mountaineers. It’s not always easy to focus your eyes on something comparably small especially when echo brings some confusion on determining the direction of the original sound. Suddenly I stood stock-still of improbability and excitement. A few beautiful mountain goats (Oreamnos americanus) were carefully and acrobatically nosing on steep rocks from… from… obscurity! I couldn’t see the continuation of their secret trail. Perhaps somebody has frightened them or maybe it was their usual tricky trail, but they appeared in the middle of pretty high rock and lowered down until they reached the side of the canyon bottom. The bottom had a form of huge chute at that place.

Two goats, three, four, five… Five! They followed the leader, the huge bull, keeping a distance among them in a strict military-like order. “Fortunately, you are safe here”, I talked to myself. “No one lazy hunter climbs so high. They enjoy their gun shooting from the comfort of 4WDs. In the other hand how would they carry the hunted animal all long way down?”

What a joy! My camera started to work after some attempts! I came down to reality soon. There was not realistic to use a tripod. The optical zoom is 3x and plus digital 4x. Nikon E5000. “What a children’s toy I have,” I cursed and swore deep inside. That was a photographic nightmare! I don’t wish to think of that. The goats made a nice curved trail well-defined by relief. However, they didn’t lose the height and finally got on the gentle ridge on my left and gone of my vision.

I made a few extra shots and continued my ascent to the peak. Some 5 minutes later, my ear got wind of similar sound of stone fall again. Now I knew where to look. Another goat! I couldn’t understand why she was left behind by the herd and why she was standing in between on the middle of the steep rock and looking back. I watched her for half a minute. Oh my! She was waiting for and encouraging baby goat, the tiny lovely creature that was following shortly behind her! I stopped my breath watching that sensitive self-sacrifice dictated by powerful mother’s love. Probably somebody was hunting on the other side of the range too. Perhaps it was more important to the herd to safely escape than to take a great risk waiting for mother and her baby. That’s reasonable for the wild creatures as survival instinct dictates the rules. The mother could escape together with the herd, but what a powerful mother’s instinct. What a good example to human beings!

Finally, mother goat and her baby both were on a safe place. I was so happy inside even if still breathless. I remembered that I have camera.

Now I was closer as I climbed for 5 minutes or so and the two goats followed the steps of their herd.

Even if so, it still was a photographic nightmare. I thought, “Perhaps I would kill a hunter if one would appear and made a single shoot”. I was still until the two cute viators evanesced from my sight. It took me another 10 minutes until I reached the footstep of the herd where they crossed the snowy bottom of the canyon right above me. They were excellent climbers and trail finders. The slanted crest of the gentle ridge now was not so ragged and it was the best itinerary to continue climbing the peak. Also I hoped to see the herd on the other side of the ridge again. I struggled hard on pretty steep snow slope and was close to the crest when uncertain power made me stop and look up. Wow! The huge mail goat, I’m sure the leader of herd, was looking down at me. The distance between us was about 30 ft. only. We both remained riveted to the spot for some 20 seconds or so. We were still holding our eye-tie when I desperately tried to turn on my camera. It didn’t work! The mighty guy slowly cleared off my vision. Oh that damn crocked camera! Suddenly, I caught myself focusing too much on small nothings. “What’s that? OK, if I got fantastic pictures… would that make a great influence either to the goats or to my spiritual world? Probably I’d simply raise up my nose of false pride…” Perhaps it was not such a great loss. Not at all! I was blessed to be so close to those cuties and somehow they new I wasn’t their enemy. Thanks God, for all that! Finally, I got up on the crest. It was an exceptional flat place on that ridge. A real nature made rest area. Moreover, a huge rock made a roof-like shelter.

I saw the herd slowly traversing snowy steep rocks to the south. The baby walked safe in the middle of the group.

Soon they got out of my vision. (Later, but not at that certain time, I thought they had used another shelter unseen and unknown to the strangers like me.) I made some shots and took some snacks and cold tea not stopping to view the eastern wall of HIM with a hope to see the herd again soon. Yups! It cannot be so, but I noticed the herd again. How can it happen? I couldn’t believe my eyes. The herd was approximately on the same altitude, but clearly too far away! First, physically they couldn’t make such a huge distance in such a short time. Second, I would notice them following their dramatic trail. I was out of myself, but made a few shots. A few minutes passed away until I slowly realized the fact that I see another herd. Moreover, the herd of bighorn sheep (Ovis canadensis) What a trick! How silly I was thinking they had to be mountain goats. Then I saw no any single live being after 5 minutes of intensive looking.

Full of impressions, analyzing in my minds and thinking of what has happened I continued up the peak that was still far away on the crest of the main range. The most dangerous part of the ascent also was ahead. The views were stunning and didn’t allow myself to thinking of fatigue. I won’t describe that entire exhaustive ascent until I was close to the peak.

Finally, I was scrambling on the edge of moving thin stone platforms. The snow was soggy as it was sunny day and dark rocks accumulated warmth. Yes, I got wet again and my hands were freezing too. It would be a mistake to use gloves here. The platforms vere slippery, wet, and mossy. Very slippy. It was a huge dropoff on my left. The view was better on my right, but it also promised nothing good if I fell down. Indeed, crossing steep slope on the right to another ridge would be the right way to the peak. But not now without security: the rocks were steep covered with soggy snow and very slippy.

The moving, eroded, and slippy edge was as wide as 3-4 ft. I had no ropes, harness, ice screws, rock hooks, nuts, carabiners… Nothing for my security. And I got stuck on the edge as the platform of approx. 5×2ft. and some 5in. thick roared down when I tested it with my hands. It left almost knife-like eroded edge. The peak was some 100 ft. away only. The critical distance was 30 -35 ft. only. I saw the other side of the range next to the summit. My camera was out of reach. I looked down and didn’t want to have a very short lesson on learning to fly. Somehow I remembered my close climbing pals who died in the mountains, Remy who remained handicapped for the rest of his life, Algis, who died on the slope of Elbrus… And my close friend Vyga who experienced his fatal fall when climbing soon after we started to plan our ascent to Denali (McKinley). I thought of the people I love too… The views still were stunningly beautiful!

Well, I was in worse situations. But even by coming up to that last point I was balancing on the edge of sound mind. It is always very difficult to meet the sound mind and turn around, especially when a peak is within reach of one’s hand. It looked it would be easier to continue up. I was sure I wouldn’t take the same part of the route on my way back. Perhaps I would even go down on the opposite slope and then ask somebody’s help to bring me to the place where I left my vehicle. But none of “perhaps”, “maybe”, and “if” butters the bread. After the whole inner drama of feelings I took the right decision to go back. That was the first and only peak in NV that I left undone. I think I needed that failure. Later my pal Dean of Kennewick, WA (later he moved to Lehi, UT) has commented on that: “I can only commend your good judgment in stopping short on HIM. No mountain is worth taking too great a risk and I’m glad you made it back safely.”

It is easy to say like that, but hard to do. I was stuck on a sharp edge of swinging eroded platforms as I said before. I was struggling hardily, slowly, trying not to loose balance even for a short second. Finally, I succeeded and got to a comparatively safe place again and made a few captures. It didn’t seem so dangerous looking up from that point. Anyway, I’ve done that peak following the same route a year later. Yes, then I came around that dangerous place, drove sedan and there was less snow on sunny day of September 23, 2006. Several summit entries were by mountain goat hunters! Damn them! They climbed on the western talus what was much easier to do.

I’ve seen no any wildlife on my way back. Finally, at the very end of my descent, below Lizzie’s Ponds, I hiked down the remainder of the way on a partially bald talus in the center. I put on a baseball cap of almost white color. I thought, “Either I’ll be better seen to the hunters so that they don’t think I’m an elk or… become a better target”. Indeed I heard the shots on my left, on my right, and somewhere ahead of me. I felt as I was at war. Not a nice feeling! “That’s not honest”, I thought. “The hunters are so brave because they have guns and are absolutely sure any deer cannot respond with the same.”

“So what”, I thought, “If a group of folds gather together? A gang of 15-20 lets say. All of them have an automatic gun, some sort of powerful cannon! Well trained and coordinated they hide away among the bushes and do nothing but wait until the hunters get up in the morning and start their entertainment. Later one guy safely raises up a construction of elk imitation and make a long “mewoooo” deer-like sound along. The hunters start shooting, of course, but the elk doesn’t fell down. “What a hell?”, the hunters should think and quit their shooting. Then, they make another attempt, of course. The “elk” now makes another long loud “mewoooo”. Soon ten other elk imitations raise up with a wild “mewoooo” from ten different places. And then, wild cannon shooting starts above the hunters’ heads. Psychologically, that is called an effect of improbability. Another effect is when one sees what somebody else arranged for him to believe and that kills his sound mind. Just temporarily, of course. (However, various cheaters often use similar tricks to help you spend your money. Be careful!) Somebody should film that scene. I just imagine how the hunters make a hurry-scurry, jump into their jeeps that hopingly roll downhill. Lol! What a scenario for comics!”

Please consider that as a joke as I did. “You can’t take the child out of this woman!”, Polly replied to Von McKnelly’s comment Or, “I am a 10-year-old little kid, cleverly disguised as a “woman of a certain age.””, was stated by Lois It’s great to be a kid! Hello kindred spirits! Moreover, admiring or thinking of anything else rather than of attenuation and fatigue is one of my favorite tricks to stay fresh in the mountains and under difficult situations too. Also I have to add I successfully crossed the barrage fire.

The day was nicely closing. I had to drive to Wells for gas first. I started my long drive back on road 93 in the dark. I don’t love driving in that huge area full of wildlife at night. Fortunately, I came back safely, and didn’t leave any single animal killed on the road. I’m glad I’m a bad hunter. :)))

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Click HERE to view the parent image to this story.

Special thanks to Rosie for her gentle push to tell this story. Click HERE for her beautiful image of mountain goats and HERE for another lovely image of bighorn sheep