When Camping Goes Wrong (Part 2)

The night air was an ocean of fears. Tumultuous waves of anxiety that were crashing into me earlier in the evening were now receding back into a turbulent body of water. With urgency I closed the zipper of the tent, attempting to escape any remaining waves of anxiety. I took a moment to adjust for bed.

My body became flat against the ground, but my mind was still a wind-tossed tempest. I laid in wait of peace, continually listening for anything abnormal outside the tent. As I did so, the waters of my mind began to swell less and less with time. My still body slowly slipped into a soft slumber. Hours passed before I awoke, but when I did my mind resumed a sharp investigation of all sounds surrounding the tent. I waited to hear something rummaging through our packs. Instead, I fell asleep to silence. I awoke within the hour and took account of all sounds once more. Nothing.

While I lay cocooned and motionless in my sleeping bag a few more cycles of sleeping and listening came to pass. Each time I awoke, I waited for signs of sunlight. Like a butterfly about to break free, I became restless as the darkness lingered on and cold air began to infiltrate my cocoon. I drifted in and out of sleep.

When I awoke to sounds outside the tent I knew I had get up. The sounds were not of something rummaging through our packs but of birds chirping happily in the gentle morning sun. I was ready to get up so as to become warm. I ventured out of the tent into the thirty-something degree air and surveyed the sky through a haze of pine trees. Taking in a breath of crisp morning air and hearing the busy voices of forest critters I could tell the waters of fear and anxiety had grown calm since the darkness left. I realized I was ready for some smooth sailing out on the morning waters; I was ready to hike. As I walked over to our bear-safe container of food and carried it back to the tent I felt soreness in my muscles; remnants from yesterday's hike. I grabbed our bag of extra food that hung from the cabin roof and pulled out an apple. The fresh crunch of my juicy breakfast not only brought a sweet taste to my mouth but also an eagerness to move. The only problem I saw was that Kayla did not share my eagerness. I tried to convince her to get up but it seemed to be to no avail.

Annoyingly persistent, I nagged at her until I saw she began to move and respond.

Disgruntled, I sat down on a stump and took out my map, occasionally glancing at the tent. I studied the map. I looked up when the tent began to wiggle. Kayla was getting up. Turning my eyes back to the map, I saw how far we had gone and how far we had hoped to go. Miles would need to be made up today. In increments I threw out remarks about how we needed to get going. With each remark my urgency became increasingly transparent. I thought back on the night prior and feared we would encounter storms of anxiety tonight if we did not get going. Sitting there on the stump, I realized we were set at different speeds. To me, Kayla seemed to move in slow motion and I was trying to switch her into a higher gear. When I did, she would looked at me. I should have just been quiet.

Something was moving in the corner of my eye. I turned my head as a park ranger walked down the trail. Before walking passed us, he noticed me and came over to talk. I grabbed our permit and explained why we weren't camping where we were supposed to. He continued on his way. Soon enough the tent was down and we were on our way.



Rays of late summer sun warmed the atmosphere and beat down on us while we hiked. We followed the river for several miles until coming to the end of Death Canyon. The river ran up the face of the canyon wall in front of us. Nowhere to go but up. It was past noon and I promised we would stop for lunch at the top of the canyon wall. The first step up was easy but each subsequent step was harder than the last. Our packs pulled heavily on our shoulders. It was clear to me that we had brought too many things; namely, too much food. Persevering, we hiked back and forth on the face of the canyon until we had to stop. We set our bags down and rested. After a short break we were back at it. When we finally did reach the top of the canyon we were joined by others whose pace was upsetting.

We indulged in some lunch before walking along the canyon shelf wall for several hours. The geology was different up here. The rocks on the ground looked like the ancient ruins of past civilizations. Rhythmically stopping for rest and water, we maintained an adequate pace that kept my anxiety at bay.

Before we knew it, we came to a fork in the trail. Since it would be further out of our way and more hiking for tomorrow, we decided to abandon plans of camping at a lake further down the trail. We set up the tent in a low-lying grassy meadow nearby the Teton creek. Both Kayla and I scarfed down some dinner and started to relax for the first time on the hike. Kayla took out a book and and I went to the creek for water. I walked over to the creek and followed the water up to a little waterfall, where I filled my nalgene bottle to the brim. Dropping two pills into the water, I waited for the water to become sterile. The sun began to set and I decided to place our food away from the tent, in case any bears came along looking for food.

About 200 feet away from our tent, I placed our bear-safe container on a rock that was at the base of a small cliff. I figured we would be able to see the container as soon as we opened the tent door in the morning. Since we were in a meadow with few trees and we failed to bring any rope, I looked for somewhere to hang the bag of food. I spotted a down tree overhanging the small rock cliff where the bear-safe container was. I climbed up the side of the hill and tested the dead tree. Gripping branches from a neighboring tree, I crawled out on the dead trunk and swung the bag around a limb. It caught and I secured it was a bungee cord. "Ha," I thought, "any bear that tries to climb out here to get our bag of food will surely plummet."

And with that, I settled in for the night and awaited sleep after the second day of our hike.


(I took this photo from the limb where I hung the bag)

I slept much better the second night and was prepared for the cold. When it was time to get up, I unzipped my bag and unzipped the tent door. My eyes began adjusting as I looked out. I did not see the container on the rock. I glanced up and saw that the bag was still dangling in the air. On my hands and knees, I occupied the space in the door. I searched once more with my eyes, trying to find the container. Gone. I crawled out of the tent and slowly walked towards the cliff. I blinked frequently to speed up the process of adjusting my groggy eyes. Stepping up onto the I rock where I had placed the container I looked down and saw the container. A sigh of release. I jumped down off the rock and grabbed the container. As I picked it up, I noticed something was different. There were now scratch marks defacing the cover.

One by one, thoughts came tumbling down into my head. "Curious," I thought, "I don't remember those being there." More thoughts. "I suppose it might have fallen." Moments passed. New thoughts. "But this is too heavy to have been blown by the wind." I looked up. My eyes had now fully adjusted. "Uh, oh," I muttered. The bag I had seen from the tent door was still the same bag I had put up on the limb, only with some minor adjustments I had failed to notice earlier. What now remained blowing in the wind was nothing more than torn and shredded remnants still tied with a bungee. The bits of the bag fluttered in the wind like a flag. It was clear the bag was empty. I looked underneath the limb but could see no food. I suspected rodents had made off with the food, making several joyful trips. I imagined the glee upon their tiny faces as they ran off to tell their friends; mental images of bitter contrast to my current feelings.

Scouring the landscape for happy rodents, I drew my eyes back to the bushes below the limb. I walked towards the bushes. Audibly, I began to think out loud, "I suppose it could be a bear that got the food." I tried to convince myself. "I should probably yell out warnings if it is the bear. Just in case. To warn it I am coming." I walked up the hill. "Hey bear," I said fairly loudly. I took another step towards the bushes. "Hey bear," I said again. Instantly, two black rockets shot up a tree out of the bushes. Before they even stopped scurrying I knew. I felt like a father catching his kids doing something they are not supposed to. The kids stop doing whatever it is they are not supposed to be doing and, as quick as they can, throw on a face of innocence. Well, the black rockets stopped half way up the tree and looked at me, wearing those same faces of innocence. I saw those faces but I knew...I knew we had been robbed by two bear cubs.

I watched them and they watched me. They saw my face of disapproval. I said nothing to them. I simply spoke with a stern look upon my face before walking back to the tent. The bear cubs didn't know what to do. "I had been within twenty feet of the bushes," I thought, "how come they didn't hear me earlier?" I turned to look at the bears as I walked away. They watched me back. "I'd better tell Kayla," I said to myself. I approached the tent and told Kayla. I could tell she thought I was joking. I figured she might. The cubs climbed down the tree and back into the bushes. I insisted to Kayla that bears had gotten our food. I pointed but we could see nothing. Finally, a larger mother bear came over to check on her cubs. Kayla and I both saw her from the tent.

I suggested what we should do. I suggested we wait. Wait, like the first night, for the bears to finish doing whatever it is they were doing.

We packed the tent and our bags, keeping one eye on the bears.

When the bears had eaten their fill and we had nothing left to pack, I walked over to the bushes. I yelled to make sure the bears heard me coming this time. I yelled but nothing moved. The bears had already left. I wedged myself into the thicket. Now I saw our food, or at least the wrappers to our food. In the thick bushes I could hardly move. To my astonishment, some of the food had not been eaten. I yelled out to Kayla to inform her of such great news.
Then, I saw a storm coming in my head. The waves grew larger from the approaching storm. Riding on the whipping winds of a fast-approaching storm, the waves of fear from the bears returning for the food began to crash into me. I quickly squeezed everything I found into my pockets. A Snickers bar here, a couple Goldfish there. A race had begun and I didn't care about what I was pushing into my pockets. Some of the Capri Suns weren't even empty; they simply had teeth marks all over them. I didn't take the time to notice. I mushed them into my pockets too. I tucked and dove through branches, wedging myself into places I would have never normally gone. When I had everything I could find, I burst forth from the thicket and came back to the tent. I spilled the bounty. A half eaten Slim Jim was still salvageable. I was ecstatic. We tried to remember what was still missing. An orange and some crackers were a couple of the things MIA. I would make one last rescue attempt before we left forever.

I started by retrieving the shreds of the plastic bag. As I took the bag down I imagined new thoughts, not of happy rodents but of intrigued bears-bears that just stumbled upon this strange bag. A few sniffs and the bears would have had a sparked interest. I imagined them pawing at the bag, reaching to grab it. Just a little further. They must have swung and batted at it like a kid swinging at a piñata until finally the bag burst with tasty treats spilling onto the ground.

"Those bears...up to no good," I thought to myself. I finally spotted the cracker bag and came back down the hill. "I couldn't find the orange," I told Kayla as I sat next to her and handed her the cracker crumbs. We munched on few more "left-overs" before heading on our way.

As I threw my bag over my shoulder, I took one last look at the cliff. I imagined one of the bears sitting somewhere with a big round orange stuck in its mouth. I couldn't help but laugh as we walked away.


(Momma bear walking away)

When Camping Goes Wrong (Part 1)

Thirty minutes after sunset and the light is fading fast. The sound of rushing water grows louder as each switchback we hike higher brings us closer to the mouth of the canyon, Death Canyon. We should have known from the canyon's name that things were going to go wrong for us, but we were set on executing the climax of our summer hikes.

Kayla and I continued up the rocky path as the last of twilight slipped away. My spirits started to dwindle from the frustration of knowing how far we still had to hike in the dark before we got to camp. As we entered the mouth of Death Canyon and came into a forested area there was something about hiking at night with a forty pound pack that did not excite me very much. Whether it was the fact I felt anything could be lurking in the bush next to me or simply because I could not see exactly where I was stepping, reluctance took joy out of each step I took. Kayla's enthusiasm for hiking under the stars only agitated my downward spiraling mood.
As we moved out of the forest and into open fields that sat next to the river, Kayla took a misstep and twisted her ankle. Instantly, I assumed the worst and considered myself responsible for not recommending she wear her ankle brace when we started. However, Kayla assures me she is alright and we take a few minutes for her recovery.

Being forced to look up from my relentless search for a safe place to take my next step, Kayla and I sat down to gaze at the stars shining above us. The canyon walls surrounding the stars cut into the night sky and focused our eyes on the space directly above us. As we sat there, an acknowledgment of being alone in the wilderness brought feelings of fear mixed with exclusive visions of beauty. A strange brew of feelings percolated into my blood. I shivered from the cold night air. A few shooting stars later and the steep and jagged canyon walls began to encroach on me. I felt we were completely alone in the wilderness and the worst would happen. Fear began to take grip. The night had become the stage for a monster. The canyon walls had now broke free from their cage and began devouring our stars. I kept my fear silent as to not allow it to spread to Kayla.

After a few minutes, Kayla was up again and we continued slowly around a corner. However, before we completely came around the corner my headlamp shined over a large vacuum of light in the tall grass thirty yards ahead. The darkness shifted slightly and two beads of light absorbed all the surrounding light from the vacuum and reflected it back at us. The canyon was showing another one of its monsters. Fear came rushing back into my blood and flooded out all other feelings. We were looking directly at a black bear. I kept my light on it to see if it was moving toward or away from us. The bear did neither. Kayla insisted I look away as to not aggravate the bear and just continue our path and pass it. Because the bear was not moving we might have been able to slip passed it, but I was not ready to take that risk. I suggested we turn around and wait before coming back. Kayla complied and we walked away from the bear.
Suddenly, in front of me Kayla and her pack were on the ground. Another bad step in the darkness and Kayla fallen face-first onto the rocky trail, twisting her other ankle. I didn't know what to do. I waited. I asked if she was alright and watched kept a vigilant eye out for the bear until she was ready to move again. She stood up. After a few ankle stretches and moments to regather strength, we hobbled in the opposite direction of the bear and sat down on some boulders, hoping to give the bear ample time to move away. Fear and frustration began to become evident in my actions and I could see it was leaking into Kayla.

On the boulders we talked about what to do. We decided we should loudly approach the bear, letting it know we were coming. In agreement, we thought this was our best bet to get through. But, as I talked loudly to the bear, hoping it was listening and walking away, we came around the corner and saw the bear in the exact same place when we had left. It was evident that the bear was not bothered enough by us to move from its spot in the grass but I wasn't about to test the bear's limits and walk passed it. I told Kayla we were turning around and camping next to the patrol cabin that we had passed earlier in the hike. Kayla was not thrilled about this. As we walked back to the cabin, her pace accelerated to a speed I felt was unsafe; I thought she might twist her ankle one more time. I told her to slow down and asked why she was moving so quickly. What she said in response made it clear that my fear had become obvious and was starting to spread like a disease, infecting her as well.

We made it back to the patrol cabin safely but I questioned the rest of the trip. Ahead of us lay forty-four more hours of this trip and we would have to make up for the distance we didn't get on our first night. My knee was starting to ache after only the first five miles and I wondered how many more times Kayla might twist her ankle on the remaining twenty miles of rocky trail that lay before us. As I nestled into my sleeping bag that night I genuinely wondered whether we should continue on in the morning.

Death Canyon during the day

Context of Thought

Anyone who knows much about the development of the United States knows about the general frame of mind that many Americans had about the west during the 18th and 19th centuries. Manifest Destiny was the idea of expanding and developing in a westward direction. Setting up ranches, mining for gold, or completing the railroad is evidence that we viewed the west as a great resource as well as a worthy adversary. Conquering the wild west was a way to show man's dominance over nature. Flash forward to the present and we see a paradigm shift.



I was flipping through a local art magazine and reading about an art festival that was hosting guest speakers and artists, all of whom declared to be passionate advocates of conservatism in the west. The title of the advertisement I read was called, "Western Visions," and I couldn't help but think of the stark contrast between the current western vision and the vision of the west in Manifest Destiny. Times have changed and the world seems to have shrunk since the days of Manifest Destiny but the paradigm shift from conquering the west to keeping it as it is appears to be very abrupt. Was there a time after Manifest Destiny but before conservatism when we were content with the west or even apathetic towards it? How did the transition occur all the way from Manifest Destiny to conservatism? However it happened, it shows a different way of seeing things in different times: a different context of thought.

This led me to thinking about the context of which we think in time. Right now, it is obvious that our current context of thought is tinted in the hue of green. Whether we are pretending to be stewards of the earth or genuinely protecting what is left, the idea of being green has certainly caught onto mainstream.

If you look back into the past (around the time of Manifest Destiny), you will see plenty examples of people acting and believing in more superstitious things than we do nowadays. People believed in witches, ghosts, and even thought leeches would suck the sickness out of your blood. People in those days were a lot more prone to believe in things they could not see.

However, even today we believe in things we do not see; we believe in logic, an unseen understanding of why things are the way they are. Logic is not a tangible thing and we cannot perceive it with our five senses. We trust things like science when they use logic to tell us that everything is composed of atoms (or even quarks), even though we cannot see atoms. In that sense, we believe in things we cannot see because we trust in logical thought to get us to that point. (The idea of ghosts and atoms as unseen things we believe in under different contexts of time comes from the book: Zen and Art of Motorcycle Maintenance) In our current context of thought we see that we put our trust and belief in unseen things just like we did in the past.

Unlike our belief in unseen things, what has changed is the context of humanity's thought. Currently, we believe our actions are having a consequence on the earth even if we cannot see it individually. It may seem obvious to us right now that we really should embrace conservatism. It seems to fit with our current thinking because it is logical. It is, in fact, logical to maintain a good condition of earth because it will benefit our children. The logic appeals on a long term basis: the prolonging of our species.

The context of which we think in time shows us that humanity is prone to falling into group-think tendencies (be it good or bad). Whatever context of thought humanity will move into after logic, hopefully, we will be aware enough to look beyond temporary goals that may be as selfish as Manifest Destiny was.

As for the local art festival out here in the west, it may very well be that the art will speak to people in a language of beauty that is beyond any logical reason, begging to preserve the west.

A Final Chapter

While looking out at the stars this past weekend, I felt the cool air of an early evening shift into near freezing temperatures by four AM. Gone are the warm nights of summer as fall quickly approaches.



Sunday was the last day where we had to prepare worship services for ACMNP. Together, Katelyn, Kayla, and I had a final worship here at Signal Mountain. We invited fellow employees and friends to listen to us speak about our experience this summer and what we have taken away from it. After the services we had our final staff meeting, we packed up the worship materials, and said some more goodbyes. Kayla and I shared one last night with Katelyn before she left for seminary Monday morning.

Heading back to work on Monday afternoon, I limped into a quiet and half-empty building; I realized business is starting to slow down. Following work, the remaining ACMNP staff met up with Spencer (the Executive Director of ACMNP) and chatted about this summer, plans for our future, and ways to improve ACMNP for next year. We shared some dessert and I chewed on a biodegradable spoon.

Coming back from the the chat, I began writing my final report of the ministry. Using the conversation with Spencer as a precursor I was able to describe key components of my experience until I realized it has been an amazing summer thus far. I have even contemplated seminary.

Upon finishing the final report this morning I have completed my commitment with A Christian Ministry in the National Parks. I utilized the rest of my morning sending a few emails and making a phone call about winter work. So far it is looking like I will be heading to a ski resort instead of engaging in hibernation. However, the more I think about my knee, the more I think I should look elsewhere for work.

Finalizing details for my transportation home has been the icing on the cake. I had previously thought of extending my work contract to Oct 22 but I think I am going to stick with my original final date: September 20. This gives me less than three weeks here in Grand Teton National Park. I hope to get my knee back in working order for at least one last hike.