When I was a teenager, my parents started sending me on American Wilderness Foundation week long hikes during the summer. I Loved it.
When I went back the second year, the guide kept looking at me funny, kind of like it was incredulous for him to see me there. "You know," he told me, "with as much as you complained last year, I thought you'd never come back."
"I did!?" I said. I truly couldn't recall complaining. "But I Loved it. I thought it was great. I really complained a lot?" He nodded. Hiking on the Rogue River was the most beautiful and fun experience that I had ever had. I was not aware I had complained a lot. I had no reason to disbelieve him, however.
One hike I went on more than once was on the coast. We would hike from somewhere South of Newport all the way up to the Peter Iredale. Although we could have gone around it, one year, our hike on the coast took us over Neakhanie Mountain. There were three groups of us, the fast, the medium fast, and the slow. I was in the slow.
After I don't know how long we had been scaling the steep muddy trail, I snapped. The weather was a light rain and the trees didn't do a good job of keeping it off of us. The trail was muddy. I had a 35 pound pack on my back. My legs were sore. Every switch back we took gave view to more and more uphill climb that seemed to be never ending. I snapped. "FUCK THIS SHIT!" I screamed out, I think, at least in my head I did.
I increased my pace and past up all the folks in my slow troop. I walked rapidly up the hill. I'd clear a switchback only to see more hill before me. "GOD DAMN IT!" I'd put my head down and trudge at my fast pace again. I started to cry. This was just too much! I passed the medium fast group. I recall saying something like "GET OUT OF MY WAY! COMING THROUGH!" to the fast group as I passed them also.
Every switchback showed more uphill climb. I finally came through some bushes and some of the super fast folk who broke away from the fast group were already at the top. There was a flat meadow that was probably a logging road landing at one time. The grass was high, and trees surrounded the little meadow. Everything was so green and so many different shades of green.
We had a wonderful lunch on that mountain top that afternoon. The drizzle had stopped, and we all had made it to the top. Many of us, such as myself, had complained a lot. But never had any tiny world view looked so green and beautiful to me as that hilltop when I finally got there.
Amazing, I used to be a backpack and canoe guide for the AWF. I worked there for 4 years. The best job I ever had. I too loved the Rogue River Trips. We started our summers off with that gentle trip to get in shape for the Mt. Hood and some of the other trips. What year did you do the trips? Do you remember Ron Hoffman?
ReplyDeleteSheila
Sheila? Were you the one with that liked Simon and Garfunkel?
ReplyDeleteI definitely remember Ron. Dave Schindler, Kim, Dave (WWW). Man, I had such a great time on those trips.
Funny about the Rogue River. My wife is Tututun, Rogue River Indian. Where we used to end up near Illahee was where the last battle of Chief John. The Indians won at first, but were attacked by reinforcements. My wife, Shusli, took me to see the top of the hill where the soldiers dug in. Her family started a powwow that still happens there every year. There is also a site where there was a sweat house where my wife was named. Cool.
I did like Simon and Garfunkel, but I don't think that I was on your adventures. I think that I would have remembered you (although I do remember a rainy climb on Neahkanie in the rain and mud, when we finally made it too the top, the clouds parted and rewarded us with an amazing,memorable vista. Funny you say that you were cussing your way up...but not sure if you actually spoke out-loud. We used to do the same going up Mt Hood out of Cloud Cap. Invent new swear words and talk about the ways we would lighten our loads, like bore holes in our toothbrushes and soap etc. Funny. I started with AWF in '76 I was 17 and had just graduated. We were outdoors for the entire summer and I learned so much. Shusli's homeland blew my socks off. It is still one of my most favorite areas. I know the cliff on the Rogue where one of the battles took place. I had heard that the Indians forced the soldiers to exit off the cliff in a strategic move. '76 was Ron, the Daves, Kim, Debbie and my rookie year. We roughed it with nylon rope and green tarps for shelter. No fancy Jansport geodomes with mosquito netting for us. The Colonel thought it would toughen us up and he was right. But the next year he allowed us the luxury of using tents, we were in hog heaven when the weather was wet or snowy or in mosquito country, which often happened in the Three Sisters and Jefferson areas. It truly can be a small world. I really enjoy reading your blog and Shusli's when it was posted. You both have opened my eyes to many issues.
ReplyDeleteSheila
If you had long black hair you kept in two braids, I believe you were a guide on a Jefferson Mountain hike I took one time. There, I remember a meadow where I woke up in the middle of the night to relieve myself and saw the full moon on the other side of the meadow shining down like it was a lake. I will never forget.
ReplyDeleteI am glad you have enjoyed mine and my wife Shusli's blogs.
Oh, and if you are the Sheila I think you might be, then I have old pictures of that hike, as well as some from the many others I took. I show them to Shusli from time to time.
Do you keep in contact with Ron and Dave? I'd sure like to see how they are doing.
Wait a minute! I remember now! I was thinking of Aleta or Arleta. You were the one with the dark tan. I think you were a guide on one hike I took.
ReplyDeleteI remember a few years back seeing the Colonel driving a bunch of canoes and kids South on I-5. I sure miss him. Is he still around? He must be mighty old if he is still alive.
Arleta, wow--I haven't thought of her in ages. What trip do you think we may have been on together? Did you take any of the canoe or bicycle trips? I am a light complected half-breed, but we were pretty brown by the end of summer.
ReplyDeleteI haven't seen Ron in ages. He is a pastor in a church in North Portland. I don't know what Dave S. is up to. Sadly, Dave W. suffered a mental break and may still battle with mental illness.
The Colonel passed years ago. He is greatly missed. He was so full of character and built character in all the youth that passed his way. I loved his stories and great sense of humor, oh and he always stopped for donuts!
I think that the ol church is still standing. Before the trips, we would go through packs, pull out the jars of peanut butter and cans of spaghetti o's, much to the dismay of the kids who thought they would starve on the trips. Then we would weigh the packs. As you know, weight matters. The Mt Hood trips was where you could really feel every extra pound. Ron was carrying about 65lbs on those trips. I would average about 55lbs. We carried ropes, crampons, ice axes, first-aid, and in my case, lots of Gorp! Sometimes, even items that the others slipped in--once, I slipped my tent into Ron's pack, you should have seen the look on his face when I went to retrieve it. Those were good times.
After the summer of 76, I back-packed in Hawaii with my boyfriend for four months. It was paradise. Then, because my stepmother was Korean, and I was fascinated with her culture, I decided to travel to Korea and get a little education via the military. I was in the Army for 3 years. So, I went from a back-pack to a footlocker. I would have done well in my grandmother's teepee.
Sheila
I'll have to hunt down some of these folks. I looked into AWF a few years back and saw Dave Schindler's name on there and wanted to get in contact, but all my attempts lead nowhere. I sure would Love my wife to meet some of these folks. A piece of my history I still talk about frequently.
ReplyDeleteI'm having a hard time remembering exactly what hike I was on with you. I do remember you on one, though. I'll have to go through my old pics and see what I can find.