SODIUM:1 Harbinger (3 page)

I awoke the next morning to the sound and smell of bacon frying in a skillet. The aroma filled my tent and forced me from my bag. I had to get up and make it known that I was hungry. I was sure there would be plenty, but on more than one occasion while growing up, my father and my sister had seen to it that I was cheated out of my share. This day I would be getting in line early.

When I emerged from the tent with sleep in my eyes it dawned on me that we had no sinks or running water to wash up with. Bull pointed me towards a stack of towels and then to the stream with a big grin on his face. The ice cold water along with the cool morning temperature was a real eye opener. After washing up, I quickly made my way back to the warmth of the fire.

The plan for the day was to break camp and to pack up the supplies we would not be taking with us. They would be bound and hoisted up into the trees in an attempt to keep wandering bears from getting at them. We would then prepare our packs for the hike.

The Sacramento outfitter had arranged for the Jeeps and left over supplies to be picked up that afternoon. Once out of Basecamp we would have no contact with the civilized world until we reached the trail end at the town of Lundy. We had a long hike ahead.

After a good breakfast the morning was spent packing and preparing. We left enough food out for sandwiches and then proceeded to go over a checklist for each of our packs. I was a bit embarrassed as my pack was lighter than Allie’s. But I wasn’t going to complain as Allie was an avid hiker and was in much better physical condition than I.

For protection Bull carried a .45 caliber Colt M1911A1 while Kyle and Allie had Browning 9mm HPs. Susi had a new Hi Standard .22. Bull also carried a 1956 Kodiak bear bow. It pulled 57 pounds making him the only one of us able to use it. His quiver had four arrows so he had no plans to use it until we neared the final days of the trip.

I was not a firearms enthusiast and instead chose to carry a hickory Hillerich & Bradsby S44 baseball bat that I’d had since my high school days. It was the same bat that Pat Ankenman had used when he played for the Brooklyn Dodgers during WWII. For being in the big leagues, weighing in at only 125 pounds, he was a remarkable player. His achievements had always given me confidence that I could overcome any physical hardships that came about because of my height.

For a short guy I swung a mean bat back then and had a rocket arm. My big problem was with catching the ball, with that problem so went my high school baseball dreams. Handguns made me nervous while my bat was an old friend. I figured I could also use the bat as a substitute for a walking stick. My protection on the trip would be limited to a circle with about a five foot radius.

By 11AM we were ready to break for our last lunch before starting our 87 mile trek through the wilderness. I had a nervous energy about me. On one hand I was excited to get going and on the other I was dreading the physical pounding that I was sure to be enduring. But I reasoned that if my sister could do it, well… then so could I.

Bull had flown out to Sacramento a few weeks earlier to set up the trip. He was amazed and delighted at some of the new backpacking gear coming out of the area. He had planned to use much of it for our excursion. The 50 pound pack for a week in the wilderness was becoming a thing of the past.

We packed two 10’x15’ polyethylene tarps to share as shelter. They weighed almost nothing and rolled up nicely on top of my new lightweight aluminum pack-frame. We had 200’ of nylon rope which also provided a weight savings. We also carried some of the first available nylon sleeping bags that weighed in at less than six pounds each.

All the savings in the gear meant room for extra food or other nice-to-haves. Since I only weighed in at 160 pounds myself, those savings made a huge difference in the weight I would have to carry. My pack-frame, fully loaded came in at 27 pounds. It was heavy, but I was ready for the task. Bull was our big hauler and had loaded his own pack to 48 pounds.

The pack-frames also sported padded hip mounts that added to the comfort on a long journey. Kyle and Allie were each loaded with 38 pounds while Susi’s pack-weight matched mine. Together we were hauling 170 pounds of gear plus a few extra pounds for side arms… and my ball-bat.

I was told by the others that my pack would get lighter as we went along. The moment I put it on I was feeling like I might have been deceived. I could tell it was going to be a long second half of the day as we made our way out of Basecamp. I looked back fondly at the Jeeps and had to resist the urge to run back, back to the civilized world where sinks and showers were available to all.

Had I known what was coming I would have never left the safety and security of Atlanta. There is something to be said about the bliss of not knowing everything, especially if you are the only one who wants to talk about it. Sometimes you have to accept whatever it is that life throws at you and continue on while putting down one foot after another. Our real journey had only just begun.

Chapter 3

The trail out of Basecamp took us through a deep ravine and into a heavily wooded valley. The uneven ground was tough on the ankles, but we had each been out “practicing” for months whenever we had the chance. North Georgia offered many rugged trails and we had made use of them to get into shape.

We were headed for Lake Eleanor and did not expect to make it there before sunset. The further we would get into the back country the more snow banks we would see. In Early June there were still snow pockets to be found in the shady areas of the high elevations. The higher you went the more snow pockets there were.

Once into the ravine we were completely cut off from the outside world for the next ten days. The terrain was beautiful no matter which direction you looked. The clear cool mountain air moved effortlessly through the evergreens. The only sounds other than our own footsteps were the rustle of the breeze through the trees or the occasional bird chirping a warning to others.

The afternoon passed quickly as we made our way up a valley along the Tuolumne River. Everyone had a smile on their face and we each were pointing and gawking at every little interesting view that nature had to offer. Everything around us was pure in color and natural in design.

Susi had been using her camera at every opportunity. Before the trip’s end she would have rolls of pictures for Bull and Allie to choose from for promoting the adventure package. Almost every shot she took would look like what you would see on a postcard. The back country of Yosemite National Park was a wild and beautiful place.

A slight breeze blew into our face as we walked. We startled numerous deer and spooked a number of jackrabbits. As the valley narrowed a bit we came upon a black bear. It was huge.

I had never seen one up close and I had no desire too now. Bull and Allie advised that we stay well clear of it as they would sometimes charge if they felt threatened, or if they felt their territory was being invaded. I had no desire to fend off a bear with my ball bat so I stayed in back of our little gang of adventurers.

When it came to large animals I had a phobia, even cows would creep me out. Whenever I was near a pasture they seemed to be staring at me with those big saucer eyes. It had always given me the willies.

We soon made our way safely around the bear and continued on along the river. We had been making good time so we stopped for a break. I flipped off my pack and sat down immediately on a large rock beside the water.

It felt good to have the load off my back. My ribs were feeling better and the swelling from the hornet stings was completely gone. The others soon joined me and we sat around on the rock for a short time, just taking in the beauty of where we were.

As we sat Bull began to tell us a story from his childhood, a story of his days in the Boy Scouts. His local troop had saved up enough money by doing odd jobs around town to pay for a camping trip out to the Rocky Mountains. It had been quite the adventure for the sixteen young boys in his troop.

Bull told us that it was there that his scoutmaster had told them a story about a mountain lion and a Ute Indian boy named Chaate. The young boy was out hunting with his father when a Grizzly Bear surprised and cornered them.

The boy and his father were each armed with a small spear. His father had done his best to keep the bear at bay until others in their hunting party could arrive to help, but the others never came and the bear was moving ever closer. Just as the bear was about to make its final lunge, the boy cried out for help from the spirits of their ancestors.

Moments later a mountain lion sprang from atop a nearby boulder onto the back of the bear. A fierce battle ensued between the bear and the lion. As the grizzly began to get the best of the mountain lion the boy rushed in jabbing the bear in the back with his spear. The bear was startled enough that it turned and ran. The mountain lion was severely injured and lay down in the grass where it was.

The boy and his father watched on sadly as the lion soon took its last breath. They knelt to give thanks to the lion spirit for having saved their lives. As they leaned over their fallen hero a lion cub sprung from out of the wood with its tiny roar. It was an attempt to defend its fallen mother.

The boy sat on the ground next to the fallen lion and waited patiently while coaxing the cub to come to him. To the father’s surprise the cub’s hostile whines soon turned to lost whimpers. Chaate was sad for the cub and grateful for its mother’s sacrifice. So he pulled a bit of dried deer meat from his pouch and gestured for the cub to come take it. The father stayed back and became proud that his son was able to calm the animal to the point where it came and ate the deer meat from his hand.

Before leaving to find the rest of their hunting party the boy named the cub Minhafa. He then proclaimed it to be his protective spirit. For weeks the boy returned to the spot and brought food for Minhafa. He was always cautious with it being a wild animal, but the cub never made a threatening gesture towards him.

The boy would sit peacefully in the grass to offer thanks. Minhafa grew quickly on the boy’s offerings and the day finally came when Minhafa did not show up for boy’s food. The father had become concerned about the boy as the deadly grizzly was still out there. So he forbade Chaate from going back into the woods alone.

Chaate continued to leave the village when he could slip away unseen. His offerings to Minhafa ended as more and more the young lion would no longer come to meet him. Before long, three years had soon passed since Chaate had last seen Minhafa. The boy who was quickly becoming a man had no fear of going into the woods alone despite his father’s wishes.

One day, as a group of young scouts were out hunting, Chaate had stopped to get a drink of water from a stream. The boy laid down his spear, stooped down, cupped his hands in the water and drank of its goodness. As he reached into the water for another handful he suddenly heard a heavy breath coming from behind him. He turned his head slowly to see a grizzly only six feet away.

Chaate had nowhere to run as the grizzly had caught him by surprise. He could not yell for the others as they would not make it in time to save him. At that moment he clutched his medicine bag, looked back into the stream and softly spoke the words… “Minhafa… Minhafa…”

Just as the bear was about to make its deadly lunge a mountain lion leapt from the woods onto the bear’s back. Chaate was startled, but soon got his wits about him. He picked up his spear and began to jab at the bear as it tangled with the lion.

He was sure the lion was Minhafa; his animal spirit had come to his rescue. Within a minute the other boys in his party had come after hearing the noise of Chaate yelling along with the bear’s and mountain lion’s fierce roars.

Two of the boys began shooting arrows at the animals when Chaate yelled at them to only shoot the bear. As the battle ensued the bear began to lose ground and made a run for the woods. As the injured bear ran to the woods the lion sprang across the stream and bolted up into the woods on the other side.

The young scouts gave chase to the bear and had it cornered and weakened shortly thereafter. The old grizzly’s time had come to an end. The boys returned to their village with a great prize. Chaate did not pursue the bear, but instead stayed at the stream looking longingly for his friend.

Chaate’s bravery eventually led him to become chief and he claimed to have had several more encounters with the lion through his days. The lion never threatened him, but would seem to appear from nowhere if Chaate was in peril. His teepee was adorned with many deerskin paintings of Minhafa and his animal spirit became the spirit protector of his people.

The scoutmaster then told of how each of the scouts could summon their own spirit protector by going down to a stream. While spreading the water slowly with their hands they would call out “Minhafa… Minhafa…” And that was the story.

Kyle chuckled and shook his head. He referenced the story as nothing more than a tall tale, he began to tell Bull exactly what he thought of “Minhafa”. So Bull challenged him to call his own animal spirit from the river. As a sign of defiance Kyle decided to accept Bull’s offer. He would show that the story was nothing more than his scoutmaster having fun with a bunch of kids. So Kyle moved over and knelt beside the water, stuck his hand in and said “Minhafa”.

Bull insisted that he was doing it all wrong and that he had to look down into the water. He was to move both hands out slowly clearing and calming a spot in front of him. So Kyle turned around, looked intently into the river and once again said “Minhafa”. This time he moved his hands outward to calm the water.

As soon as his hands were out to his sides a big heavy hand grabbed the back of his head and dunked it into the cold mountain water. Kyle came up swinging while everyone laughed at his expense. As Bull jumped back while laughing he blurted out that a dunk was exactly what his scoutmaster had done to him and that he had waited 20 years to pass the story on to someone else.