POST GUNDELBERG MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES, 2

Catching Dinner

The miracle of the vanishing cave.

Have I effectively alerted you,  politely, to the fact that my early Wind River hiking companion, Bob/JG was – how can I say this? – strongly opposed to spending money.  In fact, let’s face it, he was a tightwad.  In those days (1970s, 1980s) quality, REI-type tents tended to be massive, heavy affairs, mainly suitable for car camping; not something one would choose to lug over 50 miles of trail.  So, if you planned to stay out one or more nights you: (1) bit the bullet and lugged a big tent; (2) carried a tarp and strung it up so as to shed rain; (3) carried a hatchet, cut dozens of small bushes, and made a lean-to; (4) trusted to a benevolent Providence and went without any shelter at all; (5) relied on being able to find a cave.  

Well, all but (1) begged the question of what to do about buzzing insects, and several ignored the fact that at high Wind River elevations there may be no bushes to cut, nor trees to use to anchor a tarp.  And it rained, not all the time, but frequently.  And hard.

And who in heck knew where to find caves?

So, anyway, one year we carried a big, awkward tent.  We stayed dry, but we didn’t get very far, and had very little fun.

Well, Keller researched solutions to the shelter problem all that next year.  He found specialty, hand crafted light tents – but they all cost way too much.  Finally, he discovered somebody selling tiny, light, one piece plastic tents – for something like $19.95.  Just the thing.  So, next summer we toted one along. 

Well, we got to Middle Fork Lake, set it up and, while Bob contemplated dinner, I went fishing.  That night we ate a nice dinner, spread out our sleeping gear, and crawled into our cozy little red plastic prison.

And it rained hard, all night.  The next morning everything we owned was soaked through, and we were on the edge of hypothermia!  The damned tent leaked like it was made of 1 in. chicken wire!

We were up that well known creek.  Although the sun quickly warmed and dried things, we were faced with either running like hell for the trailhead (maybe 25 miles), or finding a cave.  So, we attempted the latter.

Well, after a long search, we found one.  It was a miserable little slot in the rocks, barely wide enough for two humans’ side-by-side.  Moreover, it sloped downwards towards the entrance, thus assuring that you would gradually slide out during the night.  But that was all Providence provided, so that was where we camped, for seven days.  (During the day we would explore out in all directions, but we returned to that miserable cave every night.)

And, you know what?  It never rained again!

Well, we learned quite a lot from that experience.  The next year we had a much better tent.  And, of course, we carried more rum.

The funny thing is, I went back to Middle Fork Lake several times, with Thor Hansen, and I searched for hours for that cave.  It simply wasn’t there.

So, I know it was there once.  Did Providence place it there out of mercy, and then retract it when its job was done?  Seems unlikely – but the ways of Providence are indeed mysterious!.