MM #46: Things that go Harumph in the Night

Western Pasqueflower in seed

It was 9.30 p.m., and I was sound asleep.  "Did you hear that?" whispered Spousal Unit.  I didn't respond, until a moment later.

"Harumph?"  Splash.  Splash.

"What is THAT?" I asked, turning to look in his direction.  My inflatable mattress crinkled under the shift in my weight, and my sleeping bag rustled, both of which made me cringe.

"I can't see anything," he said, leaning on his left elbow and peering intently into the darkness through the fine mesh of the tent.

Munch. Munch.  Splash.  "Harumph?" Splash.

Bear grass - a late bloomer!

Yes, folks, the scene is in the midst of the Jewel Basin, the location of our last backcountry camping trip.  For 15 minutes, we listened to a random series of grunts, munching and splashes, with only theories about the source.

"Can you tell how far away it is?" By now I had goosebumps all over and I could feel myself trembling slightly, even in the warmth of my bag.

"Maybe 30 yards," he said, shaking the bear spray canister.  (Bear spray has to be well-mixed to be effective.)

"Harumph?"  Splash. Splash.

"What do you think it is?" 

Cow parsnip in seed

"Maybe a moose," he speculated.  Of course, the temptation was strong, to turn on our headlamps and identify the creature.  Especially knowing that I love moose.  But would this simply serve to antagonize it, whatever "it" might be?

Munch.  Munch.  "Harumph?" Splash. Splash.

"What's the plan?"  I am sure that if I had been able to see anything, it would have been an eye roll from Spousal Unit.  Yes, in retrospect, a silly question.  But it was practically killing me to lie there with no idea what was lurking just 30 yards from our tent.  I almost would have preferred to know it was a grizzly bear, if that was the case.

Crash, crash, crash (the sounds of brush breaking under foot, but growing fainter).

And with that, the critter was gone.  You can rest assured that I continued to question the wisdom of backcountry camping for the next few hours, as I tried to calm myself enough to return to the land of Nod.  Eventually I succeeded, and in the clear light of day, it was as if this mysterious visit never happened!

The next morning, fortified by a cup of coffee, we ventured down the shore line.  Given its rocky nature, it was almost impossible to see any tracks, much less anything identifiable.  We could discern divots in the mud of the lake bed, but whether they were made by a moose, elk or bear was anyone's guess.  We examined the brushy area, and it was obvious that it is frequented as a route to and from the lake - the bushes have bent branches, and the smaller plants are crushed.  But again, no clear tracks.  Sigh.  No clues to the mystery here.

So we got on with our morning business - I tended the fire and started to pack up small items while Man with Hat plied the lake for fish.  It might have been too early for them, and soon enough he was back on shore for breakfast and another cup of coffee.

A second round of fishing resulted in a few nibbles and one catch, but nothing compared to the day before at Wildcat Lake.  Yes, you're right, I am telling this story completely out of sequence, but isn't grabbing the attention of your readers one of the keys to great writing?  I led with the thrilling part!

Wildcat Lake sits in a cirque surrounded by lush alpine meadow

and dark subalpine fir forest, as well as the crags of the Swan Crest

The day before, we hiked from Camp Misery (no joke - that's its name) to Wildcat Lake.  Man with Hat wasted no time in launching his pack raft, and for the next 2.5 hours, made a full circuit of the lake, hooking at least 20 fish.  He let them all go; we didn't have a good way to keep them cool for the remainder of our hike.  I pottered around the shore, taking pictures (no big shock), making noise and playing Solitaire (I won twice!)

Bottom Center: Huckleberry - leaves turning red!

Upper left - can you see the caterpillar?  Bottom left: Mountain Ash

Upper right: Wildcat Lake                Middle left: Baneberry fruit                     Bottom left: Angelica  

Bottom middle: Yellow mushroom the size of a grapefruit                        Bottom right: Jacob's Ladder in seed stage

We climbed out of the basin that contains Wildcat, and the trail led us down one draw (a narrow valley) and up another to stand above Strawberry Lake.  Along the way, we spotted a solitary mountain goat high on the cliffs above us.

Upon our descent to Strawberry, we found a few day-hikers, who soon departed to beat the sunset.  With the lake to ourselves, we chose a site at the head of the lake, on a spot of grass just the right size for our tent.  This "campground" differed from our previous sites (Logging Lake, Ole Creek, Red Eagle/Atlantic Creek) because it did not have pre-defined campsites, cooking area, food hanging pole or pit toilet.  In Jewel Basin, you have the freedom to camp where you like, but you have to work a little harder to hang your backpacks, make your own bathroom - well, you get the idea.  We followed all the guidelines for separating cooking from the tent, etc., but I wonder if it's just a coincidence that we had a close-to-a-critter encounter here and not at our other locations?

Ramen with re-hydrated vegies

The remaining daylight was quickly consumed setting up camp and making dinner.  We retired to the tent, played some Gin, (Spousal Unit won 3 out of 5), and you know the rest of that night's story!!

After we packed up camp, the 3 miles down to Strawberry Lake trailhead was almost an afterthought.  I was anxious to get home and start investigating Mr. Harumph.  Maybe I could find a similar sound on YouTube, and solve this mystery.  But it was not to be.  Despite several hours of searching, I have been unable to hear a similar grunt.  Maybe Spousal Unit is right - forget the moose, elk or bear - he's going with Sasquatch!

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