Day 4 marked the midway point of the hike. It's often considered the hardest day too, as this is when our Ranger said his farewells and left us. It was a bittersweet moment; while we were ready to prove we could do it (and frankly, were eager to get on with the hike without him), he was the last remaining authority we had on wilderness survival. My altitude sickness finally stopped plaguing me that morning. Before the Ranger left, I asked him one last time if we could "do this," if we'd truly make it. He was certain we could, and that was some comfort as we struck out on our own.
In the fantasy version of this journey our Ranger didn't leave, he was knocked off a cliff by a megabjorn -- a short-faced prehistoric bear. Although in real life bears are a persistent concern, the general consensus is that they're cowards. Bear bags are for the bears' safety, so they do not become accustomed to human scents -- bears get "one strike" when invading camps or otherwise crossing humans, and after that, a hunter is sent out to kill them, which they absolutely loathe doing. As our Ranger put it, "a fed bear is a dead bear."
We were far more worried about mountain lions. Our ranger warned about them watching us at night, though a staff member at one of the camps said that a party of four or more simply "caused them to disappear." The threat was highest for lone individuals stepping out of their tents to pee in the middle of the night (that'd be me and the older adults in our crew). I'm pleased to report I never saw a single critter larger than a "minibear" -- a catchall phrase for a squirrel (which are quite large in New Mexico!) or a chipmunk (which was well-fed and plump). Pictures of minibears combine the body of a chipmunk with the tail of a squirrel to make them mythical creatures.
Our hike took us 4.3 miles from Miners Park to Aguila, involving another day of significant elevation changes, with a gain of +1,097 feet and a loss of -807 feet. Aguila was a Trail Camp, meaning it was more primitive, with no dedicated facilities (running water or toilets), which we knew would add to the day's challenges.
Along the way, we had a unique program stop: a passthrough through the Continental Tie & Lumber Company Program at Crater Lake. This was our opportunity to engage in some serious wood chopping. The staff role-plays as if we were being hired by an old-timey lumber company. Using a large saw, the Scouts took turns cutting big pieces off the lumber, then used a wedge to break them down, and finally an axe to hack each piece into portable sizes. We spent much of the morning there, not only working on the wood but also taking advantage of the baking sun to dry our sodden clothes from the previous day's hailstorm.
We considered taking the wood with us, but every ounce was a burden and it was wet anyway (unlike the fantasy version, who very much needed the wood while we had our white gas stove). After a well-deserved lunch, we continued our journey to Aguila.
Aguila itself was a pristine camp, quiet and peaceful. We quickly set up our bear bags and tents, making the most of the afternoon sun, while some of the Scouts went off to refill their waterskins. They returned soon after, grumbling that the water was quite dirty.
Concerned, I made the trip again with one of the adult leaders. We discovered that the tubes leading from the stream had been jostled just enough that the dirt was no longer being filtered out. After a quick adjustment, we had clear water – clean enough that our chlorine tablets would make it drinkable. We returned to camp in much better spirits; water was a constant concern, and drinking dirty water could make an already tough trip even more miserable.
As night fell, we settled down. The wind whipped viciously, but there was a blessed absence of rain. More curiously, the wind brought with it warm, comforting gusts that were surprisingly pleasant. After the ordeal of the previous night, we finally slept peacefully in the temperate air. This was the most magical night of our journey so far, and a huge improvement over the utter soaking we experienced before.
In the fantasy version of this journey our Ranger didn't leave, he was knocked off a cliff by a megabjorn -- a short-faced prehistoric bear. Although in real life bears are a persistent concern, the general consensus is that they're cowards. Bear bags are for the bears' safety, so they do not become accustomed to human scents -- bears get "one strike" when invading camps or otherwise crossing humans, and after that, a hunter is sent out to kill them, which they absolutely loathe doing. As our Ranger put it, "a fed bear is a dead bear."
We were far more worried about mountain lions. Our ranger warned about them watching us at night, though a staff member at one of the camps said that a party of four or more simply "caused them to disappear." The threat was highest for lone individuals stepping out of their tents to pee in the middle of the night (that'd be me and the older adults in our crew). I'm pleased to report I never saw a single critter larger than a "minibear" -- a catchall phrase for a squirrel (which are quite large in New Mexico!) or a chipmunk (which was well-fed and plump). Pictures of minibears combine the body of a chipmunk with the tail of a squirrel to make them mythical creatures.
Our hike took us 4.3 miles from Miners Park to Aguila, involving another day of significant elevation changes, with a gain of +1,097 feet and a loss of -807 feet. Aguila was a Trail Camp, meaning it was more primitive, with no dedicated facilities (running water or toilets), which we knew would add to the day's challenges.
Along the way, we had a unique program stop: a passthrough through the Continental Tie & Lumber Company Program at Crater Lake. This was our opportunity to engage in some serious wood chopping. The staff role-plays as if we were being hired by an old-timey lumber company. Using a large saw, the Scouts took turns cutting big pieces off the lumber, then used a wedge to break them down, and finally an axe to hack each piece into portable sizes. We spent much of the morning there, not only working on the wood but also taking advantage of the baking sun to dry our sodden clothes from the previous day's hailstorm.
We considered taking the wood with us, but every ounce was a burden and it was wet anyway (unlike the fantasy version, who very much needed the wood while we had our white gas stove). After a well-deserved lunch, we continued our journey to Aguila.
Aguila itself was a pristine camp, quiet and peaceful. We quickly set up our bear bags and tents, making the most of the afternoon sun, while some of the Scouts went off to refill their waterskins. They returned soon after, grumbling that the water was quite dirty.
Concerned, I made the trip again with one of the adult leaders. We discovered that the tubes leading from the stream had been jostled just enough that the dirt was no longer being filtered out. After a quick adjustment, we had clear water – clean enough that our chlorine tablets would make it drinkable. We returned to camp in much better spirits; water was a constant concern, and drinking dirty water could make an already tough trip even more miserable.
As night fell, we settled down. The wind whipped viciously, but there was a blessed absence of rain. More curiously, the wind brought with it warm, comforting gusts that were surprisingly pleasant. After the ordeal of the previous night, we finally slept peacefully in the temperate air. This was the most magical night of our journey so far, and a huge improvement over the utter soaking we experienced before.
