Sipsey

After a long drive home from my grandfather's funeral, I walked in the house that I was staying in. I was very close to my grandfather, and it had been a long week helping to make funeral arrangements, and pack up his belongings. I had just recently quit my stressed filled, 80 hour a week job, and moved back to Birmingham. My friend and his wife graciously put me up in the basement apartment of their house, and I swung by briefly on my way to Sipsey wilderness.

Sipsey holds fond memories for me. I have taken many backpacking trips to this area, and always had a rejuvenating, relaxing time. My friends might differ in that assessment, as I am considered to be somewhat of a masochist. I enjoy struggle, and particularly when it is participated in outdoors. I pride myself on my woodsmanship skills, as well as my knowledge of first aid. I believe I can be turned to by others during a crisis. Even if I am the one who might have brought the crisis to its apex; unknowingly of course. It seems that the more adversity I encounter (to a degree), the more cathartic the trip for me. Again this maybe what has driven some of my mates indoors permanently, only to screen my calls when the temperature drops, surely knowing what is to come.

Adam was to meet us the next day, but I was really needing to get out, as it had been a year since I had been camping because of the job I just left(is it any wonder that I left the job?). In addition, I was also dealing with some repressed feelings about the loss of a family member, so this was going to be VERY cathartic! I have to say knowing this, my buddy Adam still agreed to show up. Adam has had more than his share of 'refreshing" outings with me, and has returned battered and bruised at times.

During one such foray I was on to get rid of my angst over the loss of a girlfriend, he claims to have returned with walking pneumonia (in his defense it was raining and around seventeen degrees at the time of the ill-fated trip). He as well as myself and others on these trips have endured scrapes, bruises, sprains, and numerous other bacteriological and viral maladies. But we always return, just to see if it really was as bad as we remembered. Luckily, memories fade, and the camaraderie and the warm campfires always seem to win out over the nuisances that accompanied us on these trips.

As I had mentioned, Adam was to follow a day later. I was headed out that night to meet another friend, Daniel who has also accompanied me on many outdoor pursuits. Daniel is different, because very little affects his mood. His response to a marauding bear headed toward us is something like:

"Bet this is gonna hurt."

He is a good guy, just needs a little MORE panic in his life, by my assessment. I usually try to do my best to fit the bill. Problem is, if you are the third in this party of whiskey-swilling, bushwhacking (usually with some part of our anatomy) bunch, you can kind of start to get the feeling you are the "fifth man" on Captain Kirk's away team. I am always walking just one step too far on the knife edge of sanity, and my buddy Daniel is plodding along saying in a reassuring tone:

"everything will probably be alright, don't worry"

The trip was rather uneventful this time, however it did have a few memorable moments. There was the arrival. Daniel had arrived ahead of me, and was unloading what I considered to be two people's packs. Did he bring a friend along? No, he is just really prepared. The trip in he figured was only a few miles, and since we were not considering this an ultralight trip (safari expeditions are lighter) he would bring along some creature comforts. I have to say being a life long backpacking enthusiast I was a little impressed when I saw him load his 5000 cubic inch pack on his back, and then strap an army surplus pack to his chest. Especially since we both knew there was a river crossing ahead of us at about mile 1.0. I load my single pack on my back (what a weenie was the look I saw in Daniel's eyes as I grabbed my hiking stick), and get ready to set off. Right about then, my friend poses a request:

"Could you grab that little waterproof bag for me? it isn't that heavy."

With this sort of challenge to my manhood, how could I say no? I grabbed the little pack which felt to weigh about twenty pounds, and we headed off. the stream crossing is always interesting on the Sipsey; I have crossed at this spot when it was dry as a bone, and I have crossed it in 40 degree weather when it was chest deep (the best way to cross in this extreme is to strip down to your underwear, as to try to prevent the rest of your clothes getting wet, but that initial plunge can wake a dead man!). This time it was only thigh deep, and it was a considerably warmer 60 degrees.

Then there is the problem of climbing the other side, a very steep, very slick mud bank rising about twenty feet from the river to the trail. Many a time one has spent over a half an hour squirming and trudging his way to the top. It was tiring this time as well, but we made it with relative ease. The extra packs were taking their toll, however, and we weren't halfway to camp. another mile would find Daniel dropping the Alice pack for a return trip, and since it was pitch black outside, we weren't too worried about theft. We were more than a little worried that WE might not find the pack either. We finally made it along to camp, which ends with about a 60 foot scramble up the side of a cliff, to reach utopia.

Utopia is not used sarcastically as the camp site is coveted by many, as evidenced by the number of people who frequent it. It sits atop a cliff, a small flat mesa right next to a stream as it plunges over said cliff, about fifty feet below. The waterfall provides a buffer from the noise of any nearby campers, and a short hop to the stream below camp provides us with all the water we need. A nice fire ring is bordered by large "sittin" logs, and there are plentiful spaces for our tents.

We begin to set up camp, and Daniel mentions he wants a frosty cold one after that hike. I think yes that would be nice, but I guess a little bourbon and water will have to suffice. Ahh, but no Daniel mentions, as the "little" bag I have been dragging along has a twelve pack of beer in it! And beer is no good to a southern boy hot, so he was thoughtful enough to also pack it with enough ice to keep the beer cold! Now at this point I should mention that I am no minimalist camper myself, but I do not like to have anything I cannot carry in my pack with me, and I abhor cell phones, radios, and the like in the woods. I can stay home and play Nintendo if I need that many electronics. Coolers also fit into this category, so needless to say Daniel was very close to becoming the first casualty on this trip. And to the naysayers out there who say I should carry a cell phone in case of emergency, I say this:

You carry your cellphone out into the wilderness miles from any cellphone towers, and I will carry my first aid kit, and we will see which of us fares better with a broken leg, or a snakebite. Case closed.

So after I calmed down, and had a few beers (well of course I was gonna drink some, I carried them didn't I?), we had to go back after Daniel's pack that was M.I.A.. We finally made the trip to the pack, he picked it up, and we trudged back to camp yet again. It was then that he was unpacking the pack in camp when I realized that I had not paid my entrance fee and left it on my truck in the parking lot as required by the National Forest service. Now this can be looked upon as a minor thing, but I don't want to hike back with all this crap only to find my truck has been towed!

So after much discussion and a little imbibing, we decided that he NPS was to underfunded to have that many rangers patrolling about, and we would just wait and hike out in the morning and place the money in the box and the paper on the windshield.

Sleep came fitfully that night, and we arose sore and not to cheerful the next morning. After about my normal 4-5 cups of coffee to get get going, however, we made off for the truck, with a few of Daniel's supplies that we realized we wouldn't need. When we arrived at the parking lot, we found that all was well with our vehicles, and took care of the paperwork. It was about 9am. It was around this time that we realized that Adam wasn't scheduled to arrive for another 5 hours, and there was no way we were going to sit in the parking lot that long, so back to camp we plodded.

Just about the time we were good and relaxed, had cooked a nice meal (Daniel is an excellent outdoor chef, or an indoor one for that matter), we moseyed yet again to the trail head at the parking lot. Adam had a petty nice hike in, and for my sixth trip in two days, it wasn't so bad. No casualties so far, which was sure to break some record, if no one broke any bones. We arrive at camp, Adam sets up his tent and we begin the process of debauchery that is common in a male dominated campsite.

Things were swilled and eaten with our hands, and then the resulting gases that were built up by such mistreatment of our bodies would let loose. We all three come from different walks of life you could say, but we all three have a like-minded sense of humor, and that is all it takes for peace to reign in camp.

All told, there were no casualties on the trip, save one broken water filter that tumbled over the falls (I won't identify the offender, but lets just say he took it in stride), and about a cord of firewood Adam chopped at around 4am because he couldn't sleep, so why not chop some wood?

But through all the trudging through the woods back and forth, back and forth, the massive loads that were hauled, the hangovers, the flaring early morning tempers (that was mostly me), and the death of the water filter, I have never returned home more relaxed. I retold my favorite stories of my Grandfather, and being a prolific storyteller himself, I think he would have appreciated that. The moral of the story, is that I believe much to my companions chagrin, that you can enter the woods with an emotional wound, and return with a renewed sense of peace. The physical scars are just evidence of the emotional pain leaving you, and that is a small price to pay for a cleansed soul.