Spring Hike: Being Al/l-O/one

My tolerance for what generally counts as human culture is about two weeks. For two weeks, I can be around people, function relatively normally, and not act like a total misanthrope. I can satisfy myself with my excellent walk to and from work, chatting with the local ravens, and watching the bitterroot rosettes spring to life:

And the chunky, early spring predator wasps working the sagebrush/knapweed prairie (they sting & paralyse an insect, lay an egg on the insect, and stash it in a small ground burrow):

But the terrible environmental ethics of people begins to get to me, and each day I have to witness ongoing processes of mutilation, such as this ATV track near Big Butte that gets wider and deeper each year:

So I "lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my strength," and head out for a hike. Someplace where there is not another soul in sight. This fine day it was in the shadow of death, that is to say, in the shadow of the Anacona smelter. There are plenty of signs of bad environmental ethics here: the still-barren landscape was heavily damaged by arsenic, acidic fumes, heavy metals, and other fallout from Anaconda Copper Mining company smelters. Still, the damage is historical, and slowly fading away like this old fence line:

And there is remarkably good forage such as the grasses recover the land, and this old growth bitterbrush:

RTD and I saw a lone mulie doe and an enormous bull moose. Strangely, both were extremely skittish. This is normal enough for mule deer, although they usually run 100 yards or so and then turn to look back. This one ran clean to the other side of the open valley (a half mile or more away) before she even slowed down. And (as I learned from the tracks) bullwinkle hightailed it up over one ridge, through a shallow wash, and then up over the next ridge before heading down into thicker cover.

RTD and I also saw two large coyotes , or what I thought at the time were coyotes. We got just a fleeting glimpse of them as they trotted across a small snow field and up over a distant ridge. I wished afterward that we had hiked over to check out their tracks, for they did not look quite right for coyotes: their heads seemed large, and they carried their tail almost horizontally. Hmmmm... Wolves would explain that skittish deer and moose. Sure wish I had hiked over to check out those tracks.

We hiked up the drainage as far as we could go without snowshoes, taking in the good view of Short Peak and Mt. Haggin:

And pausing for a pot of noodles and a hot cup of tea:

Greatly refreshed, and ready to face the human world for another few days, we hiked down the ridges and back to the truck.

Twin Lakes Backpacking

I had a few days for a backpack trip last week, and friend Dave & his daughter Chelsea suggested Lake of the Isle/Twin Lakes area on the west side of the Great Divide. We ended up going to a long valley just north of LotI, a place I've wanted to visit, just over the ridge (Continental Divide) from 10 Mile Lakes. Here is the cirque, a bit distorted by my amateurish photo-stitching:

Soon after leaving the Twin Lakes trail, we ended up bushwhacking through some difficult deadfall in the mid-elevation forest. Hmmm... I thought there was an old packer's trail into this place. Here are Chelsea, RTD, and I--happy, before the grim reality of cross country hiking in the ugly stuff set in:

Well, we did see lots of critters to cheer us on,

such as this curious mule deer doe:

and this curious elk cow:

I suspect both had young hidden near by, and were reluctant to flee. I thought we would see goats for sure, but found nary a sign of them. They were once common in this area, but seem to be suffering from the constant snow machine harassment that occurs throughout the winter.

Well, lots of bear sign, though (some critters are more tolerant of humans than others),

old:

and fresh (note the hair--this guy recently ate an elk calf, I think):

And we saw a bear, but like so many ursine meetings it was fleeting, no time for a photo.

Here are my companions at an old logger's cabin (the ACM raped the timber out of this area, too, a century or so ago):

The 90 degree F heat made the alpine basin feel especially good. Few trees can match the beauty of the alpine larch. They grow in incredibly harsh conditions, on scree, avalanche chutes, and wind (and lightning) blasted ridges:

There were an extraordinary number of tiny yellow violets dotting the open ground covered by snow drifts just a few weeks ago:

A supper of grilled steaks, baked potatoes, and asparagus looks pretty good too:

ATV trail violations are increasingly a problem in this area, as everywhere. No wonder, given the Forest Service policy of trying to close old roads rather than reclaim them. A big wide road is a big wide invitation to ATV riders, and the pitiful closure efforts mean nothing, as you can see by the illegal bypass:

Putting trails across old roads on clearcuts makes for hot hiking too--as with Dave & Chelsea here on the trek out:

Why I Hate ATVs [revised]

I hate ATVs ("All Terrain Vehicles"). I know, I know: ATVs don't ruin the landscape, irresponsible ATV riders do. Problem is, the 10% of law abiding ATV riders get a bad name from the 90% who break all the rules.

For the past two nights, I've been dreaming of fox pups. Not cute fox pups cavorting on green grass around the den, endlessly pestering their dam, greeting each new mouse brought home for dinner... Rather, I'm dreaming of wimpering, worried pups slowly starving to death in a cold and lonely world.

You see, the sons-of-bitches who ride ATVs near my house killed the mother fox that, for several years in a row, has whelped her pups in a den that seemed well hidden in a washed out gully. It was a senseless murder. She was not killed for her beautiful winter-prime pelt, by some boy who had studied her habits, who made a well-hidden trap set, and who carefully skinned her carcass. From the appearance of the carcass and the tire tracks, the ATV sons-of-bitches shot and wounded her, and then ran her down and ran her over several times as she tried to seek refuge in the den. Even RTD seemed saddened and mystified by this senseless murder; when it lived, RTD enjoyed seeing and smelling her little canine cousin, and even giving it a brief 100-yard dash for the sheer pleasure of the race.

ATVs promote and enable evil. Kids who would otherwise walk the hills (and yes, perhaps shoot things up with their .22s) can easily cover miles and miles of ground. A passing fox is just another target in the video screen like landscape, and not something that they have any intimate and animal connection to.



ATVs are a tool of destruction. As a machine that cheapens our relationship to nature, ATVs carry a politics all their own. Emblematic of the lazy, fast-paced, superficial outdoors "experience," they transform quiet trails and mountain meadows into a BMX course.

Here is another photo, by Paul Olsen, of a once pristine meadow in the Pioneer Mountains--an area with all the values of a wilderness. Until the ATVs came along.

This is why I hate ATVs.

[Well, after I wrote this I had a nice encounter with a young man. After talking with him, I realized how dogmatic is my opinion, and how I need to revise it. This young man, who is also a father, rides with his kids and parents. They are respectful riders, and they stay on designated trails. They enjoy their submergence into nature -- albeit a motorized encounter -- fully as much as I enjoy my passive recreational experience.

You see, this young man has a physical disability that makes it inordinately difficult to clamber for miles over rocky, steep trails. He is healthy, fit, and strong. He wants his children to know nature, and he wants to experience it with them. Just as my hearing aids and glasses make it possible for me to have a more intimate and genuine relationship with nature, so does his ATV.

While this in no way diminishes the evil that irresponsible ATV riders cause, it does mean that there is a place for motorized trails (and law-abiding riders) in pristine and remote areas.

I apologize to all whom I might have offended and left out by my dogmatic pursuit of nature as a "natural" (unmotorized) experience. Live and learn. - EcoRover]