Camp Potosi - Part One

Mark was sick.

The original plan was two nights at my campsite on Mount Potosi. Sunday night, Mark looked like hell. He said he didn't know if he'd be able to drop me off on Tuesday. I was less concerned about the drop off, than I was the pick up. Last thing I wanted was to be stuck out in the middle of nowhere, with my ride home taking a long-term nap in the city morgue.

Monday afternoon I sent him a text-message to his cellphone. If he was trying to sleep off the sickness, I didn't want to wake him. Then I waited. And waited. And waited. After 5 hours, I understood. He was dead, or something near it, and there would be no trip.

He managed to heal enough to turn it into an overnighter. I was fine with that. More and more, the original idea of a seven day adventure looked silly. One night, to make sure I could survive it was a much better idea.

The forecast was for a high in the low 40's. A low of 15 degrees.

I added some new gear to my collection specifically for this adventure. I bought a lightweight mess kit, a heavier sleeping bag and some ski gloves. I bought a giant re-sealable bag of Honey Nut Cheerios and three packets of Top Ramen for food, a gallon of water and took 4 packets of hot chocolate.


Day of the trip - Noon

Mark drops me off at Potosi Spring. It's a good place to get started. It's familiar. I am a bit apprehensive. This is a big step. There are a lot of unknowns for me. How will I handle the cold? How will I be effected by the isolation, even in the short term? More than nervous, though, the edge is delicious. It's exciting. This is my first real adventure. Even though I'll be out in the wilds, alone, i'm not going totally without a lifeline. I do have my cellphone. I know a spot near the campsite where the phone gets strong reception. There are a lot of antennae on Potosi Peak. One must be a cell tower. In case I can't speak, we've worked out a numerical system. I text-message 911, and Mark knows to call search and rescue. I figure, if I'm broken, or freezing, I can at least muster enough strength to use a stick to type out "911".

We set 2pm as the pickup time for the next day. A contingency for heavy rain is made. 6pm, at the highway, because if the roads are soggy, Mark's truck will not be able to get in back by the spring. I don't want to get stranded, in the event of a flash flood.

I haven't even started yet, and already I'm having problems. Mark looks like he wants to get home so he can crawl into bed and die, and I don't want to hold him up. I am trying to get my sleeping bag tied to the frame pack, but it won't tie down right. The bungee cord I have is short and thin. Normally, this is the spot on my pack where I store my tent. I usually just have my flannel sleeping bag, and that fits nicely inside the pack. This sleeping bag is heavy and needs to be affixed to the outside, so I plan to set it on the frame and carry the tent. I eventually get a decent tie-down on the sleeping bag, and notice that the belt clip for my machete is missing. So, both of my hands are occupied. Left hand carrying the machete, right hand carrying the tent.

Mark stays a short while to enjoy the atmosphere and air of the mountain area. It's warmer than I expected. Very comfortable. Of course, I am pretty heavily loaded. A long sleeved cotton t-shirt. A long sleeved fleece shirt over that. A heavy flannel pull-over hooded sweat shirt over that. I'd probably be comfortable in Antarctica.

I march off into the wilds as Mark turns the truck around and heads home.


12:15

I've moved about 20 yards. I just can't get the sleeping bag to cooperate. I had it tied to the bottom of the frame on my pack, where I normally tie the tent. But it keeps rolling off. After three more attempts at getting the bag tied down, I decide I'll just carry it. The tent is tied to the frame, and I wander on, the unwieldy bag uncomfortably in hand.

It's here where I've stopped that I get my first signs of real winter. The spring is iced over. It's still running water where it bubbles up out of the ground, but 15 feet downstream, it's solidified. I break the ice with my machete, and find it's over an inch thick.

Following the 4x4 road, I find a lot of signs of man. A pick-up truck bumper, shiny chrome, fairly new. A cup from Taco Bell. Beer cans. Shotgun shells. It will be good to get up high, where these slobs do not go, where there is no evidence of their existence.

I follow the 4x4 road a bit, then walk down a wash, then through raw desert. Eventually the road and I meet again, and I follow it along again. There's a sign marking the road. National Parks Service Road 582. It's a pretty well maintained dirt and gravel road. It's not long before I have a decision to make.

The road splits. Road 582 continues into the heart of the valley, then Road 582 C splits off and heads inward towards the mountains. It's dirty, and less well maintained than the main road. I don't remember any side roads on the map, and don't bother to pull out my book to check. I'm sure that only the main road is marked. But I can see the road heads inward, then seems to turn to run along the perimeter of the mountain. I figure that the worst that can happen is the road dead ends, and I will have to trek through the desert a while to get back onto the main road. That's one of the great things about traveling this way. If you lose the road, you don't have to turn back and retrace your steps. You just hoof it through the rough terrain, and enjoy the trip.


12:45

I stop to take my first break. I feel good. I've covered a good distance, while not rushing like I usually have to when I hike with Mark. Road 582 C has taken me to a slightly higher elevation, and I can see pretty far from up here. Normally, this valley is very hazy. Today, the wind has cleared out the air, and I can see mountains in the distance I couldn't even see from high up in the mountains on previous climbs. I break out the water and a candy bar, and enjoy a relaxing moment in the warm air.