Kilpchuck Campground (Mazama, Washington)
I saw on one of the bulletin boards in camp that a trail called "Easy Winters" (named after the creek) allowed bike riders. It was 4 miles long, fairly level and ended at the highway. The board suggested riding up the trail to the highway then riding back to the camp on the highway itself.
It was a single lane trail and I soon came upon two men walking their dogs without leashes as they had done in the camp the day before. Of course both incidents were rule violations as was the incident just before I left my camp where another man had let his dog run through my camp and defile my tires while he quietly called to him. But, who can question the sincerity of a dog ownere who really puts his dog above all humans.
I apologized for disturbing the rule-breakers and passed on. I apologized! The trail was a typical USFS trail that I have grown tired of. Their philosophy must be, "whatever the grade of the hill, that shall be the grade of the trail." I was either going straight up a hill at 20% grade or straight down. I also ran into a long tretch of what I will call skree until corrected that was un passable on a bike. So, I ended up pushing the bike a good protion of the way. It rained a little, but it was not cool. I worked up quite a sweat. Another problem I had was against my better judgement I wore my open toe sandals thinking it was an easy trail. There were place I probably could have passed on my bike which I did not for fear of hitting my toe on a boulder at 10 miles per hour. Also, while walking my bike I would occassionaly step on a stick with one foot which would pop up at just the right angle to jab into my other foot through the openings in my sandals.
The last few hundred yards the trail was lined with overhanging ferns wet from the recent rain. My clothes were soaked with sweat and rain and my feet bruised and battered when I reached the highway one hour after starting down the 4 mile trail. There was a bridge near by, so I went down o the creek and washed my feet before continuing.
For the next several minutes I was very was at my back and I was on a nicely paved road going downhill as fast as my bike could fly. I reached the campground turnoff about 20 minutes later. I decided to see if there was a trail along the creek I could ride back to my site. I got to the creek, saw it was a dead end, took some pictures and started back to the campground road. There was a small log of about 6 inches in diameter laying across the trail. I tried to pop a wheely over it, but mistimed it. My front wheel landed awkardly right at the base of the log and I went flying over the handle bars with the rear wheel of my bike cloase behind. I lay there for a few minutes trying to figure out how my legs and arms could get so entangled with my bike and how I could get them untangled.
Somehow I managed to get loose only to discover my back brakes were stuck in the on position so my back tire did not want to turn. Not seeing an obvious fix, I disconnected the brakes. As I approached the campground entrance there was a group of a what looked like hispanic americans holding some k,ind of meeting at the trailhead outside the camp. There were at least 50 people congregated in a small parking lot with a few people preaching in a language that was not english. I expected them to see me riding by and say, "there is one of them. Let's get him." and have them chase me down the road.
Back at camp it was quiet, peaceful and cool. It was still overcast and we were getting a few drizzles. As long as it was so quiet I decided to stay in camp and read. When it started to warm up a little I took my chair down to the creek and after cooling off with a little wading, kicked backe and continued reading my book. For at least two hours there was no sound except for the rushing creek.
Then I heard some hooting and hollering and saw a few people on the other side of the creek downstream aways. I went ahead and put my shirt back on out of decency. A few minutes later I looked downstream and there were at least 10 or 15 people on my side. I said hello to the leader as he passed by. They had obviously came down to check out the creek. They went a little farther upstream.
A few minutes later a family of about 8 people arrived from up stream. They seemed to gather around my chair for some reason. The father asked if they were going swimming or what. Next another 10 people showed up from downstream all with towels. I took this as my cue to leave. It wwas a very heavily wooded hemlock-cedar forest and not much room for that many people. Not to mention the area that I considered safe enoght to wade in was about 8 feet of bank. As I headed back to camp I heard the screams of young children feeling the cold of the icy creek.
When I got back to camp I went to the restroom and noticed how all the campsites in that area were now full and most had at least three or four vehicles. There were also vehicles parked in the grass acroos from thne sites near other sites. Reminded me of South Tucson.
I worked on my web page for a while noticing that all the people from the creek had headed back to their campsites after about 15 minutes. As I was finishing up one page the sun came out and the flies started bothering me. So I changed into my truncks and headed to the creek with my chair and book.
I had gotten very hot in the sun and hurriedly set down my chair and ripped off my t-shirt preparing to enter the water as soon as possible. As I was taking off my shirt I noticed out of the corner of my eye a woman about 15 feet upstream with a camera with a large lense. From the look on her facee I think she might have been afraid I was going to take off more than my shirt. Her male comapnion (a Danny Bonaducci look-alike) came strolling by ahead of her and asked me if I was going swimming. "Just wading," I told him.
I spent a couple more hours down by the creek reading then headed back to camp. The camp was shady and I spent the rest of the night reading and working on web pages while all the hispanics settled into one site for the night.
My big concerns were that I was going to be done with my book before the night was over, I needed to get my web pages posted because people were worrying about me and if I post too many they won't get read, and where I was headed next. I did not feel ready to do any socializing and at this rate did not know when I would be ready again. The deal with my friend from college had fell through as far as I was concerned. I have kind of decided that Tucson is not the place for me.
Oregon would be alright if someone would set me up with a job and I could achieve financial and social independence. Montana may be good temporarily, but I wonder about the winters there. I any case I am torn between going back to see my family before I make a decision on where to settle down or just settling down and then try to see them when I will have plenty of excuses not to. Tomorrow is another day I have to decide where I will stay.