The big Labor Day weekend was coming up, and we had plans: We were headed
to a secluded meadow high up in the Goat Rock Wilderness. We were only taking
two llamas because the road had become so rough it was impossible to get
a trailer up to the trailhead. It was dangerous enough getting the pickup
over the slide area and slipping road.
We were finally off by late afternoon on what would be more than a two-hour
drive. The Forest Service road we took had been allowed to deteriorate.
We had to cross a hazardous slide area and negotiate a very narrow section
along a cliff. That done, we got the llamas out of the canopy and ate our
dinner.
It was nearly 6 pm when we hit the trail. We felt that if all went well
we could possibly get into camp before dark--a nice thought that proved
too optimistic, however. The trail was steep, with many elevation changes.
It just wasn't a hurry-up type of trail. All was going fine, but not quickly.
Before we made our last trail junction, it already was getting noticeably
darker under the trees. Soon Georgia was using her flashlight to help her
navigate the trail. Being a "man," I went until I really had to
use some help or fall on my face. It started drizzling about a half mile
before we turned off the trail. We got out rain coats out. The weatherman
on our local Channel Two had warned of some light drizzle, so we were at
least prepared.
It was quite dark, and the drizzle was steady as we made a first attempt
to reach our cross country destination. We had thought about staying by
the trail that night, but then argued ourselves into "going for it"
because we were only a quarter mile away. We had seen the meadow only a
couple of times (always in the daylight, of course). It took us a two attempts
to find it.
There was lush grass for the llamas, a place for a tent, and we knew there
was some water nearby (besides what was falling out of the sky). Quickly
we put the tent went up and stowed the sleeping gear. Next came the lean-to.
It is kind of hard to set it up by flashlight, but we did it.
The drizzling was still steady. The llamas were tethered out and had good
grazing, but no shelter. None of the nearby trees offered protection. We
were chagrined that we had failed to include the llama rain coats that Georgia
had made. This was the time to use them.
We set up the stove, and I went with flashlight down the hill about 50 yards
and through some small firs to locate a source of water. After hot cocoa,
we were off to bed. Normally, the pattering of rain on the tent is a lulling
and soothing sound. That night it was too steady, and we knew our llamas
had been hot and now were getting soaked--with no protection. It was unsettling.
In the morning the drizzle continued off and on. Everything was wet. We
checked the soaked llamas and had our breakfast. Both llamas were cold,
and Trapper was shaking a little.
It was too wet to do anything. Depending upon the weather report being correct,
we waited for the predicted break in the weather. I was finally able to
get a fire going, and we sat by it and and watched the sky. We had only
one glimmer of a break...and then it started drizzling again.
After lunch we decided that for the llamas' sake we should get them out.
We packed up. I hate packing wet tents and gear. Trapper carried most of
the wet things, and probably carried out 10 pounds more than he brought
in.
The trails had been washed down by rivulets. Fir needles were washed into
piles, little gullies had been created in steep sections. Flat areas had
become big puddles. The trail was boggy in places. We sloshed and slipped
back to the car just before 5 pm. Our trip had lasted 23 hours--the shortest
pack trip we have experienced.
The weather showed some signs of changing as we neared I-5, but it was not
in us to turn around and go back. We spent the rest of the weekend drying
out tents, sleeping bags, and other soggy items.
The area we had entered in the Goat Rocks seems to gather storms. We have
been caught there several times before. We must like the area, for after
being chased out by three storms now we still plan to go back...next year.
Sigh! But we can hope that next year will be better.
Noel McRae and his wife, Georgia, own Cdear Llamas in Kelso, WA.
He is publisher of The Backcountry Llama newsletter
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