Re: My Hike down the PCT

As I stared walking down the trail , what first came to my mind was the large fire that came threw this area, what a shame, the return rate of gowth in this desert place will take a long time. The trail is easy, mostly a gradual windy decline, Devils hole was empty of people and it looked like the gate was maybe closed because of the lack of tire prints on the road. The day was starting to warm up so we pushed on. The distance from Spiltters Cabin to Devils Hole is maybe 2 miles downhill. I notice that the pine trees are getting far and few now that we are walking into the High desert, 1 mile down from Devils Hole is a beautiful bridge that was put in place about 7-8 years ago, the teak wood that was used in the construction of the bridge is in prefect shape like the day it was put in, I remember going fishing in this area before the brige was put in and having to cross this section, the crossing was very steep and dangerous, hats off the the volunteers for their time and enegry.
There's a story that I will share with you all. At the time of the construction of the bridge I was working at a fly fishing store and local fishermen would come in and swap stories, this one particular fishermen was very vigilant about protecting the stream, he told me that one day he was fishing the stream in that area and came across a water pump (3.5h gasoline engine mounted on top of a innertube) gold diggers would use this to suck up the river bottom for gold, these pumps destroy fish beds and anything that lays eggs on the bottom of the river, so being the extremist that he is, he decided to wreck the water pump to show this gold digger he was not wanted in this area, he cut the hoses and put sand and water in the gas tank, come to find out the water pump was carried in by volunteers to use for pumping water up the hill for mixing with concrete for the bridge. Goes to show if you come across something while walking down by the river DON'T @!#$ WITH IT!! Feeling kinda tired and hot, with to large of a pack for what I was doing, I spied a white sandy beach with a river front view, I decided that looked like a great place for lunch; mind you that most of the time the river is always 100 to 500 yards away from the trail down very steep hillsides. As I make my way down I notice the many cattle trails that criss-cross the banks and hillsides, aahh, glad I brought my water filter, the sand on the beach was clean and bright, no foot traffic other than some coyotes and little critters. I dropped my pack and headed for the water to cool down, the water was colder then expected, the canyon was just inspiring. Lots of frogs jumping around from every rock and crevise, as we were looking around, I say we, because, my black lab, D.O.G. yeap that's her name, is with me. We came aross this most beautiful waterfall cascading down into multiple pools, the sound of pure bliss, if any sound can take you away it's the sound of falling water. As we swam in the pools and played in the falling water time was all but lost, before I realized it the sun was crouching behind the ridge and it was getting colder, looks like we will be sleeping here tonight. Thats what I like about the wilderness, is that father time doesn't ring in your ear like in the other world, that an agenda need not be an "agenda" to free body and mind and to emerse oneself into natures water and have mother nature seep into your soul, the feeling is all healing.
Night has fallen upon us, having made dinner and policed the camp ground for trash and loose items, I had a weary feeling come over me, to a point it made me look up and around like I was being watched. Maybe I've watched to many movies or not been camping in a while to feel comfortable in a unfamiliar place, I chalked it up to first night out nerves and went about my camp chores.
As I lay half sleeping and awake, the sounds of frogs lullaby me to sleep, the stars twinkling with their light show and the satelite circling the heavens above. I turned over to adjust my sleeping postion, when this loud jostle no more than 2 feet away from my head comes from the willows at the same time DOG barks and bolts from her sleeping position and runs full force snarling into the willows. For a slpit second I hear nothing then a loud heavy splash into the creek followed by another one, I listen and hear only what I can describe as a large scared animal trying to walk on water as fast as it could. Like it would sink and push off the bottom, fly threw the air a foot or two and sink again, mind you the creek was about 2-3 feet deep in this area and lots of algae on the banks. I called DOG and called her again, is it Bigfoot, a bear, moutain loin or the most feared of all mountain dwellers MAN... My heart is pumping, so I let out a primitive cry clapped my hands and listened, finally DOG comes back to camp. Is she hurt? I concole her, pet her, feel her for wounds, nothing, good. It was a little difficult getting back to my dream world that night but I managed from sheer fatigue. The next moring we looked over the large paw prints of a mountain lion.