Good Times

The break of dawn signaled the start of an adventure that was long overdue. I meticulously scanned my gear checklist, ensuring every essential had been packed. The last thing I wanted was to leave behind a vital piece of equipment. My backpack was brimming with anticipation, just like me, as it was loaded into the back of my trusty truck. My companion, Candy, and I were off to pick up our fellow adventurer, Clark.

As we pulled up to Clark's home, he was as ready as ever, his own pack swiftly joining mine in the back of the truck. The road ahead beckoned us, the promise of the wild filling our hearts with excitement. Our first pitstop was the local liquor store, where we each picked up a pint of CR to toast to our journey later. Next, we swung by Jersey Mikes, our favorite sandwich joint, to arm ourselves with some hearty subs for the road. While Candy and Clark devoured theirs during the drive, I decided to save mine for when hunger would strike later.

We hit the road by 10:30 am, embarking on an hour-long journey on highway 115. This route was undergoing a facelift with expansions and replacements, adding a bit of a challenge to our drive. Nevertheless, we made it to our designated turn-off and started traversing a rustic country dirt road. The rough terrain and serpentine curves slowed us down, but it only added to the thrill of the adventure.

Finally, we reached the trailhead, our gateway to the wilderness. We hoisted our packs onto our backs, tightened our belts, checked our gear one last time, and set off. Candy accompanied us for the first mile before bidding us goodbye and returning to the truck. She was to come back the next day around noon to collect us.

Clark and I marched on, and shortly, we were greeted by the gurgling waters of a creek. It was labeled a creek on the map, but it roared with the intensity of a river. This was the first of our many encounters with the creek as we ventured deeper into the canyon. The first crossing was a breeze; we managed to bypass the deep water and continue on the path. But further into the canyon, the creek widened, the water rushed rapidly, and the bed was strewn with slippery rocks and boulders. Thankfully, I had packed my hiking poles, which proved to be lifesavers. Clark and I divided the pair between us, using them for support during the eight times we had to cross the creek.

As we ascended the canyon, we kept an eye out for potential campsites. After some searching, we
stumbled upon an ideal spot—an open meadow area with easy access to the mountain side in case of sudden rain, and trees perfect for hanging our hammocks. Wet boots and socks were the first things to go, replaced with dry footwear—comfort was key here.

Setting up camp was our next task. We gathered rocks and boulders to construct a fire pit, strung our hammocks between sturdy trees, unpacked our sleeping bags, and prepared our headlamps for later use. With our temporary home established, it was time to fish. Armed with our fishing poles, we scouted the creek for promising spots. It didn't take long for Clark to reel in a sizable trout, much to our delight. He managed to catch another one later, while I wasn't as lucky. We followed a catch-and-release policy, so after snapping some pictures, the fish were returned to their home.

As dusk descended, we built a small fire, reminiscing about the day's adventures and Clark's lucky catches. I finally dug into my sandwich, sharing half with Clark, and we enjoyed our pints. However, the tranquility was disturbed by pesky gnats. They were attracted to the salt and moisture on our skin, making us prime targets. Despite the bug spray we had brought, the gnats remained undeterred. Our only relief was sitting near the smoke from the fire, which seemed to keep them at bay.

As the evening progressed, we whipped out our Jet Boil to prepare our dehydrated meals. Clark chose Chicken Teriyaki, and I went for Beef Stroganoff. After boiling water and pouring it into the bags, we stirred the contents and waited. The result was far from gourmet, but it was hot, filling, and tasted delightful after a long day of adventure.

As the night cloaked us in darkness, we let the fire dwindle and die out. Climbing into our hammocks,
we snuggled into our sleeping bags, suspended between the trees. Sleeping in a hammock wasn't as uncomfortable as one might think, though I found myself wishing for a pillow to achieve that perfect comfort level.

Sleep, however, proved elusive. The unfamiliar sounds of the wilderness kept me on high alert, my ears pricking up at every rustle or snap. Every noise seemed like a potential bear or mountain lion sneaking into our camp. Before retiring, Clark and I had made sure to point out each other's sleeping spots, in case we needed to defend ourselves from any intruders. We had brought firearms with us, acting on the principle of 'better safe than sorry.'

The morning arrived early for me. By 6:15, I was wide awake and decided to start dismantling my hammock and repacking my gear. With my tasks completed and Clark still asleep, I seized the opportunity to try my luck at fishing again. A few casts later, I had caught my first fingerling trout. As I rebaited my hook, I noticed Clark stirring, finally joining the land of the living. We fished for a while longer before returning to camp to break it down completely and begin our descent.

We were meticulous about leaving no trace. We collected all our belongings, packed up any trash, and doused the fire pit's ashes with water to ensure it was fully extinguished. Even though our boots were still slightly damp, we put them back on, knowing they'd soon be wet again from the creek crossings.

Making our way down the canyon was an adventure in itself. We had spotted several promising fishing spots on our way up, and now, we planned to hit each one. Our intuition paid off—we caught two more fingerlings at the first spot. By the end of our journey, we had caught about eight fish in total. Clark, the undisputed champion, had caught the first, the biggest, and the most fish, which cost me three dollars in our friendly wager.

We reached the parking lot around 11:30 am. Our timing was impeccable, as Candy arrived just 30
minutes later, right on schedule. We loaded up our gear and set off on the drive home. Our first stop was a coffee shop in Penrose, where we refueled with coffee and sandwiches. Sitting on the patio, we regaled Candy with tales of our 24-hour wilderness escapade, sharing pictures and recounting our adventures.

By 3:00 pm, we were home, and I headed straight for the shower. The hot water washing away the grime and fatigue felt like a luxury after our adventure. Despite the challenges and the occasional fright, it was an experience I wouldn't trade for anything.