March 31 - April 1 2008

April Fools Day dawns clear and cold.  Very cold!  19 degrees F!  As I watch a thin sliver of light begin creeping into the eastern skyline, it dawns on me that I’m celebrating my one year anniversary of being retired, sleeping in a tangle of cottonwood trees, in my jungle hammock.  Life is good…a little chilly, but definitely good.

A few months ago I was thumbing through some books at the public library and I discovered a field guide describing 50 desert hikes in Washington.  Umtanum Creek popped out at me as a “blast from the past”.  Back in the early 1970’s Kevin and I had motorcycle camped in the Ellensburg-Yakima Canyon at Umtanum Creek.  The one thing I remember most was an all night coyote serenade performed by a cast of thousands interspersed with several rumbling freight trains.  It’s a memory that was still as fresh in my mind as if it was yesterday.  

Fast forward 35 years and you’ll find Travis and I headed out on an overnight backpacking trip up Umtanum Creek.  Our primary mission: locate and photograph some of the bighorn sheep that reportedly winter in the canyon.

Our route began with a bouncy walk across the suspension bridge

During the week leading up to our hike I had been monitoring the weather and pass reports closely.  A series of spring storms had left 2 inches of sloppy snow on my back deck and routine periodic closures to Snoqualmie Pass.  But a promise of sunny skies and cold temperatures proved to be true when we arrived at the trailhead. 

Our route followed the creek up through the sagebrush and cottonwood trees.  Speaking of trees…in my preplanning sessions I had been searching the web looking at images of Umtanum Canyon, trying to determine if the creek bed held trees that would be sufficiently large enough to hold up my hammock.  In the dozens of images I reviewed all the trees were plenty big enough but they were all chewed down by beavers and laying in the stream.  Not to worry, we found dozens of perfectly suitable campsites.  I did note that the images of downed trees and beaver dams did not even begin to tell the story of the busy little beavers along this creek.  You couldn’t swing a dead cat without hitting a beaver chewed tree.  The entire creek drainage was just a continuous series of beaver dams.  At each pond a new dam began at the upstream edge of the lower pond.

Beaver sign was everywhere

As we followed the trail up along the creek the canyon walls began to close in.  We walked from an environment of big sky and wide open spaces to a more narrow canyon with steep basalt cliffs and rocky scree slopes on both sides.  Our path crossed the creek several times and eventually we settled on a perfect little campsite, located on a bench just above the water.  There was an existing fire ring (we’d make good use of that later) and a stand of large cottonwood trees 20 feet back through the brush near the base of the cliff.  Perfect!

We quickly threw our camp together and I got some water boiling for a brew.  Travis and I both wanted to get down to the business of finding some big horn sheep.  Before the trip Leane had requested we bring her back a baby lamb to play with…but I thought she would settle for some cool images.  She already had two babies to take care of and we still needed to fix the fence in her back yard before we could smuggle in any wild sheep.

So with our camp all set we headed up the canyon in search of our quarry.  Travis was packing his big Canon digital SLR with his telephoto lens and I had my 8x42 binoculars and (or course) my Pentax pocket thrill cam.  We were dressed in out finest camouflage: Travis sporting a combination of woodland shirt and desert hat, and me with my signature Treebarkpattern including turtle fur fleece hat. 

We strolled up stream and glassed the rocky canyon walls and inspected every footprint in the muddy trail.  Our progress was slow, really slow, almost glacial, because every two steps revealed something new that demanded to be photographed, from four different angles… by each of us.  For anyone reading this that has ever hiked with me before you’d know the pace I’m talking about.  And you would know that Travis was about the only person that would think my pace was almost too fast.  In fact I had a chance to tell Travis how much I enjoyed looking at his photos.  I explained that I get a special joy from his images because not only are they properly exposed and well composed, but I also get to see much of the photographic technique that he has learned from me over the years.  And that was very rewarding as a trainer and teacher. 

That and the fact that I’m often featured with the starring role in many of his images J

Travis laughed and reassured me that almost everything good he ever learned about photography he learned from me.  Just as I was feeling a tear drop well up in my eye we heard the distinctive clattering of rocks tumbling down the scree slope across the canyon. 

Dude!  There was a whole herd of bighorn sheep clamoring along the rock face.  I disappeared into a willow bush and started counting: 12, 15, no 19, wait there were two more.  We had 21 sheep staring directly at us from half way up the canyon wall.  Travis dropped into his prone firing position and began snapping images.  There was no question that the sheep knew we were there.  Every animal in the herd was looking directly at us.  But before long they relaxed and went back to the business of being wild big horn sheep…

I heard Travis’s camera clicking away and glanced back at him for a second.  I was instantly reminded of a day almost 20 years ago.  Travis and I had convinced his mom that he needed to skip a day of school and accompany me up on the high craggy peaks of Kachess Ridge above Easton to track and photograph mountain goats.  We stopped in to Mimi & Papa’s house and located a bunch of goats with the telescope miles away and thousands of feet up the cliff side.  We got geared up in our camouflage (again) and began the stalk.  After several hours of climbing, scrambling, and peaking over ridge tops we found the goats tucked down behind a ridge.  We circled around above them, waited for them to wander up to us, and got some amazing pictures.  Here we were again, all cammied up and sneaking around the mountains trying to photograph wild animals (sheep this time).  Man, talk about a “blast from the past”.

The sheep tracker	The goat tracker nearly 20 years ago

I was just about to mention our goat adventure when Travis said, “Hey dad, this is just as cool as that goat stalking trip years ago on Kachess Ridge”…I had to agree, it was just as cool! 

Our sheep scrambled their way up the ridge and we scrambled our way further up the creek.  We found several more groups of big horn sheep and hundreds of things that needed to be photographed.

Sheep Just above the creek	Pole vaulting across the stream

We said good bye to our sheep and booted it back to camp.  We wanted to get some hot food and pile on all the rest of our clothing.  I was just tucking into my delicious bag of freeze-dried chili-mac when we heard the clattering of rocks on the cliff face across the canyon.  I guess our sheep missed us because it seemed like they had followed us home.

The sheep settled in for the night and so did we.  The temperature dropped like a stone and the chilly 10 knots of wind drove us into our sleeping bags before 1800 hours.  I was snug as a bug in a…in a hammock.  I wrote in my journal and listened to my iPod till I drifted off to sleep.  Once it got dark we enjoyed a dazzling star filled sky.

Warming up	My entertainment center

The predicted nighttime low temperature was supposed to get down to 19 degree F.  Well cross that off the “to do” list.  Just before sunrise it was colder than a tin toilet seat out there.  My Clark’s Jungle Hammock has a series of pouches built in to the underside of the hammock.  By filling these pockets with all your gear (shoes, stove, binoculars, and spare clothes) you create a dead air space that helps to insulate the sleeper from the cold.  Inside the hammock I had my Big Agnes +15 F sleeping bag and my Thermarest pad, which fits in a sleeve under the bag.  As long as I stayed tucked in and zipped up I was reasonably comfortable. 

Just after that first glimmer of morning light was clawing its way up the eastern horizon I looked over and saw a faint trail of smoke drifting up from the fire ring nears Travis’ tent.

 Survivorman,AKA Travis, was on the job.  Within a minute he had a blazing fire going and he had his dad for company by the fireside.  I should point out that in true Les Stroud fashion he managed to burn a hole in my hiking shoe but that’s another story.  Besides it was a small price to pay for such a glorious little slice of heaven.  We had some oatmeal and a tea and waited for the sun to bulldoze its way into the sky. 

Not many things in life feel as good as the sun on your face and a warm fire on a sub zero morning.  As we were discussing our route for the day and doing some map recon we heard that now very familiar clattering of rocks falling down the cliff side.  Yep, they were back.  A pack of about 15 to 20 sheep were scrambling across the sheer rock face just to the north of camp. 

As the larger sheep in the bunch were feeding a group of five or six smaller ones (probably yearlings) began a serious game of “sheep tag”.  They were running full speed chasing each other up, and around, and over, and down, a rocky knob on the face of the cliff.  They ran clockwise for a bit then turned around and chased each other counter-clockwise for a few loops.  It was like a Parkour – Grab Ass contest played out on the front of a five story building.  Awesome!  We just stood there watching in stunned silence.

Our route was determined for us by the sheep.  We decided to hike up a canyon to the north, try to get above the sheep and wait for them to scramble up to us.  We knew from our goat tracking adventures that sheep and mountain goats rarely look for predators coming from above.  In fact they generally flee up slope when they sense danger.  Sounded like a pretty good plan.  All that stood in the way of some great images was a five mile scramble over rocky scree fields and sheer basalt cliffs and a couple of thousand feet of elevation gain.  A piece of cake, really.

Survivorman	The long scramble up from camp

Facts from my animal tracking book:

Tracks - The track of the Bighorn Sheep has a straighter edge and is less pointed than that of the deer with a blockier shape and small hollow on the inside of the hoof. Regardless of these differences, the tracks of the deer and Bighorn Sheep are easily confused.

Straddle: 17 - 20 cm (6.8 - 8 in)
Stride: 45 - 58 cm (18 - 23.2 in)
Track: 7.5 cm (3 in) long / 5 cm (2 in) wide

Eventually we started to top out on the ridge.  The closer to the top we got the slower we went.  I wanted to see any sheep before they saw us.  I would creep up a few steps then silently raise my binocular-ed’ eyes up and scan around like a submarine periscope.  That was how I saw the big horn sheep on the next ridge to the north.  There was a large female and several smaller ones bedded down near the peak. 

Now it was “Guns of Navarone” time.  Just like the WWII movie commandos, we crept silently up and around the sheep.  Inching our way up, periscope-ing every few meters.  It looked like we were in a perfect position to get into a hide and wait for the sheep to wander over to us. 

I’ll look over here…	Yep that’s a sheep track…	Where’d they go?

Once we thought we were in position the sheep seemed to disappear.  Where did those crafty little sheep go?  Travis settled into a hide with his zoom lens and I decided to circle around several hundred meters to the NW.  Our thought was that if the sheep saw me they might get up and walk right over to where Travis was waiting to photograph them.

Well, this time it was clear that the sheep (initially) had no idea that they were sharing their mountain top with two humans.  They had all gotten up and walked right over to the exact spot where Travis and I had snuck up the ridge.  When I put my binoculars on them every one of them was looking directly at me.  I was busted.

We tried another feeble attempt at stalking the sheep without any great success.  I did see a tiny little wren, which I later ID’ed as a canyon wren.  A new bird for me.  Speaking of new birds…well speaking of miss-identifying new birds…the night before we had a falcon streaking around the sky right over our camp.  The bird seemed to have a nest in the rocky cliffs up above my hammock.  We got several good clear looks and listened to her call (scream) for an hour before sundown.  I guessed it was a peregrine falcon but later confirmed that it was actually a prairie falcon.  In my defense I can only state that I only had the peregrine’s call on my iPod and their calls are very similar.  But once I got home to my bird field guide it was unmistakably a prairie falcon.  And it was beautiful. 

It was time to head back down.  I felt it was important to retrace our exact route down because it would be very easy to wander off a few feet north or south and get “cliffed out”.

As it turned out we followed our track flawlessly.  I even pointed out several of Travis’ uphill footprints as we descended. 

Big sky country	The down scramble

We made it back to camp, stopping on the mesa across the creek to take some pictures of our home away from home, before packing up.  While we were rolling up our gear Travis looked back over to the mesa across the creek and saw 18-19 more sheep wandering right down like they owned the place.  Again they knew we were there but didn’t seem to care.

Well we had time for one more stalk.  Travis crossed the creek, dropped his pack and crawled up into the brush near the herd.  I wandered a little farther down the trail being followed by 18 pairs of eyes.  I could see with my binoculars that none of the sheep were looking back where Travis was.  This might be our last chance to grab a lamb for Leane.  Nope.  Something from up the canyon spooked the herd and they scampered away up the scree slope. 

All that was left was a nice easy stroll back down the canyon to the trailhead.  As simple as that sounded Travis and I both agreed that the 4 hours we’d just spent boulder hopping up and down the ridgetop had taken a slight toll on our feet and knees.  We felt kind of hammered.

Another great adventure to add to my life list of great adventures.  Thanks Travis for being such an awesome dude.             Kat