Chapter Six

Back in the present, I decided that I might be best served with several short trips down to different groups of cabins. Each trip would take anywhere from one to five days, depending on how far I had to travel and how much reconnaissance I had to do. I figured I could carefully watch for any sign of activity for a period of time, and then when I knew it was safe, venture inside and see if I could gather any useful provisions. If I did see anyone, I could watch for a longer period of time and make a judgment on whether or not they were “good guys” or “bad guys.” If they seemed like good people, I would try to find a safe way to introduce myself. With the events that I had witnessed last summer, people were unlikely to trust anybody. If they were the type that I had seen manhandling Eric and Tucker and all the other innocent people that had died in the town, I guess I could just sit back and observe – perhaps learn by observation and maybe conduct a raid on their provisions if it wasn’t too risky.

My first trip was to the first group of cabins I had visited, where I had met Eric. The charred cabin and the burnt jeep frame were still there. I saw no sign of people, so I entered each cabin and spent anywhere from thirty minutes to two hours going through with a fine-tooth comb. I found a few packages and cans, as well as a few other useful items for living at camp. I also found a pair of boots that was an acceptable fit, and a number of other articles of clothing that hadn’t been destroyed by rodents or the elements. Most importantly, I found an old wooden outfitter packframe – the kind with the tall frame and folding shelf in back. A worn army dufflebag from the loft of one of the cabins would strap nicely to this frame and allow me to move a lot more supplies up or down the mountain comfortably and safely. I packed my smaller backpack inside the duffle along with the other supplies I had scrounged and trecked back up the canyon to my camp.

I realized that I did not want to leave a trail to my front door, so I was learning different ways in and out of the canyon. Game trails led along the bottom of every draw, and connected food and water locations down low to the bedding locations up on the higher slopes in the thicker cover. I found that I could follow a game trail for a while until it veered in a different direction than I wanted to go, then I could cut cross-country until I found another game trail.

I also knew that I could travel less conspicuously just by careful placement of my feet – if I didn’t knock small rocks loose or scuff the ground too much. There were probably a million things I didn’t know about being inconspicuous and stealthy like the natives that lived here long ago or even the mountain men that came later to hunt and trap, but just by paying attention to things around me and by using common sense, I felt like I was blending in pretty well.

On this trip I was taking note of the side canyons and draws along my main canyon, and the ridgelines high above on either side. There would be natural migration routes for the wild game going up these natural features and across the saddles of the ridgeline. The vegetation thinned up higher, and it might be more difficult to remain concealed, but if I ever needed an alternate route out of the canyon, I could trust the old migration routes that had probably been used for centuries.

For the sake of unpredictably, I chose to rough camp along the way back to my cabin, even though it was less than an hour away. When I found a suitable well-sheltered location along my route, I quickly dropped my bag and doubled back along my route in a wide loop just in case I had been followed. Fifty yards back in the trees, I rested in the shade and waited for forty-five minutes until I was comfortable that I was alone – only then did I return to my pack and make a minimalist camp. I enjoyed a chunk of jerky and some spring water from my canteen.

I could hear coyotes yipping in the distance, and then the hoot of an owl. The forest noises didn’t bother me – I couldn’t remember a time when they had. Grandpa and Dad had both told me what the noises were from the time I was old enough to ask. Really, it was the things that didn’t make much noise that might actually hurt me, but even those larger more dangerous predators like bears and mountain lions would likely see me as an anomaly and stay distant. And I knew from my recent encounter with the cougar that I must be less obvious to these animals than I ever would have believed. So I slept well that night in my simple brown wool bedroll beneath the boughs of an old Douglas fir tree.

The next morning I awoke before light and broke camp in less than ten minutes – I had no reason to believe I had been followed but it was programmed into my way of living to be over-cautious. It occurred to me that a very astute tracker could have been willing to wait out the night and follow me in the morning to find my camp. Part of my return trip was along the rocks by the streambed in the canyon bottom. This kind of behavior would have seemed insane to Camille, but the events of the past year proved that I was closer to correct in my perspectives than she had been. It was melancholy to think that way about her, but it was accurate.

I arrived at my little cabin and set to work repairing my current pair of moccasins and making a new pair. If I was going to spend this much time coming and going, I would be wearing out footwear rapidly.

I made a pair of similar trips over the next week and collected a number of additional useful articles for my camp, as well as a few more cans and boxes of food. Apparently the raiding was not quite as thorough way up here. I knew I had more cabins at greater distances, but I decided to put off my supply collecting trips for a few days while I did a different type of reconnaissance from the peaks and ridgelines.

Accordingly, I donned my least conspicuous clothing and packed up food, bedroll, and gun for a few days journey, and the next morning early I headed uphill. I also pulled out a pair of binoculars that my Dad had given me in high school. I hadn’t used them much up here – last summer I had watched for deer at a distance across the canyon, but didn’t feel like it improved my chances of getting an animal very much, so I packed them away.

I doubted I would see anybody up above me, but moving with caution was becoming natural to me. Around mid-day I stopped near a small lake and snacked. I had probably traveled four miles and climbed 600-800 vertical feet moving fairly slowly. Near the shore I found an old fire ring made of rocks – it was several years old. I felt a little exposed near the shore of the lake, but I stood there long enough to observe some salamander-like amphibians about the length of my hand swimming in the shallow water. I couldn’t see any fish, but they were probably out a bit further. The lake was only about 100 yards across.

I continued uphill, passing other lakes and streams. The trees and other vegetation became thinner as I went, so I stopped frequently under cover of trees to observe around me. I made a last quick push to a saddle in the ridgeline and took cover in a small stand of trees. From there I took the time to look all around. The ridge dropped sharply in front of me toward another lake basin and canyon. If I remembered correctly, there was no ready access to this area, so I did not expect to see any sign of anything over there. It was a beautiful view – lakes, trees, peaks and ridges for a hundred miles or more.

Back the way I came, I could see my canyon. The higher area was also covered in small lakes. Off to the north, across the canyon from my cabin, I could see an area that had been burned in recent years – most likely a lightning fire. The canyon was bounded by two major ridgelines, and probably averaged less than two or three miles across as the crow flies. I knew that some of the area I had visited last week on my trips was beyond the northern ridgeline. I was standing on the southern ridgeline, near the point where the two ridgelines met. I decided to travel down this ridgeline out to the end of my canyon. Of course I would actually stay just below the horizon so as not to draw attention to myself.

I made a three day trip out of it – I did not see anything unusual along the ridgeline. I did learn a great deal more about the area that I called home. When I reached the point where the ridge began to descend to the road, I spent a lot of time, hours and hours, looking through my binoculars. I saw one truck, but it was too far away to see any details. It drove slowly down the road and disappeared behind the mountain. That night I returned to camp.

The next day I ascended the northern slope. It was drier, and I found no lakes. I had not seen any from my earlier vantage point on the opposite ridge. I saw a great deal more animal sign over here. I even jumped out a few deer that had bedded down for the day. About halfway through the day I achieved the ridgeline. From here I could see the very wide river valley that my road came through to the northwest. Cabins dotted the river valley. To the northeast I could see a large lake that also had a road and a number of cabins around it. I decided that I would spend a night or two up here and observe the area below me.

I saw a fair amount of activity in both locations. I saw one truck driving around the lake. It stopped behind a cabin and didn’t move again during the time that I was there. I saw smoke rising from the chimney of the cabin a while later. Although most of the cabins still looked quiet, I noticed smoke coming from several other cabins down both sides of my lofty perch. I also saw some people moving around near cabins from time to time – it looked like quick walks out to the woodshed or spring to stoke their fire or slake their thirst.

When I was finished with my recon mission, I packed up and headed back toward my camp. I made dinner and thought about what I had seen. I couldn’t decide if I was seeing a return to normalcy or if this was just more bad guys that I didn’t want to run into. Either way, I would have to proceed with caution if I was going to visit the occupied cabins. I curled up in my bed, went to sleep, and dreamed I was listening to my music.