[rbuzby]

While waiting for the next post or poll from NWH's resident Wilderness Dauphin, why not share a story about a time someone helped you out in the mountains? Or maybe you were the helper. The stuck cars that cost 600 each to recover reminded me of this story. Back in 1988 me and Mountain Mike came back to my car after winter climbing Icy from the Cirque, and could not get it out of the snow. We drove in too far in the early morning when it was frozen, then a couple feet fell while we were up there, and the car was dead stuck. Just as we started walking to Glacier, we saw a some loggers coming down the spur road near the DOT sheds. We explained our plight, and they drove us back to my car and the 4 of us tried to extract it, but it wouldn’t go. So one of the loggers, Kenny Morelli of Deming, offered to let us stay at his place and in the morning maybe his neighbor could use his winch to get the car out. So off to Deming we went, freezing in wet clothes in the back of a pickup. When we arrived, Kenny advised us the Hungy Bear café was still open (a smart move on his part, since two twenty year olds just back from a 5 day winter trip would have decimated his food supply). I had the dinner plate size “Grizzly Burger”. If you can eat two of them with fries, you get the second one free. I didn’t try. Back at Kennys place, we listened to some of his wilderness tales, including one about climbing Mt Baker with a rolled up sleeping bag under his arm. That reminded me of Joe Morovitz a little. And of course we told our brand new tale about climbing Icy; two days of perfect weather, a great summit, followed by 3 days of heavy snow, mostly stuck in the tent, listening to a symphony of avalanches (all of them "over yonder" of course). Sleeping on a couch felt great after 4 nights in the snow. The neighbor picked us up early in the morning and we got the car out. He only charged 90 bucks. Not bad, even in 1988 money. We used silver dollars back then, and all the men wore onions on their belts. Being the custom of the time. Anyway, Kenny really bailed us out of an unpleasant situation. After a 5 day winter trip, the last thing you want to do is spend another night in all that wet gear, or even in the car. He also showed us what true hospitality, generosity and neighborly-ness are all about. A good thing for a couple snot nosed twenty year olds to learn about.

[Tangeman]

Good story! I guess I have one, although it's not so much in the mountains as it is the foothills, but it should do. I was mountain biking up Twin Peaks, near Wenatchee, only a couple weeks ago, with one of my friends. We took a roundabout way there, and got to the 'Overlook' where we sat and enjoyed some views. I couldn't help but look up to the summit. I've been on it before, but it was cloudy then, and today was clear. I couldn't resist. "Jace" I said "You up for going to the top" He replied "No man, my legs are dead. But you go ahead. I'll wait here" Seems simple enough, and anyway we both had cellphones so it shouldn't be a problem. We figured we had to head down by 3:30, it was 2:50, so I figured I had plently of time to go up and back. So up I went. I rode up the final short stinch of trail to the summit, an took in the knockout views from Rock Island to Glacier Peak to the Stuart Range. It was pretty stellar. I shared the view with two dirtbikers (felt like kindly mentioning it's a non-motorized area, but...), and they told me there's a kick-@$$ sunset from the top. Yeah, I bet there is, but I need to get down to the overlook to meet up with Jace. Getting up took a little longer than I thought, and it was 3:25. As I just started down, Jace called. "Ya comin'?" he said "It's 3:30, we gotta go" "Yeah" I said "Just started down, be there in a minute" We hung up. To get some kicks, I took a sightly different way to the overlook. When I got there, I stopped. Jace wasn't there. "Hey Jace, I'm here!" I called. No response. Odd. I looked around. Not there. "Jace!" no answer. I ran around the area, he was nowhere in sight. Not his pack, not his bike, not him. I called more. Now I was worried. It was 3:50. I glanced nervously at the cliff. No, he's smarter than that. That's when I heard a roar, and saw the dirtbikers. I flagged them down. "Whats up?" one of them said. I explained my situation. Without hesitation, they agreed to check the trails in the vicinity, while took the way down Jace most likely went. After a 20 minute search, he was nowhere to be seen. I was really scared now. I had tried calling him, but realized he just got a new phone and the number I had of his was his old one. So I called his house. Hopefully his parents would know. After two rings the phone was answered. In his tipical, casual voice, Jace answered. I said some choice words, and had him explain. When I took a different way down to the overlook, he rode up the normal way to meet with me. When he didn't find me, he thought I went down, so down he went, to his house. I told th dirtbikers, and thanked them a bunch. My original low opinion of them, for damaging the trails and dirt biking in a non-motorized area, was gone. It was almost dark now, and they had invested a good dea of time into looking for someone they never met. What great people. Lesson learned? Stay together.

[Slugman]

About 15 years ago I did an eight-day bp trip in the Olympics, and the mice were like a plague. They got at least some of my food every night. If I hadn't rigged up decoy bags with garbage in them, I probably would have starved to death. Bear wires meant nothing to these tiny monsters. They were the notorious Olympic jumping mice, able to leap right over my tent no problem. You'd have had to see it to believe it. The last night of the trip I had barely enough food for dinner and that was it, and I was facing a 9-10 mile hike out the next day with nothing (from Honeymoon meadows), and then I had to hitchhike back to Highway 101 and take public transit home (from Brinnon, through Paulsbo, to Bainbridge Island, ferry to Seattle, bus to Ballard). I was very unhappy. But then in the evening, along comes a hiker heading out that night, and he gave me what he had left for food: some powdered pudding mix with cookie pieces broken into it. I slept with that food clutched to my chest, ready to fight any bear or mouse that tried to get it! That one baggie of chunky powder was some of the best food I ever had. It got me back to the trailhead, and two guys in a Subaru Brat were just taking off, and they let me ride in the back to the Brinnon store, where I feasted. I didn't get home until midnight, but it didn't matter. Disaster was averted.

[rbuzby]

Tangeman, it's a good thing you didn't rip into the dirt bikers too much, since you ended up needing their help. I probably would have said something I would later regret. Nice that they were willing to help. Sluggins, your anecdote reminds me of that little blurb in one of Beckeys books about the ranger who built his own mice trap to thin the rodent hordes that were menacing him. And it reminds me of the mouse who kept me up all night while I was trying to sleep in a suburban with the tailgate open at the Entiat trailhead. I had one of those donation situations when I was hiking back to my car on the Chiwawa road, when it was closed 7 miles from Trinity due to a washout back in the 90's. Bugs were thick as, uh, flys, and a guy on his way in told me he forgot his bug stuff. I gave him a bottle and a half of REI bug juice. You would think I had just donated a kidney to his kid or something. The guy was very happy. He even wanted to give me money. I saw a show called "The Human Spark" hosted by Alan Alda, about the human brain, etc. One thing they said was that humans have a desire to "help" each other, that we are born with. So do chimps. They showed some experiments with kids and chimps and there does seem to be something in us that makes us want to help. Even a chimp that sees you reaching for something will grab it and hand it to you. So do toddlers. At least the ones in Alan Aldas science shows. Eventually they will probably find that there is a chemical that is released in the brain when we assist each other. Endorphins, or something. Or maybe they already found that. It does feel good to help someone. And just for no reason, I want to inform anyone reading this that I traded that car we recovered for a 1957 Chevy. Straight up trade. The chevy was running but not in great shape. I just had to have it though, since "I get off on 57 chevies, and screaming guitars" (lyric from an Eric Clapton song). Sadly, my '57 threw a rod outside of Cle Ellum, right through the oil pan, disabling the vehicle, and my dream of driving across the country in a '57 Chevy having adventures.

[treeswarper]

I think this is my favorite story. We had had a heavy snow. The ground was saturated and trees had come down in the roads. I started cutting on one to get it out of the road. People will usually drive by and not help, once I get it open enough. Well, out of the woods come two guys in camo--bowhunters. They are grinning. I shut off the saw and they want to help as much as possible. Apparently, they were disoriented and couldn't figure how to get back to the road. They said they heard my saw fire up and it was like a beacon. So they were grateful and helped move that tree off the road. It was clear in no time.

[Slugman]

[rbuzby]

Treeswarper; What is a Treeswarper? Does it have something to do with your tree clearing activities? Slug: '59 Chevys were crap? I thought those were 'sposed to be the good old days of American manufacturing, before planned obsolescence, and before they realized they could spend money on marketing instead of quality and make as much profit. Back when I had that 57 I was desperate to break out of the norm and have some adventures. I was really going to drive across the country on faith and gumption, in my '57. I picked up a hobo in North Bend who also wanted to go east. I probably should have seen him as an example of what my future would be if I didn't wise up, but that was beyond my cognitive capacity at the time. I had all my mountain gear in the car. Once the engine blew, my hobo pal decided he was going to forge on ahead. I decided to retreat back to Pugetopolis, somehow. Before he left I set him up with some wool pants and a shirt, some food and even fishing gear. And off he went into his adventure, as I fiddled with my gear and tried to think of plan B. I turned around after a minute or so to waive adios to him, but he had vanished. I ended up trading my camera for a tow into Cle Ellum. Then I tried to walk home on I-90. The state patrol wouldn't let me. They kept stopping and saying hitch hiking is illegal. I kept saying "I'm walking, not hitching". Of course they wouldn't give me a ride either. You can ride a bike on the shoulder of I-90, but you cant walk. Whatever. Eventually, one of the guys I met in Cle Ellum stopped on his motorcycle and gave me a lift to North Bend. I didn't stick my thumb out, he just stopped on his own. Probably feeling sorry for the wannabe adventurer whose plan to traverse the continent ended only 90 miles from home. Unlike Mae West, I have never relied on the kindness of strangers. But I have been the beneficiary of it many times.

[Malachai Constant]

A few corrections "I have always relied upon the kindness of strangers" is a quote from Streetcar named Desire stated by Blanche Debouis as she was hauled off to the loony bin. Mae West never played her and would be miscast she was famous for "Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just glad to see me" quite unlike the demure Blanche. 50's Chevy's were the best example of planned obsolescence on earth. About the only thing they changed from 1946 to 1964 was the sheet metal. It was unusual if they wen over 100k and they rusted out in the East after about 30K. The idea was to buy a new one every year.

[rbuzby]

Thanks Mr Constant. I got my vixens of the big screen mixed up. And thanks for the clarification on the good old days of American manufacturing. It should be noted however, that my '57 seemed to last just fine until I became the owner. It was a Navy staff car. Maybe the Navy had them built sturdier than the ones sold to the general public.

[kleet]

Late June, 1974. My friend Jerry and I were 16 and excited to make our first trip to Spider Meadow and Lyman Lake. We had all our gear packed up in my '64 Buick Skylark when my sister came home from work, laughed, and asked if we were going to try to make it past Wenatchee in my car. Jerry and I looked at each other and shrugged, but she insisted we take her car - a yellow 1970 AMC Hornet, baybee. Off we went, happily driving and listening to tunes on her sweet 8-track. We got to the Chiwawa River Road, and immediately noticed a sign reading "Road Closed to Passenger Cars". What the hell, we were 16 and knew everything, so we drove past the sign. Less than a mile beyond the sign, we saw why - there was a huge mudpit covering the entire road. Time to turn around, right? Not these two geniuses. I floored it, and we blasted through about helf of the mudbog before we lurched to a halt. Tried going forward and back, to no avail. We tried for probably 1/2 hour to move the car, but nothing worked. It wasn't too much longer before a guy drove up in a large flatbed truck with a winch. "You boys see them signs back there sayin' No Passenger Cars?" (mumbling) "Ya think that car was gonna make it through this? This ain't even the biggest one." (unintelligible grunting) "Well, I 'spose you're gonna need some help gettin' that thing unstuck." "Yes, sir." We hooked the cable onto the frame somewhere, and he had us winched out in a couple minutes. We tried to pay him, and he just waved us off. We thanked him profusely and assured him we'd learned our lesson. We found a payphone and out near the highway and told my folks we were changing destinations to Chiwaukum Lake instead. We ended up having a great trip, but I remember spending a fortune in quarters washing the muck off my sister's Hornet.

[HitTheTrail]

Back in the early 1980's my wife and I were XC-skiing up the White River above Lake Wenatchee. As we finished and took our skis off a group of six or eight couples pulled up and started putting their gear on. All the sudden a lady says, "oh my god, I forgot my skis back at the cabin". My wife noticed she had the same kind of a rather unique binding and said," here just use my skis, we will be down at the Cougar Inn having a few drinks". A couple hours later we were still slugging down the beer to prepare ourselves for a night of cold sandwiches and sleeping in the back of our truck when the people showed up and invited us down to their cabin for a fantastic buffet dinner!

[rbuzby]

Nice account MossyMom. And with pics even. And a sort of a kumbaya vibe too. Kleet, I did the same thing with the driving into the mud thing in Hawaii once, only it was a rental car and I was twice as old as you were. No smarter though. HitTheTrail, you are a lucky man to have a spouse that does photoshop and will sleep in the back of a pickup with you. And gets you invited to free meals. I thought of another one. I need to use exclamation points for this, so watch out. I was chatting with a father and son hiking up in the Enchantos, and they gave me a regulation NFL football! They found it up there, carried it for a while, then apparently decided I needed it. I ended up boiling it and eating it when I ran out of food! Just kidding. I gave it to some other hikers I saw later that day.

[mike]

One time a friend and I parked at Colonial Ck and headed over to the Stehekin and down to Lk Chelan for a few days then back up to Cottonwood (shuttle was running) We were resting at Cascade Pass contemplating the long hitch around to get our car when two couples arrived. We started talking and it turned out that they were headed for the boat to Chelan then bus back to Seattle.. So they gave us their car keys and we used their car to get ours at Colonial and drove both cars to Mt Vernon where we left theirs saving them the trip up to CCP. Never saw them before or since.

[rbuzby]

[HitTheTrail]