TSGB
1 ton status
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Biskit and I took a challenge. I live on the Newaukum River, and the headwater is Newaukum Lake. I've hiked and kayaked all of it from a place called Pigeon Springs (upstream of my house) to where it merges with the Chehalis River (in Chehalis
), and further on to Oakville. The last couple legs were mind numbingly boring, and I don't imagine I'll continue that direction.
The portion between Newaukum Lake and Pigeon Springs remained untraveled, and for good reason. It's rough terrain. In the link above, Newaukum Lake is on the right side. The creek comes out the northwest corner, and follows that gully west, then southwest to Pigeon Springs Road in the bottom left of the image. It's a little over seven miles, and downhill. How bad could it be, eh?
We picked a point where the water was as low as it would get. Really, we picked the right time, because it stormed like hell the next weekend, and we had the lowest water of the year. This was critical, as the old man who gave me this stupid idea hypothesized that we'd be in the water for most of the way, to stay out of the brush.
We were dropped off at 08:30 Saturday, and trekked up from the road to the lake, and then tromped back to the culvert, and began our descent. We packed light: a day's food, poncho or emergency blanket, fire kit, and for extra badassery points I took my beloved AK while Biskit rocked his Mossberg 500. Yeah, I know. It definitely added to the adventure, but it cost us in a lot of effort.
The first hour was absolutely GORGEOUS. Hiking down a small, steep creek, navigating boulders and logs, we were shadowed by old growth and a steep walled gorge. It looked as close to Jurassic Park as anything I've ever seen, with big ferns, strange fungi, and the sun streaming through the branches above.
From there, our excitement met the expected difficulties. We stopped dodging the water, and accepted it as the easiest path. Either side of the water was up and down pretty dramatically and packed with brush and downed logs, but the creek was still pretty small.
It was slow going with the rocks underfoot, and after a while things started getting slick. This area is strong in the clay department, and there was some interesting geology going on. Some of the clay was still soft and loose, and some of it was soft and tight. The stuff that had been exposed to air for a while was hard and tight, and slick as ice. Fortunately it often formed a shelf to walk on. UNfortunately that shelf often sloped toward the water.
Most of the time the water was about knee deep, but ranged from ankle to hip depth as well. There were a TON of waterfalls, some of which were formed from clay/bedrock, but many of which were made of logs that dropped and backfilled with gravel. These turned out to be treacherous, which I discovered when I postholed with my leg through the top of one.
I wound up ball deep in a waterfall, and had to hand off my AK before I could get up. The waterfalls presented a difficulty beyond just having to scale down in that the water pouring over the top often formed a pool immediately below that could be a foot deep, or up to our shoulders. With the shifty footing and the gear and guns, we couldn't risk it- this usually meant going around. Unfortunately going around usually meant going UP the gully wall, and bushwacking until we could return to the water.
We stopped for lunch at a log jam, and enjoyed the caterpillars. The weather was fantastic- sunny and about 80. With all the time in the water it was perfect, and I was never cold or hot. The bug problem was nonexistant with no mosquitoes or deer flies. I downed one of my two MREs, and we pressed on.
We were getting tired by this point, and the creek was getting bigger- and so were the waterfalls. Deep pools began appearing, and we began to run into canyons. The canyon problem was that even if the water looked shallow enough to wade, it might drop off around the next corner- more detours, more climbing, more devil's club.
This continued until it started getting dark. We had seen a couple logging roads, but guessed that they would follow the hill contours at the elevation we happened to be at, and lead to who knows where. Without having a good distance, we were getting excited to see if we were almost done.
Evening came.
It started getting dark, and we whipped out the headlamps. The LED's penetrated the water well, but it was just too risky to press on. We found a bunch of football sized rocks that had formed a flat bar, and spread out our shelters- my mylar blanket and Biskit's poncho. ~20:30. We ate dinner and tried to sleep. The moisture evaporating was what chilled us. Thankfully there was no wind. Eventually I cracked and started gathering wood. I had assumed a fire would be a smouldering nightmare, but MRE trash is great kindling, and we huddled around the flames until sunrise. I received a burn on my eyelid from a drifting ember, but it was worth it.
~08:00 Sunday
I'm out of food, and Biskit has two granola bars or something that he eats at some point of the day. More slick slick clay ahead, more deep water, more brush, more upwards elevation, more AK and shotgun in the way.
The hunger wore off pretty quick, but fatigue was WHIPPING MY ASS. Trudge plod shuffle pant pant pant trudge slip shuffle pant pant pant. It's funny now, but man I was beat. Biskit helped motivate me though. He's a tough little bastard.
At some point the first day we began talking to the Dippers, which are a fat little water bird. They're hilarious, skipping and splashing up and down the river. We decided that they were our guiding spirit, and named them Dave Grohl. All of them.
At one point we took a nap, which helped greatly. We just crashed on a big rock slab in the sun. At another point, Biskit was ready to shoot a salmon to eat, but I had him hold off. I regret that. I had an image of us being right around the corner from someone's house, them hearing a gunshot, and coming around to see us with our faces buried in a fish. 
It would have been worth it.
This whole experience gave me a new respect for the folks who serve in our military. There were a couple mantras that kept me moving: "Rangers/SEALS/Marines have it worse," and "if the Jews could hike for days with no food or clothes in winter, I can do it today."
Finally at about 17:30 we came to the last house on Pigeon Springs Road, and climbed out. My Xterra was parked 150 yards up from where we made our exit.
Then we went for Chinese food.
All in all, that was the hardest physical thing I've ever done, on a few hours of sleep, underfed. It was downhill, just over seven miles, and took us 19 hours of hoofing. I'm very happy to say that neither of us were seriously injured.
We think this year we can do it in one day.
Things I learned:
AK is awesome and as tough as I thought, but too cumbersome for this type of adventure. The muzzle hit everything I climbed over or down, and the front sight post grabbed every bush I went through. Not around, through. I looked like I was putting cats in a washing machine from all the sticker bushes and devil's club.
Emergency blankets are only good for keeping rain off and reflecting fire heat. They condensate from your body terribly, and any breeze sucks all the moisture right out of you. They are also too small to cover my feet and head at the same time, and I'm not a big guy.
Pack more food. This year we'll cache supplies along the way and mark the area with surveyor's tape.
Walking sticks are worth it. Biskit forced me to shame, and found some for us to use. That saved my bones, I'm sure of it.
Dave Grohl loves and cares for those who love and care for him. I still see him at home when I go down to the river.
Biskit and I took a challenge. I live on the Newaukum River, and the headwater is Newaukum Lake. I've hiked and kayaked all of it from a place called Pigeon Springs (upstream of my house) to where it merges with the Chehalis River (in Chehalis
), and further on to Oakville. The last couple legs were mind numbingly boring, and I don't imagine I'll continue that direction.The portion between Newaukum Lake and Pigeon Springs remained untraveled, and for good reason. It's rough terrain. In the link above, Newaukum Lake is on the right side. The creek comes out the northwest corner, and follows that gully west, then southwest to Pigeon Springs Road in the bottom left of the image. It's a little over seven miles, and downhill. How bad could it be, eh?
We picked a point where the water was as low as it would get. Really, we picked the right time, because it stormed like hell the next weekend, and we had the lowest water of the year. This was critical, as the old man who gave me this stupid idea hypothesized that we'd be in the water for most of the way, to stay out of the brush.
We were dropped off at 08:30 Saturday, and trekked up from the road to the lake, and then tromped back to the culvert, and began our descent. We packed light: a day's food, poncho or emergency blanket, fire kit, and for extra badassery points I took my beloved AK while Biskit rocked his Mossberg 500. Yeah, I know. It definitely added to the adventure, but it cost us in a lot of effort.
The first hour was absolutely GORGEOUS. Hiking down a small, steep creek, navigating boulders and logs, we were shadowed by old growth and a steep walled gorge. It looked as close to Jurassic Park as anything I've ever seen, with big ferns, strange fungi, and the sun streaming through the branches above.
From there, our excitement met the expected difficulties. We stopped dodging the water, and accepted it as the easiest path. Either side of the water was up and down pretty dramatically and packed with brush and downed logs, but the creek was still pretty small.
It was slow going with the rocks underfoot, and after a while things started getting slick. This area is strong in the clay department, and there was some interesting geology going on. Some of the clay was still soft and loose, and some of it was soft and tight. The stuff that had been exposed to air for a while was hard and tight, and slick as ice. Fortunately it often formed a shelf to walk on. UNfortunately that shelf often sloped toward the water.
Most of the time the water was about knee deep, but ranged from ankle to hip depth as well. There were a TON of waterfalls, some of which were formed from clay/bedrock, but many of which were made of logs that dropped and backfilled with gravel. These turned out to be treacherous, which I discovered when I postholed with my leg through the top of one.
I wound up ball deep in a waterfall, and had to hand off my AK before I could get up. The waterfalls presented a difficulty beyond just having to scale down in that the water pouring over the top often formed a pool immediately below that could be a foot deep, or up to our shoulders. With the shifty footing and the gear and guns, we couldn't risk it- this usually meant going around. Unfortunately going around usually meant going UP the gully wall, and bushwacking until we could return to the water.We stopped for lunch at a log jam, and enjoyed the caterpillars. The weather was fantastic- sunny and about 80. With all the time in the water it was perfect, and I was never cold or hot. The bug problem was nonexistant with no mosquitoes or deer flies. I downed one of my two MREs, and we pressed on.
We were getting tired by this point, and the creek was getting bigger- and so were the waterfalls. Deep pools began appearing, and we began to run into canyons. The canyon problem was that even if the water looked shallow enough to wade, it might drop off around the next corner- more detours, more climbing, more devil's club.
This continued until it started getting dark. We had seen a couple logging roads, but guessed that they would follow the hill contours at the elevation we happened to be at, and lead to who knows where. Without having a good distance, we were getting excited to see if we were almost done.
Evening came.
It started getting dark, and we whipped out the headlamps. The LED's penetrated the water well, but it was just too risky to press on. We found a bunch of football sized rocks that had formed a flat bar, and spread out our shelters- my mylar blanket and Biskit's poncho. ~20:30. We ate dinner and tried to sleep. The moisture evaporating was what chilled us. Thankfully there was no wind. Eventually I cracked and started gathering wood. I had assumed a fire would be a smouldering nightmare, but MRE trash is great kindling, and we huddled around the flames until sunrise. I received a burn on my eyelid from a drifting ember, but it was worth it.
~08:00 Sunday
I'm out of food, and Biskit has two granola bars or something that he eats at some point of the day. More slick slick clay ahead, more deep water, more brush, more upwards elevation, more AK and shotgun in the way.
The hunger wore off pretty quick, but fatigue was WHIPPING MY ASS. Trudge plod shuffle pant pant pant trudge slip shuffle pant pant pant. It's funny now, but man I was beat. Biskit helped motivate me though. He's a tough little bastard.
At some point the first day we began talking to the Dippers, which are a fat little water bird. They're hilarious, skipping and splashing up and down the river. We decided that they were our guiding spirit, and named them Dave Grohl. All of them.
At one point we took a nap, which helped greatly. We just crashed on a big rock slab in the sun. At another point, Biskit was ready to shoot a salmon to eat, but I had him hold off. I regret that.
I had an image of us being right around the corner from someone's house, them hearing a gunshot, and coming around to see us with our faces buried in a fish. It would have been worth it.This whole experience gave me a new respect for the folks who serve in our military. There were a couple mantras that kept me moving: "Rangers/SEALS/Marines have it worse," and "if the Jews could hike for days with no food or clothes in winter, I can do it today."
Finally at about 17:30 we came to the last house on Pigeon Springs Road, and climbed out. My Xterra was parked 150 yards up from where we made our exit.
Then we went for Chinese food.
All in all, that was the hardest physical thing I've ever done, on a few hours of sleep, underfed. It was downhill, just over seven miles, and took us 19 hours of hoofing. I'm very happy to say that neither of us were seriously injured.
We think this year we can do it in one day.
Things I learned:
AK is awesome and as tough as I thought, but too cumbersome for this type of adventure. The muzzle hit everything I climbed over or down, and the front sight post grabbed every bush I went through. Not around, through. I looked like I was putting cats in a washing machine from all the sticker bushes and devil's club.
Emergency blankets are only good for keeping rain off and reflecting fire heat. They condensate from your body terribly, and any breeze sucks all the moisture right out of you. They are also too small to cover my feet and head at the same time, and I'm not a big guy.
Pack more food. This year we'll cache supplies along the way and mark the area with surveyor's tape.
Walking sticks are worth it. Biskit forced me to shame, and found some for us to use. That saved my bones, I'm sure of it.
Dave Grohl loves and cares for those who love and care for him. I still see him at home when I go down to the river.
