Day Eleven

[From the Philmanac - Head of Dean derives its name by being located at the start of the Dean Canyon, which runs east all the way to Dean Cow Camp; the Canyon is named for Bob Dean, a one-time cattle foreman in the area. Another Canyon that runs north down to Pueblano is called Doe Canyon. Head of Dean is located midway between Baldy Skyline Camp and Upper Dean Cow Camp, and was first operated as a staff camp from 1971 to 1976; the original programs were Lumbering and Astronomy. A flapjack breakfast was also featured from 1974 to 1976. It returned to trail camp status from 1977 to 1982, and reopened in 1983 as a staff camp, with the program being the "Dean Challenge" (a COPE Course.) This proved so popular that similar challenge courses were subsequently added to Urraca and Dan Beard Camps. A new staff cabin was added to the camp in 1992.]

[From the Philmanac - Santa Claus is located in a pretty little meadow at the west end of Santa Claus Canyon; its name derives from the southwestern legend that Santa Claus comes out of a canyon rather than from the North Pole. Santa Claus was a dry trail camp until 1991, when a solar powered well was drilled. It became a staff camp in 1992, featuring the Mountain Technology program (a combination of Astronomy, Forestry, and Meterology.) A new cabin was constructed in 1992. However, continuous problems with the wells returned Santa Claus to trail camp status in 1997.]

Saturday, 7/11 - Up at 4:45, 52 degrees, clear skies with a beautiful, near-full moon hovering over Touch-Me-Not. Rusty and I shared the wake-up chores this morning, at 5:00 sharp, with plenty of groans confirming that I wasn't the only one feeling a little stiff. In a change, we ate the Cherry buns for a "pre-breakfast," since we had a pretty rough hike to start off the day, with very heavy packs (Tim and I both over 50 pounds, with everyone else between 35 and 45.) Linked up with "B" and headed down to the water faucets to camel up and fill up; gone by 5:50. Going through the lower sites, everyone was still crashed out (or gone to Baldy) with the sole exception of a Cavalcade (horseback riding) crew, who were slowly getting themselves together. Took the cutback trail past the burro corral to link back up with the BaldyTown road, and was surprised to find Jeremy there with another wrangler, getting the horses ready for the Cavalcade crew. Said "hello and goodbye," but he was too distracted with two rowdy horses to chat, and said we might be able to link up at Head of Dean again, since that's where they were headed that day. Down on the road, I flipped off the Miranda Jeep trail to Baldy Skyline "with feeling" (never again!), and we headed down to the new trail with anticipation. I had first worked on this trail in 1989, and twice more since then, and had been disappointed each of the past 3 years to find it still "under construction" (condemning us to the jeep trail, cause there's no other way back up to Baldy Skyline.) Well, it was wonderful - what can you say? Very even 6 to 8 percent grade the whole way up, similar to the switchbacks coming out of Ute Meadows. Took 10 years to finish, but worth the effort. We caterpillared continuously, all the way to the top without a break. Great views to the downhill side as we climbed - first Touch-Me-Not and Baldy, but then expanding from Baldy all the way around to the Ute Creek Valley and south towards Mount Phillips. Absolutely clear blue skies around Baldy, as Al delighted to point out to me on several occasions (Why not yesterday, right!) Finally to the top, and we took a formal packs-off break for a leisurely 45 minute long breakfast. I was surprised to see a minor "hatch" of the same kind of small, gray moths we saw last year coming off of Baldy into Copper Park. Of course, there were tens of thousands of them there, and only a few dozen here - but they were definitely the same kind. Tim remarked on the apparent die-back of most of the Douglas Firs on top of the ridgeline - all were showing distinct signs of stress. Hard to know if this is from the drought, increasing air pollution in the area, or some disease I don't know about, but it's sad to see regardless. While we were examining this, the guys managed to find a huge ant-hill just up the road, and were seeing how fast they could piss off a hundred million ants - not too bright, and I chased them off before anyone got himself stung or bitten. 45 minutes was obviously 10 minutes too long, and we saddled up and headed up the ridge to Head of Dean - a moderate uphill to start, then a sharp and rocky jeep trail down into the camp, arriving just before 9:00 am - good time from Miranda, especially with the lengthy break. After a water break and orientation with the staff (they wouldn't take our trash yet, for some reason), we got dressed in our longs, grabbed our gloves and canteens, and headed back up the hill for the conservation project, all of 150 yards from the staff cabin. Another new trail, this one paralleling the jeep road we had just come down and heading back up to intersect with the Baldy Skyline trail (or if you prefer, complete the Baldy Skyline trail.) Good idea; anything to stay off the jeep roads. The staff conservationist was "Ron," and he seemed impressed that we came loaded for bear - as I told the guys back at the Staff Cabin, we have a reputation for busting our butts on the conservation project, and I fully intended to uphold it again this year. The project was so-called "pioneering" - basically eradicating everything along the blazed line of the trail. Trees, bushes, rocks, boulders, logs - everything. Seems a brutal insult to the land (and novices always seem shocked that we don't just meander around the obstacles versus eliminating them), but it's the way you build trail to last a lifetime. Ron had us sit for a few minutes while he got the first crew of the day going (a group from West Tennessee Council who had arrived 20 minutes before us), then gave us the standard safety and "how-to-build-trail" lecture. As the first Crew of the day, the West Tennessee Council group got to pick the safety "call" of the day: "Rah is Coming!" (used each time you passed someone on the trail.) The boys from Arlington, VA, were not particularly enamored of the choice! Per my suggestion, we split into six separate three man teams, grabbed every tool Ron would let us have (most of his supply), and went up the hill, passing the Tennessee guys on the way - as usual, two or three guys working and seven or eight more supervising. Everyone spaced out along the next available hundred and fifty yard stretch, and we went at it with a will, cutting up logs and five fallen trees, filling four large stump holes with rocks (for sledge-hammering into rubble later), cutting two trees down, digging out three other trees, and removing all the debris a minimum of 50 yards down the hill. Al had to bark at Chris B. at one point - he kept forgetting to announce "Rah is Coming!" as he passed people. Ron walked up and down the line, helping out here and there and lavishing praise everywhere he went; my kind of "cons guy." Chris W., Brendan and Rick worked demonically to fell one particularly stubborn tree, finally succeeding with the assistance of most of the crew and both of our bear bag ropes. In one scary moment, Chris B. forgot to let go of the rope when the tree finally went over, and sledded across 15 feet of forest floor, getting a brush burn on his cheek (but fortunately no other harm done.) All told, we worked like beavers for 2.5 hours, and Ron asked us to stop at 12:15, telling us we had done more work than four "normal" crews (of course, I've always held that we're the "normal crew.") Got four hours credit for our 2.5 hours, but we truly earned it, and headed back to the cabins sweaty, dirty and deeply satisfied. Two or three other crews were waiting their turns at the tool drop-off point (where some of us jettisoned our gloves for the duration), and Ron started right in with them even as we were walking away. Did a minor cleanup at the staff cabin with the help of a wash basin, then broke for lunch and as much water as we could drink. Had to be a dozen crews or more hanging out by this point, so we moved across the road for some shade and a little peace. Took a moment to walk across the jeep road and look out at the view to the northeast - very impressive - and I don't remember ever checking this out before, even with all the times I've been here. After lunch, most of the guys managed to finagle their way into the volleyball game, but I passed in favor of a few pictures, then chatted with a few semi-familiar advisors who I had seen either at Pueblano or Miranda the previous three days. Brendan wanted to do the "stump-ball" thing again, but I said no way, not after last year's debacle (which had nearly degenerated into a fight before I belatedly intervened.) Assisted JT in getting rid of Crew B's trash; he had spent an hour compacting trash into uranium, and they still wouldn't take it. I explained that this was three full meals worth of trash, not just lunch, and they blinked and quickly relented. Trash-Nazis we don't need, Thank You Very Much! With that, Crew A (plus Brad) saddled up; Crew B (plus Matt S.) stuck around for more volleyball (and if I had to guess, "stump-ball" as soon as I was out of sight.) We were more interested in getting to Santa Claus to relax and get washed up versus any more volleyball. Moderate but steady uphill out of Head of Dean, then leveling off and meandering up and down the ridgeline. Everyone still thoroughly beat from the conservation project (and doubtless still dehydrated too), but we set a good steady pace nonetheless, stopping every 20 minutes or so for water. Passed our conservation site of 1996, and Rusty, Nathan and I proudly perched for a photo atop one of our massive in-line water-bars (erosion barriers) - there was another killer project, there! Our 96 crew had put four of these things in this trail - always great when you can come back and check out your work, and see the final result. Passed the intersection with the Dean Canyon trail (goes down to Upper Dean Cow Camp) and continued on towards Santa Claus. Got quite a charge when Dan announced excitedly: "There's a bear!," and I hustled up from the back of the line, fumbling with my camera the whole way. No yearling here - this was a good 300 - 350 pounder, very dark brown, that just about filled the trail 150 feet further up. Definitely not the same bear that Greg Butera and I had run into at Santa Claus in `96. He gave us a good long look, then turned around and ambled back over the top of the hill. Managed to snap one photo of him just after he turned around, but I think he was too far away for this to be much more than a small black spot in the middle of the frame - we'll see. That got everyone' blood flowing again, and we all chattered like blue jays for a minute or two about finally seeing a "real" bear. Got going again, with everyone casting glances to the right (towards the slight rise that the bear had disappeared over), but he was gone, gone, gone. Great views to the left, down Dean Canyon, as we crested the final rise above Santa Claus, then headed down the long stretch into camp, by now more than a little footsore and weary. Pulled in at last and was surprised to find the staff cabin reoccupied (it had been abandoned the previous year); turned out the conservation guys from the Bear Canyon trail building project were using it as their home base. We reported Mr. Bear to the lone staff member present, and he ventured that it might have been "Pancho," a large brown bear that was known to hang out around Santa Claus Camp. The description of Pancho didn't match up too well with ours, color wise, but that's too subjective to use as a criteria for identification anyway. He also strongly recommended that we use the new Bear Canyon trail down to the Cimarron River, which was now complete. With that, we headed down the meadow for a campsite; surprisingly, there were already three crews in residence (one playing a game of football in the lower meadow), and we ended up taking a site on the right hand side, alongside the Bear Canyon trail. Headed down immediately to grab some water at the solar well, and was completely dumbfounded to find it empty, with just a slight trickle coming out with the tap wide open. It was flowing at about a quart an hour, which is no way gonna work for 5 or 6 crews! We're in trouble here - we're already dehydrated from the trail service and the long double-hike today - and I can't believe the staff at Head of Dean didn't warn us about this! I rapped on the side of the tank with my knuckles, and couldn't tell if there was anything left inside. Tim reoriented the solar panel to directly face the sun, which seemed to help a little, but not much (and certainly not enough.) The solar panel was missing one of its two cells, which was likely the problem. I continued baby-sitting our collection pot, and Tim went up to discuss the situation with the conservation guy, who (I think) gave us enough water out of his 10-gallon supply to at least make dinner. At some point, Crew B showed up, and set up next to us, and Rick and Al came down to get the sad story. A few Scouts and Advisors from the other crews drifted by with their own pots and water jugs, and were as unhappy as me - until one of them actually felt the side of the tank and announced that there was indeed still plenty of water inside, up to the level of the tap (two feet or so); the metal was much cooler up to the level of the water. So much for my "rapping" style to check the level by sound! - Dumb, Bob! - Well, another "trick" learned. With this discovery, one of the Advisors from a crew doing Trek 16 pulled out his Leatherman tool and we proceeded to laboriously unscrew the tap from the post it was attached to; the tap was connected to the tank by a plastic hose, which we were able to easily bend below the water level in the tank, resulting in a full flow. Tedious, but a lot better than hiking all the way back to Head of Dean! (and I probably would have killed someone when I got there, too.) There's enough for everyone - for today at least - but for sure nothing to waste. So much for washing ourselves or our clothes, but we've smelled worse, and we're crossing the Cimarron River tomorrow morning. Everyone got started on dinner prep, but I quickly jumped up and headed back to the cabin when I saw a yellow staff pickup truck parked outside and several professional staffers in full uniforms holding a mini-conference. Was disappointed to see that they weren't trailering a water buffalo. I quickly drifted into the conversation and after a minimally polite self-introduction, let them know that the well was dead and also registered a bitter complaint that none of the six crews in residence (who had come from or through three different staffed camps that day) had heard anything about a water problem at Santa Claus, and what were THEY going to do about this obvious HEALTH AND SAFETY ISSUE??? - especially since tomorrow's crews would likely be S.O.L. on any remaining water in the tank (and if not them, certainly the next day's.) They were pretty apologetic, but I pushed it even further, and "demanded" that they either get a water buffalo up here tomorrow, fix the solar panel that powered the well, or at the very least put up some signs at Head of Dean, Upper Dean, New Dean and the Cimarron River that would warn everyone that Santa Claus was a dry camp. All in all, I behaved just badly enough - but pushing all the right buttons - that they would both remember me and do something about the problem. At least I hope, for the sake of the next two week's worth of crews coming through here. Oddly enough, I never did figure out just what these guys were doing at Santa Claus - but they sure had a defined mission statement when they left! I headed back to the site for dinner, quite proud of my ability to mutate into an obnoxious jerk upon command - a carefully developed skill, fortunately only rarely needed! After dinner, Chris W. and I drifted down to the lower meadow to review the trails leading out of camp - we had decided to do the more direct Bear Canyon trail, and didn't want to make the mistake of heading off to New Dean (as the 96 crew had done by staff inspired misdirection, and the 97 crew by choice.) Coming back, I was struck by the sunset and clearing skies, and announced that I would be "meadow-crashing" tonight. Brad, JT and Al quickly joined in on that one, but everyone else opted for their tents (residuals from Pancho, I suspect.) We also did a complete camp breakdown (except tents), to save time in the morning - not a big risk, since it clearly wasn't going to rain tonight. Meadow crashing was great - in about 1 1/2 hours, we saw 9 satellites, 1 small meteor, and a jillion stars, including the Milky Way. On the down side, however, the mosquitoes were a bit of a pain, until the wind kicked up around midnight. Al had to bag out before then, however, because he was too hot trying to sleep in his bag with the hood of his "50-below" rated bag protecting his face. Pancho never showed....