Pullin' the Pulk

Went up to the snow to try out the kiddie sled converted to a pulk. I just drilled some holes & laced it up like a boot with some paracord. Carabiners on front and back with a nylon strap from an older camera.

Strap system worked well & the sled pulled good through the wet snow.

The destination for today was to find a winter camp spot. This was only a day trip for discovery though.

Found a nice rock to act as a reflector for the fire. Put a couple tarps up. Didn't get them too taut, but not an overnighter so it didn't matter any.

Just a quick fire thrown together. Dry pine needles sure helped to keep it alive.

Pullin' the pulk was much better than a heavy backpack. Brought along some almond wood for the fire too. Try carrying that in your pack

The Magic of the Kuksa

Funny how much our sense of smell can evoke powerful memories of times and places from our past. The way an old baseball glove or fresh cut grass reminds me of the ball fields of my youth. The way decomposing wet leaves floods my mind of the Pacific Northwest. The way the scent of Labrador Tea sends the mind drifting through the boreal forests of the north. And the way the fragrant kit-kit-dizze will let you know you have immersed yourself in the Sierra Nevadas.

Funny how your sense of smell intertwines with your mind to bring forth visions from your sense of sight. Here lies the magic of the kuksa.

Many ancient cultures had utensils which aided in cooking, eating, storage, and care of food and drink. The bamboo, bronze, jade, and china of ancient Asians. The clay cups and vessels of ancient Europe and Africa. Grass and reed basketry of the ancient Americans. The kuksa has been used in northern Scandinavia for thousands of years. Lapplanders from the northern reaches of Finland, Norway, Sweden, and Russia used the birch tree for many different utensils and structures.

The maker of this fine item is Alexander Yerks. You can find out about him and pick one up for yourself at http://www.theaxeisboldaslove.com   I had the opportunity to purchase a kuksa from him back in April of last year. Since then, the cup has been used on the weekends at my home, and been with me on every excursion to the woods, so that I may have a lovely vessel in which to drink my coffee from. Black with sugar. It has been a pleasure to drink from a fine, handcrafted, wooden grail, which fits in so well with the outdoors.

A few months ago, for some unknown reason, I had stopped using it at home to drink coffee from. Reverting back to the ceramic objects of custom. And not drinking in the woods for a few months it sat there, neglected. Last weekend I broke it out again. Filled it up with some strong black elixer of life, brewed in my favorite fashion, boiled for one minute and not a second more in an aluminum pot, a'la Mors Kochanski bushcraft style. Stirred in some sugar. Brought it to my lips, inhaling the aromas as I took my first sip, and............ Magic!

Instantly all the memories of when I had used this cup in the forests and lakesides came rushing to the forefront of my mind. I could feel the fresh mountain air and smell the woodsmoke of the cooking fire. I know it sounds like an old Folgers commercial, but hang with me. The magical mixture of good coffee and sugar, bee's wax and tung oil and birch wood combined to highten my senses to varying degrees of satisfaction. "Oh yeah, that's good" I found myself saying out loud.

The kuksa has easily become my favorite piece of my excursion kit. No other piece has the power it has. The feel and cut of the knife doesn't do it. The satisfaction of the chop from an axe doesn't do it. The fine texture and smell of waxed canvas doesn't do it. No other piece of kit has the magic of the kuksa. If you don't believe me, find out for yourself. Use one for a while, then set it aside for some time. Come back to it again, and the magic will hit you like a thunderbolt! I don't know if I can recommend a piece of gear as highly as one of Alex's kuksa. Yes, this is a review from someone who has experienced a little magic.

These feelings that came over me pleaded with the rest of my senses to do something "woodsy". I decided then was the time to look inside a giant sequoia stump and rootball that I pulled out of my front yard a few months ago to see if there was any burl worth carving. Kinda junky, but some bright prospects to delve into. Do a little delvin'. The 20 foot speciman in my front yard was clearly not suited to survive in this environment. Too hot and dry at this too low elevation, coupled with a lack of winter snow had proved too much for this tree. So out it came.

Also made some half rounds of a local hardwood, California Sycamore. I had read that this wood is too coarse grained to work, but maybe a kuksa of my own making is waiting inside. When inspiration hits, it's best to roll with the punch.

Fall's Finally Arrived!

Autumn usually takes its sweet time traveling down the canyons to the base of the Sierras into California‘s central valley. What begins in late September at 10,000 feet, takes a couple of months to make it down close to sea level. Around here, leaves don’t start changing until the beginning of December.

The cooler temperatures are not the only thing to be creeping down the river canyons this time of year. What during other times of the year would bring life giving water, to be spread out across this land, the river’s gift has been lazily meandering downhill, to slowly explore on it’s own the long way home. The Kaweah River, the river that generates the most in my life, spreads out in a broad alluvial fan once it breaks loose of the gravity of one of America’s steepest watersheds. Imagine pouring honey onto a piece of toast. Same sorta’ effect. As this water spreads out into many water courses, creeks, ditches, & sloughs, on it’s way to the old Tulare Lake bed, over many millenia an alluvial fan was created. A spread of nutrient rich soil that has built up over time. Some of the best agricultural crop growing land in the world. All this from granite dust and water. Well, before the plow was introduced to this soil, the land supported a broad jungle of sorts.

Don’t get me wrong. This is not some discussion about wilderness vs. the plow. I like milk in my cereal. I like cheese on my burgers. I like cotton on everything that’s comfortable. Don’t forget about bacon! But I also enjoy tramping through land that was left alone to produce at it’s own will. Luckily there is a preserve on this alluvial fan of the Kaweah where the river jungle is allowed to breathe. This land was my destination one rainy day in early December, as the sycamores and wild grapevines were the first to be aged by autumn’s touch.

Visiting here is kind of similar to stepping back in time to when the ancients, the Yokuts Indians, roamed the jungles and grasslands and mountains, and harvested and gathered from the wilds on their own terms and scale. This was the land of the Wukchumne and Yokodo. The Gawia and the Wolasi, and the Choinok. These bands of Yokuts all shared and thrived in and around these jungles. The celebrated researcher and author Frank F. Latta, who in his works describes these river jungles in his book “The Handbook of the Yokuts Indians”:

“Persons who have not lived along the San Joaquin Valley rivers prior to the time when they were cleared for farming and running cattle and sheep upon their bottom land, will scarcely believe the stories told by pioneers about the wild plant growth along those streams. As late as 1900 some of this growth still existed along the Merced River and along the nearby San Joaquin, but only enough to suggest something of its previous rank nature. This jungle consisted not only of trees, but of wild grapes, several varieties of tule and willow, wild blackberries, nettles, grasses, and many other plants too numerous to mention.

It was not until the fall of 1925 that I became familiar with the last remaining jungle along the Kaweah river, which I was assured had been almost destroyed at that time, but which was even then beyond the belief of many persons who had lived for years within a few miles of it.”

Giant Valley Oaks which provided sweet acorns, a major staple of the Yokuts’ diet. Most of them covered with wild grapes which share the oaks’ structure to produce a large abundance of their fruit. The grapes too bitter eaten fresh, but made into a jam to accompany the acorn cakes. Acorn cakes which were made with the grape leaves lining sand basins used to leach out the bitter tannins of the acorn meal. Groundcover is provided by wild blackberry, which is very similar to the cultivated Himalaya variety. Berry patches were a favorite hiding place for the grizzly bear. Summarized from Latta:

- The wild blackberries were an important staple among the Yokuts Indians, who called it mah-mid. After gathering the berries they would lay them out on deer skins to dry. Once dry, they were taken to the mortars and pounded into a course meal, mixed with water, kneaded into a thick paste, and dried again. Thus being preserved, then stored in this state. To make jam when they wanted it, the Indians would again pound it into a coarse meal, add water, and cook in a basket with hot rocks. –

A grove of sycamores, oaks, and giant black willows was on the opposite side of a pasture which once held as Latta explains;

“Two or three varieties of numerous types of grasses which were used by the local Indians in basket making, many of them growing to a height of eight feet or more and so thick that passage through them was made with difficulty.”

A giant gnarled sycamore. Notice my backpack for reference.

Tree Tobacco

Blue Elderberry on the left.

Giant Black Willows.

On the way home, I stopped by Rocky Hill, also known as Chahka Shahna, to gaze at a small rock wall built by the ancient Yokodo. It is believed that this wall was used in antelope hunts as a way to herd them into a trap of some sort.

Couldn’t have picked better weather for a day of being reminded of how this land has provided for us all for a very long time. I know it has past for this year, but Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

"Looking" for a Winter Camp

One day in late October, with Hunter arriving in a little over a week away, I had the opportunity for a quick jaunt up to the hills to do one of my favorite things while in the mountains. I'm always interested in finding new places to set up a camp which no one has camped before. With winter coming up, I've been interested in finding places to spend a night or two in the snow. So with these things in mind, and a few hours of free time, I was headed up the hill to a spot I have had in mind for a couple of years. My intention was not to go up there and build a campsite, or start a fire, or something like that. I just wanted to check out the area, tune in to the forest and surroundings, and pretty much just "Look" around.

I bring up the subject of "Looking" because that is also one of my favorite things to do while in the woods. Someone brought up that subject a few days ago because he used to "Look" in his younger days, and was getting back into the practice. For him, it involves just looking at things as a sort of meditation. He was not gathering information about what he is looking at, not looking for a specific thing, but pretty much enjoying the visual aspect of Life. Soaking in the subject of his gaze, and burning the images in his mind for enjoyment and the possibility of using the image in the future.

Usually when I am Looking in the woods, I am gathering information about the subject. Tuning in to what I am Looking at or Looking for, so that I can use the information at the present moment and in the future. Seeing, soaking in, tuning into the moment, learning about the mountains, is what I enjoy most when I am on my trips.

I believe good observation skills, reading and understanding the signs, are born and bread into all of us. They come from a time long ago when our ancestors were not so separated from their environments as modern humans are today. It's just a place that some of us like to go to every once and a while. Not talkin' about runnin' around in loin cloths, but getting back to ancient ways - often times with modern gear which allows one to blend into both worlds. It's being in touch with our past and living in the present - in the moment. It's a good way to slow down and just exist.

Few views of the first hills you come to as one travels up higher.

The hike in was about a mile from where I will be able to leave the car in the winter. My destination was across this meadow, through the taller trees at the center of the picture, and up a little creek drainage that feeds this meadow.

Loving the deep forest travel. Tuning in more now as the chance of crossing paths with animals becomes greater.

The creek drainage I was travelling up was dry now. I imagine it pretty much is just a channel for melting snow since there was no spring to feed it. Alongside the creek bed, I found this spot where deer had bedded down sometime in the past. I normally wouldn't use this spot if deer were going to use it for their camp, but they won't be here in the winter. Looking went into full force in this area. Great way to spend an afternoon.

The only thing that concerned me about this area, was that the creek area seemed like sort of a funnel for wind. It was sorta calm on this day, and this ground area seemed protected by the dense tree cover, but there was more than a few broken top trees around. Made me think either it gets pretty windy through here, or maybe it was just an isolated wind event that topped these trees. Well, I'll just have to camp out sometime and find out.

Cave would work for a decent shelter.........in a pinch.   Just don't light a fire as the rock may crack!

On the way home I stopped by to "Look" at Redwood Mountain. I can see how it got its name. Just look at all those Sequoias! Simply amazing. First snow's rollin' in......winter is fastly approacing. It was a great autumn outing, even if it was just for a few hours to Look around.

Ok. That brings us back to the present ;)