For Thursday, April 10, 1997 Drummer Column, Gibbs, 709 words

Wood I

Put your boots on and walk with me through the Ventana Wilderness. Imagine yourself traveling with 20 of the friendliest, funniest people you can muster together. Imagine walking down a lush green trail that follows the Carmel River for 19 miles; what begins as a trickle at the lip of a canyon ends rushing through its heart to the Las Padres Reservoir. The journey involves 25 river crossings, each one a wee bit deeper and wider.

Imagine all eight boys, 11 girls, and two teachers trying to outdo each other with gourmet food, and everyone sharing. Imagine big oak campfires. Imagine popcorn and stars. If you can picture all that, you can appreciate what a grand, grand time the backpackers of Benicia High had on our Spring Break adventure, in this, the year of our Lord, 1997.

We finally hiked a trail we've been dreaming about for five years. Back then we hiked the Carmel River Valley trail upstream and uphill to complete a loop high on a ridge. We ached and enjoyed ourselves, but thought it would be nice to leave a car at the bottom someday, at the lake, and hike downstream. We tried it two years ago. The trails were washed out five miles in. This year we made it through.

I've never hiked a trail that was mostly downhill before. It was extra nice. I encouraged people to bring heavy packs full of good grub. We ate like kings and queens.

Though most of the trail was clear, one sunny lower ridge was so overgrown with sage that we had to lean forward and push through with our shoulders. It was a treat to be last in line and smell the rubbed sage.

The first two days were freezing, which was O.K. We needed some hardship. After all, we were hiking downhill. Besides, we had Brian with us, Paul Bunyan's great, great, great grandson. Brain's from Maine, hikes with a saw and a seven-pound, double-bladed axe, and loves to cut wood. He had a fire every night big enough to warm us all.

We also had Larry, Curly, and Moe to entertain us on the trail and around the circle of stoves each night. They would bicker with alacrity over cooking and cleaning chores even though they had a written list. They would drop each other's tents and yell in the dark. On the trail they built a three-man chant to announce each crossing.

"Ocean!"

"River!"

"Pa, get the rope!"

It made no sense, but it made me laugh every time and look forward to getting wet.

Owen and Jeff brought an oven and baked cakes and lasagna. They also brought tall didgeridoos and played them around the campfire behind the sparks while we sat quietly. The stars lit up the sky like fiber optics.

Imagine waking up in a canyon by a brook with the only concerns for the day being, "What do I eat?" and "Where do I sit?"

We whiled away our week of wilderness in different ways. Charity, Elaina, Hillary, Heather, Emily, Michelle, Ann and I'm sure several others spent several days carving a spork. It turned out nicely with a decorative handle.

We also started a new tradition. Everyone carved their names into our biggest, best walking stick, along with the date and the trail. I will mount the stick in my classroom, and each year we will add a new one.

Bud Donaldson, the other teacher along, tried his hand at stick fishing. We saw long, fat trout, but they weren't taking the cheese. Must have been some of that Wisconsin stuff.

As far as hiking stats: We spent two nights at our first camp, Pine Valley, one night at our second, Hiding Camp, and two at the last, Bluff Camp. Each hiking day we covered about five miles. We reached new camps by early afternoon and had plenty of time to eat, make fire, and carve wood. The first day's hike was the longest; the last was the shortest. The ticks were few, but the poison oak was abundant. Packs grew considerably lighter each day. We found inner peace.

Our 1997 trip will go into the books as one of the most relaxing, entertaining trips I've ever been on.