Sunday, July 19, 2020

Piute Log...Stupid Questions? 1995

Hikers don’t like walking on trails that get a lot of stock use, for any number of reasons—dust, manure, flies…sand churned up by the continual pounding of steel-clad hooves, so deep it feels like hiking on a beach. After a winter’s settling, come spring the trails start out firm and dust-free but by July are beat to a pulp, pulverized into fine powder. Over the years, I received bitter complaints from backpackers about the sand and dust—particularly from those who resented commercial livestock use. Imagine strapping a forty pound pack on your back and trudging for miles along a dry-sand beach; that’s exactly what it feels like. Here I describe meeting two backpackers, one of whom wanted to know why he felt like he was hiking on a beach when he was in the mountains. ◦◦◦◦◦ Now: there’s this old saw…we’ve all heard it: “There are no ‘stupid’ questions.” I understand the sentiment…but beg to differ. There ARE stupid questions, yes—hasty, ill-considered, foolish questions. (I‘ve asked my fair share.) Here’s one shining example. 

13 Jul (Thu)     ◦◦◦◦◦ Down near the Fremont junction I ran into two men, one with a sizable gut on him—something you don’t see too much of back here. We’re having a friendly chat when the porky guy asks, “Hey! What’s up with all this sand? Do you guys pack it in?” [I was on Red and had a loaded packhorse behind me.] Momentarily floored, I shot his partner a look. (His face registered Dumb-shit!) Had to think fast. I turned to the fella and with completely deadpan demeanor, told him this fat lie: ◦◦◦◦◦ “Well, yeah, as a matter of fact, we do pack in the sand. It keeps getting washed away and you’d just be walking on a buncha sharp rocks in a trench if we didn’t keep filling ‘em back in. We just finished a few weeks ago…it’s a big job. I think we brought in around fourteen tons this year. We get to most of the worst spots but it never ends. You’re not gonna believe this but, up until a few years ago, we got all our sand from Mexico. Good quality sand—the best. But now, dig this: now we get our sand from China! And it’s not nearly as good. But you know how crazy economics can be…for some reason, turns out it’s cheaper to ship sand all the way across the Pacific on giant tankers than to truck it up from Mexico. Go figger.” He just stood there and took all this in until, finally, his partner couldn’t keep it together any longer and burst out laughing. “You idiot! Of coursthey don’t pack sand!” His friend looked pretty hang-dog. ◦◦◦◦◦ Stop it. This isn’t what I told him—that was pure mind-fly I came up with on the ride home…a ranger-fantasy. (I really cracked myself up with this one.) The one guy did have a look of incredulity that his partner could ask such a silly question. It’s not my style to prey on innocents abroad, even when presented with such a tempting mark. It may have subconsciously occurred to me that I was being messed with; maybe he was a former Forest- or Park Service employee who wanted to see how “professional” I was—a test. At any rate, my answer was sincere and given with a straight face: “Noooo…it’s just naturally real sandy back here. Glaciers carved this place up pretty good and ground up a lot of rock. It gets washed down to the canyon bottoms and moved around by the river. Then the horses and mules churn it up—the trails are actually pretty firm when I first come up in the spring—but by now, as you found out, it’s like hiking on a beach. Sorry about that.” Then his friend ribbed him about being so dumb. “Well, how should I know!” ◦◦◦◦◦

One more sand-related Stupid Question: an old friend from Yosemite was stationed at the entrance kiosk up at Tioga Pass her first year working for the park. Come fall, after an autumn storm that left a dusting of snow on the peaks, a man from out of state paying his entrance fee asked, “Say—what’s that white stuff up there on those mountains? Is that some kind of sand?” ◦◦◦◦◦ There are compilations of similar questions asked by tourists, put together by people who work in park visitor centers and entrance kiosks. Some of them are truly hard to believe. (For instance, Yosemite rangers are reputedly asked fairly often if they turn the waterfalls off at night. And when it comes to bears…no…no, I’d better stop.)


     ©2020 Tim Forsell                                                                       13 Jul 1995, 5 Jul 2020                                 

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