28 Aug (Wed) Off. Cabin day, mostly. Shitbird [one of my two cats] wasn’t at the cabin when I got home yesterday eve nor did he show up in the night. Kitty gone walkabout…again. ◦◦◦◦◦ I’m sick, dammit…all clogged with phlegm. Snorty. Took ‘er easy all day. Or tried to. ◦◦◦◦◦ When I dropped off the trail crew’s supplies yesterday I picked up their four-foot crosscut as agreed and brought it up here to sharpen. Not sure why I took this on—that wretched saw should be put out of its misery. Never have I seen one so abused: looks like it’s been used to saw rocks or maybe some old iron pipe. Ended up working on the blankety-blank thing for a solid three hours…a real abortion. While out on the porch filing away, I looked up and saw that the meadow is now mostly golden. When did that happen? ◦◦◦◦◦ Split a bunch of firewood then took a walk upmeadow. Found several nifty things: the Leathery Grape Fern near Vidal’s camp—still the only individual I’ve seen in the West Walker drainage—is thriving and has one fertile stem clustered with tiny grape-like sporangia. Then, at a little springy crossing found a tiny alpine plant called Felwort, Gentiana amerella. I’ve only seen it once before in this country, down at Fremont Meadows maybe ten years ago. Looking around, found it at several other spots in similar grassy, moist areas bordering the river. How have I missed this one? Especially considering that I visit these very places yearly in late summer to pick my last bouquets for the cabin. [A footnote at the bottom of the page, added later, noted that this plant is sporadic and may only appear during certain years when conditions are just right.] ◦◦◦◦◦ I’m in the process of “reviewing” the sheepherder carvings hereabouts. Today, searching, found several I remember seeing before but had forgotten plus a few new ones. Just the other side of the river, across from the cabin and a bit south, I pondered that big “panel” blaze with some letters, very faint. Definitely 19th century. For the first time I was able to make out the word “alto” at the top. Maybe this was a sign alerting other herders: “Stop here—good camp.” ◦◦◦◦◦ Directly uphill from Vidal’s Camp, on the backside of a mature lodgepole, a big “ R ” with completely overgrown, but legible, “1891” (or, possibly, 1894) beneath. Up the trail a bit, on the left, a completely overgrown “ J E G, ” same-size letters as the two carvings on the opposite side of the meadow from here, both of which are clearly dated 1915. This is a perfect example of being able to read an otherwise obscured carving based on knowledge and experience. The “ J ” was clear; the size and style of the letters and proximity to the other carvings made me virtually certain. To the uninitiated, these marks would be totally illegible. When Jim Snyder [Yosemite Park Historian] and his folks were up here in 1990 [using the cabin as a base while doing their Cultural Inventory of the north end of the Park], I took Jim on a tour around Upper Piute when they first arrived. I showed him all the carvings I’d found, and could hardly believe he was able to read stuff that I hadn’t been able to make out at all—and was so confident about what he was seeing. I didn’t understand at the time that you can often make out letters and numbers completely covered by bark regrowth, thanks to lines of scar tissue on the bark’s surface. Sometimes you just have to stare at them for a while. Or see them when the lighting’s different. ◦◦◦◦◦ One more new one, below the trail in a likely looking clump of old lodgepoles: “ J A ? ” and, underneath it, “ ? 9 ? ” (1890-something). Gotta say: it’s tremendous fun finding these things and figuring them out.
29 Aug (Thu) No cat-in-the-night waking me with plaintive cry, alas. Woke up really clogged, head fulla snot. Taking another day off in preparation for the big weekend coming up. Neck and both hands very stiff and sore from all the filing yesterday. I really worked hard on that saw which is once again capable of cutting through wood. ◦◦◦◦◦ In the afternoon, to loosen up I decided to start cleaning waterbreaks on the Kirkwood Pass trail but, just minutes into the job, realized how dumb it was for me to be breathing all that powdered trail mix [e.g., dust] in my current condition. So, stashed my shovel and instead went on what turned out to be one of my most-productive quick’n’dirty explorations ever. ◦◦◦◦◦ Continued my own Cultural Inventory, checking every clump of mature lodgepoles. (Found Felwort in four or five different spots.) Visited Point Camp with the thought that I’d never really checked it for carvings. Sure ‘nuf, found two 19th century items: a small † and, near by, a partially overgrown old-style European “A” [“A” with the cross member a “v” instead of horizontal line] with a large “ ? 9 ? ” underneath. ◦◦◦◦◦ Then, a MAJOR find: just a few yards from the Kirkwood trail but completely hidden from view: an enameled sign (enamel on steel) that was nailed to a once-small lodgepole that grew and grew until the sign was almost folded in half and half grown over. There’s only one such sign still to be found on the district, at Cora Lake: “CORA LAKE,” green letters on white, a thin green border, and a Forest Service emblem, upper left corner. This sign was directional but, curiously, had been placed on an open slope rather than at a junction. All I could make out was “Buckeye ? ? ? ? ?3 Mi. → ” and, beneath that line, ”Bridgeport 20 Mi. → ” Maybe as old as the 1920s, I’m guessing. Wow. You’d have to really be looking to find this thing, even if you knew what you were looking for. Many years have passed since anyone laid eyes on it. The trail was subsequently relocated some yards uphill and there’s absolutely no reason anyone would walk through there. I was thrilled—that is, thrilled knowing that there are still things like this to be found in my own front yard, so to speak. Real-live History. ◦◦◦◦◦ Headed uphill and crossed one of those big ’83-’84 avalanche paths. I was in this vicinity two summers ago (when I found the lone Snowbush, Ceanothus cordulatus—another plant I’ve only seen once up here). Two new carvings: one with strange figures and a tiny †. The other, on a downed silver log, hidden on its underside (the log suspended up off the ground). Had to look at it a minute before grokking that the half-overgrown figure was a portrait, in profile: an ear and half an eye still visible. ◦◦◦◦◦ Up above was a lovely hidden flat. And just above that, a glacier-carved knob with a flat summit. I thought to myself, “This is a good place to find and arrowhead…one could be just lying on the ground.” Five minutes later, I found a crude obsidian scraper (or possibly an arrowhead “blank”) in a crevice right below the top of the knob. I worked my way down from this high point, which you can’t really see from the meadow below (hidden behind a screen of trees) and found with much surprise that the west face of this bump, almost vertical, had a big overhang at its base. Shrubby aspens growing right against the thing. So I was checking out this impressive forty-foot cliff with a climber’s eye when I spotted a CAVE, almost completely hidden. The entrance is only two feet high, about four feet wide. A belly crawl to get inside. The floor is dirt and rubble but with charcoals flowing out the entrance. I instantly thought, Indian cave! but saw that the ceiling had no smoke stains. Intriguingly, it went back a good 20+ feet before veering up and left and who-knows-where. I WILL BE BACK, with a flashlight next time. [Sadly, I never did go back.] The really amazing thing is finding a feature like this in granite. Limestone or marble, sure, but you just don’t see caves with smooth arched ceilings in granitic rock. The thing likely dead-ends just out of view but, in the meantime, I’ll let my imagination run wild and hope that it enters a large chamber strewn with Indian baskets or saber tooth tiger bones. I can’t begin to convey how utterly cool it is to have stumbled on this. A few years ago Bart told me that old Clyde Warhaftig [famed geologist who, over many years, mapped the Tower Peak 15’ quadrangle] had found a cave “up above Howard Black’s Camp.” Last summer I went searching and actually found deposits of marble up there in the metamorphic rock but didn’t locate anything promising. This little cave is almost directly opposite Black’s Camp. I’ll ask Bart next time I see him. Maybe he was mistaken and I’ve at long last rediscovered Clyde’s mystery-cave. ◦◦◦◦◦ As I say, this was an utterly rewarding and unique jaunt: to find so many new things, and so close to home. ◦◦◦◦◦ Had me a bath. Feeling not to bad but definitely sick. Still no Shitbird. Went to bed thinking, “If that cat doesn’t come home tonight…he’s gone.” [He showed up the next night.]
©2023 Tim Forsell 5 Jun 2023
