A MONDAY PUMPHOUSE RIDGE ROAD VISIT

I was packing for a solo day visit to the mountains, sans HappyDog, but she got so excited that I opened the truck door and in she clambered. It’s one of those days where it’s already hot in the Basin but halfway up the mountain I turned off the AC and opened the windows. She loves sticking her nose out the window and suck the air out of the mountains.

I turned onto FS 24B but didn’t take the Pumphouse Road, FS 5661 road. I wanted to get a look at Sleepy Grass Campground. I noticed during a recent mountain drive-about that the campground entrance on Highway 82 was locked, yet I’d seen the host travel trailer in it’s place on 24B.

Yes, the campground is open. I cruised through. The campground stretches along the road in a long meadow. Some are within shady pines. Others are smack dab in the open. None have shelters. It’s expensive — $23 a night — for no electricity, no water, no sewage. It’s a parking spot, a picnic table and vault toilets here and there. Water is at the host site.

I wonder if campers knew all they had to do was drive another mile or so and they can camp on Pumphouse for free. Of course, I have warned that Pumphouse Road is getting pretty awful. Let me point out with this map the topography that flows from bottom left of image to the top right. It’s a canyon. During rains one must keep their eyes alert for flooding.

I’m amazed at how narrow the road is. It’s a nice paved or asphalted road (I can’t remember which). Now I see why the eastern campground road entrance is closed on Highway 82. The campground road has been blocked after the last camping site. There is a small loop to turn around. Yech. Two travel trailers are not going to pass side by side so people are going to have to work together as they negotiate who is going to shift to the short pull offs here and there.

Curiosity slated, I headed out of Sleepy Grass and turned left onto FS 5661.

We passed the place we’ve day camped four times in a row. Let’s tootle down to the spring area about a mile and a half in what was our favorite place until two years ago when signs were posted. It was the best hang out and birding spot in this part of the forest thanks to the permanent forest service water trough.

It looked like the signs were gone. Good. I parked the truck at the far east end and we walked down to the spring area. HappyDog was so happy as she got to smell new.

Darn it. There’s one of the signs among some greenery. Upside down but the point is still well made. Let’s move along HappyDog.

Hello…. something isn’t right. A corner of the fence surrounding the rubber sheet is down. There’s some hoof skid marks here and there on the plastic. Won’t take long before a heavy hoofed animal punctures the plastic and contaminates the spring. Since the sign has been posted to prevent contamination by humans and their pets, and the fence to prevent contamination by animals, I think it should be fixed with great speed. News of the downed fence was emailed to the supervisor.

We went back to our usual spot. Ground is muddy, but that’s okay. I’m not setting up the tent. Between the truck seat, anti-gravity chair and rocker chair I should be comfortable. HappyDog should be too. I lay out her picnic blanket with a plastic backing and cloth top. It keeps her off the cold, wet ground and supplies a little softness. I’m like Sir Walter Raleigh, laying the blanket here and there and her ignoring it. I finally give up trying to make her comfortable.

I set up a day camp by sitting out the chairs. I have yet to find a pool noodle for the anti-gravity chair. The chair is very comfortable except for the bar that presses on the back of my heels. I’ll have to suck it up today. When I can’t stand it, I’ll switch to the rocker. Whatever I’m not sitting in will be the table to keep stuff off the wet ground.

Set out HappyDog’s water bowl and lowered the tailgate to get the gallon of water tucked between the rungs on the short stepladder. The jug is on it’s side with the lid halfway across the bed. Darn those bumps. Fortunately, I always carry two sources of water. I grabbed the half-gallon water jug tucked upright among my camping stuff and splashed in a bit. I don’t fill her bowl because the little bugs treat it like a city swimming pool on a hot day. Every couple of hours I’ll toss it out and splash in a bit more.

It’s partly cloudy. Mostly blue with dotted chunks of fluffy clouds here and there. Cool enough to change into warm ups, but in the sun a bit too warm. 13 mph winds expected.

A hummingbird lands nearby. Sometimes they will hover around the red on the truck.

HappyDog is intent on the ground nearby. She’s trying to hide the fact she found a nice pile of fresh elk poop. “Do not eat the poop.”

“Oh Mommmmm.”

Good reading weather with a blankie over my legs. It’s not long before the silence is broken with a rumble. Something to watch for.

I read a bit then look around a bit. As usual I have the chairs facing the ravine. I look up and forty feet away, half hidden by the slope is a long neck and two big ears. Hello Momma Whitetail. We lock eyes and hold for a long while. I look down to see where HappyDog is so I can stop her from chasing the deer and when I look again the air is empty. Heard a couple of snorts. Usually WTD are very quiet. I step to the slope. Down in the ravine nothing is moving. Snorts continue and gradually die off. Amazing how a hoofed animal can be so quiet among a bazillion kijillion megatillion rocks covering the ground yet all I hear is the stray click. I’m thinking she startled a herd of elk and they all spooked together. I look all about the camp. No sleeping fawn.

Hours drifted by. Eastern clouds are building like a bunch of fluffy explosions are going off internally. I can almost touch the bump moving towards me. In an incredible coincidence, the Ride of the Valkyries rises from my mp3 player. It is perfect for the swirling, darkening show.

I wish I could show you how dark the clouds are, but the auto camera won’t let it happen.

Temperatures and winds rise and fall, rise and fall. When it’s cold the wind rips through the leaves setting off a mountain of whispers. When it’s hot, clacker grasshoppers give 110% strutting their stuff for the ladies. When they stop, I know a cooler blast of air is coming.

Lots of butterflies and they all seem in a nicotine driven state. They didn’t flutter placidly from flower to flower. They are pedal to the metal daredevils who ignore flowers. You aren’t seeing a photo because I can’t get close enough.

The thunderstorm grows like a marshmallow in a a kitchen vacuum sealer, yet stays in one place. HappyDog couldn’t get any closer to me if she tried. East of Cloudcroft is getting hammered. Visitors, get out of the ravines.

Time for hot tea. Got out the new hiking stove and in a few minutes had a boil. Wow. Speedy. After that I put the majority of stuff away. I expected to have little time when the first freezing drops fall.

Our drive home was as dry as dust even though I could count six downpours down in the Basin. Sure wish one would hang out over my home.