Flying solo

Wow, what a trip! I’m not sure what else I can say about six days spent in a new place, with hundreds of elk, wolves making regular appearances, three fabulously great Old Broads, a group of wonderfully gung-ho “protesters” (or should I simply say wilderness enjoyers) and hot springs in abundance… Ok, that’s a lie, I’m pretty sure I can find a lot to say about all of those things, so much that I may have to break it up into a few blogs.
Here’s a start: it went so well that Isaac is still there.
I returned on the 25th to finish out our caretaking stint back at Taylor Ranch, and for various reasons, Isaac stayed (reason #1: Ray, the pilot, was worried about too much weight for take-off as the airstrip there at Thomas Creek was extremely muddy after a last few days of warm daytime temps, reason #2: several wolves were lounging about on a high ridge just above our camp, after having gorged on a kill they made the night before at the edge of the river just downstream, so he wasn’t all that excited to leave such a good filming opportunity). So I’m here alone (well, alone with 4 mules, 2 horses, and a dog) and Isaac will return whenever Ray finds a moment to fly by and shuttle him back, probably tomorrow.
We arrived Saturday mid-day, flying in to a landscape that resembled Yellowstone in its grandeur, wide open rolling hillsides, literally littered with elk, deer and bighorn. After Ray (the pilot) dropped us at the end of the airstrip, we spent the next few hours wandering around in amazement, watching eagles hunting in cliffs just above our heads, basking in the brilliant sunshine, and exploring the flats where some of the hot springs are located. Finally, we decided on a campsite underneath a huge ponderosa pine, at the edge of a high bluff overlooking the Middle Fork of the Salmon River. Although the temptation was strong to immediately run around with the camera, we first set up our teepee tent, and erected the titanium stove in it. This would be a trial run for both home-made items. And as it turned out they got a full-on test, as the first few nights bottomed out at sub-zero temperatures…
As soon as the sun sank below the far ridge, the chill crept over the landscape, and very soon we were extremely glad to have the tiny backpacking stove which we had considered not even bringing with us, as we were not expecting cold temperatures… Finding wood to feed the thing was a different matter, and that first night we fed it a sparse diet of pinecones and small sage branches, all that we could scrounge up in the falling light. Though it took continual feeding, it kept us happy until bedtime when we could crawl into our huge winter bags and stop fighting the heavy frost that had been creeping up the insides of the tent all evening, and had not been deterred by the warmth of the stove.
We woke the next morning with frost heavy around the tightly cinched peep-holes in our sleeping bags, and the insides of the teepee tent turned to blue crystal. Isaac braved the single digits to begin prowling with the camera, while I stayed put in my bag a while longer, as mornings bring a slew of discomforts (because of my Rheumatoid Arthritis) that are magnified by cold, sleeping on the hard ground, and just morning-time in general. But even though the night had been frigid, the day brought sunshine again which chased the teeth off the cold.