Up At Night

It was getting dark, and this would be the fourth trail I had travled looking for a campsite. The first two were blocked by locked gates just before entering public land. The third road ended at a gate with no road on the other side. This next trail needed to work. Pulling off the county road, I found a barbed-wire gate. 

It was not locked. I opened the gate and drove through, closing the gate behind me. One hundred feet later, was another barbed-wire gate. This one had BLM signs, “OHV only Beyond this Point” and “Be Bear Aware.” This was a true “trail.”  It would be too narrow for my vehicle, even if I tried. As I turned to leave, I realized the large dusty area I was turning around in was used for parking OHV trailers. I could camp here, between the gates. I would need to watch the dog, so he didn’t wander too far.

After driving all day, I was tired and it would be dark soon. Dinner would need to be quick, with cooking and cleanup far enough from camp to divert bears away from us. I heated water for my freeze-dried meal, fed the dog, then set up the tent while waiting for the food to re-hydrated. After dinner, all I would need to do is brush my teeth and seal the trash in my bear-proof container.

As I locked my trash container to a tree, a truck pulled off the county road and stopped at the first gate. I ducked into the tent and switched off the light. It was dark now. The only light came from the truck’s headlights.

The lights were pointed directly at my tent. Would I have a neighbor in my parking lot? I could hear the truck idling. I slipped into my sleeping bag and waited for the truck to move.

After several minutes it was still idling. I peeked out the window. There was no movement. Had I read the map wrong? Was I on private land? Knowing my silhouette would be visible in the truck’s headlights if I stood watching, I unzipped the window covering and lay back down, to watch the truck.

I waited. The dog, sensing I was nervous, shifted restlessly. There was no movement around the truck. Why were they waiting? Were the police coming to ask me to leave? The only sound was the truck idling.

Still, they waited. Now the dog was snoring. I was tired from driving all day and didn’t want to have to pack everything up if asked to leave.

I pulled on a jacket and grabbed my bear spray and a head lamp. I thought to myself, be polite but firm. Tell them we’ll be gone at sunrise. I unzipped the tent and stepped into the full light of the truck.

The truck rolled back onto the county road. Then roared away to the west. Maybe, I scared them as much as they scared me. Back inside my sleeping bag, I heard a coyote yip in the distance. He was marking his territory.

The dog snuggled closer to me, stretched and groaned.

The next morning, I woke to a light frost. I packed up and headed east, down the road. A white pickup was headed toward us. Then I saw a coyote moving toward the road at a full run. I slammed on the brakes. The truck moved closer without slowing. Did they not see the coyote? There were only a few feet between the vehicles now. Head down, the coyote passed the truck’s passenger-side wheel. Then the road disappeared behind a cloud of gray fur.

I would make camp early today, but with the memory of the gray fur-cloud, I doubted there would be much sleep.

I reached for the dog beside me and drove on.

This adventure has been lightly edited for clarity and symbolism.

For the true tale of the day after this adventure see, Time to Air Down.

For a POTW from the actual location see, Evening at Camp…

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