The Moose Story

Motorcycle riders have a certain code, a hand signal that they flash, when they pass each other on the road. Hikers have a certain code as well, passing along valuable information, when they come in contact with one another on the trail. Sometimes the responses the fellow hikers give to this information are a little odd.

This past August, my hiking companion Ras Erdal and I were patrolling for the Poudre Wilderness Volunteers up at Trap Park. Since Ras has been hiking the Trap Park trail annually for the last 14 years, you might say he knows this particular trail. During our hike, he and I talked about past encounters with wildlife such as the time a bull moose rose up after a nap just off the trail and scared him half to death.

On this day, we hiked the entire length of the trail with no wildlife encounters except for a red-tailed hawk sighting. We joked about rogue bears and such as we peacefully ate our lunch at the end of the marked trail. On our way back, we ran into three bow hunters who were scouting out the area prior to the opening of the season which was the following day. As we exchanged pleasantries with the hunters, I spotted something looking at us across the valley.

To everyone’s delight, it was a bull moose. Then, we spotted another one. And then yet another one. To our amazement, we counted six bull moose together at one time. They were feeding on willow branches and keeping an eye on us.

This group of moose reminded me of a bunch of cowboys like the opening to the TV show Bonanza. One of the hunters was bold enough or stupid enough to try and approach the herd. He crossed the valley and slowly tried to get closer to them from below. The moose watched him, but did not do anything aggressive. Personally I was looking for a good tree to hide behind just in case they stampeded toward us.

I had my camera and was taking pictures. If I hadn’t, nobody would have believed us. After a while, the weather began to deteriorate. The rain began to fall lightly as I tucked my camera away in my pack to protect it. Ras and I headed back down the trail towards the trailhead still buzzing at our luck at seeing such a spectacle.

We were almost to the end of the trail when we came upon a man and a woman just starting their hike. We exchanged some small talk about the weather and asked them if they had any rain gear. They seemed ambivalent to the weather and annoyed by our attempt at conversation. So I nonchalantly mentioned that we just saw six Bull Moose together at one time. Once again there was no response other than they see moose all the time when they fish here.

We parted ways and I commented to Ras that their response to our bull moose herd sighting was peculiar. Once at the trailhead, we noticed a camper left wide open. We joked about a bear being inside, or maybe someone sleeping inside, but it was strangely vacant.

We then spotted a fishing pole leaning up against the camper’s bumper. We reasoned that it must belong to that couple we met coming down the trail. They must have been on something. Six Bull Moose, together, and all they could say was “we see moose all the time”. I’ll bet you do.

Alone in Alaska

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”

– Henry David Thoreau

Famous for his living experiment at Walden Pond in Concord, Massachusetts, Henry David
Thoreau built a dwelling and lived in it for 2 years and 2 months. He was only a mile from town and visited the real world often. Hate to say it, but old Henry had nothing on Dick Proenneke.

At the age of 51, Richard “Dick” Proenneke decided to build his own cabin up in a remote area of Alaska called Twin Lakes. The nearest
town was 40 miles away by float plane. No walks to town. No neighbors to visit with. He truly was alone in the wilderness.

Dick set out to live at Twin Lakes for twelve months. He ended up staying 30 years.

Can you imagine living everyday without conveniences like: electricity, heat, and plumbing? What about having no grocery stores to get your food from? Dick had no restaurants to go to, no sporting events to attend, no anything but nature all day, every day. I don’t know how he did it.

Dick was self reliant. He had to be to survive. He had to plan ahead for everything. He had to have enough food and water. He had to be very careful not to capsize his canoe when he was on the lake and to be patient and wait out bad weather. He simply could not afford an accident with
no one around to help him.

He had to be in tune with his surroundings and know weather conditions and forecasts at all times. In the winter, temperatures would sometimes drop to 50 below zero. Dick had to make sure his water hole in the lake never froze too thick to cut off his water supply. He had to store his
food high enough so that bears and other creatures could not get to it.

He had to cut enough fire wood to warm his cabin throughout the winter. And speaking of his cabin, he built it by himself before his first winter at Twin Lakes. The place had to be sound enough to keep animals and Mother Nature out and keep the warmth from the fireplace in.

He had to be vigilant each day to properly store his food and make sure everything was in tip top shape. There was no room for carelessness or forgetfulness. I guess when your life depends on it, depends on you, you become more responsible.

Now Dick did get mail and some supplies dropped off to him by float plane every 6 weeks or so. He also had a radio for weather and
emergency communications as well. But from what I’ve read about other people’s experiences of living separated from society, the isolation sometimes is more than most people can bear. I hear that the silence drives them mad.

Personally, the thought of being that alone with things that go bump in the night would scare the crap out of me. Dick wasn’t completely numb to fear though. I saw a picture once of the inside of his cabin and saw that there was a gun holster strapped to his bed post, just in case.

An Elk Paparazzi

Yogi Bear was smarter than the average bear. Rudolf the red nosed reindeer could fly. So why does it surprise me when an elk goes
for a swim and then takes a hike to dry off?

I took a hike to Mills Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park in late September on an unseasonably warm day. When I arrived at the lake, I found people fishing and eating lunch andsoaking their feet in the water. I set up my tripod to take some pictures and eves dropped on several conversations about not falling into the lake when the people were wading around in it.

I then moved on along the shore line to my own private rock outcropping to continue to take pictures. I was getting a little bored of sunning myself like a marmot when all of a sudden something caught my eye in the distance. It was a big bull elk and he was crossing the lake.

The big guy moved from a shallow spot to some deeper water submerging his entire body with his rack of antlers bobbing up and down as he swam. He came to another shallow spot, rose up out of the water, and shook his coat like a dog. He then made a beeline for a rock platform on the shoreline and hoisted himself out of the water like an Olympic athlete getting out of a pool.

I was stunned at my luck. I had the tripod set up and was leisurely clicking away as he performed for me. At one point, the bull appeared
to be looking right at me for some reason. When he removed himself from the lake and started advancing toward me on the path around the lake, I was sure he was coming for me. Other people had started to follow him down the trail like he was the Pied Piper.

What a sight this was. A huge bull elk walking right down the trail after taking a swim. Then, a couple of women appeared next to me on my rock outcropping. They were more than a little concerned with the developing situation. They asked me what we should do if the big guy makes a hard right turn and charges us.

I reasoned that we could all jump in the lake, but after seeing him swim, that didn’t seem like a safe option either. As he approached, the sound of his hooves reminded me of a Clydesdale horse in a Budweiser commercial. My camera was still set up, so I risked it and tried to take his picture.

The first shot was blurry. It reminded me of those pictures when an animal rushes the photographer and this is the last thing he saw before he was trampled. The second shot was clear and eerily massive as he filled the lens. The third shot was of his rear end as he continued on past us down the trail.

After my heart rate calmed down, I decided to call it a day and head back down the trail. I was deep in thought enjoying my hike down when all of a sudden the elk reappeared and tried to ambush me from behind a big boulder. Stunned, I was like, “whoa big guy” and high tailed it backwards around to another big rock nearby. My tactic worked and he gave up his charge and crossed the trail to move on up into the brush.

After calming down again, I went after him and scolded him from the trail. “What’s your problem Bud?” He was rubbing his antlers on some trees and gave me a look as if to say, “What? You think I like all you people gawking at me and trying to take my picture all the time?”

It was then that I realized I had officially become an elk paparazzi.