Over the Fourth of July weekend in 1988, my son John and I went hiking up at Carson Pass. We hiked in to 4th of July Lake and had a great time. It is about 6 miles in to the lake and really beautiful. We fished and read and slept and generally just enjoyed ourselves.
About 5:00AM Sunday morning I heard a strange noise outside the tent. I sined the flashlight outside of the tent and couldn’t really see anything. A few people had said that they had seen a raccoon and I thought perhaps that was what it was. We had put all of the food in the tent with us, so I couldn’t imagine what a critter could be after. We, I hollered and shined the light all around and then I just caught sight of something crawling off out of the range of the light. I wasn’t sure what it was but I was sure that it wasn’t a raccoon. The more I thought about it the more it seemed to me that it looked like the tail of a porcupine. But in the several years that I have hiked in that particular area, I have never seen a porcupine or talked to anyone who had. So I lay back down and tried to go back to sleep. About 10 minutes later I heard the noise again. This time I grabbed the light and got out of the tent. I shined the light on my backpack and sure enough, there was a porcupine, chewing on the hip belt of my backpack. This fellow stood about 2 feet from the group to the top of his quills and about 3 feet from his nose to the tip of his tail and although he didn’t seem to be too thrilled about my flashlight, he also didn’t show any signs of wanting to leave. He just stood there staring at me and munch on my belt. I started hollering again and waving my arms and threatening him with all sorts of terrible fates. And I guess he finally got bored with my antics, because he finally turned around and meandered out of camp. Well I can tell you I was really relieved to see him go because a backpack is no fun at all to carry without a hip belt. I walked over to and took a look where he had been chewing and though it was torn and the foam padding was showing, the damage didn’t look too serious.
But then I pulled my backpack away from the tree it was leaning against to see if there was any more damage. There was. The shoulder straps to a backpack are generally canvas or nylon filled with foam pads. This fellow had eaten the inside part of my shoulder straps completely! The foam pads were laying on the ground and the outside layer of my straps were blowing gently in the wind, completely useless. Apparently this fellow was suffering from a salt deficiency and was trying to relieve it with the salt from my straps. If you thing carrying a backpack without a hip strap is tough, you ought to try it sometime without shoulder straps.
Fortunately I had tied John’s sleeping pad and the tent poles on his pack with two nylon straps. So I just tied them to the top of my pack frame and buckled them to the bottom and taped the foam pads to them and I manage to carry it quite well.
Gale L. Wolfenbarger
2 October 1988
The songs of creatures in the night,
Had lulled me off to sleep.
My sleeping bag of softest down
Had warmed my aching feet.
My son was sleeping at my side
And not a move he made.
In fact I doubt that he’d stirred at all
From where he first had laid.
We’d hiked for miles to reach this spot
Where we had made our bed.
Among sierras verdant pines
We finally laid our heads.
Our minds were filled with lakes and flowers
And scenes from every hill,
With streams that crash with endless roar
And meadows cool and still.
The night was dark, without a moon,
No creature made a sound.
The silence like a curtain hung
O’er the hills around.
My dreams so sweet at first had been,
Now fled at eerie songs
Of creatures crying in the night
Their dirges, sad and long.
And then I woke, my dreams had fled,
Rose with a start to hear,
The sound of munching in the dark
And canvas tearing near.
My flashlights beam lit up the night.
I feared what I might see.
A porcupine was having lunch
>And quite ignoring me.
I shouted out that he should leave
And leave alone my pack.
He guessed he’d had all he could hold
And slowly turned his back.
My backpack looked a sorry mess;
It was my own darn fault.
He’d ate my straps and ate my belt
He’d filled his crave for salt.
So hikers heed my words and hang your stuff
Right from the tallest tree
Or porcupine will do to you
Just like he did to me.
Gale L. Wolfenbarger
21 August 1988
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