When we entered the Mendocino National Forest, we saw on the map that Lake Pillsbury has a resort, marina, and campground. We decided that might be a good option for our first stop in the forest. We were surprised to find only a locked gate; the season was not yet open. Fortunately, a friendly young couple was close by and they pointed the way to an open campground on the lake.
After we settled in, we walked down to the beautiful and peaceful blue lake. There we met a soft spoken man whose car had a canoe strapped on top. We greeted one another, and I commented on the beauty of the lake. He replied, "Yes, I come here often. My wife no longer joins me, but I still come. You must go to the other side so you can see the elk." His quiet demeanor gave me a sense that the lake was a place of solace for him, and that sense of respect became ours as well.
Yet as I mentioned in my previous post, our intention for the next day was to drive up and over Hull Mountain (elevation 6,878 feet) and camp on the other side, and that is the journey we undertook. While most of the way was dry, we ran into some snow very near the crest of where we were to cross. Tyler stopped to walk through this patch to get a sense of what was around the bend, and to see if we would have the clearance we needed. He had said all along that if we came across slushy snow we would turn around, but over the past few months, he had equipped the truck with recovery gear should we get stuck. Nonetheless, I was very insecure about the possibility of getting stranded in snow in such a remote area. I did not grow up in snow country, and I am not drawn to it. I was going to walk with Tyler, but my balance, which is a little unsteady now, is particularly poor in the snow. As I slipped, I figured my tumbling and sliding off this mountain road was not going to be helpful so I did not continue. The wind was formidable, and so was my fear.
When he returned, he said that he believed we did have the clearance we needed, but the road was narrow so if we needed to turn around, we might find it difficult. I reminded him that there was a fine spot to turn around just a few feet behind us. We talked some more, and our decision was made. We turned around, and on the way down we found a beautiful spot to camp that overlooked Lake Pillsbury.
Tyler and I have always travelled well together, mainly because we listen to each other. We have talked at length about our decision. Could we have made it to the other side of the mountain? The answer will always remain unknown, and for now, the quest remains in the future. I am fine with that, and even though Tyler believed we could have gone forward, he respected my fear. I am grateful.
Writing this, I am reminded that I am not much of an adventurer, but I still contend I am an explorer. I love going out and viewing terrain. I recently started reading Belden Lane's The Solace of Fierce Landscapes. In his book Lane contends that in our encounters of wild and fierce landscapes, and I would place Hull Mountain in that category, we are faced with a reality that we cannot manipulate. These places teach us humility as we learn to rely solely on God (think of Elijah in the cave). I think these landscapes can be found just about anywhere that gives us a sense we have no control: hospital emergency rooms, at the side of a loved one who is passing, or in a stack of bills that must go unpaid for another month.
More on Lake Pillsbury to follow. We did make it to the other side of the lake, and found it beautiful. There is controversy concerning this lake, and I will go into that yet another side of the lake as well.
"Plants and animals change as one goes up the mountain, and so apparently do people."
Diana Kappel-Smith, Desert Time: A Journey Through the American Southwest,
from The Solace of Fierce Landscapes, Belden Lane
Image was taken on the ascent of Hull Mountain. It was so windy that I actually received a message that no photo or video could be taken. Here I practiced standing firm. The wind was very much part of the spirit of place.