Girding for Winter in Paradise

Charlie's death hit me hard. Perhaps it was because he was so helpless that last month or so that I had to care for him like a mother. Perhaps it was the gradually seeping in feeling that I was the only one left on the entire planet… certainly in the United States. Everywhere I went, I found nothing but bones and abandoned edifices that were of no use except to the animals that now inhabited them for their shelter, and sometimes, food.

I spent the next five days mostly in the spa waters, thinking and healing my spiritual wounds. Even though I felt bad, I had never been in better shape in my life from all the good food that I was eating and the exercise I was getting. Fortunately, I had resorted to cans very little for food. And I knew that most cans would rust out very soon. Even aluminum cans would eventually oxidize and their contents spoil.

Now that the birds and animals learned that I wasn't a threat, they came to enjoy the spa with me and often didn't scatter anymore when I came out of the poolside room that I had selected to be one of my sleeping places when it wasn't too hot. I still went to the sleeper where the truck's air conditioning kept it cool on hot nights. But the nights were getting cooler, and the days more bearable as October became November. Great weather for going without clothes altogether.

There was one last thing I had to do before winter came with its cold fronts and storms that I knew would challenge me, even in this retreat that was generally warm all winter long and protected from coastal storms that would rage in California much more than here behind protective Mount San Jacinto. The satellite, still faithfully searching out information to no one but me such, told me that it was November 5 when I worked my way back the way I had come to Charlie's truck. Still having to take the detours. I followed my old tracks in the dusty road that hadn't been completely obliterated by two storms that came through since dropping that truck off and my return.

Using jacks and a come-along, I managed to get the generator off the back of the military truck and crank it up. The generator spluttered at first, but then roared into life. It was time for me to try my hand at welding like I'd learned from Charlie. Searching auto shops in Palm Springs, I'd found heavy U-shaped bolts used to mount springs to trucks. I welded several of them to the front of the Army truck's front bumper. The bumper's V-shaped angular construction required that I make the towbar conform. I accomplished that by backing the towbar up to the corner of a concrete building and then backing into the building with the Peterbilt's power. Gradually, at first, and then applying more power until the towbar bent in the center in an inverted V shape.

Although there was stress on the fifth wheel pin and ball and there were cracks in the framework of the formerly flat towbar that I had previously bolted on, it conformed to the Army truck's bumper quite well. I welded the cracks shut and found that the bar would now, when lifted up on jacks and dropped over the U-bolts, provide six points of connection for the towbar to the truck. With a large hammer, I pounded the ends of the bolts over a bit so that the bar could still come up and out when jacked, but would hopefully stay in place and wouldn't bounce out as I drove over bumps and climbed debris that was always in the roads everywhere.

The tractor's brakes and tires were only 2500 miles old and I expected them be able to handle the weight of the Army truck on grades without any trouble. The last step was to place safety chains on again and make them as short as possible so that any time the bar would break free the chains would still hold the truck until I stopped.

It was the first time I had pulled any weight with the Peterbilt, but it seemed to pull the other truck with ease. And, the first time I had to brake on a down slope, the brakes held back the weight of the truck very well. So well, in fact, that I thought I might be able to tow it all the way to the East Coast without any trouble. But once again, I didn't know what I would face up ahead if I tried that..

When it came to driving over debris and slides that partially blocked the way, it was a different matter. The towbar would bounce up and down as the two vehicles were on different planes and if it weren't for the safety chains, the bar would have come out of the U-bolts several times. I had to go very slow in those places and was grateful that I didn't have to jack the bar back into place after it had popped out. But it didn't look like I had a long-term solution, even though I now had the tools, perhaps, to come up with one. I began to think of finding a trailer to carry the essential supplies and tools that were in the Army truck. That truck wouldn't be the last thing that I would leave behind. The decision of what to take further on became a regular problem I never quite resolved. In many cases, less was enough and the rest was wasted effort and usefulness.

I drove into the night, finding the Peterbilt's headlights very strong. With no other traffic except nocturnal animals in the headlights' view, made it home safely about 10 pm after a long day fetching Charlie's truck. I slept well that night, probably because of all the exertion and mental focus had driven thoughts of Charlie's death from my mind.

The next day, I thought of my next project. I found, that morning, only one duck swimming in the pool. I got out my crossbow and gave it a try. I had to swim out into the warm pool to get the floating dead bird and retrieve the bolt from its neck. But, I had duck that day instead of the last of the venison and dried fish that I had been eating.

Now that I had the Army truck, I thought it might be nice to go hunting on Mount San Jacinto. I expected there were desert sheep up there and I had never eaten a sheep before. It would have been nice to take the tram to the top of the mountain, but the tram hadn't run in three years and I doubted if I could make it run without any high-voltage electricity. I wasn't ready to connect the wind turbines on hillsides in the area to the tram. High-voltage electricity wasn't something I was willing to try to handle.

So, after viewing my maps on my smart pad, I elected to drive to the base of the mountain where there was a little park at the opening of a canyon that looked like an off-road vehicle could navigate. After stuffing myself on duck, I prepared a pack for camping on the mountain and put it all in the Army truck for the next morning.

Once again, I woke up before dawn, spotting an armadillo in the yard near the water and told myself that I would shoot one of those next, just to see how it tasted. I made sure that I only shot lone animals and birds. I didn't want to teach survivors that I was dangerous by killing their kin in front of them. Something told me that animals had complex ways of communicating that we humans really didn't understand. If I was going to kill to have food, I wasn't going to cause anguish in any of their fellow breed. Not if I could help it, that is.

Within a half-hour, I reached the park and drove on through until I came to some steel I-bars in the ground and a sign that read, "No Vehicles Beyond This Point." There was a slight depression to the right of the last bar and enough room for the Army truck to go around the barrier. I might have messed up the pristine walking trail, but there was no one around to stop me. I wanted to get as far up the mountain as I could before I had to go on foot.

The canyon was dry, but the trail, while wide in some areas and narrow in others, was a rough, bumpy ride until I found I could go no further. About a mile and maybe 300 or 400 feet up the mountain. I got out my pack, my ropes and my crossbow for my kind. At first, I stuck to the canyon for about a quarter mile and then started up the steeper slopes until I could look back and see all of Palm Springs, Cathedral and the other communities far below. At times, I literally had to rock climb and I never had done that before, so I had to be very careful not to slip and fall. No one would come to my aid if I did.

By noon, I was a little over halfway up the mountain when I stopped to eat some smoked fish and dates that I had for lunch. It was cooler up this high, but the sun was still bearing down on me and I was drinking my water faster than I wanted. Onward and upward I climbed, not toward the summit of the mountain but to a saddle that was much easier to get to, where I hoped I would find desert sheep. I still had about 500 feet of difficult climbing to the top of the saddle around 4 pm, when I heard--water running. And saw a trickle of water coming off the mountain into a small stream that may have been where the head of that canyon started. I also heard the scraping of hooves on rock.

I looked up over the ledge in front of me carefully and saw below five sheep. Two of them were rams of some size. The water that came off the mountain had created a small pool where birds congregated and the sheep were there to drink. I moved to reach around behind and get my crossbow, the birds saw my movement and abruptly flew away. With the birds' warning, the sheep were also gone. Already in the shadow of the mountain, with the day dying, there was no hope of shooting a sheep that day.

I found a relatively flat ledge nearby and unrolled my bedroll for the night. Tying it to the rocks above to ensure that I wouldn't roll off that ledge during the night. I thought about climbing up to the saddle to see the sunset over California, but I was just too tired and thought better of making too much movement to scare the sheep any further away. I tested the wind, and was not sure whether they would smell me or not. I pulled out the food I had, ate some venison jerky, some almonds and some fresh prunes that I picked from trees in the neighborhood around the spa. I was still tired from getting the truck and it got colder right away with no sun on that side of the mountain. I crawled in my bedroll and fell asleep.

Dawn found me holed up in a spot overlooking the waterhole, thirsty. The chance of getting a ram taking priority over a drink of water. The sun came up and started to bother me. Using the bedroll hung over a bush behind me I managed to block most of it and give myself a little more cover in case sheep came from behind me. As the hours passed and I waited, I dozed sometimes in the heat and tried to concentrate about what I would do if they did not come into view.

Finally, about noon, I heard the scraping of hooves against rock again and saw seven ewes and three lambs come around the corner to drink. I thought about shooting an ewe, but thought again about it and didn't. I lay there on that ledge with the sweat running off my forehead and dripping off my nose holding my crossbow in front of me until my body ached in pain, waiting. A half-hour later, the two rams that I'd seen the day before came into view and to the water. I aimed just below the shoulder at 25 yards and my bolt flew true .

Startled, the largest ram jumped up in the air and then came down, the bolt sticking out just behind his front shoulder, red blossoming on his tight, white fleece. All of the other sheep ran off, sensing something was wrong but not knowing exactly what. He tried to get up, but stumbled, and then fell close to the edge of the pool where he could have fallen hundreds of feet below. In my eagerness to get down to where he was, I moved too fast. My legs were cramped. I stumbled and fell headfirst toward the pool. The lights went out.

I woke up a short while later feeling blood run down my forehead. I cursed myself for being so stupid. I had a cut lip and some scrapes from the fall of about 15 feet on my head. That could have been the end of me. I promised myself not to be so careless and blamed it on my exuberance over the kill. By that time, the ram had bled out in the pool, giving it a bright red complexion. Buzzards were already circling overhead. I had to work fast in the heat or the meat would spoil. I quickly gutted him and pushed the stomach and intestines off the cliff. That diverted the buzzards who circled ever lower and within a few minutes, had landed there and were already fighting over the spoils noisily.

I cut the ram into quarters and then took them over a ridge where I could lower them down by rope. I left the rest of the carcass and pushed it off to fall down below and keep predators like mountain lions and the buzzards occupied while I got the meat I needed down the mountain. I was grateful I didn't have to carry that 150 pounds of meat off the mountain, just lowering it down in stages without having to carry very much until I got to lower slopes where I had to pack it on my back one front leg and one rear leg at a time in two trips to the truck. It was after dark before I got everything in the truck. I then had to back up to a place where I could turn around.

     Exhausted when I got back to the spa, I was grateful for a refrigerator that I had rigged up to run off batteries from my solar panels until I could deal with the meat.

That night as I crawled into bed, dead tired and wounded, I promised myself I would never hunt for sheep again, it was just too dangerous and too exhausting.