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davewakeman · 5 years ago

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Talking Tickets 12 June 2020--AFL! MLB! Revenue! And, More!

Hey There!

Thanks for being here again this week. If you are enjoying this newsletter, tell your friends and colleagues to sign up by visiting this link.

If you aren’t a member of the Slack community, join now. Folks in 12 different time zones get together there to talk tickets and learn from each other.

How is it mid-June? How’s everyone holding up?

I’m relatively fine. Only relatively because if you’ve never seen a string of those 90+ DC summer days, you don’t know what a heatwave is.

Check out a special session I’m doing with Eric Fuller’s Rescue Meet serieson Tuesday, 16 June at 9 AM PST/12 PM EST. I’m leading his session on sales and marketing and we will be doing a little talky thing, but the core of the event is a 30-45 minute break out of my workshop where we are going to focus on rethinking our strategies, coming up with a diagnosis of the real challenge to tackle, and create some action items to move us forward. It is FREE, but you have to get an invitation by visiting the Rescue Meet website.

Don’t forget Happy Hour with me and my buddy, Ken Troupe, this afternoon at 5 PM EDT.

To the tickets!

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1. Reopening in many shapes and forms:

We continue to power forward with the reopening of sports, at least. With concerts and other performances still in a place that lacks a lot of certainty or clarity for when things will be safe to return to normal.

While there are no fans, we will see La Liga return this week and the Premier League restart next week, even if I am going to have to wait a few more days to see Dele Alli.

For many venues, making the most of a bad situation has meant adjusting their business model to allow their venues to become drive-ins and gathering places of a different sort.

The NBA and MLS are going to Orlando in July and Orlando is going to get a moment in the spotlight, though if you haven’t heard of Orlando and Disney…I’m not sure what planet you’ve been on.

What will be curious is whether or not folks actually change their habits after sports comes back and further after folks can attend games. As with everything, the first rule of marketing is to remember that you aren’t your market and that folks often say one thing and do another.

The thing that is obvious is that we need fans in the stands, the Bundesliga has shown that fans matter to the atmosphere, home-field advantage, and…revenue, of course.

Any signs of progress are welcome.

I still would say that I’m cautious because it seems that the science points to an uncertain timeline around a vaccine and cases still building in a lot of places.

I was chatting with my friends in Tokyo about 10 days ago and they were mentioning that the cases were low and I saw this piece about masks in Japan. I think what a lot of us are missing is a clear direction that says “wear the mask because it helps reduce transmission, lessens community spread, and reduces the likelihood of more disruptive actions.”

Of course, I’ve also never realized how filthy too many people are with not washing their hands, covering their mouths when they are coughing and sneezing, and other stuff…

Anyway, continue to keep an eye on the reopening activities like starting up games and events with no or few fans like the AFL’s match with 2,000 fans in attendance. The performances of theatre around the world. And, how the virus is impacting other countries as they move through the different phases of reopening.

And, what do you think about Garth Brooks’s idea?

2. Revenue! Revenue! Revenue!

Somewhere along the line, I should have shared a piece I saw about how brands were discovering that a lot of their partnerships weren’t paying off.

Part of this is because folks weren’t really making the business case for sponsorship and relying too heavily on emotions and fluff.

The reality is that sponsorships is just one part of the larger revenue puzzle that will need to be reimagined coming out of the pandemic.

We are going to have to put our heads together and rethink a lot of the things that we have taken for granted or just “always done that way” like:

* Sales * Marketing * Customer retention * Customer service * Merchandise * Food and beverage

I can go on.

To achieve our revenue goals in the future, we are going to need to think through how we use technology, what our business models and processes look like, and many other things.

In fact, I think to see the industry of sports, the arts, and other forms entertainment continue to grow, we are going to have to see a much higher level of comfort with innovation become the norm.

In the arts and theatre, the unwillingness to change has popped up in the need for many organizations to try and figure how to become digital and offer digital solutions now.

Where was the urgency before a pandemic set in?

The same goes for the sports organizations that still rely on ~40% or more of their revenue from fans coming to the venue?

Why hasn’t the reinvention of the in-game business model been the number one priority?

I’ll tell you three things when I look at this:

First, we can’t get stuck in the way things have always been done. Obviously, no one can plan for a depression and a pandemic…but we really should be doing more risk planning and stress testing of our organizations so that we can be a lot more flexible in how we generate revenue and more secure in our business practices.

Second, right now is a great opportunity to rethink how you are doing business. In too many instances, I sit on webinars and Zoom calls where the gist of the conversation is about how quickly we can ramp back to “normal” and when I look at how many challenges and points of weakness that the industry was facing before the pandemic…I want to go, “Get back to normal? Are you kidding? That’s the best we can do?”

Maybe I’m just grumpy today? Or, maybe I’m just tired of watching the same bad habits get run on repeat.

You tell me!

3. How do businesses fall apart? Slowly at first, and then all at once…or how MLB is determined to miss a great opportunity to have the spotlight:

MLB seems to continue to move down a path towards no season…and it leaves a lot of folks scratching their heads.

Last week, I shared the story about the Cubs claiming that 70% of their revenue comes from having fans at their games. And, I’ve been adamant about the need to rethink business models, pricing structures, and the underlying approach to having folks at games as a way to make sure that attendance isn’t sacrificed at the foot of revenue…which is what is happening all too frequently now.

We also saw MLB lose Coca-Cola as a sponsor this week as well, due to “budgetary concerns” which is code for they don’t see the value of a partnership with someone they’ve been associated with, in a major way for a long time.

What’s even crazier is that baseball seems to spend a lot of time on ideas that would hurt their TV monies as well.

MLB, “call me, please!”

If I were an academic and not a marketer, I would have a paper out that would talk about how the economics of the baseball standoff mirror a lot of the challenges we are dealing with in the American and global economies as a whole…but I’m not so instead I’ll offer up these ideas for how baseball can move forward to salvage this season, but the long-term potential of the game.

First, let’s get a season with somewhere between 70-80 games, expanded rosters, and some sort of pro-rated salary for the players.

To quote Gary Adler, “the owners seem to be jumping over dollars to pick up dimes.”

If the nuclear bomb of no baseball season at any level goes off, I don’t really know that MLB recovers because despite “record” revenues, real attendance is crap, interest in the game isn’t that high, and the already aging fan base is only getting older.

To be clear, if the money saved by not paying minor league players and squeezing a few million out of the players is going to make or break your business…the sport has a much bigger problem.

Second, lay on the marketing as much as possible.

Someone asked me about what is being aired on the MLB network and why they weren’t showing a greater variety of stuff.

I don’t have the answer. I know marketing and not television…but there are so many historical games and so much historical footage, it seems like a missed opportunity to not share these things and give the generation of fans that are still diehard baseball fans the chance to share some of the things they love with folks that might not have experienced baseball in this way before.

4. What will saving the theatre and the arts look like?

In general, I’m a fan of offering public support to the arts because I think the arts are so important for doing a few things like helping us understand other folks’ point of view, explaining complex ideas, and bringing us together. That funding the arts seems like a value in a lot of instances.

In the United States, there are a few industry-led efforts to lobby the government for help for the live entertainment industry. I’m not holding my breath on action anytime soon. But I do appreciate the effort…it is necessary.

In the UK an idea is being floated to allow folks to invest in theatres.

Last week, I shared some of the things that Australia and New Zealand are doing to support the arts. And, this week, the German government has stepped in with a $1.13 billion dollar package to help get their countries arts and entertainment venues back up and running. These are really great starts to helping the industry get back up and running.

As a general topic, I’m concerned about the future of the arts coming out of the pandemic because we’ve seen the funding for the arts be whittled away in so many places.

But the bigger challenge as I mentioned in the revenue section is the need to reinvent our businesses and to rethink how we are marketing and selling our experiences.

The idea that the London Symphony Orchestra is offering up is novel with a shortened production and two performances a night to help maintain social distancing.

Over the last few weeks, we’ve seen a lot of folks share social distance mapping, even if I’ve felt like a lot of this was just ducking the hard work of thinking about how to actually create something that will bridge the gap between where we are now and where we need to get to in the future when we get the virus tamed and are able to have full capacity shows again.

I know we have to work to save the arts and theatre and here are a few suggestions:

First, we need to get some sort for the arts and artists at a government level. Full stop. These buildings are centers in our communities and the artists that make the arts are necessary for these investments to make art happen.

Second, saving the arts is a good time to rethink the relationship between the arts, the buildings, and the communities. We’ve become used to the idea that a stadium can revitalize a downtown area, whether or not that actually happens or not.

What about an opera house or an arts center?

If you’ve ever been to Sydney, you’ll know that the arts buildings are just as much gathering places as any stadium…maybe more so.

Right now is a great time to rethink the relationship between the buildings, the performances, and the community to allow them to take center stage as cultural homes and gathering spaces in the future.

I mean, look at the MoPop in Seattle.

You can experience that place inside and outside the building. Lincoln Center, the same. Insert your favorite here.

I don’t have a complete answer for how to use these buildings as indoor/outdoor community spaces going forward now, but I do think back to the concerts on the pier in Seattle during the summer. Or, the way that we’d have concerts for small groups in the Liquid Lounge at the EMP.

And, I recognize that it may be difficult to come up with a solution…there are opportunities.

More importantly, if we aren’t really pulling out all the stops…we may face a situation where many arts organizations do have such catastrophic losses that they can never recover.

Remember, this isn’t a fight that just the arts are fighting, nightlife, pubs, and other folks are all in similar positions and making sure folks fight for their industries is essential.

5. The AFL is in a good spot due to owning Marvel Stadium, but being creative with their revenue streams should be a priority:

File this one under, if you are nice to me, I love you…but I’m a fan of Marvel Stadium and the AFL.

As I’ve mentioned on many occasions, I look at the membership model that some of their clubs offer like Melbourne FC as something everyone around the world should be looking to emulate because it allows them to drive attendance and monetize their global market.

The article above talks about many of the leagues in Australia and how the AFL owning Marvel Stadium has allowed them to have a stronger position than other codes in Australia.

One of the frightening things for a lot of folks as they read through this piece is how the television broadcasters have used the pandemic and the shutdown period to drive down the prices of rights fees. At some point, I think that is a reckoning that a lot of folks are going to be dealing with and I’m certain that this is a scary idea because the expectation that Facebook or Amazon was just going to swoop in hasn’t materialized and I’m not sure if it will.

If you’ve been paying attention to the ongoing challenges Rugby Australia is dealing with, you’ll see that having assets that you can control and that can insulate you from the moment-to-moment ups and downs of business can be helpful in helping you avoid making short-term decisions that are potentially harmful in the long-run.

The truth is that the AFL is a window into the heart of what a lot of organizations in the arts, theatre, sports, concerts, and other live events are dealing with. And there are three things I think we can look to AFL CEO Gillon McLachlan as we head out into our week:

1. Recognize the human side of all of these struggles. Behind every decision are real people that have had their lives disrupted or worse.

2. Be creative. The AFL gained possession of Marvel Stadium when everything was great and this has enabled them to be more in control of their code as the pandemic has played out.

3. Make sure you focus on the right questions. The AFL recognizes that this season is a wipeout on profits and a lot of revenue, so instead of just trying to squeeze everything out of that…they are continuing to focus on recovery and growth. While it doesn’t take the short-term pain away, it does get the focus off of pain and panic and onto progress and positivity. —————————————————————————————————————-

What am I up to this week?

As I mentioned at the top of the program, I’m leading Eric Fuller’s Rescue Meet session on 16 June on sales and marketing. It is open to VPs and executives of organizations around the world and you can sign up for an invitation to the event on the Rescue Meet website.

I’m still at home…so I’m not visiting a city near you, yet. But if you want to chat about something or just need someone to chat to, let me know.

Get yourself some podcast episodes by going to my podcast landing page. I’m working on having some really great new guests around finance, marketing, and strategy…so something a little different than normal.

Check out my website and blog.

Please follow and like us:

Talking Tickets 12 June 2020–AFL! MLB! Revenue! And, More! was originally published on Wakeman Consulting Group

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the-pontiac-bandit · 8 years ago

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all the way home i’ll be warm

so, thanks to @jakelovesamy for the prompt, and to her and @elsaclack for all of the help!! i’m only including the prompt because it seems important that y’all all know that this started as a creepy cabin drabble. (title is from “let it snow” bc yes i Obviously wrote a christmas fic in mid-june)

99. “We’re in an abandoned lodge in the middle of nowhere. Sure, you’re totally right, nothing bad could ever happen here.”

Jake Peralta has never enjoyed the outdoors. Sure, that one Cub Scouts camping trip in first grade was pretty fun, but that was mostly because his dad was Assistant Scoutmaster that year, and Jake got to stay up until the sun started to rise, making s’mores with Charlie Daniels and his brother. Adult Jake Peralta prefers snow plows, massage chairs, modern insulation, and easy-access delivery food.

Which makes the fact that he agreed to spend Christmas in a cabin in the middle of nowhere in upstate New York with his new wife’s family a remarkable testament to just how much he loves said new wife.

Of course, the Santiagos are a remarkably awesome bunch of people. Victor warmed up to him - finally - when Jake told the Santiagos about his intentions to marry Amy. He showed them the ring, and Victor decided that anyone who had managed to save up that much money with a credit score below 200 was plenty tenacious enough to be a Santiago. Her brothers, meanwhile, had warmed to him as soon as they learned how much he loved basketball and good cop movies (Luis once told him that there were so many Santiago brothers it wasn’t even that noticeable when they picked up a few extra along the way. Jake had never felt more thrilled to be so entirely a part of something).

Even with all that awesome, being snowed in with all of the Santiagos in an eight-bedroom “cabin” (it’s definitely way too large for that title, and yet still somehow too small for all seven brothers, their spouses, and the kids) for four days over Christmas was not his idea of a dream vacation. Jake has no idea exactly how many nieces and nephews he now has, but he knows that there are at least twenty children that made it to the cabin ranging from scarily-new infants to surly teenagers, and they all call him Tio Jake with an excitement that warms his heart.

That many kids with that few bedrooms, though, means that someone is always sleeping somewhere strange. Usually on the floor. Definitely at a weird time of day. And Jake definitely almost steps on them on his way to the kitchen for more Cheetos (Manny brought a seemingly endless supply - he keeps pulling more from his car every time the boys finish a bag. Jake is eternally grateful).

Amy always seems to know who’s sleeping where (she also knows all of their names, of course, because she’s a perfect aunt who filled up their entire trunk with personalized gifts for each child and all her brothers, leaving Jake with a much better understanding of why they couldn’t afford Paris).

There is a constant hum of noise in the cabin. On the first day, which Jake obnoxiously calls Christmas Eve-Eve to anyone who will listen, everyone is in and out - exploring the nearby town, enjoying the fresh air, playing games of soccer on frozen ground that gives Jake a bruise on his hip when he tries to bicycle kick for the winning point. All in all, a great first day.

Then, that night, the snow starts to fall. At first, it’s some flurries. Just enough snow to be romantic - when it falls, it’s light and fresh, and Jake’s been to the country before, but just rarely enough that seeing fresh, fluffy snow surrounding him is a novelty. The Santiagos, who grew up with a huge backyard and spent their winters rolling around in snow that no dogs had peed in, were less impressed, and thought he was insane for wanting to spend that much time in the woods in the snow at night.

But then Amy walked outside with Jake in her heaviest parka, and they stood together and watched it fall, illuminated by the faded light coming out of the cabin, where the Santiagos were playing the largest game of Apples to Apples he’d ever seen. Everything was perfect, and just a little bit magical, and when he leaned down to kiss her, he could see the snowflakes that had settled on her eyelashes.

Jake is thoroughly enjoying the feel of her lips against his, even if that’s the only skin-to-skin contact available with all the layers, even though the pom pom on top of his hat is slowly pulling the entire garment forward to cover his eyes, but it ends when Amy decides her hands are freezing - even in their wool mittens - and tells him very pointedly that if he likes what her hands were going to do later, he’d best go inside and save them from frostbite. After that, he moves very quickly back towards the fire the Santiagos lit in the living room (carefully guarded by the oldest cousin, college freshman Anna, to prevent any accidental burns to the five year-old twins racing past).

Everything is perfect until the next morning, Christmas Eve, when he wakes up to nearly two feet of snow on the ground outside. Of course nothing is plowed and of course their cars are buried and of course there are somehow now nearly forty people stuck in what used to feel like a very large “cabin” and Jake’s thinking everyone should have just gotten hotel rooms in the city instead, no matter how pretty the untouched snow is.

Jake and Amy are up ridiculously early, thanks to the wails of the baby that radiate from the room they share walls with. Jake gently pushes Amy back to sleep when she starts to get up to go take care of her niece - she never lets herself sleep, and she’s been absolutely exhausted lately. She deserves this.

So Jake finds himself in the kitchen with Luis, Manny, and Joel, sitting in flannel pajama pants and overlarge matching t-shirts (Joel designed Family Reunion 2018 shirts. Jake never wants to take his off). Children are playing quietly around him - all of them are aware that moms, dads, and older siblings are trying to sleep, and they’re Santiagos, so of course they’re complying. Jake’s enjoying his Frosted Flakes (also courtesy of Manny), and reveling in the early morning quiet (at least, compared to Santiagos at full volume), compounded by the thick coat of snow on the ground outside.

It’s Luis who breaks the comfortable silence, clearing his throat and shifting in his seat. His daughter Lucia, just barely three months old, is cradled in his arm, and he’s clutching a steaming cup of black coffee for dear life with the other hand.

“Man, thank God she fell back asleep. Sometimes she just won’t stop crying in the mornings, and I can’t exactly take her outside in this weather. Would’ve been a fun wakeup call for everyone.”

Joel shoots a pointed look at his little brother, just fourteen months older than Amy. “But it’s so worth it. I remember when the twins were that little - a handful, but the best gift I could have asked for.” His gaze rests squarely on Jake, looking inquisitive, and Jake squirms a little bit under the intense stare.

Manny jumps in shockingly quickly to support his brother. “Yeah, Sarah and I only got married a year ago, but we’re already talking about it - we just can’t wait to have some of our own. What about you, Jake? Any kids in your future?”

Jake laughs a little, feeling a bit uncomfortable but brushing it off - brothers must talk like this all the time. “Oh, I’d say they’re definitely somewhere down the line, but definitely not anytime soon. There’s a life calendar hanging above our bed that says no kids until Amy’s a lieutenant, at least.”

Luis starts to laugh, but he’s quickly silenced by Joel, nearly thirteen years his senior, elbowing him in the side. He swallows his giggles, looking furtively at Jake, but their new brother-in-law hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.

They talk about their kids for a while, and Jake explains the elaborate color-coding system that Amy devised to pack for this four-day vacation. Then the boys give Jake, whose past experience with Christmas has been iffy and mostly related to Santa Claus, the lowdown on the innumerable Santiago family Christmas traditions.

The calm lasts until nearly 7:30, when Isabel Santiago emerges from the master bedroom, Victor looking a little sheepish at her heels. Jake had quickly learned at his first family event with the Santiagos that for all his commanding presence, Victor Santiago is constantly a little cowed and a little quiet when his wife is around. Isabel is furious that anyone let her sleep this late when there are grandbabies to feed and snowball fights to be had and children to catch up with. Jake quickly vacates the kitchen, knowing full well that any cooking done in his presence will quickly devolve into spilled batter and (somehow inevitably) explosions.

Back in his room, he decides to brush his teeth and hair and make some pretense to his new family that he’s less messy than this. His toiletries are stored carefully in the bathroom, in a nice case Amy got him to replace the messy gallon-Ziploc that never quite dried that he previously relied on. Everything is perfectly packed, and he knows exactly where it is. But when he tries the door, it’s locked.

“Amy,” he calls softly, not wanting her brothers to hear them through the frustratingly thin walls (seriously, how did Amy do this for eighteen years?).

“Jake? What do you need?” Amy’s voice is terse, barely audible. The shower isn’t running, so Jake decides she must be using the bathroom. He tries the handle again, wondering if it was just stuck, but nope - still locked.

Amy’s voice comes through the door again. “Can it wait, babe?”

He sighs. “Yeah.”

Then two minutes pass. Then three. The toilet never flushes, and he can smell French toast being fried in the kitchen all the way from their tiny bedroom in the back.

“Babe? I just need my toothbrush.”

“Just two more minutes, Jake. Please.” Her voice is tense, stressed, and a little hoarse, and he’s not entirely sure why.

“This is taking forever,” he whines. Then, a pause. “Babe, are you,” he brings his voice down to a whisper, “pooping?”

There’s a cough, then few seconds of silence from inside the bathroom. Then, a relieved sigh. “Yes, Jake. I’m pooping.”

“Amy, I’ve seen you poop before. Let me in.”

“How on earth am I going to do that?”

“Right.”

And he waits patiently until - finally - he hears a toilet flush, and she lets him in. The bathroom smells a little musty, reminding him somehow of their bathroom the week they both had the stomach flu. Her face is a flushed, and her eyes are a bit wild, darting around the way that they do when she’s stressed or anxious. Before he has time to question it or make sure she’s okay, though, he hears Manny call from just inside the door to their room that breakfast is ready and everyone else is eating. Amy replies that they’re coming, so Jake pours some toothpaste in his mouth, swallows quickly, and follows his wife (he’ll never get tired of thinking that) out the door.

All of the Santiagos are gathered around every flat surface in the living area of the cabin, each with a steaming pile of French toast, bacon, and strawberries. All of the weirdness of this morning is forgotten as he plops on the couch next to Luis with his own plate, leaving a corner of the couch for Amy. The pair immediately start discussing the Knicks’ playoff prospects with a few Santiago nephews sitting on the floor nearby (Jake’s pretty sure their names are Robert and Matty, but he can't be entirely sure. Everyone looks alike - those Santiago genes are strong.)

He’s so busy trying to convince his new family that the Knicks will win tomorrow by a full 70 points that he doesn't notice that Amy spends most of the meal taking deep breaths and leaves her French toast, her favorite breakfast, almost entirely untouched.

As soon as the conversation lulls, the sound in the room transitioning from lively conversation to quiet groans of sated contentment, Amy jumps up to start collecting plates. Her mother quickly follows, as she always does. They wave off all help (although not much is offered - everyone is far too full to move) from brothers and spouses, and even from Jake, and mother and daughter bustle off to the kitchen together.

Moms and dads, startled by the sudden lack of a syrup-covered plate in their lap, jolt to alertness, rushing to scrub powdered sugar, syrup, and orange juice off the faces of their children before they can ruin the furniture in the rented cabin. In the midst of the sudden reinstatement of chaos, Joel’s wife Mari stares at Jake, catching and holding his eyes. Then, seemingly unintentionally, her gaze shifts from him to the still-open kitchen door, out of which the clinking sounds of dishware being washed are emerging over the tumult of voices in the living room.

He gets the message (he thinks - that was a pretty weird look) and gets up to help his wife in the kitchen. He’s happy to go help anyway - after all, he has nothing to do to help clean up the plethora of nieces and nephews surrounding him, and he likes to be useful.

He’s stopped dead in his tracks at the door to the kitchen, though. Isabel Santiago is giving him a terrifying glare that is - like Amy’s - eerily reminiscent of that of a middle school librarian. It stops him in his tracks, and somehow, he knows to stay there. But instead of abandoning the room, going back to play with Robert and Matty, the eight year-olds who informed him during breakfast that he’s the coolest uncle they know, he backs away and sneaks behind the door, watching through the crack between the hinges, so that Mrs. Santiago doesn’t know he’s there.

Amy is gesticulating wildly at her mother, clearly frantic. When her hands reach up to start twisting her hair, though, her mom grabs them gently, says something, and pulls her only daughter into a hug. He can’t make out what’s being said over the din of the room behind him, but the cadence sounds distinctly like Spanish, so he knows he wouldn’t be able to follow even if everyone else would just shut up.

He’s relieved, though, to see Amy’s shoulders relax into her mother’s arms. He’s not sure what’s wrong, but clearly her mother has it under control. The sight of Amy’s breath steadying, her hands relaxing, calms him - whatever it is clearly can't be that bad.

And he's right. He’d returned to his room to change out of pajama pants (although this is the perfect kind of day for a pajama-jammy-jam) when Amy walks in, hugging him from behind and pressing her face into his shoulder.

He lets her stay that way for a few seconds, before pulling her arms just loose enough that he can turn around in her grip and properly hug her back. They stay that way, uninterrupted and holding each other close, for far longer than they should be able to, what with every single child in the house barging into their room at all hours to get some one-on-one time with their favorite aunt.

Finally, she pulls back, placing a quick peck on his lips before opening the top drawer of the dresser to find jeans and a sweater (before Amy, Jake didn't even know you could unpack on vacation, so he takes a second to marvel at the fact that he doesn't even have the opportunity to wreck the organization of their shared suitcase).

“So...you're okay?” he asks, a little tentatively.

Her back stiffens when he asks, and she freezes, one pants leg on, the other leg in the air. Then, in just a second, she's back to normal. In a carefully measured voice, she replies, “Yeah, babe, I’m fine. Why wouldn't I be?”

“I saw you talking to your mom, and you looked pretty upset.”

“Oh, that!” she replies, just a little too quickly. “I forgot the present for Mateo, and I didn’t know what to do, but my mom had an extra, so we’re giving him that!”

Jake’s pretty sure that he remembers writing Mateo’s gift tag himself, is almost certain it’s sitting near the side of the pile in their trunk, but he knows better than to argue. If Amy says it’s not there, then it’s definitely not there.

And then they hear Victor calling for them to come help decorate the Christmas tree that Diego drove up from New Jersey for the cabin, so instead of protesting, he grabs her as her head pops through the crew neck of her sweater (her softest one, which makes it by far his favorite) and plants a firm kiss on her lips. She laughs through it, wiggling away and protesting that we can’t do this, Jake, my dad might be coming in!

But then, when they hear her father’s footsteps fade into the background, she turns around and surprises him with a quick kiss before walking off, expecting him to follow. He does, but only after spending a few seconds marveling that the woman walking off with a new bounce in her step and a swing in her shiny ponytail is married to him.

Jake emerges into the crowded living room only a few steps behind his wife to happily discover that most of the younger children have been sent outside to play and release some energy. This means that the living room, while still loud - thanks to the room full of Santiagos, whose grasp of volume control is iffy at best - is full of the hum of polite conversation, rather than the screams of children trying to play tag between the boxes of ornaments, provided by Isabel.

When everyone sees them enter, though, the conversation comes to an abrupt halt. All eyes are trained on Jake and Amy, standing a few feet apart at the front of the room. Isabel starts to get up, takes a deep breath to say something, and then Amy shakes her head. It’s almost imperceptible, and if her ponytail wasn’t quite so bouncy, Jake wouldn’t have seen it at all.

Immediately, conversation resumes, as though nothing had ever happened, leaving Jake to wonder if he was imagining everything. Still standing in front of everyone, he leans in and whispers the question to Amy, who just shrugs in response - as if to say my family’s weird - deal with it.

So he does. He finds Luis sitting and untangling Christmas lights with Alex, their oldest brother. Alex looks up as Jake sits down, and a smile lights up his face as he claps Jake on the back.

“Congratulations, budd--” Alex is cut off abruptly from a sharp elbow from Luis that Jake definitely did not imagine.

Both men are looking at him warily, looking a little nervous for reasons that Jake can’t even begin to parse. They're silent for 10 seconds, and then 10 more, just watching him expectantly.

Then finally, with a relieved sigh, Luis breaks the silence. “Anyway, Jake, wanna give this string a shot? We can't get this knot out to save our lives.”

So Jake takes the lights they hold out for him and gets to work, doing his best to forget about the weird way that Alex had been staring at him.

Thankfully, untangling the lights turns out to be so consuming that he does manage to put his weird morning out of his mind for a little while. He has no idea how lights could have gotten this bad, until Alex explains that his kids used them as a rope for a hostage situation game that summer and put them away themselves. He’s a little impressed, honestly - figuring out how to untangle these lights might be a harder puzzle than any he's managed to solve with the NYPD.

Finally, though, he is able to hand Victor, who is taking meticulous instructions from Isabel about where the lights should be strung, a perfectly untangled strand of Christmas lights to add to the tree. The children are called back in to add ornaments to the now-lit tree (which stands taller than the trees Jake’s managed to squeeze into any of his apartments). The stomping of boots on the front mat sounds like a herd of elephants entering the house, and it lasts for what feels like an eternity as more and more kids traipse through, tracking an unbelievable amount of snow through the living room on their way to put up their coats.

His job done, Jake moves to the couch and squeezes into the impossibly small space left between Amy and the arm of the couch. Amy, laughing at the noises he makes as he tries to force his butt into the few available inches, gets up, settling on his lap as soon as he sits down.

Her head comes to rest against his shoulder as the kids reemerge, loud and ready to decorate. They watch the tree slowly acquire character via the addition of all sorts of ornaments - from fancy gold family heirlooms that only nineteen year-old Anna and her brother Sam can touch, hung high at the top of the tree, to paper drawings strung with yarn that two year-old Eliza drapes proudly on the bottom branches, balancing tentatively on chubby legs.

Amy slowly snuggles closer as they watch the scene unfold, so that her legs are folded on the couch (she may or may not give Luis, sitting next to them and playing with Lucia, a small kick as she pulls them up, just in case he’s done something today to deserve it), and Jake wraps his arms around her. Two of the thirteen year-olds are making faces at them and pretending to vomit in the corner, but Amy just laughs and plants a kiss on Jake’s cheek to bother her nephews.

Jake notices, when the tree is about halfway done and a few of the brothers are getting up to help their kids even out the ornament distribution (Jake has long-since discovered that Amy comes by her OCD honestly), that Isabel Santiago is watching him closely. She seems to have fixated on his arms, draped lazily over his wife’s (her daughter’s) abdomen. He can't read her expression, despite all his years of detective work, but he sits up straighter, trying to match the professionalism of Joel and his wife, sitting in the opposite corner of the room and gently holding hands in separate chairs.

As he shifts, though, Amy groans her objection, nuzzling her face deeper into his chest. That's when he realizes his wife is half-asleep. So instead, he settles back, deciding Mrs. Santiago must have been looking at something else - a quick glance confirms that she’s now talking to Diego’s wife animatedly about Christmas Eve dinner plans.

Finally, the tree is done. Isabel brings out sandwiches for everyone (Jake has no idea when she had time to make them. He’s at least 80% sure his mother-in-law is magical.), and lunch is finished in 10 minutes flat.

By this time, it's mid-afternoon, and there’s just a few hours until Christmas Eve dinner preparation begins in earnest. Matty and Robert beg their fathers for a snowball fight, and they agree eagerly, and before Jake really realizes what happened, everyone is getting up to go find coats and enjoy the hour or two of true daylight remaining.

Jake wakes Amy up (she claims drowsily that she’s been awake the whole time, thank you very much), and as they get up, Manny and Luis wander over to ask if Jake and Amy will be joining. Jake accepts enthusiastically, but Amy shakes her head.

“I don't think a snowball fight is up my alley today,” Amy apologizes with a yawn.

“Right! Because of the--” Manny starts, and then shuts his mouth so hard his teeth clack.

Amy gives him her special death glare, usually reserved for Charles when he starts talking in meticulous detail about her reproductive system.

Luis just laughs and drags Manny away, but Jake doesn't miss the excited hug Manny and Luis exchange when they think they're out of sight. Things are starting to get undeniably weird, Jake decides, furrowing his brow.

Amy is leading Jake back to their room when they find Isabel herself standing in their path. “Amy, could I borrow Jake for a moment? I need help with something, and your brothers are useless.”

Amy tries to glare at her mother, telling her silently to back off. But Isabel glares right back, and all of a sudden, Jake feels like he’s watching Amy look into a trick mirror at a fair - every mannerism is identical.

To no one’s surprise, Isabel wins, and Amy drops Jake’s hand, throwing one last concerned look over her shoulder as she continues to their room. Amy may have her mother’s glare, but her mother has an extra 37 years of practice.

Isabel starts to walk towards the kitchen, perhaps the only empty room in the house, and Jake follows automatically.

When they get there, she closes the door and turns slowly towards Jake. Slowly, carefully, she says, “You know, Amy loves you. A lot.”

Jake, feeling almost as nervous as when he asked them for their blessing to marry Amy, replies with the first dumb quip that comes to mind: “I’d hope so - we've been married for six months now!”

Isabel chuckles a little at that, seeming to loosen up. "I know. And we're all happy to have you as a part of the family," she reaches up touch his shoulder, her expression turning back to something more serious. "I know Amy likes to take care of herself. She's been like that her whole life - she didn't even want our help as a toddler learning to walk, which didn't go down well. There was the whole puddle incident," Isabel gets a far off look in her eyes for a few seconds before focussing back in on Jake, who has a host of questions about the phrase puddle incident. "I know she likes to take care of herself, but you're taking care of her too, right? We all need a little taking care of sometimes."

"Of course! We take care of each other - when she lets me," Jake shrugs, like it's obvious.

"Thank you," Isabel smiles a warm smile. "I knew I could trust you, Jake. I'm just reminded how lucky I am at times like these, that all my babies grew up and made such perfect families themselves. All these grandbabies!" Isabel gestures around as if there are grandbabies escaping from every crevice of the house (in fairness, they definitely are).

"They're all pretty special," Jake agrees, remembering the chorus of Tio Jake. No two words any adult (except for Amy) could say would make his heart feel so full.

"All so unique, and so precious." Isabel adds. And I just wanted to tell you how thrilled we all are that you all could be here with us this Christmas - I know it was hard to get off work, but it’s good for Amy to be with family, especially this year.”

Jake has already started to spew words about how of course they were thrilled to be here and it was never a question that they'd find a way to make it and they love seeing everyone. And then her last words register, and he pauses, his mind swirling as he looks for any explanation for what she might mean.

"What do you mean this year? Is-" he lowers his voice "is someone sick? Does Amy know?"

"No one's sick," she chuckles softly, "but Amy has been feeling a little under the weather. There's a special tea I have, it used to help me when...I mean, it helps with the nausea. I'll get you some to take up to her." Isabel starts for the cupboards, rifling around in the ones above her head. Jake isn't sure she can even see in there.

"Do you need any help?" He offers, but just then Isabel produces a lilac box and nods approvingly at it.

The tea takes five minutes to make, but Jake's distracted for most of it by Matty, who comes in with a hacky sack, which Jake can't say no to. The kid is surprisingly good, and Jake’s out-of-practice, leading to more than one miss and several repetitions of the phrase, “Aw! I boofed it!”

Isabel finally hands Jake a steaming cup of tea, which he carefully starts to carry back to Amy.

"Make sure she's getting enough sleep, too!" Isabel says as Jake starts turn away.

"Uh...I will, I guess?"

She laughs at his confusion, ruffles his hair (she has to reach up on her tip toes to do it), and hands him a cookie (Jake has no idea where she got it, but Isabel always has cookies. Jake loves her dearly for it).

With that, Jake knows he’s been dismissed. He walks out of the kitchen much faster than he should with the tea, carrying the cookie in his mouth.

When he finally navigates his way towards the glorified closet that he and Amy are sharing this Christmas, he throws open the door dramatically, startling Amy, who’s sitting on the bed wrapping a plain white box in red-and-green patterned wrapping paper (Jake remembers her packing the extra wrapping paper over his strenuous objections about the fact that there are no more gifts to wrap and there’s no possible way that she’s forgotten a gift for anyone - she even had one for Alex’s new puppy.)

“Babe,” Jake says frantically, his mouth still full of cookie, “I think your family is trying to kill us!”

“What?” Jake rarely catches Amy off guard anymore - she knows him almost as well as she knows herself. But he can see clearly that he’s surprised her with this.

“D’you think your brothers are still mad at you for that time you busted their party?” Jake is busy running through a list of every possible reason they could be on a Santiago hit list, but he’s discovering the list is pretty short.

“No way - I was nine!”

“Maybe it’s just me! Maybe they know 145 isn't a good credit score! Ames, what if they discovered I don't have a favorite font?”

At that, Amy gets up off the bed and walks over to him. “Babe, they already know that. And you do have a favorite font - it’s the title font from the Die Hard poster, remember? Everything’s totally normal - nothing bad’s gonna happen.”

The statement was clearly supposed to make him relax, and she turns around to find his coat for him so that he can go outside and join in the snowball fight, but Jake isn't satisfied. Then he notices that the peals of laughter he’s hearing are coming from outside, rather than inside, the house, and he realizes that they must be totally alone inside. The knowledge that they're alone in a snowed-in cabin adds an extra sense of eeriness to the afternoon light filtering through the clouds.

“Babe, we’re in an abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere. Suuure, you’re totally right, nothing bad could ever happen here.”

Abandoning the search for his coat, Amy grabs him by one hand and drags him back to sit down on the bed with her. “First of all, the cabin isn't abandoned - everyone is, like, ten feet outside the front door. Second, we’re on family vacation - you've been watching way too much true crime if you think someone’s trying to kill us. So what’s bugging you?”

Jake pauses for a moment, takes a deep breath, and then lets everything out in a rush. “Your mom just pulled me aside to make sure I knew to take care of you because you love me and everyone keeps staring at me and Manny congratulated me and I don't know why and you were even being weird about pooping this morning and they’re definitely up to something really freaky, babe!”

And then he’s cut off by Amy’s laughter. She’s fallen backwards on the bed and is clutching her stomach as deep belly laughs escape into the still air of the cabin. Jake just glares at her - he can’t believe she’d be laughing about something this serious! They’re in an abandoned cabin in the middle of the woods (she can’t convince him otherwise) and their lives are on the line!

Finally, slowly, Amy catches her breath. When she’s gotten herself under control enough to speak again, she says the last thing he’d ever expect: “Want an early Christmas present?”

In shock, Jake replies, “Babe! Now is not the time for early Christmas presents! Now’s the time to dig out the car!”

“Jake.” She gives him The Look, the one that means that he’s being ridiculous and he needs to stop and listen. “Open the gift.” And she hands him the mostly-wrapped box that has been sitting forgotten on their pillow.

Still uttering half-hearted protests, he tears at the wrapping paper to expose the plain white box inside (what can he say? He’s a sucker for gifts). It looks vaguely like a box a tie might come in, and he looks up at her. “Santiago, clothes aren’t gonna fix the fact that something creepy is definitely coming.”

“Keep opening, Peralta.”

So he does. When he takes off the top, he looks up at her. She waits patiently for him to look down, to actually register what’s inside the box. When he finally does, his jaw drops as some still-unidentified emotion bubbles up in his stomach.

Because lying inside the box is a positive pregnancy test.

“I took it this morning, when you were with Manny and Luis and I’d woken up to throw up again and Mari bought it for me yesterday when they went into town and I was gonna give it to you first thing tomorrow morning but you’re in the middle of a weird...Jake?”

The sound of his name jerks him out of his reverie. Slowly, he looks up at his wife, a grin painted across his face from ear to ear (he’s pretty sure no one could wipe off this grin - not even the still-possibly-murderous Santiagos playing outside). Then, he’s tackling her back into the pillows at the head of the bed, being careful of her abdomen while their laughter mingles and fills the still-silent cabin.

Their legs are tangled and his arms are wrapped around her and her hands are combing through his hair and he’s never felt this disgustingly, blatantly happy in his life. “Santiago...You’re really pregnant?” he asks, awe saturating every word.

She nods in response, a smile growing quickly on her face. “You’re really happy about it?” she asks.

In response, he shifts forward and kisses her firmly. It’s far from their most graceful kiss - their teeth keep clacking because neither of them can stop smiling long enough to kiss the other properly. Jake doesn’t mind, though, because he’s too distracted by the pure, unadulterated joy that’s radiating up from his chest and out through his face and out through his fingers and the very tips of his toes.

Finally he pulls back. “Yeah,” he answers with a laugh. “I guess I’m pretty happy about it.”

She hits his shoulder lightly, rolling her eyes at her dumb husband that she loves so much. And he’s too busy thinking about the fact that Amy’s pregnant and all of the possibilities that that fact brings to even pretend it hurt. Instead, he shifts one hand slightly, gently, so that it comes to rest just over her belly button.

“You know, you can’t feel him kick yet.”

“I know! And him? It’s obviously a girl that we’re obviously naming Nakatomi!”

“Jake, Santiagos have boys. Always. Trust me, this kid is a boy.” She sounds so sure, but he can’t stop himself from giggling (he might never be able to stop giggling because he doesn’t think happiness this strong will ever wear off. It’s pulsing steadily next to his heart, filling him with the same warmth he felt when he saw Amy do the Double Tuck in her white dress as she walked down the aisle).

“Ames, they had you.”

She’s opening her mouth to retort, but the mention of the Santiagos reminds Jake how this whole conversation started in the first place. “Babe, this is all very exciting and everything, but it has nothing to do with why your family was acting so weird. Either you need to explain or we need to get the hell out of this creepy cabin. Something definitely just creaked and we’re the only ones inside!”

“Jake...that was you. You just moved and the bed creaked. And, to answer your other question, my family...might have known.” She sounds a little sheepish, but mostly she just sounds blissfully happy.

Jake looks at her in obviously fake indignation. “Amy! You told your family before you told me?”

“In fairness to me, my mom actually is the one who told me!”

Jake looks at her a little incredulously. “Babe. Come on. You keep track of everything to the hour. There’s no way you didn’t know about this.”

“I’m serious! I was a little late and pretty tired and nauseous, but didn’t think anything of it. My mom took one look at me and pulled me aside and told me. She’s had so many kids she just knows, Jake. Joel and Alex and my dad figured it out on their own, too - they’ve seen my mom have so many kids it takes them, like, half a second to pick out a pregnant woman. Between the four of them, things...got around pretty quickly. They’re all pretty horrible at keeping secrets.”

“No kidding.” Jake thinks back to the millions of weird looks that he’d forced himself to disregard and the dozen weird conversations he’d had since yesterday morning.

“They just get really excited about new grandkids, and they couldn’t wait for you to be excited, too.” Her voice is soft, as is her smile, and her hand has drifted towards his cheek.

“Trust me. I am.” He leans in to kiss her, a proper one this time. And it’s amazing and fireworks are exploding behind his eyelids and he hasn’t been this truly happy in...maybe ever and she’s rolling him over to straddle him and her hands are finding the buttons on his shirt, but then, a small voice is shouting outside their (thankfully closed) door to come outside. With a startled laugh, they break apart, jumping up impressively quickly to seated positions on opposite sides of the bed. Amy shouts back at her niece that they’ll be out in just a sec, and she begins searching for the coats and boots that they’d thrown off so hastily last night while Jake frantically buttons his shirt.

“There’s really no way we can get out of going outside?” Jake asks, a little disappointed.

“Remember when you were so excited for the snowball fight?” Amy retorts, a huge grin cracking across her face.

“Yeah, but now there are better things to do!”

And with that, Amy hands her husband his coat and boots, grabs his hand, and drags him to the front door. They emerge with his arm over her shoulder and her arm around his waist (she’ll say she just needs to be kept warm, but really she just can’t stay away from him). They watch on the side for a while, and at first, everyone leaves them alone (or at least, no one throws snowballs at them).

Jake’s so busy looking down at his wife, who’s positively radiant, that he doesn’t notice the sappy grins being thrown their way by every single adult in the clearing.

They stay that way, blissfully unaware of the screaming children and the happy smiles from Mr. and Mrs. Santiago and the high fives Manny and Luis are throwing each other because their baby sister is having a baby, for quite a while.

And then Joel ruins it. “Ay! Peralta! Stop making eyes at your wife and get in here!” And then a large snowball hits Jake’s face.

Jake roars with laughter as he bends down to start making his own ammo, but he’s slow - certainly unused to the speed at which Santiagos can form snowballs. He’s getting pelted from all sides, and the kids have joined in, and one dumped a pile of snow down his back while he bent down to make another snowball and he’s going down.

And then Amy throws a snowball. It hits Joel square in the face, and he backs up, sputtering. Manny starts to charge, but he’s gotten a heaping pile of snow to the face before he can get anywhere near her (she’d shifted while everyone was distracted, placing herself strategically behind her parents and using them as a human shield that none of her brothers could touch). One by one, the Santiago brothers and their spouses go down, their children getting distracted by the prospect of tackling their own parents into the snow. Jake’s more than a little impressed with her accuracy - now he knows why her aim with a gun is so good.

And then he’s able to stand up, brushing the snow off his jacket and shaking it out of his hair but mostly looking at Amy, who’s all sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks as she gives her dad a high five. And then Victor Santiago is pulling his daughter into the tightest hug Jake’s ever seen and if he’s not mistaken a tear is leaking out of his eye (no - he must be mistaken - that’s definitely just melting snow) and Amy’s laughing a little and he can see her lips moving, reminding them that it’s still early and they’re not even supposed to know, but none of it seems to resonate because then her mom’s joined in the hug and Luis has found Jake watching all of this unfold.

“Congrats, man.” He pulls Jake into a quick hug, clapping him on the back before he releases him.

“Thanks,” Jake says, and he’s surprised to hear his voice crack a little bit on the word.

“Yes! I finally got to say it!” Luis shouts so loudly that Jake falls back down into the snow, startled.

Later that night, after the Christmas Eve dinner that was so amazing Jake may never need to eat again and the midnight mass that they all had to traipse through the snowy woods to get to, Jake and Amy finally get to lie down, limbs tangled as she rests her head against his chest. She’s in her flannel pajama pants and his academy sweatshirt, and he’s wearing her family’s reunion t-shirt, and he’s maybe never been more in love.

His wife is already three-quarters asleep - it’s almost midnight, and pregnancy has made her constantly, painfully exhausted. But through the thin walls, the sounds of her siblings putting out presents from Santa drift in, and he can’t help but smile. He’s pretty sure it’s Luis who stubs his toe and lets out a string of Spanish curses, and he’s guessing it’s Alex who shuts him up so abruptly. He laughs a little bit, quietly, and Amy shifts against him.

“Next year, that’ll be us, babe.”

She grins up at him, her eyes heavy lidded and her hair already a little mussed in its ponytail. “Can’t wait.”

#b99 #brooklyn 99 #jake x amy #jake peralta #amy santiago #the entire santiago family #literally the entire gang's here #peraltiago fanfic #my writing #ANYWAY YALL #THE CREEPY CABIN AU DRABBLE TURNED INTO A CHRISTMAS PREGNANCY FIC #AND U SHOULD READ IT

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theoutdoorpursuit · 7 years ago

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The Trials and Tribulations Of a Public Land Hunter: Scouting

I’m entering into my fifth season as a wannabe “Outdoorsman,” still looking for my first successful harvest of a whitetail deer. Until this season, I’ve hunted entirely on private land through friends and family. I still have some private land connections, but they all entail at least a three hour drive. Not ideal for an already seemingly short season.

My passion for hunting has grown considerably each year and as the desire to hunt has increased, I’ve found limited access to huntable properties. My only option, to venture into the public lands offered here in Virginia.

Every hunters heard the horror stories of public land hunting. Wildlife Management Areas (WMAs) woods resembling a pumpkin patch of fluorescent orange on a Saturday morning. Climbing into a tree only to realize there’s someone in it. Fellow hunters passing through during prime hours, blowing up your spot and spooking deer.

We hunt because of our love of nature and the ability to feel secluded in a wild, untouched place. Maybe possible out West, where public land is vast and abundant, but here on the East Coast where demand is high and resources limited, it takes some effort.

From my limited research, good, secluded hunting can be attainable if willing to go the extra mile. I’ve read stories of big, bruiser whitetails deep in Virginia’s George Washington National Forest, where hunters rarely venture. So here I set forth, where most hunters dare not enter, to escape the hunting pressures and search for that elusive feeling of being in the Wild.

As a public lands rookie, it's difficult to find information on where to start, where it's worth actually looking. In a modern age of endless information, one can google damn near anything, but google deer hunting on public lands and nothing. Not a single lead. It was now all to clear to me that good public land intel is top secret stuff. Hunters take that shit to the grave. I was left with one option, to scout hard and hike it out on my own. And so, hike it out I would.

My first scouting trip occurred in July as I headed out to the 1,790,000 plus acres of the George Washington National Forest. Quite a lot of land to aimlessly cover, so better get hiking.

I headed down the scenic Blue Ridge Parkway looking for a spot to hike it out. I’d done plenty of hiking out this way, yet never realized these lands were all accessible to hunters. In a way it was somewhat uncomfortable walking the same trails as hikers. Would these same people be out here in the Fall? What would they say if we crossed paths while fully dressed in camouflage carrying a rifle or bow?

I thought I was getting an early start scouting in July for the upcoming Fall, but I was met with a wilderness completely overgrown in vegetation. Venturing off the trails, that were overgrown themselves, would prove to be quite the task. Off the trail, it looked easy to vanish into the wilderness. Would these same areas be flooded with fellow hunters? Would I be able to find my way back if I ventured deep into the wooded abyss? I pressed on in the humid, Summer heat. It was well over 95 degrees. I continued to trudge through tick infested shrubs and various plants that alarmingly all resembled poison ivy. I swear every plant has three leaves. I plopped down on a log, dripping in sweat as defeat washed over me. What had I gotten myself into?

After an overwhelming trip to the GWNF where my only discovery was the extent I was in over my head, I decided to narrow my search to a couple reputable WMA’s. I had limited experience on WMA’s, a couple squirrel hunts and some days on the rifle range, but it was worth a shot. I had read about one well known WMA. Strict harvesting limitations allowed for one of the best deer populations in the state, or so they said. These restrictions entailed harvesting only bucks with at least four points on a side, yet thankfully doe were still on the menu. Obviously if I had heard about the WMA, it would be known to hundreds of other hunters as well, but the restrictions gave me hope that if luck was on my side, I just might be able to get it done.

With little to no other viable options, I made the hour and a half drive to WMA number one in the end of July, praying that this coming Fall my time and efforts wouldn’t be met with a pumpkin patch parcel of woods, battling hundreds of hunters for a couple of deer.

If you’ve never been on a WMA, they’re relatively difficult to navigate. I entered into the Management Area down a gravel road, looking for the first parking station, driving right past the lot with a wooden bulletin board of announcements and WMA information. As I flipped my car in reverse I looked for the entrance into the gravel lot, yet only saw overgrown grass. I turned into what I thought was an entrance only to be launched forward into a three foot ditched, disguised by tall grass. My Chevy Malibu jolted forward, coming to a thudding halt.

I flipped my car in reverse and hit the gas, but it didn’t budge. The wheels spun and spun. Climbing out of my car, I found it’s front buried into the ditch with only three tires touching the ground, the back driver side wheel a foot in the air. With no cell service and a company car in a ditch, I began to panic. I got back in the car and floored the gas. Nothing. I floored it again. Nothing but spinning wheels. SHIT.

Pausing for a minute to collect my breath, I slowly eased on the gas and turned the wheels back and forth. Bingo. The car slowly popped out saving my ass and most likely my job. Minutes later, as I sat in my car breathing heavily, two guys in a jeep came flying down the gravel road. What an awkward conversation that would have been, had they drove up on a Malibu headfirst in a ditch, in the middle of the day, in the middle of nowhere. If this was any omen to how my time on public land would go, I was in deep shit.

Once I gathered myself and stopped shaking, I decided the only thing left to do was hike. I had come all this way. Seasonal gates were closed for the Summer therefore my only method of scouting would be on foot. So once again, I huffed and puffed through the Summer heat, stopping every five minutes or so to take a refreshing gulp of water from my canteen. I pressed on, through spiderwebs, brush, and briar patches. Although I still wasn’t entirely sure what I was looking for, I gathered a general grasp on the layout of the land. I saw some tracks, found some climbing trees and most importantly saved the trailhead locations on my phone. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

I returned to said WMA weeks later with my good buddy Ed to show him what I’d found and to see if we couldn’t explore further. This would prove easier said than done as Ed had a few too many the night prior. Thankfully, it was a much cooler day as August rapidly approached. 50 or so days until bow season began.

We pressed through the woods, it was nice to have a second eye and someone who had a better idea of what we were scouting. Ed reminded me that the majority of public land hunters would park their truck and fumble about a hundred yards into the woods where they would hang their treestand. All we had to do was think like an overweight, redneck weekend warrior and then go the extra mile. And go the extra mile we did.

Ed was struggling, battling the Summer elements and huffing it through the woods was no easy task, especially after a long night of drinking wine. We spoke little as we marched on, swatting spider webs from our face. The woods were quiet and other than a gaggle of turkeys, seemingly dead.

We came to a bend in the trail when out of the corner of my eye I saw what I thought was a deer. Turning my head, I realized this was no deer, but a young black bear 50 yards from where we stood. Bear was the farthest species from my mind. The WMA’s description had stated that black bear were a rarity, yet here he was. Our first reaction; “Oh shit, where’s mama bear?” but to our relief it was just the young, perhaps year old cub, stealthy passing through the treeline. He paid us no intention, clearly in pursuit of something much more interesting as he trotted along heading towards our intended path. We began to converse loudly in order to announce our presence and not startle the curious cub.

The bear sighting was just what we needed to get our blood pumping and our morale up. Purchasing a bear tag for the Fall season suddenly became intriguing.

We hiked on, down to a river, followed a stream, and located some promising trees. Once upon a time this WMA was a private hunt club. When we discovered trees with indentations resembling marks from old permanent stands, we became optimistic that we had found tried and true spots. Just outside the shaded hardwoods was open brush, prime for bedding. If all went according to plan, the deer would rise and head towards the woods, following the stream line, entering into our field of play.

Now, to find our way back, retrace our steps, and take mental images of our surroundings. Hopefully, come opening day, we would find our coveted climbing trees in the dark hours of the morning. Or perhaps we’d end up fumbling in circles, scrambling to find a tree before the sun beat us up into the sky. Only time would tell.

With my first scouting location in the books, I wasn’t sure whether to feel optimistic or overwhelmed. The important part was that we had somewhere to hunt come opening day. As each Summer day inched towards Fall, I’d visualize opening morning. I’d visualize my tree. I’d also foolishly visualize a monster buck stampeding my way. The chances of killing a big, bruiser deer on opening day in a WMA… slim. The chances of getting lost, striking out, or tangling with other hunters… high. But that’s just public land hunting for you. Still, come October 7th, I’d lace up my boots, spray myself down with scent-away, and nock an arrow. You can’t kill a deer on the couch.

#wma #public land #hunting #scouting #Whitetail #deer

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itsrockysroad · 8 years ago

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Pictured Rocks to Blind Sucker Campground, August 2016

Before the photos, it might be helpful to understand how I came to backpack the Pictured Rocks...

I’m a member of the “Michigan Hiking and Backpacking” Facebook group. One day in July 2016, a guy named Matt posted photos and a trip report to the group from his solo NCT hikes in and around Wilderness State Park. I was doing a little hiking and thought it might be fun to make more friends that are also interested in hiking/backpacking and camping. So, I commented on his post that I’d be interested in joining him on a hike if he ever wanted company. We chatted back and forth for a couple of days and he mentioned that he already had a backpacking trip to the Pictured Rocks planned and that he was looking for someone to join him.

We chatted a lot about the details of the trip mostly via text message. Matt is a strong planner and very good with details (I’m less effective than Matt on both fronts). He had already hiked a few hundred NCT miles by this point and had a great sense of what he wanted to accomplish with the trip. He essentially had the whole trip planned and invited me to join. I couldn’t believe my luck!

Matt and I didn’t even speak by phone before the trip. All of our communications were text message and Facebook messages. We both drove up to the U.P. late the night before our first day. I slept in my car at Straits State Park and he slept in his car at a truck Stop. We agreed to meet early for breakfast at Big Boy in St. Ignace. It was probably one of the most outgoing (at least out of my comfort zone) things I’ve done in recent memory. I walked into Big Boy wondering if I was about to have breakfast with a serial killer. I’m sure Matt probably thought something similar about me.

Seriously, it seemed a little crazy. I drove 250 miles to spend a week in the woods camping with a guy I’d never actually met (or even spoke to on a phone.) We seemed to get along pretty well from the beginning. That week turned out to be a great adventure. Matt and I have since hiked more than 200 miles together on the NCT....

After breakfast, we drove to the Blind Sucker State Forest Campground. We hiked the “Blind Sucker Pathway”. It is a loop that includes a few miles of the NCT and some trail along the Lake Superior shore. It was beautiful and I think I fell in love with hiking in the U.P. that day. The views of Lake Superior were amazing and got even better on subsequent days.

The next day, we drove to the Grand Sable Visitor Center in the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. We picked up our permits, left our cars and caught our shuttle to the Munising Visitor Center. From there, we headed into the park to start our adventure hiking eastward.

Grand Island was ever present in the distance for the first 20 miles of the trip. (The land you can see through the trees below is Grand Island.)

These steps were quite the luxury. In most places, it is all hiker stairs...(roots and rocks.)

Matt decided to get high for this pic. (I’m more leery of heights.)

The river just beyond the Miner’s Castle visitor center: The color of the water in U.P. steams is almost always kind of rusty. The ground water there contains tannin and the color adds to the spectacular array of interesting aspects of the wilderness.

This photo is taken from Miner’s Beach.

There are so many fantastic overlooks and views of the rocks from the trail. This trail is definitely one of my most favorite that I have ever hiked.

The Pictured Rocks Cruise Boats and colorful kayaks were also ever present. They come by every few hours.

This is the mouth of the Mosquito River. We spent our first night camped at the Mosquito River Camp Ground. We had a great camp site with easy access to the river for water. I absolutely love this section of the park. I had day hiked to the Mosquito River a couple of years prior and loved it. It was very exciting to get to backpack there and stay the night.

Broader perspective of the Mosquito River.

The river mouth at dusk.

As the evening wore on, our chance at a full sunset was overtaken by storm clouds rolling in overhead.

Quick shot of me...

You have to look really closely in the photo below, but there is a bald eagle flying just below the tree line at the top of the rocks just left of center.

Matt sitting atop the rocks.

Matt on top of the rocks.

Grand Portal Point is one of my favorite spots along the trail. It is one of the best views on the whole trail, in my opinion.

Chapel Beach looking West.

Chapel Rock. This is one of the best known spots on the trail and yet somehow, I managed to not get any “great” photos of it. This is the best shot I took that shows the whole thing.

The tree on top of Chapel Rock. (See the root leaving the rock below on the middle-right?)

Going from memory, so I’m not completely sure, but I think this is spray falls.

We spent the second night at the Beaver Creek campground. Beaver Creek is below.

There were some bears around, but about all we saw was their leavings.

Beaver Lake in the Beaver Basin Wilderness.

This is the trail from the Beaver Creek Campground to the Beaver Lake.

Camping at Beaver Creek gave me one my favorite sunsets on the trip.

Different perspective, same sunset.

We spent our last night of our Pictured Rocks trip at the Au Sable campground. We were lucky to get there early enough to get to take the lighthouse tour.

A shot from the top of the lighthouse taken during the tour. We were able to walk around the outside of the top.

The Au Sable Light at dusk.

I loved this artifact in one of the buildings at the light station.

Grand Sable Dunes.

The “Log Slide” atop the dunes.

From the top of the dunes looking back at the Au Sable Light. (The little white structure in the photo.)

Me at the completion of the Pictured Rocks hike with the Grand Sable Visitor Center in the background. We finished the Pictured Rocks section on the 100th birthday of the National Park Service. The Park Service provided some very tasty cookies at the visitor center in celebration of its birthday. (They were extra yummy after four days of backpacking food.)

We continued along the trail past the Visitor Center to the Grand Sable Falls. The falls are between the Visitor Center and Grand Marais.

We hiked this a different day, but I moved the photos to match the geographical order. We actually hiked the beach from Grand Marais to the Falls and then back. It was only a mile or so, but it was tough hiking in sand.

This little guy was at the Grand Marais harbor light.

The Grand Marais Harbor Light.

We continued east of Grand Marais towards the Blind Sucker Campground.

This is the Blind Sucker River along the trail. After leaving Pictured Rocks, we spent a night in a hotel in Newberry to get cleaned up. The next night, we moved back outside to stay at the Blind Sucker State Forest Campground (#2). We had a great spot with only a couple of neighbors at the far end of the campground. The campground features large wooded sites with pretty good separation between most sites. Many sites have direct access to the river/lake.

The trail makes its way to the Lake Superior shore in several places along the way. By far, some of my favorite moments on the trail were in the places like this where so few people will ever make their way to see the beautiful views.

One of my least favorite spots was a large section that had been logged. I’m not against logging, but this section was hot without tree cover and it had lots of limbs/litter on the ground that were hard on the feet. We were at least hoping to scare up a bear somewhere in these big open spaces, but alas...no luck....

One of my favorite spots was this little two-track. We saw paw-prints through this space of a mama bear and a cub or two.

Matt has eagle eyes. He spotted so many critters like this little chipmunk along the way. I didn’t even notice most of them until he pointed them out.

Follow the blue blazes.

This gorgeous sunset was taken near the Lake Superior State Forest Campground. I didn’t alter the color in any way. It was a beautiful sunset that we caught as we were driving back to the campground after finishing a hike.

The last section that we hiked was the craziest. It was six or seven miles that ran from the Lake Superior Campground to the western edge of Muskellunge Lake State Park. It hadn’t been maintained in a while. There were literally sections of the trail that had eroded into the lake. Other sections were so overgrown that we were constantly battling our way through the leaves and branches. In many spots, Matt could be twenty feet ahead of me on the trail and I couldn’t see him at all because of all of the overgrown vegetation. It made for an adventurous day of digging our way through the woods. I don’t have much in the way of photos because the trail was kinda bad and I put the camera in a case to focus on finding my way safely. I think it was my least favorite section of the trip.

The photo below was after we finished for the week and were about to head home. It was the selfie to mark our successful week. I’m not sure I’d recommend to everyone to head off to the wilderness with someone you meet online, but I’m really glad I did in this case. Matt and I have hiked several times since this trip including spending another week in the U.P. in October 2016 that covered even more NCT miles. I’ve had so much fun with the adventure, that Matt has inspired me to want to hike even more of the NCT. I’ll be adding more miles in 2017, some with Matt and others and some solo. I’ll definitely be doing the 2017 #Hike100NCT challenge.

This is me walking in to work the next Monday after the trip....Do I look happy? I just keep repeating to myself: “Working pays for hiking trips.”

Rocky’s Recommendations:

1. There’s a common Internet meme that reads, “The comfort zone is a beautiful place, but nothing ever grows there.” I’m happy that I was more adventurous than my usual self. It turned out to be a great experience. I left my comfort zone, made a new friend, had a fun adventure and continue to look forward to future adventures. If you decide to head off into the woods with someone you meet online, perhaps let another friend know your plans and check in with friend on pre-planned intervals so they can send the calvary, if needed.

2. The Pictured Rocks are stunning, but they are also one of the most busy backpacking destinations in Michigan. Go. See it. Enjoy yourself, but know that you will likely not be alone or find a lot of solitude in the campgrounds. I like solitude, but this trip was so epic that I didn’t mind the “cozy” campgrounds full of adventurers. If you are serious about your solitude, the trail east of Grand Marais is a little less scenic, but much quieter and much less traveled.

3. Dispersed camping is not permitted in the Pictured Rocks. All campsites require a reservation. New in 2017, reservations are made online using the web site: https://recreation.gov

4. If you’re a person who “needs” a campfire, know that most camp sites in this park either do not permit fires or only permit a single fire at each campground in a communal fire ring. Each camp site at Blind Sucker had a fire ring.

5. The latrines at the campgrounds we visited are, well, not very well placed for privacy. They are essentially a seat that is next to a tree. Some of the campgrounds have a nearby group camp site. If the group site is unoccupied, you’ll have more privacy if you make your way to the group site latrine. The camp ground at Mosquito had outhouses, but they smelled so terrible, that I just wanted to avoid them. There is a port-a-john at the Au Sable Light House that is about half a mile from the Au Sable camp ground.

6. We enjoyed a beer and burger at the Lake Superior Brewing Company after our hike. The food was good! Stop by and give it a try, but expect it to be busy since it’s the only game in town.

7. Stop by Grand Marais Outfitters. They have a lot of cool stuff, but when I was last there in October of 2016, they sold cool t-shirts with an NCT blue blaze. If you’re an NCT hiker, it’s a cool souvenir option to remember your trip.

8. We spent a night in the Quality Inn in Newberry mid-week. The room was clean and comfortable for a reasonable price.

9. We had a great burger at the Newberry Country Club Woodland Grill/Bar. (It was a quick walk across the road from the Quality Inn.) If you’re in Newberry and hungry for a burger, I’d highly recommend you give them a try. I was a bit leery when our burgers were served on triangle-ish shaped buns, but wow were they tasty.

10. I snore obnoxiously. I always take a container of disposable ear plugs with me when I’m hiking/backpacking so that I can offer them to others that are sleeping near my camp. The earplugs may help keep the peace at night and in the daytime.

11. We used TrailSpotters to shuttle us the 40ish miles from Grand Marais to Munising so that we could then hike back to our cars. The driver was friendly and knowledgeable. The drive went by quickly and I recommend the shuttle service. They also offer emergency pickup/assistance for a much higher fee.

Questions? (Corrections?) Don’t hesitate to reach out to me.

#picturedrocks #lakesuperior #upperpeninsula #hiking #backpacking #beaverbasinwilderness #beavercreek #ausable #mosquitoriver #muskellungelake #grandmarais #camping #puremichigan

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ifplfilm · 8 years ago

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Five Years Later: On Benh Zeitlin’s BEASTS OF THE SOUTHERN WILD

All the time, everywhere, everything's hearts are beating and squirting, and talking to each other the ways I can't understand. Most of the time they probably be saying, “I'm hungry” or “I gotta poop.” But sometimes they be talkin' in codes.

Benh Zeitlin’s 2012 debut film Beasts of the Southern Wild is akin to Steven Spielberg’s E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, but the aliens in Zeitlin’s film are known as aurochs—giant, grunting, hog-like beasts with breath that fogs the air with an almost-visible slime to it. While E.T. represents a friend, the aurochs frighteningly contradict this. Elliot and Hushpuppy—the childhood protagonists of E.T. and Beasts of the Southern Wild, respectively—both utilize the aliens in their lives in order to interpret the world around them. Elliot finds the best friend he’s ever known in E.T. and experiences love and loss over the course of their relationship. Hushpuppy’s relationship with the aurochs is different. She fears them and knows they are coming for her, but she’s struggling to understand what to do when they finally arrive.

Zeitlin regularly disrupts the main narrative of Beasts with images of glaciers collapsing, storm clouds darkening and the aurochs galloping forth as the camera follows them, always traveling right. We know these images are rooted in Hushpuppy’s imagination because the film never once conceals its intention of telling a story completely through its child heroine’s worldview. Just as Spielberg shot low to the ground in E.T. to represent childlike POV, Beasts of the Southern Wild captures the child’s eye through insightful direction, an incredible script (co-written by Zeitlin and Lucy Alibar, based on her stage play, “Juicy and Delicious”), and a magical performance by the inexperienced and then nine-year-old actress, Quvenzhané Wallis.

The abovementioned quote from Hushpuppy opens the film, setting the stage for exactly what we’re in store for. Hushpuppy struts around her home, a post-Katrina bayou community affectionately known as “The Bathtub,” and listens to the heartbeats of birds and pigs. We immediately recognize and relate to the young girl’s curiosity. When things in this world are being interpreted by a mind that has never understood them before, the results can be quite beautiful in their ignorance.

Through a child’s mind, a heartbeat can be translated into wordless communication. A flashing light in the distance becomes a proxy for the mother that Hushpuppy never knew. The imminent storm, and the charging aurochs that come with it, represent Hushpuppy’s fear and confusion over the possibility of losing the one person in life who makes her feel safe—her father, Wink.

I hope you die and after you die I'll go to your grave and eat birthday cake all by myself.

This was the line that destroyed me.

A fellow critic and friend who had already seen Beasts of the Southern Wild at Sundance, aware of my tear ducts’ fragilities, assured me that the film was going to make me weep. But as I sat down to first watch the film in June of 2012, I had no idea how true his premonition would be. The film’s enthralling opening sequence, from its swelling score to its masterful title card shot of Hushpuppy running with fireworks, already had me misty-eyed with joy. The world being molded before my eyes was vibrant in the most original of ways, bursting with beauty and life. The relationship between Hushpuppy and Wink immediately established its visceral parallels to a wolf and cub in the wild. I was fascinated by this universe, but as I became lost in this elation the melancholy carefully plotted its arrival. It showed up a few scenes later like a punch in the gut.

Wink—captured in a tremendous performance by Dwight Henry, who owned and operated a bakery when Zeitlin cast him in the film—goes missing for a day and returns in a hospital gown and bracelet, angry and frustrated. Hushpuppy follows him back home, irking him with questions like “Why are you wearing a dress?” and “You got a bracelet, too?” Wink responds with abrupt assertions to leave him alone. The father and daughter get into a brief scuffle in the woods, which concludes with Wink slapping his daughter in a fleeting instant of frustration. You can immediately see the regretful exasperation in Wink’s eyes as he tries to help Hushpuppy off the ground. She jumps up on her own, says that dreaded line and punches her father in the heart.

Wink clutches his chest and falls to the ground, shaking. I clutched my chest as well, sinking into my seat, sobbing. I became immediately lost in a prism of past and present. I was transported to when I was a child myself, on the verge of adolescence, telling my father that I hated him during an argument, then muttering that I wish he would die as I walked away. It was always just loud enough for him to hear. Just loud enough to hurt him. At the time, this was how I deciphered my anger, and in this scene Hushpuppy proclaims a near-identical interpretation. When you’re young, you don’t usually think twice about what you say. You just say what you feel, even if you don’t understand exactly what it is you are feeling.

In the present, as I sat in a darkened theatre hoping my sobs weren’t noticeable to those around me, my own father was just a subway ride away, lying in a hospital bed, working with doctors to figure out the best solutions for battling the leukemia coursing through his body. I was 21 at the time, and I hadn’t thought about those cruel words I used to say to my dad until the very moment Hushpuppy echoed them back to me. In that moment, I wished I could’ve taken them back, but I knew that was impossible. I wished my father wasn’t dying, but the storm was already taking shape. The aurochs were charging my way, and it was only a matter of time.

You’re my friend, kind of.

A teenage boy runs down the streets of The Bathtub ringing a bell. “The storm is coming!” he yells on repeat. This scene occurs soon after Wink falls down, and Hushpuppy fears that she’s broken both her father and the fabric of the universe. “The whole universe depends on everything fitting together just right. If one piece busts, even the smallest piece, the entire universe will get busted,” Hushpuppy narrates as Zeitlin begins pumping in the imagery. Somewhere, far away, the aurochs have escaped their frozen prison. They are marching Hushpuppy’s way, and they are marching with purpose.

Wink doesn’t die from his daughter’s act of anger, but Hushpuppy has seen enough. “You think I don’t know? You think I can’t see?” she tearfully asks her father in a later scene, followed by the heartbreaking question— “Are you gonna be dead?” Wink assures her that he’s not going anywhere, then the two share a drink and arm wrestle in a scene which feels increasingly affecting as it moves along. The audience and Wink both know that this promise can’t be upheld. Wink’s mysterious malady only grows, reaching its peak once the Bathtub community is forced to vacate the area against their will and take up residence in a shelter— “a fish tank without water,” as Hushpuppy so elegantly puts it. The shelter’s doctors find troubling results in Wink’s blood work and place him under their care. In the film’s most heartbreaking scene, Wink is forced to face the truth with Hushpuppy. “Everybody daddies die,” he tells her, and in that moment it felt like he was speaking directly to me.

Beasts of the Southern Wild is perhaps the greatest film to ever capture the anxiety of knowing you’re on the verge of losing someone you love. Through Hushpuppy’s eyes, the unknown consequences of her father’s looming death are decoded via Zeitlin’s allegoric images. The ice caps melting, her home flooding, the aurochs rising up—this is everything Hushpuppy fears in her life. She also fears the death of her father, but her inability to fully grasp the reality of this profound loss becomes symbolically entwined with the things that already terrify her.

After their escape from the shelter, Wink, Hushpuppy and The Bathtub’s most stubbornly faithful citizens return to their community to care for Wink in his final moments. This is followed by the film’s most magical sequence, which begins with Hushpuppy and three other girls traveling by boat to a floating bar and restaurant on the outskirts of the bayou. Here, Hushpuppy connects with a woman she perceives to be her mother, but as the two dance, the child realizes she needs to go back home. As she is affectionately lifted off the ground by this stranger, she recalls her first memory. Wink holds Hushpuppy as a newborn infant, staring directly into her eyes with love. “I can count all the times I've been lifted,” Hushpuppy says. “I can count all the times I've been lifted on two fingers.”

As our pint-sized warrior marches back home towards her father’s deathbed, there is a previously unseen fearlessness in her eyes. Zeitlin juxtaposes Hushpuppy’s movement with that of the aurochs, who inch closer and closer from behind. The other girls run away screaming, but Hushpuppy boldly turns to face the main beast. It stops and looks down at this little girl staring back up at it, her stance firm and steady. “You’re my friend, kind of,” Hushpuppy tells the beast, recognizing the humanity that can be found in even the most terrifying of things and understanding that even the things she fears most are a part of her.

This image of Hushpuppy squaring off with the aurochs will always comfort me during times of grand anxiety. Hushpuppy carries this all-encompassing strength with her as she sits down at her father’s bedside, feeding him gator bites and sharing a tearful goodbye. She places her head on his chest. She listens to a few heartbeats, and then … silence. Wink is given a burial at sea, pushed into the water on a raft set ablaze as Hushpuppy stands firm, watching her father go. Hushpuppy’s final lines have always resonated with me:

When it all goes quiet behind my eyes, I see everything that made me flying around in invisible pieces. When I look too hard, it goes away. But when it all goes quiet, I see they are right here. I see that I'm a little piece of a big, big universe. And that makes things right.

I carried Hushpuppy’s strength with me eight months later when I sat next to my father’s hospital bed, told him I loved him and cried as I watched him take his final breaths.

The aurochs stood directly beside me.

#beasts of the southern wild #film #cinema #movies

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thehikingviking · 6 years ago

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Alta Peak and Tharps Rock via Wolverton Creek

I woke up tired and sore following our previous day’s hike of the obscure Wren Peak. Asaka and I are typically late starters, and we were having trouble getting ready for our 7AM start time. I was initially inspired by the “Exploring the Southern Sierra” book linked to Bob Burd’s website. The group would be the same as before; Bob, Matthew, Matt, Iris, Scott, Asaka and myself. Bob’s overview of the hike was as follows:

“Sun, Oct 1, Tharps Rock. 6mi, 3,500ft gain. Starting from Wolverton lot at 7a. Almost all on trail. Can add nearby Alta Peak for bonus. We'll bring rope and gear, you should have a harness, and maybe helmet and climbing shoes. It's not a hard climb (low 5th) and only about half a pitch at most. If you need a harness let me know and I'll bring an extra.”

Low 5th seemed like a perfect difficulty for me and Asaka, so we planned to climb it in hiking boots. Shortly after 7AM we headed off on the main trail towards Alta Peak. A few minutes after departing, a climber came hiking out, saying that there was a bear blocking the trail. We had a rather large group, so we proceeded with caution hoping that we would find protection in numbers. A few minutes later we came across a large mother bear with two cubs.

I have been conditioned to be very cautious of mother bears, and rightfully so. The two cubs scampered off the trail and into the forest. Mama seemed content to chew on a pine cone right along the trail. We let her know of our whereabouts but she didn’t seem to care. This is a popular trail,and my friend Tynan saw a bear in the exact same location several years back, leading us to think it was the same bear. We left the trail and took a wide berth through the forest watching the beast carefully.

We did the safe thing and put the ladies in between us and the bear, remembering the utmost important rule of surviving a bear attack; you don’t have to outrun the bear, you just need to outrun the slowest person. We got our fill of the bear then continued along the trail.

Asaka and I were left in the dust immediately, but I didn’t mind. It takes a lot of time to set up a rope, and I figured we would reach the group before it was ready. My muscles were really sore though. I think I was also slightly dehydrated, as I could feel my muscles cramp intermittently when I stood in certain positions. The trail crossed Wolverton Creek a few times on its way to Panther Gap.

We reached Panther Gap, which is the saddle between Panther Peak and Alta Peak. Across the valley to the south were Castle Rocks.

The trail continued east beneath the ridge on a very good trail.

Tharps Rock came into view a couple miles from Panther Gap. It was unimpressive from our current viewpoint. I wondered if the others were already at the base. I thought I spotted a climber leading a vertical crack on the southeast facing wall, but thought my mind was playing tricks on me. I later found out that the others took a more direct route than Asaka and me, but it was all class 3. This could have been them, but I’m not sure.

While we could have headed cross country towards the rock, we followed the trail as far as we could, since hiking on trail is easier than hiking cross country. Asaka was hiking at an extraordinarily slow pace. Once again, Asaka was becoming lethargic and cantankerous. Like most of our recent hikes, she was getting mad at me for hiking at a slightly faster pace than her, yet insisting that I continue without her. This was a frustrating quandary, but I patiently dealt with her despondent demeanor knowing that we were less than a quarter mile away from the climbing section. I was now concerned that the others were already climbing, and felt I was riding the fine line of being slow enough for Asaka yet fast enough to not hold back the group. We left the trail and headed west towards the rock formation. After some easy class 3 on the northwestern side of the ridge, I came over a rock formation and found Bob in a precarious position on the vertical wall.

It looked a lot tougher than the 5.4 I was promised. I had anxiety watching Bob dangle below the crux. He was stymied by the vertical nature of the smooth final 8 feet of granite. He looked for an alternate route, momentarily disappearing behind the rock to the left.

He came back into view unable to find an better route. Scott was confident he could bypass the crux, so the group sent him up. Scott was able to stem the last portion of the rock, making it look easy, and made it atop the rock successfully.

Scott had never placed protection before, so I was a little concerned that it wouldn’t hold in a fall. Bob went up next, followed by Iris and Matt. They all had climbing shoes and made it up without issue. I was eager to give it a shot, not knowing if I would be able to stem like the others in my bulky mountaineering boots.

The first two thirds of the climb was manageable. There were enough cracks and holds for me to awkwardly inch my way up. I felt the pressure of everyone watching me. I found myself rushing, which tired me out.

My hands started to go numb in the cold shade. As I split my legs further apart, I started to cramp on the wall. There was no place to properly recover, so I fought through the sharp muscle contractions.

I was so close to the top, however the most difficult part remained. I found myself stuck. I took pointers from Matthew, which did help. I told Scott and Bob to keep the rope tight. In almost an act of desperation, I tried a move that had a low probability of success and ended up slipping.

Luckily, the anchor that Scott left above held firm, and the fall was arrested. I fell only a few inches, got back on the wall and tried again. With a little more patience, I was able to somehow slither my way up the edge. I got off belay, then settled myself on a rock next to the action. Up next was Asaka. I was concerned because she had shorter reach and even worse boots than me. While my boot had a stiff sole, her’s had a flexible sole. She did very well however, even better than me.

I cheered her on and offered words of encouragement. She took her time, and she too eventually made it up. The last to climb was Matthew, but he is a very strong and experience climber. Without concern, I walked the remaining distance to the top.

To the immediate northeast was Alta Peak.

To the east were the Great Western Divide and the Kaweah Range.

Zoomed in was the infamous Black Kaweah.

The Great Western Divide continued to the southeast. Sugarbowl Dome stood below in the foreground.

To the southwest were Paradise Peak and Castle Rocks.

To the west was the San Joaquin Valley.

To the north was Mt Silliman, mostly blocked by the Alta Peak ridgeline.

We headed back towards the others where we left a register. We concluded that the pitch was somewhere between 5.7 and 5.8. I would side on the latter estimate. I expect someone had climbed this feature in the past, but you never know. This was a good distance from the parking lot and climbers are lazy.

We set up a rappel station in a different location than where we climbed. It was a short and uneventful rappel.

Everyone safely gathered down at the notch. Matt had to be somewhere so he took off down the trail. Bob and Matthew already hiked Alta Peak and had no interest to continue. Rather than take the trail, they took a direct route straight down the western slopes of the peak. Iris and Scott wanted to continue to Alta, so the four of us hiked the remaining half mile up the trail to the SPS peak.

We started to run into other hikers now, most of them novices.

The summit block was class 3. We scampered up to the top and took in the views, which were similar to Tharps Rock. Asaka was once again in a good mood, and everyone was happy.

To the northwest was Mt Silliman.

To the north were the Tablelands.

To the northeast was Skiers Alta, also known as Winter Alta.

I really wanted to hike this peak as well, but I was out of gas. It looked like slightly over a mile of off trail hiking one way. The ridge looks gentle, but by no means flat. We would claim two summits that day, with neither having more than 300 feet of prominence.

Again the Kaweahs dominated the eastern views.

To the south was the Mineral King area.

Back towards the west was Tharps Rock, a feature definitely worthy of climbing.

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We chatted for a while with Scott and Iris then headed down the trail.

I also considered climbing Panther Peak which lies less than a mile from the trail, but again we were too tired.

We did our best to stay ahead of Scott and Iris but they eventually caught us. We let them pass but tried to stay close to them. My feet were absolutely killing me. This was the hike that finally convinced me to use my trail runners in the Sierras.

We reached the car and began the long drive back home. After struggling so much over the past two days, I realized that I was not in as good of shape as I thought I was. I need to start pushing the limits if I want to keep up with the best.

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