Snoopin’ with the Snoop

When in doubt, follow the cow path. Yep, today the cattle footprints led us down to our campsite from off of a high plateau. We had found a massive stand of Athel around 2 pm, and had to make sure that we were back at camp before dark fell at 4:30p. When 3:30p rolled around, we had the choice between navigating the mud and salt cedar by following the river home, or by going up and down the slopes and hoping that there was a quick way down to the campsite. (On Map 3 » of the LMNRA, the port-a-potty we passed about mid-day is marked if you look south of Rd 113.)

I had been up on the left side of the camp on the rocks along the river when we arrived at camp the first day and was certain that we’d hook up with those rocks and be able to find our way down. Our path did not meet those rocks; we were higher; but the cows showed us. I wonder if we were perhaps following a goat path as some places were narrow for me to walk, and I’m a skinny person to begin with, much less in comparison with a cow.

The Athel we are eradicating looks like a pine (as opposed to cedar or juniper) but is actually a flowering plant, and it makes the wind sound the same whushshhsh as the trees back home. Our 10-person crew has split into two groups this tour, enabling us to cover more area. My coworkers and I hiked between four and six miles today along the high water mark where Athel grows in the land around Fisherman’s Cove. Rarely does Athel root anywhere lower or higher than the high water mark, according to our project partner.

In one bay area where we worked, I felt as if I were underwater the entire time I was in a particular spot and felt quite unsettled. After moving on to a different tree, the feeling faded.

I think I may have just heard a cow. Something made a strange noise.

I’m quite thirsty. Where did I put my water bottle?

My toes have been cold all day, probably from a lack of circulation from the combination of layered socks and my shoes. Now that my shoes are off, my toes are still cold from the air. The rest of my body is absorbing the chill, so I will end for tonight. Oh, I really want my own hatchet, by the way.

We’re camped out at Fisherman’s Cove for this tour, which is off of road 113 from Mesquite, NV. 113 is a 4×4 access only road and dead-ends in the Cove, which is quite near the Muddy Virgin River, and in high water years is under water. Map of the Overton Arm » of the Lake Mead National Recreation Area shows Rd 113.

I’m trying to negotiate my way into being on the southern crew as a member of the staff since I can no longer be an Americorps member after this term is over. Chad said it rarely happens, but it has happened, and I see no good reason why it shouldn’t be available for me. Adam would be my supe on the Southern Crew, and he said he’d love to have our entire crew with him. I’m very much in love with my job. We’ll see if “in love” becomes “love.” I don’t want a leadership position within a crew yet but would not be against taking one on at a later date.

The land out here is open range. (The Bundy’s again.) They are quite possessive of land that the government took back from them from lack of paying taxes or something like that, and they are listed as an environmental hazard on our daily safety sheet (in jest). We saw some of their cattle on the way out here, and our kitchen is set up on some cattle footprints. Well-traveled cow paths mark some of the easiest routes to the river.

I am getting chilled, and my throat is asking for sleep.