Caution: Bison are WILD animals
A male bison. Big, majestic and not something to mess with.
So I’m looking through stories on The Associated Press wire and an item out of Yellowstone National Park caught my eye.
A 55-year-old man was in the park and had approached a bull bison to take a photograph of the animal. He got within 10 feet of it before the bison charged and gored him.
Thankfully, the man’s injuries were not life-threatening, the AP report said. But he suffered a puncture wound in his left leg.
Ten feet. Seriously, if you see a strange dog who isn’t wagging his tail at you as you approach, don’t you usually stay away? Especially if the dog is pretty big?
Yellowstone has long been famous for its animal encounters. The trouble is, wild animals are unpredictable. And that’s why park officials require visitors to stay at least 75 feet away from bison.
I bring this up because for a couple of reasons. First, Yellowstone is a popular destination for all Americans, Oklahomans included (I’ve been there twice).
But second, and most importantly, Oklahoma has its own wild bison population. In the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge, bison roam freely. There are scores of them, and you can’t hike the trails there (or even drive through) without seeing them.
Still more graze in the Tallgrass Prairie Preserve near Pawhuska.
The temptation is to stop, whip out the camera and get as close as you can for a really good picture, something akin to what professional wildlife photographers get.
Keep in mind those photographers are using high-powered lenses and are shooting from a safe distance. You really don’t know what the animal is thinking. Bison can weigh up to a ton, so they generally don’t feel threatened by a person or two. But if that bison is spooked, in rut, protecting another bison or just isn’t in a very good mood, it can turn on you. They can run up to 30 mph, so there’s no outrunning an angry bison.
Stay a safe distance from wildlife, bison or not. Don’t feed them, touch them, or do anything else you might do with your pet. Don’t get me wrong, if you see a bison or some other cool wild animal, admire it from a safe distance but otherwise leave it be. I’d hate for any of you to become a headline.
Bob Doucette
bdoucette@opubco.com
Trip report: Wheeler Peak, N.M.
Ben and Kendra Grasser, by a waterfall low on the trail.
NOTE: This is the third in a three-part series on Rocky Mountain peaks. Parts 1 and 2 were Quandary Peak and Mount Bierstadt in Colorado. Today’s installment is Wheeler Peak in northern New Mexico. All photos by Ben Grasser.
It had been four years since I’d been to Wheeler Peak, New Mexico’s highest point tucked away in the southern Sangre de Cristo Range not far from the ski towns of Taos and Red River. Wheeler Peak doesn’t have the dramatic profiles of many of its northern neighbors, but it is special to me. This was the first 13,000 foot+ mountain I’d ever summited.
Years later I was back, taking my wife Becca, her sister Liz and two friends, Ben and Kendra Grasser, into the wilderness area surrounding the peak’s gentle but scenic slopes. For all four of them, this would be their first time on a big mountain, the first time they’d been this high.
Beautiful flora, like this fungi, were everywhere.
At first glance, there’s not a lot about the mountain that inspires awe, like the Crestones further north with their sheer faces or the inherent danger and climbing challenge of Little Bear Peak. Wheeler Peak’s 13,167-foot summit is essentially a high point on a long ridge. The route is a gradual one with an excellent trail all the way to the top.
Those looking for an adrenaline rush would be missing the mountain’s other charms. Above the lower portions of the trails snaking up its flanks are truly wild places, gorgeous vistas and plentiful wildlife. The high parts of the mountain are in a wilderness area, and given the length of the routes from the Red River side of the mountain, Wheeler offers its visitors a real chance to avoid crowds and experience the alpine environment free of the hordes of hikers that tromp through other mountain areas.
Two routes up Wheeler can be accessed through Red River. The East Fork Trail is the longest — 20 miles round trip, something I did in 2003. We did that in a day, packing light and moving fast. This time, we chose the Middle Fork Trail — slightly shorter at 16 miles total. And we decided to camp halfway up and summit the next day.
Low on the trail, it can be quite busy. Many hikers will go see some of the waterfalls and lakes that are within a couple of miles from the Middle Fork trailhead. As we went up, we were passed by two mountain bikers, powering their way up the broad trail in granny gears before being forced to turn around at the boundary of the wilderness area.
Lost Lake. Great place to camp.
By the time you reach this point, the crowds are long gone. It’s simply too far for most people to go unless they’re more serious about hiking and backpacking. Once we rose above 10,000 feet, we saw no one else until hitting the campsites at Lost Lake. At the time, the forest was quite healthy. Daily rain showers and a good amount of snow in the previous months made the place alive with greenery. On several occasions, we saw flocks of bighorn sheep munching on grasses on the slopes. Flowers and brightly colored fungi dotted the forest floor.
I initially planned to have the group camp at Horseshoe Lake, a body of water about a thousand feet below the summit. But after five miles of hiking with heavy packs, Lost Lake turned out to be our resting place for the night.
This was a good choice. Only two other people were camped there. We had excellent views and the lake itself was a good water source. We set up camp, cooked and took in the alpine night before turning in.
Going up the trail.
For people new to backpacking, sleeping in the rough can be rather unpleasant, particularly at altitude. By now, we were about 10,500 feet above sea level. If you don’t backpack frequently, crawling into a sleeping bag in a tent can be a miserable experience. Let’s just say the girls didn’t sleep well, and between their giggling and whining (plus my tentmate’s snores), no one got much sleep that night. Chalk it up as something funny to remember later on.
We got a late start the next morning. No one was in a hurry to get out of bed. But there was one nice bonus that morning. As I heated water for breakfast, a female bighorn sheep and her lamb casually walked through our camp, barely 20 feet away from us. This memory is just one of the reasons why I love the wilderness.
After we got going, we headed up the trail and approached what looked like the lip of a basin. I knew the area well. Three years before, I was in this exact spot (the East Fork and Middle Fork trails merge just past Lost Lake). Once we got over that lip and through the trees, Wheeler’s summit would reveal itself, towering over a huge amphitheater that surrounds the crescent-shaped Horseshoe Lake.
Horseshoe Lake.
This is an amazing place. The views to the east are spectacular, and the lake itself is a gem. At this point, you’re right at treeline and you can finally see your final destination. We stopped there for photos, water filtration and just to look around. Liz hiked around the lake, then was confronted by an animal separating her from us. It was amusing to see everyone try to figure out what it was. I heard people suggest “mountain lion” and “bobcat” before I got a good look at what turned out to be a pretty small fox. Liz was relieved.
From Horseshoe Lake, we went up the shoulder of the summit ridge, the first part of the route that actually gets somewhat steep. After climbing for a half hour or so, the trail goes behind the ridge for well over a mile, then turns north before switchbacking up to the summit. From there, you can peer down into the Taos Ski Valley or into Red River itself. By following the range north, you can look deep into Colorado.
The summit was a busier place than the trail, and we were passed by a plucky little kid who eschewed the trail and just went straight up the rocks. Becca followed suit, getting weary of following the snaking trail.
Summit view, looking west.
Now for some lessons. I blasted my way up the mountain, but probably should have slowed down for the benefit of the rest of the group and saved a little energy for the 11 miles of hiking we had left to get back to the trailhead. Proper footwear would have been good for Becca. She thought her boots were up for the job, but they clearly weren’t meant for this type of activity. By the time she was done, she had well-worn blisters and a severely aching arch in her foot that would later turn into an injury.
Last, no matter how tired you are, always remember to pack your backpack correctly. When we got back to camp, all of us were worn out but still had to break camp and hoist the big packs another five miles down the hill. I threw stuff in my pack at random, hiked less than a mile and nearly threw my back out. So I stopped, repacked it right, then continued down.
Our late start and backback/boot troubles slowed us down. Becca and I shuffled into the parking lot well after the other three arrived, with the sun already well below the horizon.
Liz suffered least. She’d been training for a marathon, and with the exception of burping up a little stomach acid near the top, she was unscathed. Ben said he’d been seeing spots close to the summit, not a good sign. But he improved greatly as we descended. Kendra had stomach issues that started near the top and ended as we drove out and we were forced to stop so she could go into the bushes to throw up. I already mentioned my back. And Becca, ever the trooper, suffered through her busted blisters and injured foot arch.
A slower pace, better nutrition, better conditioning, proper pack balancing and appropriate footwear would have made the trip less stressful on the way down. But the sights, fellowship and accomplishments left us with a pretty positive experience. This trip was actually in 2006. When we all got together recently, everyone agreed that this was a fun way to spend a Labor Day weekend.
One last note: What I like about this area is its proximity to Oklahoma. From Oklahoma City, it’s about eight hours to Red River. And it’s a great place to break yourself into to backpacking and high-altitude hiking/mountaineering.
Bob Doucette
bdoucette@opubco.com
Trip report: Mount Bierstadt
Mount Bierstadt, near Georgetown, CO.
NOTE: This is the second in a series of Rocky Mountain trip reports. Part 1 was Quandary Peak, Part 2 is Mount Bierstadt and Part 3 will be Wheeler Peak.
Ah, Mount Bierstadt. Much traveled, much maligned, much misunderstood. The 14,060-foot peak about an hour’s drive from Denver has become one of the most popular Colorado peaks to climb, a perfect starting place for people wanting to bag the summits of that state’s highest mountains. So much so that some might argue that ascending its slopes has become cliché.
So that’s the mindset I had, at least to a degree. Much of the time, hiking in the high country boils down to the company you keep, and since I was enjoying this with my two brothers, I was able to put my preconceived notions about this Front Range peak on the back burner. And I’m glad I did.
A closer view of the Sawtooth Ridge.
Yes, Bierstadt can be overrun with people, especially on summer weekends. High traffic means a higher number of careless trekkers who don’t do their part in taking care of the mountain. But when you reach the trailhead and behold the mountain, well, I can’t imagine coming away being anything but impressed.
Mount Bierstadt is beautiful. Its landscape is, in parts, dramatic. And different than most peaks, as it isn’t draped in pines. Instead, its lower slopes are covered with thick willow alders that drink from a network of creeks, lakes and ponds. There’s a few pines, sure, but most of the mountain is without the pine and spruce so common in the Rockies. (Don’t get me wrong, I love pine and aspen forests. I’m just saying, it’s different and not in a bad way.)
Lower slopes on Mount Bierstadt, looking west.
Road construction up Guanella Pass made the going slow, so we got a late start, about 7:30 a.m. From the trailhead, you actually lose elevation as you hike down into the willows and make your way across to the foot of the peak. Not long ago, this was one of the worst parts of the trip, as it meant slogging through alders and tromping through a muddy, bog-infested marsh. No longer. The trail is good and places that used to be difficult passage are now traversed on wood plank boardwalks. I can’t think of a friendlier trail than the low portion of Bierstadt.
At the foot of the peak is a stream crossing at Scott Gomer Creek. You can either hop over some rocks or gingerly make your way across two thin logs. I suggest the former. The trail then rises gently until you get to an outcropping of rocks that makes for a nice spot for photos. Then it gets steeper. As we hiked further, there was a small break of flatter trails, then resumes going up in earnest. By now, the willows are long gone and it’s just tundra grasses and rock. But the trail is still excellent and easy to follow.
The excellent trail on the lower slopes of Mount Bierstadt.
During our occasional stops, I was struck by the contrasts of Mount Bierstadt. Its west slopes are fairly gentle. But the connecting ridge between it and Mount Evans is a rocky, forbidding formation called the Sawtooth Ridge. The ridge can be traversed, but it’s not for the faint of heart. It has relatively high exposure to falls and requires a great deal of scrambling. And it makes for a long haul. For the purposes of our trip, the ridge was just something really cool to look at.
As was the case two days before, I was being outpaced by my brothers. I was slow and steady, but gradually fell about 200 yards behind them. By the time I approached the ridgeline, I was doing the “50 steps and stop” thing again which seemed to help me chew up the route in Quandary Peak days before. I must have passed and been passed by the same people half a dozen times. That pattern would end soon on the final pitch.
Higher on the trail, looking west.
Before that, I have to mention something odd. It’s nothing new to see strange things in the high country. But my brothers and I were a bit perplexed by one climber who was heading up the trail barefoot. I can’t see why this would appeal to anyone, and what it would prove. But it is the weirdest thing I’ve seen on a mountain and made for a good laugh that day.
After awhile, the trail up Bierstadt disappears. To attain the summit, you have to climb over boulders and basically find your own way to the top. For me, this was a reward of sorts. As my brothers Mike and Steve started up the rocks, Mike said this would be where I would gain some ground. “This is his element,” he said.
Torreys Peak and Grays Peak, looking west.
And this turned out to be true. Finding routes, using your hands to ascend — all these things are interesting to me. It was fun, and sure enough, I caught up to them pretty quickly. People I’d been seeing along the way picked their way over the boulders more slowly and were left behind. There were a few patches of snow that had to be crossed carefully, as they were somewhat icy and slick. But it wasn’t anything too difficult.
The final pitch to the summit. The fun stuff!
Greeting me at the top were a number of people and some of the most impressive alpine scenes I’d ever seen. The Sawtooth Ridge on one side, Abyss Lake on another. To the west I could see Grays Peak and Torreys Peak, two other Front Range giants. Further away, I could see Quandary Peak, the mountain we’d scaled two days earlier.
The weather was perfect — light winds, warm temps and bright skies. Marmots and pikas darted about, looking for handouts. And for the second time in three days, the three of us relished in our successful summit bid.
From the summit, looking at the Sawtooth Ridge.
One of the best things about Bierstadt is the forgiving trail on the downclimb. A year earlier, I was punished by Mount Yale’s steep, scree-filled route. Shavano’s rocky trail punished me back in June. And though Quandary was kinder, I still felt beaten down when we’d finished that one.
Not so on Bierstadt. The trail is free of a lot of the loose stones, exposed tree roots and jutting rocks that other trails possess. By the time you cross the creek, the walk is an easy one. I actually felt invigorated when we reached the trailhead parking lot.
Frozen Lake.
Including a few breaks and a good half-hour on the summit, we finished this peak in a little over five hours. The total length, round-trip, is about seven miles.
A hungry marmot. Try to resist feeding them.
Despite the crowds, Bierstadt is a peak I’d recommend, and it’s now among my favorites. But I’d also advise doing it during the week and not on a weekend. Folks had told us that on the previous weekend there were more than 100 people on the summit, and that’s a bit too much.
Bob Doucette
bdoucette@opubco.com
Reader question: How long does that summit bid take?
I got a question via e-mail from Out There reader Brad from Colorado. He writes:
Can you give me an idea of how long your ’round trip’ was?
Brad
Something I neglected in my Quandary Peak trip report. I’m a bit slow on the ascent. We started out at 5:45 a.m. and reached the summit at 9:30, making our summit bid a respectable 3 hours and 45 minutes. Not too bad, considering two of us were flatlanders living at or below 1,000 feet. We spent about 30 minutes on the summit, descending to the flat portion of the east ridge, then took a 30 minute break to eat and rest before heading down again. We reached the trailhead parking lot at 2 p.m., making for a slow downclimb. About eight hours total.
I’ve gone much faster on much longer trips, but I don’t mind taking my time, shooting photos and pacing myself. Others like to blast up the hill, then scurry down quickly. Sometimes this is about beating bad weather. Other times, it’s more of a “workout” mentality that drives people to “perform.”
In any case, I’ll be sure to include time on the next trip report, which will be coming up shortly.
Bob Doucette
Trip report: Quandary Peak
Quandary Peak's distinct east ridge.
Quandary Peak is a mountain I’ve wanted to try for some time. I’ve heard about its spectacular views, its distinctive east ridge and a number of tales from people who have reached its summit.
It’s also a peak that many try as their first. So this made a great place for myself and my two brothers, Mike and Steve, to go up Steve’s first ever 14,000-foot peak.
Quandary Peak is the highest mountain in the Tenmile Range. It’s long east ridge rises from the surrounding terrain like some monstrous whale breaching the ocean surface. Its trailhead is easily found near the highway leading south out of Breckenridge.
Looking back on the trail up Quandary Peak.
Much of Quandary Peak’s route to the top is above treeline. It’s just one of the reasons it’s so intriguing. We started out early, about 5:45 a.m., and began the ascent through the trees. Our pace was decent, not too fast, but it only took us about 45 minutes to pass through the pine and aspen groves that cover the peak’s lower slopes. The trail is well-marked and fairly easy, and even sports a wood-plank bridge that spans a small gully right at treeline.
Not long after hitting treeline, we had our first wildlife encounter. Three white mountain goats stared at us from the rocks above, then moved down across our path before retreating further down the slope. They came within just 20 feet of us, and even with a young one in tow, didn’t seem to fear us much at all. I’ve had similar experiences in other places with deer, marmots and bighorn sheep, but such close encounters never cease to amaze me. Even on a busy mountain like Quandary Peak, there is still enough wildness to satisfy my urge to be free of civilization.
Mountain goats. Photo by Mike Doucette.
Once above treeline, we trudged up the slopes until we reached a flat portion of the east ridge. This comes at a great time. Even though the trail is not steep by 14er standards, it’s still an uphill slog at high altitudes that makes your body beg for a break. A nice easy stroll for a few hundred yards gave us time to contemplate the final pitch.
The summit awaited about 1,000 feet above us. We’d need to pick our way through a rocky trail and over some boulders on the steepest part of the route. As is common on many of these mountains, the route gets steep at all the wrong places — where the air is thinnest and right at the end. We snarfed down a little food, downed some water and headed up.
Quandary's final pitch to the summit.
At this point, it’s no longer a question of hiking for a set amount of minutes before taking a break. Being a flatlander, my body just isn’t accustomed to the lack of oxygen above 13,000 feet. So I resolved to go for 50 steps up, stop, take 10 deep breaths, and then repeat the process. I seem to get stronger at the heights, but I think a lot of that has to do with my slower pace down low and by breaking it up into smaller chunks.
It’s at this point I want to confess something. As much as I try to stay in shape, I found myself being the slowest of the three brothers. And Steve, who’d never done one of these before, had confided that he didn’t get to do much training at all before coming out to Colorado with me. Still, he was strong on the trail and was ascending at an even pace with my oldest brother, Mike, who lives in the Denver area and keeps himself in top condition year-round. I chalk it up to the fact that different people adjust in different ways to altitude, and also that maybe my older siblings just are a little tougher when it comes to getting winded than I am.
The route eases close to the top.
Quandary’s summit pitch doesn’t let up until you get close to the top. There was still some snow, but it was mostly avoided until the final 200 yards or so. At that point, the route eases up. We had to walk on snow, but by now it was hard-packed and level, so it was not unlike walking down a snowy neighborhood sidewalk. I’ll note here that the presence of snow did not require the use of snow gear (ice axe, crampons, helmet, etc.). This is generally true of most Colorado peaks in mid-July.
Mike, myself and Steve at the summit.
Quandary’s summit views are spectacular. To the south, a sharp neighboring ridge acts as a divider between Quandary and four neighboring 14ers in the Mosquito Range. To the north is an amazing (and huge) natural amphitheater filled with snow surrounding a high mountain lake. Back east, you can actually see the road leading to the trailhead. Pike’s Peak is also easily seen to the south. West are still yet more fantastic alpine scenes. High-fives and congrats went all around as we attained the 14,265-foot summit.
It was a bit cold and windy that day, so we ate quickly, drank our fill and started to head back down. We ran into more mountain goats, who this time passed within 15 feet of me.
As time passed and fatigue set in, the trail started to beat up our knees a bit. This is pretty common for me, and one of the reasons I dislike downclimbing so much. I was wishing for a three-mile zipline to the trailhead right about then. But once you get to treeline, the downclimb goes pretty fast. Landmarks abound. And before we knew it, the trailhead parking lot was within sight.
Just one of many spectacular summit views.
I can’t say there’s anything we did that I’d do differently, but I did have one too many layers on that made me sweat a bit lower on the trail. Cold sweat, coupled with lower temps and steady, strong winds don’t make for a good combination. I’d apply that lesson a couple days later.
We celebrated our victory with, of all things, a nap at the lodge and then some fresh chili made by yours truly. Good food, good conversation and good company. I think that’s what makes doing these peaks special.
A couple of closing thoughts. First, I was impressed with the size of the mountain. Viewing it from the road, it looks absolutely huge. Gerry Roach, author and expert of Colorado’s peaks, calls it “the monarch” of the Tenmile Range. It’s easy to see why. Second, even though this is considered an “easier” 14er, I’d warn flatlanders and novices that there’s no such thing as an “easy” 14er. Technical? No. But getting to the top of any 14er is hard work and makes for a long day. Something to keep in mind.
Bob Doucette
bdoucette@opubco.com
Adventure TV: ‘Expedition Africa’
Reality television shows and adventure stories have come to the History Channel in the form of ”Expedition: Africa,” complete with the normal array of real-life difficulties and semi-scripted drama.
The mix is nothing new, and it’s been pretty successful on the Discovery Channel with “Deadliest Catch,” “Everest Beyond the Limit” and “The Alaska Experiment.”
If you’ve seen the show, I’d love to know what you think. Here’s a basic rundown of the show, its main cast and a few thoughts of my own.
The show takes four people with various skills and has them retrace Henry Morton Stanley’s 1871 search for Dr. Stanley Livingstone. The 970-mile journey takes place in Tanzania.
The characters, and a few thoughts on them:
Pasquale Scaturro. He’s a navigator, meaning he’s good with maps, compasses, route-finding and all-around outdoor travel. He’s a take-charge, Type-A guy who is unafraid to ruffle a few feathers. Not a team player and pretty annoying. Not a guy I’d want to be around on any sort of trek.
Mireya Mayor. She’s the only female in the group. She’s a wildlife expert. In my opinion, the most solid member of the cast. Tough, level-headed, able to make peace between bickering parties in the group. She seems like she’d be great on any adventure in wild places.
Benedict Allen. He’s a survivalist. I like how knowledgeable he is about operating in the wilderness. He knows his stuff. He’s a polar opposite of Pasquale, and the two often disagree. I wish he had more of a backbone to stand up to Pasquale’s bullying, which at times puts the group at risk.
Kevin Sites. A journalist who has the least wilderness experience. I don’t have much to say about him other than he seems to be a bit of a liability to the team in terms of what he brings to the table and how he handles wilderness stress.
Reality shows are often about conflict, and this cast has plenty of it. Like I said, Pasquale is a bully and is pretty set in his ways. The other three have a hard time dissuading him when his ideas appear to be going wrong. It’s good there is a peacemaker with wilderness cred like Mireya to smooth things out.
Their treks are fascinating and difficult. I like the fact that the porters and guides are also a major part of the show. And they’re also invaluable helpers to the cast.
Have you seen the show? If you have thoughts, reply here or send me an e-mail. Here’s a link to the show:
http://www.history.com/expedition/
Bob Doucette
bdoucette@opubco.com
Summer adventure: Stories to come!
Sorry I’ve been away for so long. Been climbing in the Rockies. I’ll be back soon with some good trip reports for people interested in going to the high country and getting a little adventure in their lives. I’ll also be checking out activities closer to home.
On tap: Trip reports from Quandary Peak, Mount Bierstadt and New Mexico’s highest, Wheeler Peak. All are fairly close to home and defintely worth experiencing.
Stay tuned!
Bob Doucette
bdoucette@opubco.com
Inspiring story from Kilimanjaro
Read this post about what a group of blind climbers accomplished. Truly great!
Largest Group of Blind Climbers and Youngest Blind Climber Summit Mt. Kilimanjaro
After a year of intense training, Team Kili, a group of blind climbers along with sighted guides from Phoenix-based non-profit, Foundation for Blind Children, reached the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania, Africa on Monday, June 29, 2009.
The entire team of 25 hikers started the trek up Mt. Kilimanjaro on Tuesday, June 22, 2009. Team Kili was guided by Expedition Leader and Foundation for Blind Children board member, Kevin Cherilla, and consisted of 8 blind climbers and 17 sighted guides.
News of the summit traveled fast, everyone at the base of Mt. Kilimanjaro knew of the summit right away because of the unique circumstances of the team; it is unusual for an entire group to make it to the top, unusual for children make it to the top, and unusual for blind climbers make it to the top. Reaching the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro at 19,340 ft. is an incredible feat in itself, but climbing blind is an entirely different story. Team Kili broke two world records by reaching the summit, Largest Group of Blind Climbers to Summit Mt. Kilimanjaro and Youngest Blind Climber to Summit Mt. Kilimanjaro, Max Ashton, son of Foundation for Blind Children CEO, Marc Ashton.
Full details about the entire climb can be read in the blog featured on www.SeeKiliOurWay.org.
Heading out, will be back soon
Headin' to the high country. See you soon!
Well, looks like I’ll be heading into the high country again. Our agenda isn’t set, but I’ll be sure to post some goodies on what we do here. When I get the chance, I’ll post. If nothing else, however, I’ll be back around July 20.
Thanks again for reading, commenting and submitting information for this blog. I have fun putting it together, but it’s you all who make it work. Talk to you later!
Bob Doucette
Going bats: Cool bat experience at Alabaster Caverns July 19
Bats going out for a nightly hunt.
Hey, not every outdoor adventure has to be an epic sufferfest clinging to the side of some sheer rock wall. OK, that was a bit extreme, but it illustrates my point that sometimes experiencing nature doesn’t have to involve some major undertaking or risk life and limb. Just find your way up to Jet on the evening of July 19 and see a pretty fascinating event — a nightly bat hunt at Alabaster Caverns.
By “bat hunt,” I don’t mean people hunting bats. Instead, it’s a colony of bats that live in the caverns going out into the night sky to hunt insects. This is definitely not something you see every day in your hometown neighborhoods or even most state parks. And it’s a great way to experience nature in a completely different way.
A baby bat. It had been rescued.
Here’s some details, courtesy of the state Tourism Department:
Please join Tandy Keenan, Girl Scouts of Western Oklahoma AmeriCorps member and Alabaster Caverns State Park naturalist, on July 19 at the Great Salt Plains State Park in Jet for an evening with bats.
Later, we will step out into the park and see if we can hear bats echolocating as they feed on the massive numbers of flying insects.
The program will begin at 8:30 p.m. and will last approximately 45 minutes. Then, join us at 9:30 p.m. as we listen for hunting bats. You can bring a lawn chair if you’d like.
For more information, please contact Tandy Keenan at (580) 621-3381 or tkeenan@gswestok.org. This free program is open to everyone.
Where to go.
