The Mining Congress Journal

HELLO Sorry about the gap - a moose chewed through my Ethernet Cable. Ask Joe Coope.

I traveled from Seattle to Battle Ground on the haunches of my trusty Greyhound. There I stayed with my friend Emily. We went hiking up the nearby Mt. Dog, during which we saw a black bear cross the path 50ft in front of us. He didn't see us. Later we caught a ride to Twin Falls (a town in Idaho, sort of in the middle of nowhere) with a friend, Sarah, who was starting a new job there, looking after a 'historic' house full of stuff from the 1800s - old furniture, ancient clothing including a top hat and awesome buffalo fur coat which weighed a ton, loads of old photos, an old organ and, incredibly, a Stradivarius violin which Sarah's gentleman friend, Richard, decided to tune much to my anxiousness, as I could see it exploding. All the old crap and the strange noises the house made lent it a creepy atmosphere (the owner had even made a sign outside by threading straw through a wire fence, reading: 'STRICKER HOUSE YOU ALL COME IN', to our horror). In order to 'dispel' any ghosts and ensure Sarah future good nights' sleep we held a seance. Nothing happened. We also went on a hike and saw a rattlesnake. Sorry about the short desription - it was a rattlesnake, it was curled up, it didn't spring out and bite anyone on the face. It didn't even rattle. There.

Emily and I decided to hitch to Yellowstone; home of Yogi the bear and Bobo. We had giant packs with us. Our most notable ride was probably with a guy called Gerald, an ex meth addict who aproached Emily while I was in the toilets when she wasn't even holding up a sign. Hmm! We had been stranded at a trucker stop for 2 hours so we rode with Gerald to Pocatello and he turned out to be fine, apart from walking in a 'wiggly' way and talking rather fast. I had my blade on me anyway and knew could stick him at any time*. We then got in a strange series of mini-rides, each one inching us closer to Yellowstone by about 30 miles, so it ended up taking all day. The last ride, with an old couple from South Carolina called Martha and Jim, was comfortable and excellent in every way. It was like getting a lift from your grandparents (I imagine). When we got into the park they gave us a tour and Martha got all excited pointing out each animal and then referring us to her diagram of all the animals.

Yellowstone national park is fun. My bowels, having only recently recovered from the gastronomic tribulations of Mexico, were again thrown into disarray by the sheer fear of the animals romaing around the place. This park feels like safari - everyone is driving around and the beasts roam free; there are no fences. Add to the mix that these beasts range from innocuous - a bluebird here and there, maybe a chipmunk - to life threateningly savage - the Bison, the Moose, the Bears - and hitch-hiking becomes a bit more scary. Posters warning of the dangers of Bison show bovine lovers beaing tossed through the air like rag-dolls. Being repeatedly pressed to purchase 'Bear Spray' did nought to calm my nerves. You'll definitely need some.

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Camping In Yelowstone Hints & Tips!

- Pick every individual spilled oat from the crevices in your bag (FOOD AND FOOD ODOURS ATTRACT BEAR) only to find in the morning that you left the orange peel and condensed milk (incidentally every bear's second favourite food, refer to picture) in the side pocket.

- Try using your folded up cut-offs as a handy and portable pillow!

- After three nights of using your folded up cut-offs as a handy and portable pillow they will become damp and soggy. Think of this as training and imagine your unbridled joy when you can put your head on a plump, dry, substantial pillow again!

- Be prepared for your initial enthusiasm for camping to sour and erode. This is normal. Maybe you will reach your breaking point after the condiment sachets you stole from the cafeteria explode inside your bag, coating everything around them with a liquidised blue cheese.

- When (and this will definitely happen) you are woken by a bear's paw protruding into your tent, gently patting down your sleeping bag and inching closer and closer towards the last of the peanut butter, begin slashing at it with your knife! That's what you brought the knife for isn't it?? Slash away! Now get up and run, slowing the beast by tossing the condensed milk into his path if needs be. Run to the nearest Recreational Vehicle and issue a phrase (it's best to steer clear of good proper English, i.e., 'sound the alarm! An ursine juggernaut did essay to sup upon my person!', for this will simply not compute with these rural holidaymakers. Instead, try: 'Aaarrggh! Goodam bear tryd'a kill me!'). Repeat if required.

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On the second day we took on a huge hike. I had been wondering why everyone had a car and whenever staff found out we were Hiker Bikers they looked surprised and almost ... sympathetic. Turns out hiking around Yellowstone is sheer insanity. Our hike, from one camping area to the next, was 15 miles and involved: stomping through piles of snow, squishing through marshland, being attacked by clouds of gnats, climbing over innumerable felled trees, wading and jumping over rivers and streams, walking along balancing beam-style logs over fast moving rivers, slipping on wet mud and stones, getting lost, and feeling the need to be talking or singing constantly to ward of bears, moose, bison and the like. This was still a lot of fun, but at the end there was an extreme sense of relief. The whole next day was spent recovering.

We were picked up by an elderly brusque man named Bob on our way our of Yellowstone. Bob claimed to have climbed to the summit of Mt. Hood at the age of 14, where he secured a job with the Park Service taking loads of stuff from base to summit 100 lbs at a time. I say 'claimed', but it was hard to doubt Bob, even when his tales became quite incredible. He told us he had once earned money by entering Bears' places of hibernation - I like to imagine a nice dank cave - and recording their temperatures with a rectal thermometer. If this is true - which I believe it is (Bob's descriptions were very casual and had a certain abruptness which somehow leant them credibility) - then it not only shows Bob has balls of pure woven titanium, but also that there is a certain demand for information specifically regarding the subtle fluctuations of temperature in hibernating Bears' rectums. I talk as if I know a bit about unconscious bear-butt temperatures. I don't; for all I know they could fluctuate wildly. You'll just have to accept I'm winging it on this one. Bob turned out to be a bit of a legend, letting us stay at his fishing lodge and feeding us barbecued chicken.

The hitch-hike from West Yellowstone (the town on the outskirts of the park) was more straightforward than on the way in. Most of the ride was spent with a lovely Mormon guy called Brandon who resembled mid 90s era Bruce Willis. He grew up in a town of 400-odd people, had four little boys and was a cherry and apple farmer. Despite this seeming bumpkin-ish-ness he was very well informed about, well, everything. At the age of 18 he went on a Mormon evangelical mission to S. Korea where he learned Korean from scratch and went around door-stepping people for TWO YEARS. I found this flabbergasting. As I listened to him I am almost ashamed to admit his positivity and soothing conversation lulled me into what I can only describe as a 'spiritually calm place' (/mystical stupour), almost as if he had been delivering a sermon ingeniously disguised as a methodical rundown on the ins and outs and technicalities of modern-day apple farming. We stopped talking and I looked out at the Idaho countryside for a while, which is quite pretty by the way. Endless lush green potato fields give way to sagebrush and wild antelope as you drive north. There is a dormant volcano and large interesting clouds which are apparently a permanent feature. I saw a big dog cloud that looked like Snowy from Tintin, slowly deforming, which led me to thinking of the recent marmite Jesus sighting in south Wales (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/wales/8071865.stm), which led me to thinking about scores of crumpets and slices of buttered toast with intricate burn marks and drips of butter depicting (in divine realism) images of Jesus, Mary, Joe Smith, Vishnu, Thor, maybe even God himself, or any other saints, deities or heavenly messangers you could care to think of, sitting on tables and in toasters, waiting patiently to be discovered, only to be swiftly and blindly ruined by a few masticatory motions of a hungry schoolboy or somebody.

I go to Alaska in a few days to work for the first time in 6 months. I'm scared. I hear there are unlimited free donuts.

The Happy Ignoramus.

*Joke. Well, I did have a knife, for the camping an'all.