Bare Bones Camping

I hate paying for camping. The idea of paying money for a picnic table, a fire pit and a manicured tent site just seems wasteful and defeats the point of going camping in the first place. It's not just about the money- although that is a large factor. It's about having a unique experience. It's about communing with nature, and getting off the grid. It's about escaping. Most of the time, my quest for free camping is rewarded with animal sitings, serenity, and a sense of satisfaction you get when you earn something the hard way. However, my stubborn pursuit of free camping has also backfired, leading to some terrifying nights and creepy situations. Recently, I mustered up the courage to revisit a visceral place that I stumbled upon while searching for "new" free camping near Rifle.

Last Fall, I spent a bunch of time in Rifle. Being late in the season, with temps dropping below freezing, I opted to stay at a free, but undesirable place called the Corral. Visible from Grass Valley Road, and instantly muddy if it rains, the Corral offers no protection from ornery locals, or opportunistic thieves. So one evening after climbing, I decided to look for alternative options. I started by going up a dirt road on the opposite side of the road, to the East of the Corral. The road was too rough for my Honda Civic, so I quickly turned around. As the light faded, I drove up another bumpy dirt road for about 50 feet until my headlights hit this...

a pile of deer and elk carnage. Totally freaked out, I did a three point turn as fast a I could and went back to the relative safety of the Corral. With my imagination going crazy, I unsuccessfully tried to sleep. Since that day, I have never been able to enjoy the Corral quite as much.
The place seems more wild, and less relaxing. Every sound has significance. I am on edge. In some strange way, I think this is what I like most about free camping. I want to feel more vulnerable. I want to feel the mystery and power of nature. I want to face my fears. That way, I won't take the next day or the money I save for granted because in a way I earned it.

The Unbearable Camping Situation

Let me start by saying there is something very creepy about most of the free camping in Squamish. Usually, you have to drive down some random dirt road for a quarter of a mile until you reach an extremely dark and heavily wooded clearing. As if seclusion and darkness aren't scary enough, most of the time there's an industrial scrap pile, a shack with shattered windows, a broken down bull dozer, or maybe an abandoned car lurking in the corner. Then you start thinking about the rumors of crazy drug addicts trolling Squamish in search of people to rob. And if your imagination or the druggies don't get you, there's always the bears.

So after looking at horror movie sets for half an hour, we finally found a quiet parking lot on the edge of town near a community of condos. Once I convinced Lee(and myself) that the place was perfectly safe, we went to sleep. Since we survived the first night, we decided to stay there again.

WHAM!!!

On our second morning at the parking lot we got woken up at 5:30am by a very loud noise. At first we thought somebody was harassing us, but after looking around, we found nobody. Then I started to look at what I assumed was a gas tank sitting about 30 feet from our car.


Straining to see in the dusk light, I sensed some movement coming from this object. Upon closer investigation I found that the gas tank was really a...
BEAR TRAP containing a newly captured BEAR!!! The loud noise was the trap door slamming shut.

If you look closely, you can see it's claws sticking out of the cage. They are just right of the yellow sign.

The look of a very unhappy Lee.

On a side note, that week three bears had been captured and killed because a person had been attacked by a bear. Hopefully this bear was simply transported further from civilization. Good luck buddy.