Difference between revisions of "2011-09-15 43 -118"

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[[File:2011-09-15 43 -118 night.JPG|thumb|left]]
  
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Remove this section if you don't want an image at the top (left) of your report.  You should remove the "Image:" or "File:"
 
tag from your image file name, and replace the all upper-case word IMAGE in the above line.
 
 
And DON'T FORGET to add your expedition and the best photo you took to the gallery on the Main Page! We'd love to read your report, but that means we first have to discover it!
 
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{{meetup graticule  
 
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__NOTOC__
 
__NOTOC__
 
== Location ==
 
== Location ==
<!-- where you've surveyed the hash to be -->
+
 
 +
In the Malheur Wildlife Refuge, about 25 road miles SSE of Burns.
  
 
== Participants ==
 
== Participants ==
<!-- who attended -->
 
  
== Plans ==
+
*[[User:Michael5000|Michael5000]]
<!-- what were the original plans -->
 
  
 
== Expedition ==
 
== Expedition ==
<!-- how it all turned out. your narrative goes here. -->
 
  
== Tracklog ==
+
This was kind of an archetypical geohashing expedition, combining the best elements of everyday adventure and mild madness.
<!-- if your GPS device keeps a log, you may post a link here -->
+
 
 +
=== EVERYDAY ADVENTURE ===
 +
 
 +
The Expedition started from the town of Burns, and I took my time getting started too after having driven many miles already to get to my motel.  But as I started out for the hashpoint, about twenty-five miles away, I noticed that the sun was already rolling over the horizon.  This seemed strange, but it’s September and I’d been spoiled by longer days, and for that matter was pressed up on the eastern edge of my time zone.
 +
 
 +
By the time I turned off the highway, it was quite dim, and when the road turned to gravel it was really quite “night.”  But I continued on.  The track that led up to the hashpoint turned out to be mostly two ruts with a high center; I drove up it perhaps a half-mile but got to the point where going further without four-wheel drive seemed like a bad idea.  That left me with about 2/3 of a mile to go.  I made a 43-point turn to get the truck pointed in the right direction, and started walk/jogging up the track.
 +
 
 +
At the top of a long rise, there was some sort of large water tank, and the final eighth of a mile required going overland through a mix of waist-high prairie and clear patches.  Hoping not to step into any holes or onto any rattlesnakes, I kept following the GPS until it told me I was in the right place.  From the hashpoint, no lights were visible except a thin streak of fading sunset, a lightning storm way off to the east, and a passing small plane in the distance.
 +
 
 +
=== MILD MADNESS ===
 +
 
 +
I feel a certain sense of urgency when I’m pursuing a hashpoint which is all the stranger for being so very, very artificial.  I relish the blend of planning, problem solving, and creative visualization that makes for a successful expedition.  On difficult hashes, there’s a complimentary sense of braving and surviving mild danger, which is always a rush.  But is it rational?  After all, there were any number of points on this night’s venture that could have left me, though probably not dead, at least profoundly uncomfortable and unhappy with myself.
 +
 
 +
1) Why did I not turn back when I realized the sun was setting?  At the hashpoint, I was in an empty grassland at night.  I used the tracking feature on my GPS to get back to the little road, which was at least somewhat visible.  What if my batteries had gone dead?  My odds of getting back to the truck before dawn would have been… good.  But not great. 
 +
 
 +
2) Once back in the truck, I was really counting on the engine to start.  It did.  If it hadn’t, I would have been up a trail, up a gravel road, maybe eight miles from the nearest known building with people in it.
 +
 
 +
3) And it’s interesting that I’m taking the truck on wilderness roads again, so soon after I had a flat tire deep in the woods.
 +
 
 +
4) Rattlesnakes.
 +
 
 +
5) And even once I was back in the truck, my worries weren’t completely over.  After twenty-seven miles of driving, I got to the nearest service station.  My receipt said that 11.999 gallons went into my 12-gallon tank, and although of course you can get a little more than 12 gallons into a 12-gallon fuel system, I couldn’t have had more than about a 15-mile margin of error.  That’s cutting it way too tight in such a remote area – except, I hadn’t wanted to fuel up at the beginning of the expedition, once I realized I was running out of light.
 +
 
 +
=== SO WHAT I’VE BEEN WONDERING IS: ===
 +
 
 +
Is it maybe a good, life-affirming, self-empowering thing to occasionally put oneself into a situation of calculated risk, in a society that has genuinely minimized certain forms of danger and deeply deludes itself about most of the others?  Or is it irresponsible foolishness, blatantly unfair to everyone who depends on me and anyone who might have to face the inconvenience of assisting me, to willfully put myself in the possibility of harm’s way?
  
 
== Photos ==  
 
== Photos ==  
<!-- Insert pictures between the gallery tags using the following format:
 
Image:2010-##-## ## ## Alpha.jpg | Witty Comment
 
-->
 
 
<gallery perrow="5">
 
<gallery perrow="5">
 +
File:2011-09-15 43 -118 way in.JPG|It's awfully dark as I leave the Geohashing Expedition Vehicle.
 +
File:2011-09-15 43 -118 I'm there.JPG|Success!
 +
File:2011-09-15 43 -118 night.JPG|The view from the hashpoint... with a long exposure time.  It wasn't really this bright.
 +
File:2011-09-15 43 -118 way out.JPG|Making my way back to the G.E.V.  I couldn't see it until I was 33 steps away.  And it's white.
 
</gallery>
 
</gallery>
  
== Achievements ==
+
==Achievements==
{{#vardefine:ribbonwidth|800px}}
 
<!-- Add any achievement ribbons you earned below, or remove this section -->
 
  
 +
*Second Geohash of the [[Buchanan, Oregon]] graticule (for me, and for anyone).
 +
*Second Expedition of the [[Endurance Geohashing]] series.
  
<!-- =============== USEFUL CATEGORIES FOLLOW ================
 
Delete the next line ONLY if you have chosen the appropriate categories below. If you are unsure, don't worry. People will read your report and help you with the classification. -->
 
[[Category:New report]]
 
 
<!-- Potential categories. Please include all the ones appropriate to your expedition -->
 
<!-- If this is a planning page:
 
[[Category:Expedition planning]]
 
-->
 
 
<!-- An actual expedition:
 
 
[[Category:Expeditions]]
 
[[Category:Expeditions]]
-- and one or more of --
 
 
[[Category:Expeditions with photos]]
 
[[Category:Expeditions with photos]]
[[Category:Expeditions with videos]]
 
[[Category:Expedition without GPS]]
 
-->
 
 
<!-- if you reached your coords:
 
 
[[Category:Coordinates reached]]
 
[[Category:Coordinates reached]]
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+
{{location|US|OR|HA}}
 
 
<!-- or if you failed :(
 
[[Category:Coordinates not reached]]
 
-- and a reason --
 
[[Category:Not reached - Mother Nature]]    when there is a natural obstacle between you and the target
 
[[Category:Not reached - No public access]]  when there is a man-made obstacle between you and the target
 
[[Category:Not reached - Technology]]        when you failed get your GPS, car, bike or such to work
 
[[Category:Not reached - Did not attempt]]  when you went to an alternate location, or decided early on to abort the expedition.
 
-->
 

Latest revision as of 00:50, 13 August 2019

2011-09-15 43 -118 night.JPG
Thu 15 Sep 2011 in 43,-118:
43.2325165, -118.8349738
geohashing.info google osm bing/os kml crox



Location

In the Malheur Wildlife Refuge, about 25 road miles SSE of Burns.

Participants

Expedition

This was kind of an archetypical geohashing expedition, combining the best elements of everyday adventure and mild madness.

EVERYDAY ADVENTURE

The Expedition started from the town of Burns, and I took my time getting started too after having driven many miles already to get to my motel. But as I started out for the hashpoint, about twenty-five miles away, I noticed that the sun was already rolling over the horizon. This seemed strange, but it’s September and I’d been spoiled by longer days, and for that matter was pressed up on the eastern edge of my time zone.

By the time I turned off the highway, it was quite dim, and when the road turned to gravel it was really quite “night.” But I continued on. The track that led up to the hashpoint turned out to be mostly two ruts with a high center; I drove up it perhaps a half-mile but got to the point where going further without four-wheel drive seemed like a bad idea. That left me with about 2/3 of a mile to go. I made a 43-point turn to get the truck pointed in the right direction, and started walk/jogging up the track.

At the top of a long rise, there was some sort of large water tank, and the final eighth of a mile required going overland through a mix of waist-high prairie and clear patches. Hoping not to step into any holes or onto any rattlesnakes, I kept following the GPS until it told me I was in the right place. From the hashpoint, no lights were visible except a thin streak of fading sunset, a lightning storm way off to the east, and a passing small plane in the distance.

MILD MADNESS

I feel a certain sense of urgency when I’m pursuing a hashpoint which is all the stranger for being so very, very artificial. I relish the blend of planning, problem solving, and creative visualization that makes for a successful expedition. On difficult hashes, there’s a complimentary sense of braving and surviving mild danger, which is always a rush. But is it rational? After all, there were any number of points on this night’s venture that could have left me, though probably not dead, at least profoundly uncomfortable and unhappy with myself.

1) Why did I not turn back when I realized the sun was setting? At the hashpoint, I was in an empty grassland at night. I used the tracking feature on my GPS to get back to the little road, which was at least somewhat visible. What if my batteries had gone dead? My odds of getting back to the truck before dawn would have been… good. But not great.

2) Once back in the truck, I was really counting on the engine to start. It did. If it hadn’t, I would have been up a trail, up a gravel road, maybe eight miles from the nearest known building with people in it.

3) And it’s interesting that I’m taking the truck on wilderness roads again, so soon after I had a flat tire deep in the woods.

4) Rattlesnakes.

5) And even once I was back in the truck, my worries weren’t completely over. After twenty-seven miles of driving, I got to the nearest service station. My receipt said that 11.999 gallons went into my 12-gallon tank, and although of course you can get a little more than 12 gallons into a 12-gallon fuel system, I couldn’t have had more than about a 15-mile margin of error. That’s cutting it way too tight in such a remote area – except, I hadn’t wanted to fuel up at the beginning of the expedition, once I realized I was running out of light.

SO WHAT I’VE BEEN WONDERING IS:

Is it maybe a good, life-affirming, self-empowering thing to occasionally put oneself into a situation of calculated risk, in a society that has genuinely minimized certain forms of danger and deeply deludes itself about most of the others? Or is it irresponsible foolishness, blatantly unfair to everyone who depends on me and anyone who might have to face the inconvenience of assisting me, to willfully put myself in the possibility of harm’s way?

Photos

Achievements