Finally, what I'd been waiting for all summer: a solo overnighter. I knew exactly what I wanted, too. I wanted waterfalls, sweeping meadows, and ridges covered in wildflowers. And, I wanted to climb a mountain.
Some research on the web led me to my destinations: Rachel Lake, then Rampart Ridge, and, finally, Alta Mountain. I was determined to pack light this time, and my backpack ended up, with camera gear, at around 45 pounds. Gone from the pack were the tarp (don't need that AND a tent), extra sweater (forecast was for hot sunny weather), extra pots (only need one), large fuel canister (a small canister has more than enough for several nights), goretex jacket (too hot for goretex -- I'd ended up drowning in my own sweat), and hydrated food (refried beans and my own special dehydrated soup recipe, plus some gorp and pita bread, were all I needed). I still carried all the camera gear, but had it attached to clips on the backpack instead of wrapped around my back. It was infinitely more comfortable.
The official plan was to hike up to Alta Mountain on Friday, and spend Friday night at or near the peak to capture excellent sunset and sunrise pictures. The next day I'd spend wandering around Rampart Ridge and possibly spend another night in the woods if my food held out and I was having fun.
I arrived at the trail head around 9 am. There were already lots of cars there and as I got my stuff together another group of four guys were doing the same. I made use of the toilet facilities (I like to avoid the indignity of shitting in the woods if I can) and then hit the trail.
Within the first quarter mile I was huffing and puffing. The trail started out with a short steep section that had me wobbling under the unfamiliar weight of the pack. Fortunately the steep stuff ended and we got down to business. The trail followed along a small river, past numerous pools and waterfalls. They all looked cool and relaxing, but this early in the day I wanted to get some miles under my hipbelt.
After a mile or so I took a break alongside another babbling stream. I munched on a cliff bar while enjoying the ambience, then shouldered my pack and hit the trail again.
The path continued flat and easy, winding through open forest and the occasional overgrown sea of ferns and flowering greenery. I was by myself, having let the other two groups of hikers I'd seen go past while I was taking photographs. The weather was gorgeous (if a little on the hot side) and I was happy. I got occasional glimpses of a peak to my right, and it was way up there. Was that Alta Mountain? It was so very, very far away... (turns out that it wasn't Alta, but that Alta was about the same height.)
After about three miles the trail took a turn for the worse. The direction it turned, of course, was up. The ascent to Rachel Lake was a rooty, rocky mess. Small streams occasionally ran down the middle of the trail. Above all, though, it was just plain steep. Hiking occasionally became scrambling as I used protruding roots to pull myself up. I began to see the value of the "rest step" that mountaineers use as I slowly plodded my way through the switchbacks. I passed the groups of four about halfway up. When I finally got to the top, I was beat.
Rachel Lake was worth the effort, though. The cold clear water beckoned me in for a swim, and I couldn't resist. I stripped nekkid (waiting until the guy with his two children walked around the corner, of course) and dove in. Ahhh.... the temperature was a little on the shocking side of cold, and I hopped out after only a minute. It didn't take long for the beaming sun to dry me off. I headed back to my pack, got out some food, and had lunch.
By this time the group of four had arrived. One of them was suffering from leg cramps and their pace had slowed considerably. They wandered aimlessly around the lakeshore while I chowed down on refried beans (a little on the soupy side, unfortunately) and pita bread. I'd reached the lake at around 11:00, and after a half hour of relaxing by the shore it was time to get a move on. Next stop: Rampart Ridge.
The ascent to the ridge picked up where the trail to Rachel Lake had ended: steep, steep, steep. It switchbacked up the side of the ridge, giving great views of the lake below me. A German couple blew past me as I was admiring the view. They were considerably less burdened than I, and they flew up the path with barely a greeting.
When I got to the top I was (once again) really tired and found a nice cliff to sit and relax. Unfortunately, I wasn't alone.
The great sucking hordes were there. Everywhere. They buzzed and kamikaze'd me as soon as I stopped. I took off my pack and they swarmed it, waiting, knowing that I would have to return. I spent my "rest" time walking around in circles, swatting the air, while they laughed their whiny little laughs. Taking a picture was an exercise in madness as I waited the 12 seconds for the camera's timer to go off. After a few more minutes I gave up, shouldered the pack, and kept going. If only I had some bug repellent...
The trail was now in what (I think) is called "subalpine meadow". It was absolutely gorgeous. The trees thinned out and I was walking along grassy hillsides full of wildflowers. The sun was shining and I was in paradise. Except, of course, for the mosquitoes. They taunted me at every pause, making rests nearly impossible. The occasional breeze did little to discourage them, and I had no choice but to keep moving, despite my ever-increasing fatigue.
I found the turnoff to Alta Mountain -- an unmarked but well-used trail leading steeply up the hill beside me, but continued past it. It was still early in the day and I thought I'd check out Lila Lake first. I strolled through the meadow for another half mile or so until I got to the ridge above the lakes.
I took a break when I got there and took off my pack. The mosquitoes swarmed it, of course, but I wisely stayed away. The breeze was a bit stronger and occasionally I found a spot where I could sit nuisance-free for a few minutes. Inevitably, though, they found me and attacked.
After twenty minutes or so I got tired of walking in circles and swatting at the air so I shouldered my pack and headed back towards the Alta Mountain trail. I was pretty tired and would have loved to sit somewhere and just relax for more than a few minutes, but the mosquitoes made that impossible. I passed the group of four on my way there; they were planning to spend the night at Lila Lake. I reached the Alta Mountain turnoff and began the climb.
The trail climbed up through a gorgeous meadow, and I do mean up. It was incredibly steep. My pace slowed to a crawl as each step took on its own small significance. I wasn't suffering from the altidude; I was just tired. My boots are just a tad too big for me and that means my heel slides when I climb steep trails. That, in turn, means blisters. I could feel some hotspots forming but ignored them, figuring it was either blisters or mosquito bites.
I could see the peak ahead of me in the distance, and set my sights on it. I recalled a quote from a documentary I'd seen about a group of breast cancer survivors climbing a peak in South America. When asked about motivation, one of the climbers replied, "I throw my mind up the mountain and follow." I understood exactly what she meant. As I slowly huffed up the steep path I could picture myself reaching the peak, then standing atop it, arms raised in the air, and every time I conjured up the image I felt a huge wave of emotion. Each time, it would almost bring tears to my eyes. I never thought I would feel so strongly about the challenge I had undertaken. I guess I was more tired than I thought...
The trail continued to climb through gorgeous meadows full of wildflowers. I had amazing views on both sides of the ridge -- beautiful valleys unfolded to the north and south. Far to the southwest, Mt. Ranier was rising into view. With my body among the flowers and my mind on the peak, I continued the climb.
I was dead tired, but I was nearly there. After an hour of hiking along the trail I finally reached the last summit and scrambled up the bare granite. I was on top! My heart filled with happiness, but that quickly turned to despair. Off in the distance I could see the true Alta Mountain. I had reached a false summit, and was still several hundred feet below and half a mile away from the summit.
I couldn't believe it. I was beat physically, and now my spirits sagged. Time to re-evaluate the plans. Originally, I had hoped to camp near the summit to take photos of the sunset and sunrise. The reality of my water situation was pretty clear, though. I didn't have enough to drink through the night, let alone enough to cook with, and the nearest water was back at Lila Lake. Also, camping on an exposed ridge didn't seem like the wisest thing to do.
Should I call it quits? I was very tired and my feet were sore. I briefly thought about cutting the ascent short, but soon cancelled the idea. I'd come to climb the mountain, and climb it I would! But not with my current burden. I detached my backpack's cover/daypack, filled it with the essentials (water, camera, energy food, sweater, and chocolate), and continued my ascent.
My pace picked up without the forty-pound pack to slow me down. The climb was still relentless, though. The trail picked its way along the ridge, occasionally hugging steep hillsides. One wrong step and it would be a long, bumpy roll down to the bottom.
Oh no! What I had originally thought was sweat on the fanny pack was actually a leak in the water bag. The opening wasn't sealed properly. I quickly yanked camera and lenses out of there. No damage done, but I was getting to the point where water supplies could be a concern for the return to Lila Lake. I refilled my water bottle from the water bag, left the bag hanging conspicuously on a nearby branch, and threw my mind back up the mountain.
Once again I reached the home stretch, I could feel the emotion building up inside me. With a final burst of effort I scrambled to the top. This was really it! I'd done it! I let out a great big whoop and listened to it echo off the surrounding peaks. I was filled with joy. Climbing Alta Mountain had been incredibly difficult -- much harder than I'd imagined it, and even more gratifying.
I treated myself to some chocolate, signed the register, and relaxed. As if respecting the challenge I'd overcome, the mosquitoes were absent. I stayed up there for twenty minutes, enjoying the view, and then began the long trek down.
The climb down was easier than the climb up, but it was no piece of cake. Occasional large steps had to be negotiated with care. I finally got back to the water bag, and then my backpack, to find the mosquitoes waiting. Sigh. I reassembled the gear, hoisted the pack, and continued the descent.
The steep trail was now applying a new kind of torture: with each step my feet would slide forward in my boot, bruising my toes. I vowed to get thick insoles for my next adventure. The sudden drops in the trail were also working wonders on my knees. But I continued on and in short order I found myself back at the Lila Lake trail. I joined it and walked the half mile back to the Lila Lake overlook.
Now, the question was: how do I get down? I could see several trails near the lakes, about a hundred feet below me, but no obvious place where they connected to where I was. I tried looking to the left, but no luck. After fifteen minutes of wandering around, I found the trail and continued the toe bruising descent.
The group of four were camped on the far side of the lake, and I found a place to camp near them. I was out of sight of their tents, but not too far away. I probably should have respected their privacy and camped a bit further away, but it was comforting to know there would be someone close by during the scary forest night.
I was totally exhausted. I set up my tent as quickly as possible and crawled inside. The mosquitoes were everywhere and driving me insane. I'd heard that in northern Canada, mosquitoes can suck enough blood to kill a caribou. I was no longer suprised.
I alternately read and dozed for several hours. I also enjoyed laughing at the mosquitoes as they vainly stuck their noses through the no-see-um mesh, trying to draw blood out of the air. I'm safe, you suckers! Eventually, though, nature called and the mosquitoes got their revenge. The light was beautiful when I crawled out of my tent so I grabbed my camera and tried to take some pictures. The swarms wouldn't leave me alone, though, so I didn't spend too long outside.
Night fell but sleep did not come with it. I was feeling dizzy and nauseous. The usual night-in-the-forest trepidation was there, but mostly I was hungry and thirsty. I hadn't eaten dinner because I was just too tired to cook or to put up with the sucking hordes. Around 10 pm, though, I realized that I needed to eat something to calm my stomach. I crawled out of bed to find the mosquitoes gone! I slowly munched a Clif bar and lay on the ground, watching the stars. For the half hour I lay there, gazing at those glorious specks of light, I felt a pure and simple peace that I hadn't experienced in a very long time.
The strange thing about sleeping outdoors is that your body wants to wake up with the sunrise. Well, I suppose that's not so strange, but for a confirmed late sleeper like me to finally roll out of bed at the fresh hour of 7 am certainly is. Unfortunately, I rolled right into mosquito hell.
They were out there, in thick swarms, and I was trapped. I needed to get out of there, but packing up my stuff means standing in place for several minutes. To protect myself I put on my long nylon pants, long sleeve fleece, and a shirt tucked into my hat to protect my neck and ears. Unfortunately, the sun was already high enough to call it a hot day. I suffered the lesser of two evils and packed up my camp in short bursts, interspersed with lots of walking in circles, waving at the air, and profuse sweating.
A little while later I was packed and out of there. I got some mosquito repellent from my neighbors up the hill, but the damage was already done. By the time I got home, I had a good 20 or 30 mosquito bites on my hands, arms and legs.
My feet, back, and shoulders were a little sore from the previous day's exertions, but I felt better once I got moving. The sucking hordes continued to follow me as I hiked, not letting me stop to take a break. I decided to head down to Rachel Lake, which had been relatively mosquito-free yesterday, in hopes of finding some relief.
Relief was not to be found. The mosquitos had received word from their cousins up the hill and were eagerly awaiting my arrival. I dropped my bag on a rock by the lake and they immediately attacked it while I went for a walk and to take some pictures. Any thoughts of staying another night vanished. There was to be no relaxation here, only non-stop movement to avoid the little vampires.
I reshouldered my pack and began the descent down from Rachel Lake. Just as I was beginning I passed another hiker coming up who kindly asked if I needed anything. Food? Water? "Mosquito repellent!" I replied. He lent me his spray and I showered in it.
The climb down from Rachel Lake was pretty tough. The trail was steep and my toes were still bruised from yesterday's climb down from Alta. I was also getting pretty fatigued again, with nowhere to stop and avoid the pesky critters. As I got lower, however, the sucking hordes began to thin out until they finally, thankfully, disappeared. I attribute it mostly to the time of day, since the noontime sun was pretty darn hot.
I continued along the trail for another half mile until I came to a nice stream with big flat rocks. I took off my pack (and everything else except my shorts) and finally had the relaxation I'd been craving for two days. No bugs anywhere, quiet rushing water, and yummy soup bubbling in the pot beside me. I had lunch and read for a while, and took lots of pictures. I was there for about an hour, watching many hikers pass by on the trail. It was going to be a busy weekend at Rachel Lake. Part of me was glad I was going to miss the crowds. Part of me, though, definitely wanted to stay. I had plenty of food (probably because I'd skipped dinner the night before) and there were tons of places to explore on Rampart Ridge. If it weren't for those mosquitoes...
Lunch consisted of my special recipe soup: minute rice, dehydrated potatoes, dehydrated veggie soup mix, assorted seasonings, and one landsjager sausage. Cook until the rice is soft, and then burn your tongue on it. Mmm, mmm, good.
After lunch it was time again to hit the trail. There were tons of people heading up to Rachel Lake, and lots of them had overnight gear. I was mostly focussed on getting home, though. It's funny (in a sad sort of way) how destination oriented I am. When I'm on the return leg of the trail, I just want to get it over with so I can get in the car, get home, and soak in the bathtub. One of the skills I'd like to learn, especially for hiking, is to enjoy the moment I'm in instead of the moment that's to come.
As I got nearer to the trailhead more hikers with dogs started to show up. For the most part the dogs were well-behaved, although one dog was well ahead of its owners and barked at me. I admonished the owner that the dog should be on a leash (as is required by law) and she replied, "I have it right here." Great...a lot of good it does in your hand! I guess it should come as no surprise to most readers that I'm a cat person.
I continued to motor down the trail, snapping the odd photo here and there, and got back to the car around 3 pm. The parking lot was full of cars shining in the afternoon sun. Mine, thankfully, was where I left it and all the windows were intact (trailhead breakins are sometimes a problem). It felt so good to peel off boots and backpack and sit in the comfy padded driver's seat. Home, and bathtub, here I come!
The lesson is simple: bring bug repellent. I researched various anti-vampire remedies after this hike, and DEET seems to be the only one that everyone agrees works. It is also caustic enough to melt plastic, but sometimes you've got to make sacrifices...
Oh, and I suppose some of you are wondering: "G" is for God, "M" is for mosquitoes, and the rest you can figure out yourself.