Friday, February 17, 2012

Lost in the Snow

Yosemite National Park backpack
An approximately 28 mile semi loop 3-4 day moderate backpack,  including a short,  roughly two mile section,  of off trail travel for those who want to get their feet wet at traveling by map and compass!


Off trail for the initiated is pretty much the only way to hike.   The solitude, the peace, the chance to see wildlife grows exponentially when you get off the beaten path.  And,  off trail is pretty much the only way my husband and I hike anymore.  You will find stories in these pages more and more about off trail hiking if you stick around long enough.  A few hours up a known and marked trail....then we hop off the path for adventures unknown and hike by map and compass only.  We haven't gotten a GPS yet,  and after this experience I am about to share,  we learned it is best to be knowledgeable enough to navigate without GPS even if you are going to carry one.

The Sierra (notice I did not say "The Sierras" as that is a misnomer as there is only one mountain range, not several,  thus the name is correctly "The Sierra," but I digress...) is the ultimate playground for backpackers.   Folks chomp at the bit all winter long if they don't winter camp and they can't wait for the roads to open and the trails to start peeking through the snow.   In fact many hardier backpackers start their season as soon as the first road opens and head for the high country while snows still blanket the land.   My husband and I are among those hardier backpackers.  We are just impatient enough to head out as soon as we can possibly get anywhere near a trailhead.   In the spring of 2000 on Memorial Day,  our first hike of the Sierra season was to be theoretically a mostly on trail hike with just a couple miles off trail in one little section.  Notice my use of the word theoretically,  as any backpacker knows that if you hike early season,  snows can turn any "on trail" hike into a map and compass "blood,  sweat and tears" extravaganza.   Our trailhead this year was out of Wawona,  heading up to Chilnualna Falls where you better have your camera out and ready as the rainbows down canyon from the falls as you are hiking up canyon are simply stunning.

Chilnualna Falls Rainbows...

For those who don't want a swashbuckling adventure,  but just a nice early season getaway,  Chilnualna Falls are a lovely overnight early season destination.    However,  this trip,  we bypassed the falls and pushed on heading North and slightly West "on trail" towards Turner Meadow,  then East to Ostrander Lake,  going off trail for a short distance to catch the Buena Vista Trail to Buena Vista Lake then Buena Vista Pass to Royal Arches,  Johnson Lake then ultimately back to Chilualna Falls and back to our car.  Nice little loop with lovely country,  views of the breathtaking Clark Range along the way, and mostly "on trail" for an "easy" first season warm up trip.

By the time we had gotten just a short way past the Falls heading to Turner Meadows though,  the snow was starting to get thick on the ground.  We weren't yet postholing,  that would come later.   But, we were already starting to look for patches of trail and cut logs indicating trail under the snow,  and the park's old pathfinder "i" marks carved in the trees.   However,  since we were in the trees we weren't too worried about the snow,  as once we got back out in the open and especially in the sections above treeline,  the sun would have helped us out,  and we'd have plenty of snowfree trail patches peeking through the snowcover to keep us on route.   The morning was a bit of a slog though,  and postholing began in earnest at some point before lunch.  By the time we called a halt to break for lunch,  I was beginning to wonder what this trip had in store for us!

Sitting on a log in the trees enjoying a large juicy orange after our cheese and crackers brought us back to battery though,  and we set off once more.   The snow piled deeper and deeper as we went higher and I was quite grateful for my gaiters.   After spending the better part of the day in the trees and snow, we finally broke thru the trees into the open.    And by this time,  having clawed our way through deeper and deeper snows as we navigated higher and higher, it was no surprise to find the entire untreed landscape was solid white!  Snow covered everything ...so much for the sunbaked areas blessing us with snow free patches of trail!  In fact,  there was enough snow that there were still cross country skiers about!  We joined the handful of skiers milling around Ostrander Hut briefly,  then left them behind as we headed off trail for Hart Lake not too far away.

After about 15 minutes trudging through the snow,  we noticed that two guys we had seen at Ostrander Lake were also headed off in the direction of Hart Lake.  They were roughly 30-40 yards below us traversing the same slope about the same pace,   and we had intermittent views of them and had given each other grins and nods as we all slogged through the melting deep snows of spring.  Gary and I  had actually never been to Hart Lake before.   Generally it's a good idea to hike to a place in summer that you plan on hiking with snow still on the ground...but then we hadn't planned on all this snow!   Oh well,  we learned long ago to be flexible and roll with the punches.   And if it got bad enough,  we could double back the way we came from,  and jettison our trip plans if need be.  So far though,  our spirits were high,   so we kept on hauling ourselves through the snow.  As the daylight starting getting short and the sun started dropping in the sky though,  I chanced to look over at the two guys we had been mirroring and noticed that they were waving us over.  They were studying the terrain ahead and had some concerns about the route to take.  Gary and I pulled out our map and took a look...we were right on target.  We knew we were close to Hart Lake finally,  and it being obvious by now that we were all headed to the same destination,  we decided to go the last bit together.    Probably no less than 30 minutes later in fact we were standing by the shores of the lake admiring it's smooth clear reflections!


Hart Lake With Enough Melted Snow to have a section of the lake showing lovely reflections....

The kids we had been hiking with decided to set up camp by the water.   Gary and I long ago decided we did not like to have lakeshore camps as they tend to be colder and buggier,  so we bid our friends adieu and headed around the shore to climb the little ridge on the north side and catch the last warming rays of the setting sun while we set up camp.   As we began to part ways,  I heard one of the kids say "wasn't it great that we made it as far as Buena Vista Lake already?"   Warning bells went off in my head as I spun to look at Gary,  and caught him glancing nervously at me.  We both thought the same thing...how could we have so misread our map!   We thought we were at Hart Lake...which is a good two miles before Buena Vista Lake!  Wow!  Over all the years of off trail hiking we've made just about every bonehead mistake we can make reading a map.   But...we thought we were finally getting so good at it,  how could we be so off this time.   Suddenly worried about being off trail without knowing exactly where we were,  we hustled around the shore and up the ridgeline and dropped our packs to figure things out.   Gary and I both grabbed at the map and stared at it!   No... there was the ridge depicted by the squashed contour lines on the map.   And... the lake in front of us with it's distinctive shape matched exactly the Hart Lake drawn on the map.  The open plateau we crossed between Ostrander and Hart Lakes was unmistakable too.  It was clearly obvious that we knew where we were,  and that was right at Hart Lake!   I told Gary we needed to go talk to those kids and show them the map.  Gary offered to go talk to them while I stayed and started setting up camp and getting dinner ready while I still had some sun to help me.  Once the sun goes down,  fingers get too cold to be out trying to work zippers on bags and turning knobs on stoves!  So, I began working on camp chores as Gary began picking his way back down the ridgeline.

Gary was gone quite some time,  but by the time I had tarp and bags out and dinner about ready,  Gary finally wandered back up the ridge to our little flat spot we called home for the night.   "Did they believe you?  What did they say?  Are they still thinking they are at Buena Vista Lake?"  The words rushed out of me,  as I stood impatiently waiting to hear what happened,  for it is no simple thing to be lost in the wilderness thinking you are one place and are really at another!   Gary had delicately explained to the kids that it might be a good idea to look at our map.  He pulled it out and showed the boys the ridgeline,  the lake,  the plateau and a few other features displayed on the map that were quite prominent in the landscape around us.   At first they didn't want to believe him.    It meant they had farther to hike tomorrow.  And they pulled out their GPS to get a reading.  It seems you need 3 satellites to triangulate your position and they could only get 2.  Their GPS was useless.  And....they didn't really know how to read a map well having relied on their GPS.   But,  they did end up seeing what Gary and I saw on the map and knew for sure that we were all at Hart Lake!  Thank goodness.   We relaxed then, enjoying our quiet supper and warm cups of cocoa as we sat in our bags watching the stars unfold in the inky black sky.  Finally,  we snuggled down in our bags and nodded off watching shooting stars streak across the night sky above us.

Lazing around our little flat spot on the ridge

With the morning's light we were up and at it and on the trail first,  pausing to say goodbye to our new friends as we left the lake bowl.   They were headed in a completely different direction than we and we would not cross paths again,  or so we thought.   Sauntering off in the warm morning sun,  Gary and I had an "easy" downhill stretch for an hour or so as we dropped down to a creek crossing,  both enjoying the long downhill before our eventual climb back up for our midmorning snack on Buena Vista Pass.  At the bottom of the slope we actually came across about 2 feet of exposed trail! Hallelujah!  We were on the right path!   It is amazing when you are going by map and compass how such a little thing like a sawn log (The only reason for cut logs in the backcountry is for trail clearing) , an "i" blaze on a tree,  or a tiny short section of exposed snow free trail can boost your spirits as you realize you are right where you thought you were!    In fact, it's quite a feeling of empowerment to wander through the wilderness by map and compass and pass from one landmark to another knowing you can go where you want and always find your way home.   And that's exactly how we felt this lovely morning.  We reached the creek and criss crossed right over the top of it...walking on snow laid so thick over the top of the creek that we had no fear of falling through and into the water.   And knowing exactly where we were made the morning that much sweeter.   Too bad that feeling wouldn't last!

Our level path eventually starting climbing,  all good things must end,  and so the climbing began.   I don't remember the particular details of how steep that climb was or how long,  but it was a workout.  In due time though,  we topped through the thinning trees obtaining wonderful views from the top of 9,040 foot Buena Vista Pass.   Spotting a nice exposed dry spot on a large flat car sized boulder,  we clambered up and sat down stretching our legs out to a midmorning snack with some absolutely magnificent views!   Most times we seem to eat fast and move on quickly,  but this day we truly enjoyed our rest.   Finishing,  we packed up and started off to go down the South side of the pass and had gone a couple hundred yards when all of a sudden I realized Gary was waving at someone!  I spun around to see who on earth could possibly have hiked as hard as we had through all that snow and gotten way out in the middle of nowhere as we had.  Due to the distance,  it took me a minute to recognize who it was.   Coming up the last few feet of uphill towards us,  the two figures hollering out hellos and waving vigorously,  were the kids at the lake from the night before!   Puzzled,  we both headed back to where we had stopped for lunch and met them.   "We're Lost,"  they both exclaimed. Gary and I took off our packs once again as obviously we needed to help them,  we weren't just going to leave them stranded out here.  As their story unfolded,  they apparently had packed a short time after us and headed out on their path,  but had quickly gotten hopelessly lost.  So, they managed to backtrack back to where they had last seen us,  and had followed our tracks all morning,  catching us finally all the way up on top of Buena Vista Pass!  And we thought we had worked hard that morning!    Looking at the map,  Gary and I spent some time figuring out a route for them to follow out.  Their car was left at another trailhead in an opposite direction from ours,  so they didn't want to follow us all the way out.  But,  we found a nice ridgeline that slanted down into an obvious valley that should lead them right back to their car.  They thanked us profusely and headed on their way.    That truly was the last we saw of them,  but we thought of them the rest of our trip,  wondering if they had had any more difficulties finding their way,  and wondering if they made it out to their car.  We even checked Yosemite websites after to see if any missing hikers had been reported!  Thankfully,  none had been.

Finally Gary and I were making our way off the pass and into another drainage.  What a beautiful morning!  The sun's warmth kept us company all that morning as we had an easy stroll down a gradually sloping valley.  At one point we were amazed to realize that though we were walking on a thick snow blanket covering the entire valley,  we could hear water quite clearly rushing underneath our feet!  The crusty ice on top was thick enough and hard enough that it kept it's form and the water melted and ran under the crust!   Hiking down a large granite slab,  we had no fear of falling through the icy crust,  as we would just hit solid rock,  but it was quite interesting to realize we were literally walking on water!

After a couple hours of moving down valley though,  things started not adding up.   We kept expecting to find a little lake.  Also, we kept expecting to see the Royal Arches,  a landmark that should be carved in the cliff faces to the left of us by rockfalls.  But, neither of these landmarks showed,  and the landscape just kept looking the same...snow and trees.   In fact, all we saw were trees,  trees and more trees on the sides of us with the neverending steady roar of rushing water under the snow below our feet.  When you are offtrail and not finding what you expect to find,  after awhile you start getting irritated and concerned.  We inspected the map repeatedly,  but it didn't change a thing.   I wore my compass on a string around my neck and checked it, and rechecked it to no avail.  Finally Gary called a halt.  Suggesting we stop for lunch and get fuel on board while we scrutinized the map more thoroughly,  we pulled over and dropped out packs and both slumped down on a pair of downed trees facing each other.  After a few minutes we called on our mental and physical reserves and started putting together some lunch.  We pulled out our humus and pita bread which helped immensely,  the map study did not.   I told Gary though,  that I bet within 20 minutes of restarting,  we would find the arches and lake.   Our spirits recovered somewhat due to the fortifying lunch, and we resolved to stay upbeat and find our lake.


I wore a compass around my neck and checked the map repeatedly

Standing once again,  we pushed off to find our route.  The landscape began flattening out a bit and the tree cover thickened.  I told Gary I wanted to aim left a little bit and check out what was on the other side of the trees as it looked like they were thinning to the left of us.  About five minutes had passed after leaving our lunch stop and as we shot left through the trees,  all of a sudden I saw a tiny patch of turquoise about a foot in diameter at my feet....staring at it a minute,  I suddenly realized we were standing at the edge of the lake!!!!  We had found it!  We knew where we were!  Looking up across the snow covered lake we recognized the arches etched in the cliff face!  They waited patiently through the ages for just that moment of us finding them!  If you've ever been lost,   and then found your way,  you know how excited we got! There really was no lake to find,  as it was covered in snow,  thus we never would have been able to see it through the trees.   Only in varying our route slightly and edging closer to the cliffs were we able to spy the one tiny corner of the lake that had turqoise ice showing instead of snow.  Talking a mile a minute,  we reveled in the beauty around us, enjoying the exhilaration of finding our way!



Royal Arches on the far side of the snow covered lake....

Eventually it was time to push on,  as we had a few miles left to go before setting up camp for the night.  Still with no trail showing though,  we slid through the trees looking for the creek crossing we knew was not too far ahead.  This creek crossing would mark a change in scenery that would lead us down a newer and easier section of route.  We would be tracing a watershed downhill until eventually we'd come out of the backcountry to Chilnualna Creek near where we began our journey a couple of days ago.   I don't recall it being more than 30 minutes later when we found something we absolutely did not expect to see...we came across a trail sign!  An honest to goodness trail sign peaking thru the snow right in front of us!  Snow was still our constant companion,  and this was the first real sign of trail we had seen since what felt like days ago,  but was really only hours ago.  The last sign of trail we had found being that tiny patch of snow free trail by the creek below Buena Vista pass.  Yahoo!  A real trail sign!



Kissing the trail sign!:)


Spirits up,  we continued down slope and shortly thereafter we started dropping elevation quickly and could hear the water roaring louder and louder. Uh oh...we could hear the water "roaring."  This was supposed to be an intermittent seasonal creek, a dotted blue line on the map,  a creek that in some seasons was completely dried up.   Getting closer to the roaring water whose noise drowned out all other wilderness noises,  we were chagrined to see our seasonal intermittent creek was a frothing,  leaping,  foaming white water river!   And,  to top it off, this roaring,  frothing unexpected river blocked our way,  and we absolutely had to cross it to get where we needed to go.   The only other option being to turn around and backtrack,  retracing our entire trip...but we were two thirds done with our trip!  We had hiked almost two full days in some not so easy hiking conditions,  and all we had left was a bit more today and then a long next day and we'd be back to the trailhead.   Determined to cross,  we spent quite some time trying to find a way.   We did find one tiny snow bridge left that really wasn't an option for me.  The "creek" was about eight feet across and several feet deep.  A fall into the water would be quite ugly.  The day was late and the water swift and a dunking could mean being flushed downstream uncontrollably,  or at the very least suffering life threatening hypothermia.  So, we went about a half mile upstream....then a half mile downstream.  We found not one fallen tree to cross over on,  we found not one spot where the creek widened enough to allow the water to get shallow enough to wade through.  We were getting desperate!   Light was fading fast and we just had to find some way to cross!  Finally, Gary decided he wanted to cross at the little snowbridge we spied when we first came out to the "creek."  So,  we went back once again to look at it.   It is true the snow bridge was fairly wide where it attached to the banks, maybe even five feet wide,  but in the middle the bridge narrowed to about a 12 inch waist!  I was just plain scared.  Broad jump was one of my events in school long ago, but my life never depended on how well I jumped back then!  After debating several minutes,   Gary asked me,  if he crossed it first successfully,  would I try.  I grudgingly consented.  What was I thinking?!  So,  giving himself some room,  Gary backed up and took a running leap.   He flew through the air landing on the far side of the snowbridge.  But,  he missed landing solidly on the bank by about a foot.  With one foot on the bank, he was not in danger of falling in,  but as he landed,  the foot dragging behind jammed harshly onto the snow bridge.  The concussion of his weight and his leg punching down on it left a gaping crack running the entire width where the snow bridge attached to the bank.  Gary was now on one side,  and I on the other.  And we both stared at the damaged snowbridge with it's obvious break running along the bank's edge where it once attached solidly to the bank and realized it would break completely free at any moment and be swept downstream. Gary was yelling something at me,  but I could not hear him over the roar of the water.   Gesturing wildly,  he was telling me to go ahead and jump!   No way!   I couldn't do it!   I'd fall in!   I'd die!   He then mimed at me to throw my pack over first,  that I could do the jump if I had no pack.  Maybe he could pull that off,  but even if the broadjump was among my best event in school, the softball toss and shot put were my worst events.  I'd throw my pack right in the water if I tried that!   I went up stream and down yet again looking desperately for any way at all to cross.   But,  I found absolutely no other way across.  I suddenly realized I had no choice other than to jump,  and the longer I stood debating and looking and hoping,   the more scared I was going to be.    I backed up several feet and without thinking another thought,  I ran as fast as I could and jumped! Disaster!  I landed sprawled on the broken snow bridge that at any moment was going to break free completely and be swept downstream with me on it!  With my feet dangling dangerously in the water, not able to get any purchase on the snowcovered bank,  it would be only moments before I was swept away if I couldn't get onto the bank.  Suddenly,  Gary reached down and I felt his solid hands under my armpits as he yanked me up,  pack and all,  right out of the water and off the snowbridge and onto the far bank!  Shocked,  I lay in the snow shaking with the aftermath of fear and adrenaline coursing through my veins.  I dared not try to stand.  When finally I did manage to gain my feet,  my legs were pure jelly and I could barely take a step.   I'd never experienced that depth of fear and adrenaline before, and have not since.  Finally though,  I recovered enough to walk and we pushed off slowly,  moving faster as my strength returned,  looking to find a place to set up camp and get me dried off before complete darkness overtook us and hypothermia set in.

It never ceases to amaze me how cozy and homey the backcountry becomes once groundsheet is laid, bags are fluffed out and warm clothes donned.   All the travails of the day slide away and aches and pains go from a dull roar to a simmer taking a backseat to yummy warm food being prepared and eaten, as the dark curtain of night drops down over the surrounding landscape and stars start making an appearance on nature's overhead stage.

The rest of the trip was anticlimactic except for a couple of small events.  As we made our way downstream,  the snow cover got thinner and easier to slog through and by midafternoon we came out of the wilderness and towards a guy and a girl sitting on the banks of Chilnualna creek soaking up the sun.  As we approached,  we gave them a jolt, a s we were the last thing they expected to see.  The guy looked at us briefly before blurting out  "You came out of there?!"  with total amazement.   We just smiled and said that yea,  there was a bit of snow back there as we continued quietly past them.  Ah,  we had found other backpackers... we made it.   But...we were a bit premature in our congratulations to ourselves as suddenly we noticed that the one last creek we had yet to ford seemed about 50 feet wide and about 3 feet deep and MOVING!  And,  we also realized that this same "creek" was the lovely Chilnualna Falls with five tiers of falls,  the first fall being about a hundred foot drop!  And we weren't sure exactly how far away the falls were,  but we were guessing not more than a few hundred feet downstream!  Not again!   But,  continuing a few minutes downstream,  thankfully we came to a downed tree across the creek.  Thank goodness!  Thinking what a piece of cake this was going to be,  I hopped up on the tree first and started to cross.   I didn't get too far though before I realized the water was deep and swift below me and this log had been used as a crossing for a very long time as it was slick and smooth and hard to get a grip on with my shoes.   In addition,  there were a couple of branches sticking up on the way across that made it even more difficult to cross due to having to twist and turn to try to slide my pack through the branches.  Finally I gave up and started backtracking pushing Gary back to the shore we had just left.  Deciding he would give it a try then,  Gary hopped up and after a couple of minutes,  was safely across.  Then,  he turned to wave me across.  But,  the more vigorously he waved at me to cross,  the more vigorously I shook my head no.  I knew I could not do it, at least not with my pack on.  He tried yelling helpful instructions to me but it was no use,  the roar of the "creek" drowned out all voice.  Finally, leaving his pack on the far bank,  Gary came back across the slick downed tree to me.  He gently took my pack from my shoulders,  put it on his back and made a second trip across the log.  Taking a deep sigh of relief,  I hopped up behind him and slid across the tree ...on my fanny!  There are times in a marriage when you are so grateful for your partner,  and I will never forget the help mine afforded me that one spring in Yosemite hiking in the snowy backcountry above Chinlualna Falls!

Try this loop sometime for a bit of offtrail exploration and solitude.  While the rest of the hordes of Yosemite backpackers head for the true high country of the Clark and Cathedral Ranges east of this area,  with the exception of the Chilhualna Falls and Ostrander Lake,  this area remains lightly traveled for most of it's route.  Experienced offtrail backpackers will enjoy this trip very early season,  "creek" crossings and all...and for the rest,  I would suggest waiting til mid June at least!

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

The Window


Ventana Wilderness
Los Padres National Forest


Pat Springs Camp 
Moderate overnight backpack -14.2 miles


(Photo-Lupine in the Spring, not to be missed in the Ventana!)

The Window

The story goes, that at one time a natural rock formation bridged a gap between two peaks in the Ventana Wilderness of central coastal California. The peaks, known as the "Ventana Double Cones," along with the rock bridge arching between them, once formed a window that one could view blue sky through. Hence the name, Ventana, or Spanish for "window." Nobody I know has ever seen it, and one account I came across claimed that the bridge fell some time ago, and only the name "Ventana" is all that is left remaining of the long ago once famous rock phenonmena.

Fall through spring are the only sane times to hike the Ventana due to the extremely hot summers. So, we planned our Ventana trip out of Botcher's Gap to Pat Springs in the spring. I wish I could tell you what the date was exactly...the year was 1990. Some of my readers will wish me to be more exact by the end of my tale, but I think I will leave the date as is.

On the drive to the Ventana from Santa Cruz, we marveled at how close we were to such a beautiful wild area to hike in. Within an hour and a half we were on the trail hiking. Our first span of trail stretched through an immense burned area that had still not begun to regrow. We were saddened by the sight, and later angered even more after coming upon a still smoldering unattended campfire left by campers. It's one thing for nature to perform her "cleansing by fire" routine, quite another for her to be subjected to untimely burnouts caused by careless human visitors. Within a couple of hours though, we passed out of that area and came to a nice ledge with a view and an oak tree to spread our lunch under. Then, once refreshed by lunch, and the incredible views we'd been graced with, we continued our gentle climb. We wound through the forest and over creeks, and finally the trail steepened for a piece that would take us to our camping spot for the night.

At the top, we were on a high meadow that sat nestled at the south side of Devil's Peak. Being just below higher Carmel Peak also, I set off to see if the peak was accessible by footpath. About 20 yards away I came through a small grove of trees to a rocky outcropping. Just as I passed through the curtain of trees into the open I surprised a skunk about fifteen feet to my left. He hightailed it out of there, and I counted my blessings that my normally very alert labrador hadn't noticed his passing. After finishing my exploration, I headed back to the others. The next afternoon we would gaze back at the slopes of this same peak as we worked our way higher and higher, and be thrilled to spot a mountain lion wending it's way around the peak.

In the morning, while packing up to go on, another nature encounter came in the form of a black widow spider nestled underneath my son's sleeping pad! We certainly had luck on our side this trip by not getting skunked or bitten. The lower coastal ranges allow you to hike in times when the higher mountains such as the Sierra Nevada are blanketed in snow, but with skunks and black widows and rattlers and poison oak...things less common in the high mountains, one does have to be a little more vigilant.

Shaking off thoughts of what could have been, we hiked down the ridge we were on, and came out to another lower meadow skirted by an interesting area forested by oaks and pines combined. We hiked through the warm morning and noon, passed by a nice forested campsite and continued to our prize for the night, Pat Springs. The spring was down trail 200 yards or so from the campsites, and there were several campsites to the left of the trail nestled among some shady trees. But, we opted for more solitude and sunshine, and headed a short way past the springs and on up the ridge.

Once up the ridge a ways, we popped out into the open and realized how windy it was above the trees. But, we found a nice ledge a few feet below the ridgeline that was just the right size for a family of four to camp on! It was while leaning back against the cliff enjoying the sun and view that I first spotted it. I wasn't sure I'd really seen it though. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was seeing things. Maybe it was just my imagination. Maybe I'd better just see if anybody else could see what I was seeing. So, after prompting, my husband looked too. There it was! I wasn't crazy, and I wasn't imagining it. The Window, The Ventana, the namesake of the wilderness we were traipsing through was not just a legend. It was there in plain view across the valley, directly across from where we sat. I wondered how many people had actually seen it before us. I wondered how many had searched for, and had never found it. I wondered how many had just believed all along that it was only a legend after all, or a piece of nature worn away by time and long gone and missed by all. And finally, I wondered how it was that I had just happened to be lucky enough to be there at that time of year, at that time of day, and in that exact spot to see it. For surely it was visible for only a fleeting moment in time periodically, based on the angle of the sun.

I have never returned to the double cones. Never climbed to the top of them to find the source of "The Window." Never returned to our spot above Pat Springs. But, I think of it from time to time. It was a magical time in a magical place, and the source of yet another magical memory in the backcountry.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Lost in Glacier and Other Mishaps of Two 16 yr Olds

(Mt Wilbur)



Moderate 36 mile multi day backpack, Glacier National Park

Glacier

“Oh my God, where are we?”  I looked at Sandy,  and she looked at me…both of us mirrored the other’s sickly, panic stricken expressions on our faces.   We looked down at the snow under our feet, too hard packed to show tracks, and saw no footprints whatsoever.   As 16 year olds will do,  we had been talking nonstop about this and that and never even realized we had gotten off the trail!   Daylight was fast leaving us,  and yet as far as we could see,  there was no sign of trail in any direction,  and most importantly…there was not even the tiniest sign of trail or footprint seen back in the direction we had been coming from!   We split up a bit and combed every square inch of the snow covered meadow we were in to no avail.   We were hoplelessly lost.   Despondent, scared and knowing we had not much daylight left,  we had not a clue what to do to help ourselves!   Would we be forever lost,  eventually fading away to have only our bones found in the melting snows of spring?   What could we do to find our way again?!

Summer of 69 and most kids are in the throes of what later will be called “The Summer of Love” which began in 1967 and ended in 1969.   Despite hearing about all the activity and witnessing the changes happening around me,  or maybe because of the upheavals in the youth culture in this country,  I had but one goal on my mind…to experience all I could of the high wild places untouched by human hands that I could get to!     I had come to live in Montana during high school by the grace of my best friend’s parents who took me in and spent some time civilizing me.   During that time for whatever reason, they let my “sister,” (their daughter) and I go backpacking for 5 days all by ourselves in Glacier National Park,  even though I had only been backpacking twice in my life by this time,  and Sandy had never been.

I’m not sure what actually brought up the topic of backpacking,  but I distinctly remember Sandy saying her brother had a backpack and sleeping bag and equipment she could use,  so we went to the storage attic in the house we were living in on Prospect St.  in Helena to retrieve it all.  Sure enough, Michael had all the equipment Sandy would need and all we had to do was convince our folks to let us go,  that we could take care of ourselves “out there” and not get lost,  and come back in one piece. Surprisingly enough,  they consented without a struggle!   So, we packed our gear, loaded our beloved “Itsey Bit” MG Midget and off we went to Glacier National Park.   We arrived midmorning at the ranger station and pushed thru the wood framed screen door  approaching the ranger behind the old wooden counter to ask about a permit.   He didn’t take too many words telling us all the trailheads were closed.   Still early June,  the snows still lay thick on the passes.    I’m sure it must have been Sandy’s cute smile that convinced him to help us find something,  as he pulled his hat off,  scratched his head and put his finger on the map under the glass tracing out different trails looking for any options for us other than sending us away disappointed.   Finally he looked at us,  and said there was maybe one trail we could try.   It would take us in a nice loop from Piegan Pass trailhead off the famous “Going to the Sun” road,   below Mt Gould on the Garden Wall,   over Piegan pass itself,   past Grinnell Lake and Grinnell Glacier and other lakes whose names escape me now,   over another pass called Swiftcurrent Pass and back to the trailhead via the highline trail passing the Granite Park Chalet, where pampered guests stay who are willing to hike a tiny bit down the trail to stay in the delightfully“rustic” chalet .  We had not one clue what any of these places were,   but we felt honored that he had faith in us to make it through the snow covered passes and trails,   so we jumped at the opportunity he was giving us, and somehow it never managed to come up that we were a party of one brand new hiker and another still   “wet behind the ears” hiker!   And,  it never occurred to us that there was a reason these passes and trails were still closed to hikers.   But,  with permit secured tightly in hand,  out the door we went, to the car and up the road to the trailhead parking.

Hoisting our packs onto our backs,  we headed across the road and down the trail.  We were off on our adventure and were excited to see all that we would see over the next 5 days!

Our first adventure led us across the road we came in on and thru the trees into the snow where we had to criss cross the forest a few times to find pieces of trail or tree markings to lead the way.   At one point we found a short piece of plastic taping much like the police use for crime scenes marking the way. Some cross country skier must have left it earlier in the season.   Never dawned on us that we’d be wishing for more of that later!

Coming out of the trees and into the sunlight,  our eyes feasted on a variety of light colored rock that we’d be crossing on our way to the base of our first real challenge…a ridge traverse!   Eagerly we headed towards the rising trail in front of us,   enjoying the warm morning sun and the knowledge that we had 5 whole days in front of us to play out here in!   We chit chatted away as we made our way up the long steep pass.   Then somewhere near the top Sandy stopped.   I turned to see why her voice had faded away and when she told me her cup was gone,   my voice faded away too.   Being in grizzly country,  we had hung our metal cups on the outside of our packs to bang and ping away as we walked to warn the bears of our approach and hopefully get them to avoid us.   I looked at her pack in consternation,   and sure enough,   her pan was gone.   These shallow wide cups,   fondly called “sierra club cups”  by old time backpackers would serve a backpacker well for all foods and drinks.   No need to weigh yourself down with a heavy mess kit when you have a sierra club cup.   But, five days sharing one cup was not an option,  so,  since it was Sandy’s cup that had gone missing,  she volunteered…insisted really…to run back down the trail to find it.   I found myself a rock to sit on to wait with the packs so Sandy could run back down the trail unencumbered by her pack .    If our parents had only known how reckless we were separating like that…

I waited patiently at first.   It didn’t take long though for my imagination to run away with me.  What ifs ran through my mind in cascading avalanches!   But, none of those fears I had created came to fruition, as in what had seemed like hours,  but was probably only 20 -30 minutes,  a tired Sandy appeared back in sight waving the cup back and forth in a half hearted gesture of glorious conquest.  I was simply glad to have her back safe!   Separating was not something I’d be talked into easily again.
We hoisted packs once again and meandered over and down the ridge we were on,   recovering our spirits and once again enjoying the day.   We crossed a rocky plateau and started up our next climb of the day,  which spread before and above us.   And as we walked,  our gaze wandered up the pass ahead of us calculating the efforts needed to get over this pass.   Suddenly,  in unison we both stopped dead in our tracks.   There in front of us to the right of the pass climbing the steep rocks east of the pass, was a herd of white mountain goats!   We both exclaimed excitedly over these agile animals climbing up the steep cliffs grabbing the tiniest shelves of rocks with their cloven hooves!   A couple of kids frolicked on rock so sheer we wouldn’t have dreamed of being up there!   What fun!   What beauty! What an incredible first wildlife sighting for our trip!

Feeling blessed for our fortune in having sighted that herd,   we continued walking thru the light of day, chattering merrily about this and that as girls will.   It was just as the afternoon shadows were lengthening and the day was headed towards the night,  that we realized we were not on a beaten path any longer.    I’m not sure who pointed it out first,  but we both certainly looked at each other in consternation.  We had been chattering away so much that we hadn’t even realized that we had been walking on snow packed so hard into ice,  that  not the tiniest trace of foot prints showed.   We had no clue when we had last seen trail!    At first we wandered back and forth looking for any brief short patch of trail that might be peeking through the season’s melting snow.  We spread 20 and then 30 feet apart and tried the same.   Nothing!   Slowly realizing we could be in big trouble here…we discovered we didn’t even have a clue which way we had come from.   Though we were in the open at this point, we had been wandering in and out of tree cover and on this ice for so long that the last piece of trail could have been a mile back for all we knew.   It was obvious to us both though that we were nowhere near any trail now.    Having not the faintest idea which way to go,  we were stumped.   We talked of staying put.   We tried to use the only compass we had,  Sandy’s beloved brother’s compass,  but to our horror we discovered we had broken it somehow.   Finally,  not really knowing what to do,  but not wanting to just sit and wait as no alarms would be sounded for 5 days….we kept walking!   Both of us were very worried.    Chattering ceased though,  and we focused on nothing but finding the trail.   Eventually we were forced to give up finding the trail thought.   So,  we made the decision to walk,  and stuck to it.   And once we made that decision,  we did not argue about it.   It was a mutual decision. We then hiked until nearly full dark.   Panic was our constant companion.   Hiking mostly through flat meadow and intermittent tree cover,  suddenly a small hill loomed in front of us in the darkness.   We decided to climb it tired as we were.   Perhaps we could see a little more of what was around us from that rise.   We also decided we’d have to make camp very soon,  for hiking in the full darkness would be even more foolhardy as hiking blindly lost had been.   We topped the rise….and there,  spread before us in all it’s glory,  it’s gentle waters lapping the shore and shimmering yet in the spare light of twilight,  was Grinnell Lake.



(Grinnell Lake)

Grinnell Lake was our destination so much earlier that morning!   Two happier girls you would not find!   The two previously totally lost and scared girls stood there in the twilight sighing and immensely and immeasurably relieved.   We looked at each other,  we looked at the lake.   And we knew,  beyond a shadow of any doubt how lucky we were to be standing there in that exact spot looking at that exact lake after having been lost for hours in the wilderness!   With renewed energy we hastened down to the lake,  and picking a wonderfully flat clean spot to throw down our gear,  made camp!

That night we feasted on and relished a typical backpacking dinner that no self respecting person would touch in civilization.  We built a campfire to celebrate the existence of our wilderness skills.    For though we had been lost for hours,  and found our way completely and totally by accident and sheer luck,  nevertheless…we made it!
We fell asleep laying in the open gazing up at the stars and talking,  though we were so exhausted I don’t know how two words came out of either one of us.


(Sandy sitting in the morning sun at Grinnell Lake)

In the morning we awoke refreshed and ready to go!   Breakfast was the first order of business,  and that is when Sandy noted with dismay that there were holes and shredded fabric in several spots in her trusty pack.    What could have happened?   We both puzzled over the mess,  and it didn’t take too long to realize some nocturnal creature had very much enjoyed Sandy’s trail mix…and had gone to great lengths to pull it out of her pack…thru material and zippers and the plastic bag it was in.   The trail mix was unsalvageable…the pack we managed to patch together.   A pocket or two remained useless,  but with a little mismatching thread from an emergency sewing kit,  the pack bag itself would still hold her gear.
Eventually we packed up and headed up the trail. Finally our boots were marking time on a well worn path once again!

A day or so later,   approaching a large lake and a spur trail to the historic Many Glacier Hotel,  again we were talking and meandering down the trail that now cut through low lying thick brush for quite some time, when as one we stopped dead in our tracks.   Right smack in front of us was a creature seemingly so large and so wide that he took the whole single track trail up in front of us.   Slowly we backed, giving way to the animal making it’s way toward us.   Having never seen a porcupine before, and not realizing how big they can be, it actually took a moment for us to realize what this strange looking animal pushing us back up the trail was!   For that is exactly what happened….the porcupine had no interest in us, and simply no fear either, and was clearly used to getting his way!   And we were not going to be the exception as we let him push us back.   We backed until we found a narrow place to squeeze through the bushes and off the trail.   The porcupine meanwhile gave us no thought whatsoever as he meandered on his way past us on whatever mission he was on!   We slipped back onto the trail, shaking our heads at how easily he had maneuvered us and grateful and excited yet again for being able to experience something so awesome and wild!


(View looking down on Bullhead Lake...that night's destination)

As our trip neared it’s end, we had one last night. We had had a long day including many miles and had hiked way too far and into the night.   Realizing we weren’t going to make it to the camp we had yearned for, we pulled off into a wide spot near the trail and started to set up camp.   Before we got too set though,  we heard a voice calling out to us.   Stopping what we were doing, we took time out to meet Ray.   Ray was about our age and was traveling across the country.   That got our attention!   Ray said he had a camp set up a few minutes away and that maybe we should join him at his camp,  explaining that a grizzly had attacked a young girl our age the week before at exactly the same spot we were camped!  Sandy and I looked at each other and decided Ray was less threatening than the grizzly that frequented this area!   So, we repacked our gear and followed Ray to his camp.     A cozy fire was already set and we had a fun evening swapping stories!




(Sandy, morning at Bullhead Lake Camp)


In the light of morning, we all ate and packed and started hiking.  An easy 13 miles greeted us…all downhill!   We hiked past Granite Park Chalet, a rustic backcountry lodge in Glacier accessed only via foot.   Switchbacks and panoramic views were our constant companion that last day in stunning Glacier National Park and all too soon we reached civilization.

For two young teens,  the memories of an adventure of a lifetime were our reward for all the hard miles we hiked.     The only casualties were a silver dollar sized blister on one of my heels,  and a few handsewn seams on Sandy’s pack.  And the mishaps we had, served as valuable lessons in the backcountry for years to come!

Friday, September 17, 2010

Autumn

(El Capitan across the Merced River )


Autumn

Standing outside with the breeze on my face,
Enjoying autumn's changes and her calm new pace.
The animals have quieted, their frenzy abating
Winter's coming and they are just waiting...
Leaves flitting about on their journey to the ground,
It's a quieter time, enjoy it all, nature settling down.



Tuesday, September 7, 2010

All In A Day's Work


Easy Day Hike - Wilder State Park in California. The Old Cove Landing Trail can be combined with the Ohlone Bluff Trail for a 3.75 mile hike one way. Continue to Four Mile Beach for a 10.5 mile round trip hike or ride.

Why don't you join horse patrol with us? It's a great way to give back to the community.   I look at my friend who's saying this to me and am mentally shaking my head.  If she only knew how much I give to the community everyday I work at 911.   But, the idea rolls round and round in my head until finally it takes root a couple of years later and I decide to go for it and ride the trails of my favorite park while in uniform.
Wilder State Park is a wonderful place,  unique and beautiful and really like no place else I've been,  and I call this park home.  So I finally decide to start helping protect this lovely park and help others to enjoy it too while riding the trails in uniform.

What I don't know when I sign on to start helping in this park is that there is an incredible trail normally closed to horses that horse patrolers are allowed to ride.  The Old Cove/Bluff/Ohlone Trail starts at the visitor center parking lot and swings out along Wilder Beach and goes the distance along the bluffs to Four Mile Beach and beyond.  While cruising this gem of a trail,  pelicans fly in formation overhead,  in a V just like ducks.   Seagulls swoop this way and that.  Harbor Seals sun themselves on the low cut cliffs below.  An occasional pod of dolphins frolics in the surf as they cruise by in the cool water below us.  Bunnies and squirrels run this way and that being very very busy out there in this wild place they call home.  And even on the ride to the trailhead if you are an astute observer,  you might see one of the parks long tailed weasels scampering about as we did.

Today, my friend and I rode that trail once again.   Today's ride took us beyond where we'd ridden previously.  Sheer cliff faces,  multihued turquoise waters,  birds dipping,  soaring and flying all about, seals sunning themselves and then taking turns jumping off the rocky point to cool off in the ocean and lovely little yellow wildflowers left of the summer's abundance alternately charmed us and then took our breath away as we cruised along the cliffs of Wilder above the open ocean savoring every minute we were privileged to patrol the land's edge of our enchanting coastline.  All in a day's work for Wilder's Mounted Horse Patrol.

Friday, August 20, 2010

Rattler

Wilder State Park, Wilder Ridge via "Lookout," easy dayhike/horseback ride/bike

I distinctly remember my first encounter with a rattler. I puzzled over the sound of the rattles...and thought I would never hear another school sprinkler without thinking of a rattler as that is precisely what the rattles sounded like.  (Say Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch very rapidly.)   I also won't forget the look of abject terror in the little guy's eyes as he looked up at me after I threw water on him and came ever so close to stepping on him. We both jumped away from each other,  then stopped to look....then both went our own separate ways.    I gained a very different perspective that day about snakes.  I learned they feared.   I learned they really weren't aggressive.   I learned you could be safe if you stopped threatening.

I think all these thoughts crossed through my mind in a second on a ride last week when I was trapped on one side of the trail with my friend on the other side of a rattler who had his rattles sticking straight up in the air warning us with all his might that we'd just better not mess with him.

We were just moseying down the trail on this particular day enjoying some sun we hadn't seen much of lately.   Suddenly there was a scurrying underneath my friend's horse's legs and a big commotion that took me a second to puzzle out.    I saw her look down from her horse just as the rattler stuck his tail in the air and started warning her in no uncertain terms to move on!   She did!   She kept riding and didn't stop til she was 20 feet or so away....meanwhile,  being in the back,  I had stopped dead in my tracks a safe distance back on the trail.   Discussing what to do,  finally our rattling friend solved the issue by lowering his noisy flag and moving off.   I practiced a very nice gait transition...a standstill to a fast trot moving past his last resting spot post haste!

We were all none the less for wear including the snake,  and oddly enough,  neither of our horses could have cared less!   So much for all those horses rearing up and stomping on those evil snakes in the movies!:)

Friday, July 16, 2010

Wilder Summer Morning Ride

Wilder State Park, Englemann's Loop, moderate day hike or ride

Gentle swishing sounds of tall grasses sweeping against our horse's legs and the fog formed cool,  crisp air replace the quiet chatter that has gone on during the earlier part of the morning's ride.   For now,  all has been said,  and we three friends simply enjoy the peace of the morning's ride together as we journey on our faithful mounts soaking up the beauty of the open grasslands we're trekking through.

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