Prologue
I will admit, flying into Portland instead of Boise was done for purely selfish reasons. When I landed at the Portland airport, it was 7:45 in the morning. I grabbed my bag off the carousel and headed out to pillar #3. Even though she was comically frustrated, I beat her to the airport. My daughter, Isabela, and her good friend Silas, my ride, pulled up at the curb a few minutes later. My daughter hopped out and immediately held up an entertaining sign. When she realized the women behind me had seen the sign, a bit embarrassed, she quickly flipped it over to the other, more politically appropriate side.
After about a 30-minute ride, we were back at her apartment. From there we picked up Owen, Silas’ roommate, and the four of us walked a few blocks to Bertie Lou’s Cafe for breakfast. After some enjoyable discussion and banter, we headed back to her place. From there, the day was filled with errands using Silas’ car, a very long walk with a long break at the amusement park, some amazing falafel at one of Portland’s stellar food trucks, and a long walk back to the river for a cool and refreshing swim. Leah and Olivia joined us for dinner and the river, which made it even better. My daughter’s friends are the best.
After about a 30-minute ride, we were back at her apartment. From there we picked up Owen, Silas’ roommate, and the four of us walked a few blocks to Bertie Lou’s Cafe for breakfast. After some enjoyable discussion and banter, we headed back to her place. From there, the day was filled with errands using Silas’ car, a very long walk with a long break at the amusement park, some amazing falafel at one of Portland’s stellar food trucks, and a long walk back to the river for a cool and refreshing swim. Leah and Olivia joined us for dinner and the river, which made it even better. My daughter’s friends are the best.
Commute
After an overnight on Isabela’s couch, Ben picked me up and we drove to Bend, Oregon. During the three-hour drive, we caught up from the last time we saw each other a year prior on the Timberline Trail around Mt. Hood. In Bend, we stopped at Jeff’s house. I finally got to meet Joan, Jeff's wife, and she and I had a lovely short talk. I hope get to spend more time with her in the future.
Our drive to our Airbnb was about seven hours long. The four of us (Jason, Jeff, Ben, and I) also caught up since the last time we had gathered. We stopped in the thriving town of Burns, Oregon, for lunch at the Broadway Deli. It turned out, as expected, to be a much better choice than Subway or McDonald’s. When we arrived at the rental, Derek was lounging outside to greet us while his daughter, Sophia, napped. After the group lounging, we headed over to the Sourdough Lodge for an adequate dinner. From there, it was back to the rental, some hangout time, and sleep.
Our drive to our Airbnb was about seven hours long. The four of us (Jason, Jeff, Ben, and I) also caught up since the last time we had gathered. We stopped in the thriving town of Burns, Oregon, for lunch at the Broadway Deli. It turned out, as expected, to be a much better choice than Subway or McDonald’s. When we arrived at the rental, Derek was lounging outside to greet us while his daughter, Sophia, napped. After the group lounging, we headed over to the Sourdough Lodge for an adequate dinner. From there, it was back to the rental, some hangout time, and sleep.
Day 1
Miles- 9.89
Total Miles- 9.89
Elevation Gained- 3716ft
Elevation Lost- 579ft
We were out by about 8 o’clock in the morning. It was a 31-minute drive to the trailhead. Once we secured a walk-up permit, we were on our way. The trail followed a series of tributaries through a forest that was at times fully burned while at other times only spot-burned.
Fireweed was everywhere, and runs of paintbrush mixed with aster and blanketflower lay ahead of us every half mile or so. As our group spread apart—two ahead of me and three behind—I sat down on a small tuft of grass in the shade for a break. As Ben walked right past me, not 15 feet away and not seeing me, I made sure he knew I was going to be behind him on the trail. I was quite invisible in my spot.
Fireweed fills in after the 2018 fire
Next, Jeff walked by, having no clue I was sitting 15 feet from him. A few minutes later Sophia did the same. It was now an interesting experiment. Surely Derek would see me, as he was always extremely aware of his surroundings. Nope. Jason and Derek walked right past me. I got up and caught up to them a few minutes later, and they were very surprised to see me. We walked together for a bit before taking a long break. Day one was a tough one for Jason.
During the break, I was stung on the inner thigh by a bee. It immediately started hurting and itching. Luckily, as the years had passed, my allergic reactions to stings had lessened. Getting stung when younger was always a scary experience.
We decided that I would go ahead and catch Sophia, Ben, and Jeff, or at least Sophia in case she was walking alone. About 20 minutes later I found Sophia resting on a rock that she had been napping on minutes before. She was at a trail junction and decided to wait for the group.
Sophia and I continued on. We walked together for about an hour before catching Ben and Jeff, who we walked with to the unnamed pass just before Sawtooth Lake. There we took an extended break in order to regroup. Once back together, we decided to start looking for a camp spot once at the bottom of the pass and to stop a bit earlier than planned. It had been a hot day of almost all uphill walking with an entire trip’s worth of food weight in our packs.
During the break, I was stung on the inner thigh by a bee. It immediately started hurting and itching. Luckily, as the years had passed, my allergic reactions to stings had lessened. Getting stung when younger was always a scary experience.
We decided that I would go ahead and catch Sophia, Ben, and Jeff, or at least Sophia in case she was walking alone. About 20 minutes later I found Sophia resting on a rock that she had been napping on minutes before. She was at a trail junction and decided to wait for the group.
Sophia and I continued on. We walked together for about an hour before catching Ben and Jeff, who we walked with to the unnamed pass just before Sawtooth Lake. There we took an extended break in order to regroup. Once back together, we decided to start looking for a camp spot once at the bottom of the pass and to stop a bit earlier than planned. It had been a hot day of almost all uphill walking with an entire trip’s worth of food weight in our packs.
Sawtooth Lake
At the bottom of the pass, Jason found a great spot at a small unnamed lake just north of Sawtooth Lake. Once set up, Jeff skipped on some granite and caught himself in the fall. As he did so, he jammed his big toe. Hours later it was heavily swollen, and the next morning it was purple. My bee sting was now very swollen and quite uncomfortable.
Night 1 Camp spot above unnamed lake just north of Sawtooth Lake
After an amazing swim (#1), lots of hanging out, and a meal, we all retired to our tents. I had all the bells and whistles on this trip, carrying not only my chair and some yummy food, but my new tent I acquired earlier in the year and had only used on one other trip (Henry Coe). Already on night one, I was really enjoying my new home.
Our plan for the next day was to stop about two miles before our planned lake to cut down both the miles and elevation just a bit. Just before I started getting ready to watch an episode of Breaking Bad (my summer series I would finish on this trip), I saw a flash of light through the wall of my tent. I grabbed my gloves, quilt, and chair and perched myself on a slab of granite facing north. For the next hour and a half, the sky lit up every few seconds from flashing lightning behind the ridge. It was an absolutely amazing show.
About 90 minutes in, I felt a couple of raindrops, at which point I quickly gathered my things and headed back into the tent. Not five minutes after getting my rain fly zipped, the lightning and thunder intensified and the sky opened up. For the next 45 minutes or so, my tent lit up every few seconds, and the sky followed it up with thunder that shook the air. As the storm moved off towards the east, the sound changed quite a bit and turned into more of a roll than the cracks and explosions I had been hearing earlier.
As the rain eased off, I fell into a deep sleep. I opened my eyes and was wide awake at about 4:30 AM.
Our plan for the next day was to stop about two miles before our planned lake to cut down both the miles and elevation just a bit. Just before I started getting ready to watch an episode of Breaking Bad (my summer series I would finish on this trip), I saw a flash of light through the wall of my tent. I grabbed my gloves, quilt, and chair and perched myself on a slab of granite facing north. For the next hour and a half, the sky lit up every few seconds from flashing lightning behind the ridge. It was an absolutely amazing show.
About 90 minutes in, I felt a couple of raindrops, at which point I quickly gathered my things and headed back into the tent. Not five minutes after getting my rain fly zipped, the lightning and thunder intensified and the sky opened up. For the next 45 minutes or so, my tent lit up every few seconds, and the sky followed it up with thunder that shook the air. As the storm moved off towards the east, the sound changed quite a bit and turned into more of a roll than the cracks and explosions I had been hearing earlier.
As the rain eased off, I fell into a deep sleep. I opened my eyes and was wide awake at about 4:30 AM.
Day 2
Miles- 15.63
Total Miles- 25.52
Elevation Gained- 3023ft
Elevation Lost- 3096ft
I opened the vestibule of my tent, and over the next hour and a half watched the sky lighten in a variety of colors reflected off the clouds. I got up and spent some time wiping off my tent so that it would dry more quickly. While wiping it down, I felt an intense pull in my thigh, like I had pulled a muscle. Minutes later, I realized it was the bee sting. The swelling had reached the muscle, and my leg was very sore.
I joined Jason and Jeff on a granite slab for coffee and breakfast. Soon everybody else joined us, and not long after, we were packed up and back on the trail.
We spent the next mile walking along the steep, talus-filled shore of Sawtooth Lake. After that, we zigzagged through a wide canyon filled with various sizes of talus, with a bit of snow, ice, and water mixed in on either side of us.
I joined Jason and Jeff on a granite slab for coffee and breakfast. Soon everybody else joined us, and not long after, we were packed up and back on the trail.
We spent the next mile walking along the steep, talus-filled shore of Sawtooth Lake. After that, we zigzagged through a wide canyon filled with various sizes of talus, with a bit of snow, ice, and water mixed in on either side of us.
As we dropped further into the canyon, reaching the lowest elevation for the day, we took a break to regroup as a full gang of six.
After hydrating and eating, the rest of the group got going while I lounged in my chair a little longer. The walk down alone to our lunch spot was peaceful and beautiful. I never caught a glimpse of the rest of the group in front of me, as I had fallen pretty far behind.
After hydrating and eating, the rest of the group got going while I lounged in my chair a little longer. The walk down alone to our lunch spot was peaceful and beautiful. I never caught a glimpse of the rest of the group in front of me, as I had fallen pretty far behind.
A while later, I found them resting in the shade at the bottom of the basin. We all took a break to take care of ourselves, then hit the trail again, climbing for the rest of the day.
We had agreed to meet at a good rest spot with water between 3:00 and 3:30. I ended up in front and tried to time my arrival to match the plan. All of a sudden, I heard a soft crack, and a large pine cone fell from a tall tree to my right. As my eye caught the falling pine cone, my attention was pulled away by movement — a Cooper’s Hawk flew out from the middle of the tree, gliding over the creek bed before landing in some even taller trees. Just as it landed, I heard cries from a tree to my left. Looking up, I saw a second Cooper’s Hawk running back and forth along a large pine branch. I watched it for a bit, amused by its movements and the interesting sounds it made. I smiled and walked on.
I passed a heavily flowing stream, which the map showed as being the same size as two upcoming streams. I decided to keep going. The first upcoming stream was dry. It was 2:45. The second stream was also dry. It was 3:00. I began to worry I had missed my best chance for water and to meet up with the group. After another five minutes or so, I came upon a good, flowing stream with plenty of shady space. I got water, had a snack, and waited to regroup. My leg was worse than when I had woken up.
Once everyone arrived and we had rested, a noisy thunderstorm moved in just above the pass. We gave it a bit more time and let the storm pass before setting off again. The climb to the pass was steady and slow. There was one waterfall early on to our right, and another far above us and ahead. I wound through the trees before heading up rocky switchbacks through a small notch to the top of the waterfall. There, I took off my backpack to dry out before having a look around. There were a few terrific campsites, countless views into the valley, and, when I walked far out along the ridge, I could look straight down from the top of the waterfall.
We had agreed to meet at a good rest spot with water between 3:00 and 3:30. I ended up in front and tried to time my arrival to match the plan. All of a sudden, I heard a soft crack, and a large pine cone fell from a tall tree to my right. As my eye caught the falling pine cone, my attention was pulled away by movement — a Cooper’s Hawk flew out from the middle of the tree, gliding over the creek bed before landing in some even taller trees. Just as it landed, I heard cries from a tree to my left. Looking up, I saw a second Cooper’s Hawk running back and forth along a large pine branch. I watched it for a bit, amused by its movements and the interesting sounds it made. I smiled and walked on.
I passed a heavily flowing stream, which the map showed as being the same size as two upcoming streams. I decided to keep going. The first upcoming stream was dry. It was 2:45. The second stream was also dry. It was 3:00. I began to worry I had missed my best chance for water and to meet up with the group. After another five minutes or so, I came upon a good, flowing stream with plenty of shady space. I got water, had a snack, and waited to regroup. My leg was worse than when I had woken up.
Once everyone arrived and we had rested, a noisy thunderstorm moved in just above the pass. We gave it a bit more time and let the storm pass before setting off again. The climb to the pass was steady and slow. There was one waterfall early on to our right, and another far above us and ahead. I wound through the trees before heading up rocky switchbacks through a small notch to the top of the waterfall. There, I took off my backpack to dry out before having a look around. There were a few terrific campsites, countless views into the valley, and, when I walked far out along the ridge, I could look straight down from the top of the waterfall.
Jeff and Ben came over the crest, and we decided to continue on to our destination and meet everyone there.
Looking back down at the climb
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Continuing over the pass
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The next two miles led through the entrance to a beautiful canyon. I had not seen true sawtooth-shaped ridges until now. We continued up and found a good-sized spot on Baron Lake.
Rugged Sawtooth ridges
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Streamlets everywhere
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Baron Lake outlet
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There were a couple of other people there, but plenty of room. We set up camp, and not long after, the rest of the gang showed up. After a quick swim (#2), dinner was eaten, and the group — pretty exhausted — turned in not long after.
Day 3
Miles- 9.87 + 3.11 Side Quest
Total Miles- 38.50
Elevation Gained- 1925ft + 894 Side Quest
Elevation Lost- 1890ft + 899 Side Quest
I slept amazingly well last night — never waking once from the moment I fell asleep until morning. It was deeply refreshing. This day was set to be much shorter than the day before — around 8½ miles instead of 15. We started climbing right away, and my leg felt a bit better than it had yesterday. The grade wasn’t too bad, and the early morning brought a cool breeze. We were in the shade the entire time.
If only this tree could tell the stories of what it's seen...
Regrouping at the top, we decided to stop for lunch at Alpine Lake. Unfortunately, those of us toward the front missed the three small side trails that dropped about 100 feet down to the lake itself.
We regrouped again and decided to continue to the next water source. After drinking there, we continued on to the bottom of the basin where the trail crossed the creek. Ben and I crossed first. I lingered in the water for quite a while, letting my feet soak inside my sandals.
We reconvened on the other side and had some lunch. The rest of the day was uphill through a stunning subalpine forest of mixed conifers and a colorful kaleidoscope of wildflowers. Our destination was Middle Cramer Lake.
We arrived a little after two, and after some searching, found an area big enough for all our tents. Once my camp was set up, I immediately set off on a side quest. I climbed the hill behind our site, eventually reaching granite ledges that led into a stream-filled canyon and then a basin with four unnamed lakes.
I walked north past the first lake, then the second, before circling around the lowest lake where I took a break and had swim #3. After drying off, snacking, and soaking in the scenery, I retraced my steps to the basin’s entrance and then climbed to the higher three lakes. Each was beautiful, surrounded by peaks and meadows. I took a quick swim (#4) in the highest lake before heading back toward camp.
This time I tried a higher route, which landed me in a couple of precarious situations. After some effort, I made it back to camp, completing about a three-mile side quest in total.
We regrouped again and decided to continue to the next water source. After drinking there, we continued on to the bottom of the basin where the trail crossed the creek. Ben and I crossed first. I lingered in the water for quite a while, letting my feet soak inside my sandals.
We reconvened on the other side and had some lunch. The rest of the day was uphill through a stunning subalpine forest of mixed conifers and a colorful kaleidoscope of wildflowers. Our destination was Middle Cramer Lake.
We arrived a little after two, and after some searching, found an area big enough for all our tents. Once my camp was set up, I immediately set off on a side quest. I climbed the hill behind our site, eventually reaching granite ledges that led into a stream-filled canyon and then a basin with four unnamed lakes.
I walked north past the first lake, then the second, before circling around the lowest lake where I took a break and had swim #3. After drying off, snacking, and soaking in the scenery, I retraced my steps to the basin’s entrance and then climbed to the higher three lakes. Each was beautiful, surrounded by peaks and meadows. I took a quick swim (#4) in the highest lake before heading back toward camp.
This time I tried a higher route, which landed me in a couple of precarious situations. After some effort, I made it back to camp, completing about a three-mile side quest in total.
Side Quest swim lake
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Easy off-trail wandering
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Back at camp, I took one last swim (#5) before settling in for miso soup and then dinner. A very good day.
Middle Cramer Lake's epic waterfall
Day 4
Miles- 10.88 + 2.48
Side Quest Total Miles- 51.86
Elevation Gained- 2199ft +359ft Side Quest
Elevation Lost- 2317ft +359ft Side Quest
Terrific night of sleep—best yet for sure. My leg was now much better. After some breakfast and coffee, I went for a refreshing swim (#6). Being in the sun-kissed water with fish surfacing all around and a roaring waterfall at the back of the lake was exactly what I needed.
The early morning section of trail was my favorite so far. It had a bit of everything—both open and filtered views of the jagged Sawtooth Ridge, stretches with the loud roar of rushing water, and moments of complete silence. The mixed conifer forest thinned as I climbed higher, and a small tarn halfway up the ridge took me by surprise. Wildflowers and blooming heather painted the trail in color.
The climb continued on a perfectly manicured single track through a stark world of talus and scree, nearly absent of life except for small tufts of grass and scattered wildflowers. Pikas skittered over the rocks the entire way up, chubby and healthy, which is encouraging after seeing fewer and fewer over the last decade.
The climb continued on a perfectly manicured single track through a stark world of talus and scree, nearly absent of life except for small tufts of grass and scattered wildflowers. Pikas skittered over the rocks the entire way up, chubby and healthy, which is encouraging after seeing fewer and fewer over the last decade.
The climb from Upper Cramer Lake
I'd like to hear his stories as well
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The Temple at 9638ft
Devoid of life
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The views open up
Ben is the tiny speck in the middle left
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We regrouped on an unnamed pass before starting the downhill and agreed to meet at Hidden Lake.
The descent into Hidden Lake was beautiful, with water, mixed conifers, and small ponds along the way. We regrouped there, had some food and water and relaxed.
I took a quick swim (#7) there before heading up and over yet another pass toward Ardeth Lake.
I took a quick swim (#7) there before heading up and over yet another pass toward Ardeth Lake.
Hidden Lake
But before we began that climb we passed numerous beautiful lakes.
Baby Ptarmigan
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Ben pushes on
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Top of unnamed pass 8857ft just before Ardeth Lake
The drop down to Ardeth was rough—loose cobble of varying sizes, plenty of roots, and steep step-downs. Personally, I’d much rather grind uphill at a slow pace than tackle steep, loose downhill. Going uphill is hard, but I feel in control. Downhill feels like controlled chaos.
Ben and I arrived first and spent some time searching for a campsite big enough for five tents. Once we found it, the group quickly set up. I decided on a short side hike to the lakes above camp—the 10 Lake Basin.
I reached the largest lake first, where I took a break and swam (#8) under huge puffy cumulus clouds. I circled the lake, climbed to the two upper lakes, and of course swam (#9) in the highest one.
Ben and I arrived first and spent some time searching for a campsite big enough for five tents. Once we found it, the group quickly set up. I decided on a short side hike to the lakes above camp—the 10 Lake Basin.
I reached the largest lake first, where I took a break and swam (#8) under huge puffy cumulus clouds. I circled the lake, climbed to the two upper lakes, and of course swam (#9) in the highest one.
The chute leading to Ten Lakes Basin
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A swim lake for sure
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Epic swim
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Lots of moss in this basin
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Moss
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And more easy wandering
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The hike back down offered a stunning view of Ardeth Lake below.
Once back in camp, I took one last swim (#10) before dinner and some visiting, then called it a night.
Day 5
Miles- 11.70
Total Miles- 63.56
Elevation Gained- 1432ft
Elevation Lost- 2610ft
The first mile or mile and a half was an 800 foot climb up to our last pass of the trip. It began right beside Ardeth Lake, following a creek bed before leaving the trees and entering a talus field. We worked through six or seven long, gradual switchbacks, mostly shaded under a blanket of low cloud cover.
The top was spectacular. From there I could see into the lower half of the 10 Lakes Basin where I had wandered the day before. Seeing an area from above after exploring it on foot gives you a completely different perspective, almost like building a three dimensional map in your head.
The top was spectacular. From there I could see into the lower half of the 10 Lakes Basin where I had wandered the day before. Seeing an area from above after exploring it on foot gives you a completely different perspective, almost like building a three dimensional map in your head.
The climb to unnamed pass 8943 above Ardeth Lake
We regrouped at the top, where we chatted for a while with some hikers from Minnesota. Then we began the downhill toward the cluster of lakes we would be walking through. I started ahead of the group, but before long all five of them passed me.
For awhile I walked alone in meditative silence. People have asked me about my walking meditation so I will share the process I use here. I have been practicing it for at least a decade and cannot remember where I first picked it up. Simply follow each cue for about 30 to 60 seconds:
For awhile I walked alone in meditative silence. People have asked me about my walking meditation so I will share the process I use here. I have been practicing it for at least a decade and cannot remember where I first picked it up. Simply follow each cue for about 30 to 60 seconds:
Body check
As you start to walk, notice how the body feels. Heavy or light, stiff or relaxed? Take a few seconds to become aware of your posture and the way you’re carrying yourself.
Observe
Without trying to change the way you’re walking, simply observe your gait. Bring your attention to it. This can sometimes make you feel self-conscious, but that feeling usually passes.
Tune in
Tune into what’s going on around you —rocks, flowers, trees, mountains, the movement and still of things, or any other sights that come into your awareness field. You’re not thinking about any of these things, though, you’re simply acknowledging what you see.
Noting Sounds
Notice the sounds that drift in. What can you hear? Again, try to realize any noise but not dwell on it.
Familiar Smells
Now turn your attention to any smells, whether pleasant or unpleasant. Notice how the mind habitually wants to create a story out of each smell and how it might remind you of somewhere, something, or someone.
Physical sensations
Next, make a point of noticing any physical sensations, from how the weather makes you feel to how it feels as the sole of your feet touch the ground. There’s still no need to think about any of these observations. Simply notice, acknowledge, and let go.
Movement
After a minute or two, contemplate the sensation of movement in the body: how the arms hang or swing by your side or how the weight steadily shifts from right to left. Observe your stride, your pace, and the rhythm you’ve become accustomed to.
Focus on your rhythm
Use that rhythm — the soles of the feet touching the ground — as your base of awareness, a place you can mentally come back to when the mind wanders off. Repeat this throughout your walk, step by step or mile by mile.
These steps are guidelines, not rules, so adapt them to fit your walk, wherever you go or however long it takes. Once I move through all the steps I usually bounce around repeating steps and going even deeper.
As you start to walk, notice how the body feels. Heavy or light, stiff or relaxed? Take a few seconds to become aware of your posture and the way you’re carrying yourself.
Observe
Without trying to change the way you’re walking, simply observe your gait. Bring your attention to it. This can sometimes make you feel self-conscious, but that feeling usually passes.
Tune in
Tune into what’s going on around you —rocks, flowers, trees, mountains, the movement and still of things, or any other sights that come into your awareness field. You’re not thinking about any of these things, though, you’re simply acknowledging what you see.
Noting Sounds
Notice the sounds that drift in. What can you hear? Again, try to realize any noise but not dwell on it.
Familiar Smells
Now turn your attention to any smells, whether pleasant or unpleasant. Notice how the mind habitually wants to create a story out of each smell and how it might remind you of somewhere, something, or someone.
Physical sensations
Next, make a point of noticing any physical sensations, from how the weather makes you feel to how it feels as the sole of your feet touch the ground. There’s still no need to think about any of these observations. Simply notice, acknowledge, and let go.
Movement
After a minute or two, contemplate the sensation of movement in the body: how the arms hang or swing by your side or how the weight steadily shifts from right to left. Observe your stride, your pace, and the rhythm you’ve become accustomed to.
Focus on your rhythm
Use that rhythm — the soles of the feet touching the ground — as your base of awareness, a place you can mentally come back to when the mind wanders off. Repeat this throughout your walk, step by step or mile by mile.
These steps are guidelines, not rules, so adapt them to fit your walk, wherever you go or however long it takes. Once I move through all the steps I usually bounce around repeating steps and going even deeper.
I meditate at home, but I can never seem to go as deep as I do when walking. The way I know I am truly in it is when I can simply turn my head and watch the world drift by as if I were sitting in a car. It is at these times that I feel completely effortless, without any sense of my legs moving, my feet touching the ground, or the weight on my back. I am completely present, floating through heaven on earth. It is truly magical. Over the next hour and a half I rejoined the group a couple of times, but always seemed to drift to the back when something caught my attention.
Ancient tree roots
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Very typical of what the trail looked like
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Dropping down to Rockslide Lake
We met again at Rockslide Lake for lunch and a swim (#12) before I set off on a solo side quest.
I left ahead of the group, climbing the ridge next to Rockslide Lake toward a lake about 400 feet above called Three Island Lake. Walking off-trail alone might be my favorite thing to do. I begin with a few points I have marked on a map so I know my general direction, but the real joy comes in letting the route unfold. At first, I tend to move too quickly, fueled by the excitement of entering the puzzle again.
I left ahead of the group, climbing the ridge next to Rockslide Lake toward a lake about 400 feet above called Three Island Lake. Walking off-trail alone might be my favorite thing to do. I begin with a few points I have marked on a map so I know my general direction, but the real joy comes in letting the route unfold. At first, I tend to move too quickly, fueled by the excitement of entering the puzzle again.
Off-trail travel
It is hard to explain exactly how it works for me in these environments. Sometimes I find a pocket of spruce and low brush where the walking is easy and only part of my attention is on my footing. Other times I discover a game trail, sometimes lasting just a few steps and sometimes stretching for a quarter mile, that feels effortless to follow. Occasionally I come across a dry wash that runs in my direction, and I ride it as long as it will take me. The same goes for dry or semi-dry streamlets and cascades, which can be both physically exhilarating and rhythmically meditative. The best ones lead straight to a tarn, pond, or lake I am aiming for. Another favorite is the grassy bench, a ledge of green that feels soft and forgiving underfoot. Granite ledges and slabs are equally wonderful, sometimes so perfectly formed it feels as though they were crafted just for the pleasure of walking. Sometimes I encounter a barrier, like a blowdown across my path. Just as quickly my eyes catch a narrow opening, the size of an elk’s body, where the branches are broken off at the top. It offers a perfect step-over, and I silently thank the invisible animal for its help.
Combining these elements in places I have never been, stopping every few minutes to take it all in, is my idea of bliss. All of this was in my mind as I sat looking out at the scene before me.
My journaling spot
The next section I walked had been drawn out for me on a map by my friend Derek, whose route choices I trust completely. They have never disappointed. The lakes I passed earlier on this side trip were lovely but not swim-worthy.
The final lake, which I had marked with a flag months before the trip, was the “flagship” of the day. Its setting was perfection — just the right size to take in all at once, shifting in color from emerald green to turquoise to olive. A 9000-foot peak towered in the background, with lush greenery on the northeast shore and walls of talus on the opposite side. Smooth granite slabs slipped straight into the water, inviting a swim. I could not resist. Swim #13 was special.
Derek's swim worthy flagship lake
From there I wandered through granite ledges and creeks until I met the Queen Creek Trail.
Granite slabs and ledges
Less than five minutes later I ran into the rest of the group. We hiked about three miles to Smith Falls.
Sophia doing the last few miles of the day
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We found a handful of helpful bridges on the loop
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Ben spotted a good camp immediately. We each found our spots and set up.
First view of Smith Falls
Smith Falls from above and just 50 feet from camp
I walked over to the confluence Derek had told me about and found him and Sophia enjoying the scene. Derek took a cold plunge in the deep pool at the base of the two merging creeks. Inspired, I followed with a quick plunge of my own (#14). Derek and I sat for a long while, talking and soaking it in. We regrouped for dinner, then I took one last small side wander down the creek past several smaller falls and surprisingly deep pools.
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When I returned, I visited for a while longer before heading to my tent.
Every step on this trail has been a joy, and I feel good knowing tomorrow is our last day. An amazing trip so far.
Every step on this trail has been a joy, and I feel good knowing tomorrow is our last day. An amazing trip so far.
Day 6
Miles- 14.88
Total Miles- 78.44
Elevation Gained 484ft
Elevation Lost- 2355ft
Coldest night yet at 29 degrees. I slept well throughout the night, but woke up at about 1 a.m. fully awake and ready to go. I watched an episode on Netflix and fell right back asleep when it was over.
I woke to the sounds of others in the crew packing up. It was a quiet morning as everyone did camp chores and got ready to go. Derek and Sophia were on the trail first and I was not far behind them. Our goal was to do around 14 miles and be finished early enough to have a late lunch. Leaving at 6 a.m. would give us a good shot at that. The sky was just light enough by the time I hit the trail not to need a headlamp.
I woke to the sounds of others in the crew packing up. It was a quiet morning as everyone did camp chores and got ready to go. Derek and Sophia were on the trail first and I was not far behind them. Our goal was to do around 14 miles and be finished early enough to have a late lunch. Leaving at 6 a.m. would give us a good shot at that. The sky was just light enough by the time I hit the trail not to need a headlamp.
Cold morning start
About 20 minutes in, I reached an early morning crossing of a wide, cold creek. After searching for a dry crossing I resolved to take off my shoes and walk through. It was not the most pleasant thing for sure.
The wild blueberries growing on each side of the trail were a welcome treat and I snacked as I walked. Moving through the canyon, I was still fascinated by the level of trail maintenance on this loop. With the amount of deadfall and burned trees, new ones must fall all the time. I joked with Jason that maintaining this loop must be like painting the Golden Gate Bridge—once they work around the loop they turn right around and start all over again.
The wild blueberries growing on each side of the trail were a welcome treat and I snacked as I walked. Moving through the canyon, I was still fascinated by the level of trail maintenance on this loop. With the amount of deadfall and burned trees, new ones must fall all the time. I joked with Jason that maintaining this loop must be like painting the Golden Gate Bridge—once they work around the loop they turn right around and start all over again.
Typical trail maintenance
As I approached Elk Lake and the surrounding meadows, my eyes were peeled for wildlife. I stopped at a small rise above the lake just as an enormous golden eagle flew out of a tree to my right. It was an awesome sight in the silence of the morning.
Elk Lake
Overall, I’m baffled that I didn’t see more wildlife on this loop. It’s true the animals have probably figured out where hikers tend to be and avoid those areas. That said, for five days we’d seen scat and prints in the dirt and mud all day, every day. On the last morning, silently hiking alone early, it felt like the perfect time for a sighting.
The canyon continued to drop and the creek, cataracts, and waterfalls followed.
The canyon continued to drop and the creek, cataracts, and waterfalls followed.
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A little before six miles of hiking, a large bunny pushed through the brush 15 feet in front of me and ran the entire length of the wooden bridge ahead. Just as quickly, it disappeared into the undergrowth. Being in front on this long early morning walk also meant I was the one to break through all the morning spiderwebs. I found that taking off my beanie and using it to wipe them from my face worked very well.
Large White Petunia
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Aster
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A bit later a ptarmigan burst into flight from the brush just ten feet to my right, getting my heart pounding for sure. About seven miles in, I re-entered a fire zone—likely a finger of the 2018 fire we’d passed through on Day 1. This was another area not fully burned.
We’d been seeing horse poop for almost 70 miles but no horses. About 9½ miles in, a short pack train of three horses, with a rider in the front and another in the back, passed by.
We’d been seeing horse poop for almost 70 miles but no horses. About 9½ miles in, a short pack train of three horses, with a rider in the front and another in the back, passed by.
Lower meadows
By the time I neared the trailhead, the morning air was warming. My boots made a steady rhythm against the dirt, each step pulling me closer to the end. The last few rays of angled light filtered through the trees, the scent of pine and dust in the air, and I thought about the arc of my summer. I was grateful for the break from work and the time to create adventure. I know how lucky I am. And yet I also look forward to the time when I’ll have more flexibility—when backpacking deep into autumn won’t be a rare treat but a regular possibility.
Our final trail sign
Although I didn’t put in as many miles as I had planned, the summer was epic nonetheless. The first trip of the season was the perfect step-off point. The weather, solitude, and beauty of that trip were a high point in my 50 years of backpacking. My journey through Alberta with Paula, my partner and best friend, truly could not have been better. Then the trajectory shifted. Just a week after her 90th birthday, my mom passed away. Two solo trips into the Sierras were cut short—not because of the miles, but because of the emotional challenge of facing my grief, and the memories of my father’s sudden death 12 years before.
After an unplanned week at home—time alone, with friends, with my therapist, and with Paula—I felt ready for my last trip of the summer. The Idaho loop, which at first I’d dreaded because it marked the end of summer, became something I looked forward to. I was ready for the physical challenge, and for time with special friends I rarely see. The trip didn’t disappoint. The miles came easy enough. The views, the lakes, the creeks, the endless streamlets—everywhere beauty.
One of my last journal entries ended with this:
Maybe it was my mother’s recent death and the emotions it stirred that brought back memories of my father’s passing. It was hard not to feel weighed down by those losses, even way out in the wilderness. But maybe that was the point. Sometimes the hardest journeys are the ones that help us come to terms with the things we carry inside.
As I close this summer break and this wonderful trip, I’m reminded that the landscapes we travel through are only half the adventure…the rest unfolds quietly within us, shaping how we see the world around us and ourselves.
After an unplanned week at home—time alone, with friends, with my therapist, and with Paula—I felt ready for my last trip of the summer. The Idaho loop, which at first I’d dreaded because it marked the end of summer, became something I looked forward to. I was ready for the physical challenge, and for time with special friends I rarely see. The trip didn’t disappoint. The miles came easy enough. The views, the lakes, the creeks, the endless streamlets—everywhere beauty.
One of my last journal entries ended with this:
Maybe it was my mother’s recent death and the emotions it stirred that brought back memories of my father’s passing. It was hard not to feel weighed down by those losses, even way out in the wilderness. But maybe that was the point. Sometimes the hardest journeys are the ones that help us come to terms with the things we carry inside.
As I close this summer break and this wonderful trip, I’m reminded that the landscapes we travel through are only half the adventure…the rest unfolds quietly within us, shaping how we see the world around us and ourselves.