Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Queens River Loop: Day 1

We drove to the trailhead on Thursday, after I got off work at lunch time. It’s nice to be able to arrive at the trailhead before it starts to get dark. The trailhead was deserted except for a truck in the parking area, so we had the place to ourselves.

I set up the tent while Ambrose did other things, checking on our supplies and getting out dinner. I like setting up the tent. It’s something that I can do well by now, and sometimes it can be a little bit harder when two people try to do it rather than just one - though I do occasionally ask for help with the big tent, since it’s about my height but much wider.

I took advantage of the light to do some writing before we got ready for bed. We set the alarm for 5am so we could get going on our long day. And I didn’t hit the snooze this time… I just took a little longer to get dressed and ready than he did.

We were set to leave just before 6 when we realized that we had left the car at the campsite, which would be rude to do when we would be gone for 4 days. So I dropped my pack at the trailhead and went back to the campsite to move the car. I did it, rather than Ambrose, because his boots are so large that it can be difficult for him to drive in them. I don’t have that problem with mine.
I could have sworn that sign wasn't there before...
As usual, I was a bit of a zombie on the first part of the trail, doggedly following Ambrose as he led the way. I hardly took any pictures until we got to the first crossing of the Little Queens River. I wanted to record that one though, because the guidebook insisted that it was a rock hop, and I begged to differ. It got above my knees as I crossed.
Not a rock hop!
As much as I disliked the cold, wet crossing, it did wake me up. I got my second breakfast burrito from Ambrose, ate half of it and hiked off. We agreed to meet on the other side of the second crossing for coffee. Since most of the trail we were hiking on this 4 day trip would be new territory, this would be my last chance to hike at my own pace until Monday when we got back to the Queens River section we had explored back in June. We both agreed that staying in sight in unfamiliar territory was safest.
I was in such a hurry to reach the crossing that I almost missed the deer hanging out on the trail ahead of me. I heard a branch crack and looked up to see it, hesitating ahead of me. I stayed quiet and managed to get the camera out for some decent shots before I kept going, wondering if Ambrose would see that deer too.

I resolutely avoided looking at my clock. I hoped that I would make it past the place where I’d made coffee the week before by 9:30am - but I still wasn’t stopping until after I crossed the river again. The trail passed quickly under my feet and I made it to the crossing by 9:17am.
Flowers taller than me!

The place we had coffee last time.
I did the crossing and dumped my pack on the ground just off the trail on the other side. I wanted to make the coffee in the bottles rather than making it in the pot, because I never seemed to get the amount of water right, but I didn’t have Ambrose’s bottle. So I compromised. I got what seemed like it would be too much water into the pot and boiled the water. I put 4 scoops of latte mix into my bottle and poured in boiling water. The water left in the pot also got 4 scoops.
Ambrose had appeared by then and made his way across the river. He gave me his bottle and when I poured I was not entirely surprised to see that it only filled about halfway.

He suggested I pour some off of my bottle into his. I didn’t really want to, because his was more concentrated than mine already, but I did. I’m too nice.

Even though I could have hiked off at my own pace until the trail junction that split to Browns Lake, I decided to stay in sight of Ambrose. After all, part of what I like about going out there is spending time with him. We might not be talking, but staying in sight still makes me feel like we’re together.

We got to the marshy lake too early for lunch this time, but we also didn’t want to stop there because there wasn’t enough shade to rest comfortably. We kept going in search of the perfect combination of water and shade.

We walked past a few streams that had no shade to offer, hoping to find the spot that would fit our criteria. But I was getting hungry. So when I crossed a small rocky stream (no more than 3 inches deep) and saw a copse of trees in the distance I waited in the scant shade offered by a large bush for him to catch up. I figured he could pick between hiding in the shade of the bush by the river or going to the trees, dumping packs, and walking the water back to the trees.



Water for lunch.
He chose the latter. When we got back to the water with our water bags and the cook pot to help fill them, Ambrose used the pot, while I used gravity to fill my bag. To the right of the trail, the water’s path dropped about four feet, and there was room for me to place the mouth of my water bag in the stream. Everything was fine until I needed the top to the bag. It was closer to Ambrose than it was to me, and so I asked him to pass it.

I forget, sometimes, that Ambrose is not a thrower (or catcher). I fumbled the catch and the top tumbled down the stream, clicking on the rocks below.

I give myself credit for not panicking. I propped the bag in a safe space before looking for the cap on the rocks at the bottom of the mini cascade. It was there, sitting on a rock, so I used my arms to lower myself down into the stream bed. I had to be careful with where I put my weight, because many of the rocks were loose.

I got to the bottom and grabbed the top without any issues.

Then it was time to get back up, a different problem altogether - especially when the rocks I wanted to use for footholds weren’t stable enough for my weight. So I used my arms and grabbed at bushes and grass that had stabilized the ground beneath them enough to take my weight. I pulled myself up and shut my water bag. Ambrose headed back to our packs while I filled the cook pot with water for lunch.

I let our dehydrated meal soak for a few minute while I set my water bag to refill my water bladder and got situated for cooking. I was just about ready to light the stove when I saw movement coming down the trail. Two hikers were approaching, and I alerted Ambrose. He had taken his boots and socks off for the lunch break, because they were a bit wet from when he fell crossing not the river, but one of the 6 to 8 inch streams (yes, I needled him for that).

Neither of us made much effort to move off of the trail. There was plenty of room to get around us though. They hiked by, the first one saying either that we were the first people he had seen in four days, or for days, depending on whether you ask Ambrose or me (for days). The second one seemed to be resentful of our presence, but maybe he was just tired. They had been at Browns Lake.


Sporadic cloud cover kept the heat from being overwhelming.
After Ambrose and I ate lunch, we hiked on. It didn’t seem like much time passed before we reached the right angle turns that led to the steep climb, or, as I was thinking of it, the hell chute. Here, I did strike out a bit ahead of Ambrose. I prefer to take the steep sections in big chunks, going until I reach either the top or a nice spot to rest. Ambrose takes the slow and steady method. He may not get there quickly, but he gets there.

I reached the turn off away from Browns Lake and settled into the only available shade while I waited for Ambrose to catch up again. I also snacked, working on my Pocket Fuel - a combination of almond butter, cocoa, sugar and espresso. Delicious, but with a problem. It is difficult to get it all out. By the time Ambrose caught up, I had settled on a solution. I got out my knife and sliced it open from the bottom. I didn’t want to waste a drop of it.

Now we were headed up trail that we had never before walked. We were in the midst of a burned forest and we knew from the map that we were about to hit a zipper of a switchback.
The only evidence the fire left of the sign are these burned nails.

It may not look like much, but this is the main trail.
For the first time, we began to see trail markers. I had been beginning to think that the wilderness area didn’t have such things, but we saw blazes, cut logs and buried logs that helped us get through the burn where the trail didn’t always look like trail. Or when everything looks like trail…


One thing that was nice about hiking up switchbacks in a burned out area was that it was really easy for me to keep an eye on Ambrose. I tried to stay no more than one switchback above him. A few times, when I had to maneuver past a fallen log or tricky rocks, I would watch him cross the same obstacle from above to make sure he made it through alright.

With maximum zoom, I could make out the alien tree above Browns Lake.


When I reached the turn of one switchback, I saw the valley we had hiked through earlier spread out below me. The sight was incredible. I could see the trail in the distance, a white scar through green grasses. I waited for Ambrose to get there so I could enjoy the view with him. Even though I took photographs, it’s not the same as standing there next to someone, sharing the entire beautiful view.
The valley below.

Zoom reveals the trail in the valley.
It was a good thing that I stopped there rather than continuing up in the hopes of a better view at the next switchback, because the trail left that ridge entirely after that. I traversed several ridges before the switchbacking start up again. I had to slow down there a little bit so I could still stay in sight. Mostly.

Not long after that, I reached the couch (which is another name for a saddle, or the low point between peaks that is also a high point between valleys). Naturally, I dumped my pack on the ground and laid myself down on it while I waited for Ambrose to arrive. Once I heard him getting close, I yelled out to tell him that it wasn’t much farther.



Wind usually whips through saddles. This can be irritating or even dangerous on a cold day, but the sun was beating down and the wind felt delicious.




Relaxing on the couch.
We could see the tarn we were aiming to reach in the valley below, and after Ambrose had a few minutes to rest, we started down the trail. Ambrose led at this point. I’m not as fast going downhill as I am going uphill, so it makes sense for him to lead when we go downhill. Not that I have any trouble keeping up.

We encountered our first snow of the trip, but the real trouble came from some fallen trees. One of them required some contortions to get through and Ambrose paid a toll when it ripped his pants near the crotch. I was careful to avoid that particular section when I passed through.

This tree took a bite out of Ambrose's pants.
The trail seemed to go on for longer than it should, probably because we were both getting a bit tired and hungry. Finally, Ambrose told me he thought we should just camp off the trail where we were, since there was a stream visible to the right of the trail. I wanted to hold out for the spur trail to Johnson Lake. I actually wanted to go all the way to it, but I knew he didn’t. So I looked ahead down the trail and saw two prominent rock piles about fifteen feet away. I pointed them out to Ambrose, because they sure looked like cairns marking a trail to me.
Yes, the log was high, but Ambrose and I both went over it.


Ambrose turns off the main trail at the rocks. 
They were, but the trail led directly to a muddy bog of a stream crossing. We made our way up the other bank and found a flat area to make camp. We didn’t even make it to the tarn, but we had water and got to stop for the day, so it was a win.

I took care of the tent while Ambrose filled our water bags. We both put on anti-bug stuff and got our boots off. I set my socks to dry off in a small tree. Ambrose cooked dinner, but I ended up helping. My help mostly consisted of offering the comment, “did you forget to add the milk?” when he found his mashed potatoes were way too dry. I also stirred the milk in.

I did not put the rain fly up when I set up the tent, but I did make it easily accessible. It was hooked in on the wall behind our backs, and folded in on itself. That way, if it started to rain, either one of us could get out and quickly arrange it over the rest of the tent, but we could leave ourselves a view through the mesh in the meantime.

It didn’t rain, but the moon was bright when the clouds let it shine through.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Browns Lake - Part 2

Continued from Browns Lake - Part 1
I got to sleep late the next day. Of course, sleeping late out there means something like 7:30am instead of 5:30. I was actually up before the sun crested into Browns Lake - without any external prompting, it's amazing. It was my day to cook, so I set to making coffee and breakfast. Then Ambrose and I set off for an exploratory day hike. We wanted to get to the unnamed lake above Browns at least, and maybe climb the peak.




First, we followed the trail around the lake, deviating only when a combination of tree limbs and snow made the trail unsafe. We found a stream that fed into Browns Lake and began to follow it up. Ambrose had a compass heading that he wanted to follow to reach the small lakes above Browns, but the direction it pointed us in didn't seem quite right. So we improvised, based partly on the terrain.

After scrambling up a rocky meadow with a boulder field to our right, we entered a section with burned trees and ashy soil. The ash can be almost as treacherous as snow to walk on. Sometime it will be solid under your foot, and other times it collapses or sinks like sand. We considered crossing a stream to a different ridge, but ended up staying on the one we started on. I thought about walking through the stream as the best way to get to the lake that surely fed it, but we ended up scrambling over tree limbs instead. The lake, when we found it, was a bit of an anti-climax. It was more like a snow melt puddle. Okay, a large snow melt puddle.

At this point, I wanted a snack, but Ambrose wanted to drop packs and then keep going. I kinda wish I had kept my pack or spoken up, but I didn't. We hoofed up to see if we could see the lake or glacier which fed the stream which fed this lake, but decided to stop at the next flat spot.
Walking around Browns Lake

Following a stream up to the next lake 
Scrambling up a rocky field

What large boulders you have!

Looking back at Ambrose - he's keeping up pretty well. 
Then Ambrose proposed traversing below a rock wall to try and reach a saddle on the way to the peak. I was game, and we were off. It wasn't too bad, as long as I didn't look down. We had one tricky moment with a log that was precariously perched above us. To get by it, Ambrose had to grab it for balance, which caused it to rock. He then held it while I got past its line of fall. Of course, after we passed, it didn't fall.

I beat him to the saddle and went to the edge to look down on Browns Lake while I waited for Ambrose to catch up. I used the camera to zoom in on the shores of Browns Lake. I found that at maximum zoom, I could discern one of the tents of our neighbors. When he caught up, he pointed back up to what looked like the peak and asked if I wanted to give it a go.
Browns Lake behind Ambrose

The lake was partially hidden by snow.

The land here was wet and boggy with snow melt.

A source of melting snow

I'm on a rock!

A close up of a cornice

That looks climbable, right? 
On the one hand, I totally did, but on the other hand, I had no pack and was both hungry and thirsty.
Ambrose had food on him, so we each ate and then headed up, navigating rocks, tree limbs and steepness to get closer to the peak.
Looking down on Browns Lake

36X Digital Zoom - there's a tent, I promise.
Climbing up was not the easiest thing that I've ever done. I was nervous about the scrambling. We weren't on trail, we didn't have any supplies beyond the camera and a bit of food and the terrain was uncertain. But it was also fun and exhilarating. As we progressed up rocks and around downed trees, I warmed to the idea of reaching the peak. But when we got to the top of the next saddle, we saw we were at least ridges away from the peak, so we headed back down to our packs.

If we had had our packs, then we might have made a go of the peak, but, as Ambrose put it, our margin of safety was too small for the fun to continue.

We made our way down to our packs and ate some of our cold lunch of tortillas and potted meat while enjoying the scenery of the small lake. Then we continued down until we reached the area the hiker had mentioned with the sitting log. There wasn't actually a fire ring, just some rocks with evidence of scorching on them. I wished that I had said something to that hiker about not needing a fire ring since we hadn't brought a fire blanket or pan. In the wilderness area, fires are only allowed on blankets or in pans. A fire ring offers no real safety.
Climbing down is harder than climbing up... 
This might be a nice place to camp, if we could haul our equipment up here. 

Climbing through the break in a massive tree. 

View from the alternate campsite.
When we got back to our camp, I noticed that the other tents were gone, so we kept going on our exploration to take a look at the spot they had chosen for their camp. And for safety.

The night before, I had noticed one of them pulling low dead branches off a tree near the water when I was getting some water. When I got back to Ambrose I told him they were building a fire, because I had seen them gathering wood. Sure enough, we were soon able to smell their fire smoke. I didn't know for sure that they didn't have a blanket or pan, but based on the guy's comment about a fire ring, I was betting that they didn't.

And when we came to their site, a nice enough area that seemed more windy than ours as well as lacking water access as convenient, we found a fire ring with fresh ash. Ambrose pressed his hand to it to make sure that it was out cold, and I really wanted to punch the guy who had left a cigarette butt in it. Or girl. There was one girl in the party, but I'm not sure who the smoker was.

The rest of the day was to be a lazy day, other than one small thing that I wanted to do.

I wanted to get in the water.

Yes, yes, it's going to be cold. So I'll prepare. I boiled water and made myself, and Ambrose while I was at it, a Nalgene bottle of hot soup with some leftover rice noodles from the previous day's lunch. I got my towel ready. I removed most of my clothing, so I'd have something dry to put on afterwards.

And then I got into the coldest water I have yet to subject myself to.

The other camp site had water access, both by the river and the lake, but the lake side was crowded with logs pushed by the current, and sandy to boot. Our water access was a rock shelf. I didn't have to wade into the water, I just slid right in and froze.

After Ambrose got photographic evidence of my bravery/foolhardiness, I scrambled out and started drying myself off. Clothes back on, still not warm, drinking soup in the sun, still not warm. My skin was still cold when I climbed into the tent, which I knew would do the trick. The tent was in full sun, with the rainfly up. It was an oven in there, and I eventually recovered from my dip.

The rest of the afternoon I read, or lounged in the sun. Or out of the sun, depending on how hot it got. The deer stopped by again, but I still couldn't get a really good shot. After I cooked dinner, I cooked the next morning's breakfast and coffee so we could avoid cooking in the morning. There's just something awful about cooking in the early morning, to me at least. You get really cold when you have to clean the pot up after you're done and I have to carry that wet cook pot. Yuck.
From afar, this feature looked like an alien peaking over into Browns Lake. Thanks to super-zoom, we could see it was just some trees. But when the moon rose over it, I had to take some pictures.

Our water access had a nice rock shelf (bear rope on the right).

We turned the tent to have a less tilted sleeping surface for the second night. 

A great shot - except for the missing head....
So we saved some time by doing the cooking the night before (and Ambrose didn't have to do them on his day to cook - coincidence? I think not).

After it was done, and we were trying to let the hot coffee and hot breakfast skillet cool enough to be stored, I was exhausted. I thought I would fall asleep as soon as I stopped trying to stay awake, even though it was barely 7 in the evening. But once we put the food up and I was allowed to fall asleep, I couldn't do it. I couldn't get comfortable; Ambrose was snoring too loudly; I had to pee; I had to pee again.

I gave in to necessity and took a couple anti-histamines, which eventually did the trick.

Our deer were back that night. As I heard them rustling around outside, I would doze off and find myself dreaming of them. After hearing them splash into the lake, I dreamed of them coming out of the lake, fleeing a monster. It was probably the cold of that glacier fed lake!
Goodbye, Browns Lake!
Since it had taken us 5 hours to get to our turnaround and then 3 hours to get back from it on our last trip, I calculated that our 10 hour trip up would translate to a 6 hour trip down. Despite that, we still got up at 5am to head down. We should have gotten out of there by 6, but nature got in the way of that. Nature and the fact that I picked a spot with dirt baked hard like concrete to dig a cat hole. But we left by 6:30, which wasn't too bad.
Bye bye, not Browns Lake!
Losing elevation is so much easier than gaining it. We dropped 400 feet in what seemed like no time at all.
I found where the main trail diverged in part because Ambrose had estimated it to be near a particular formation that we had crossed, and in part because I was keeping a sharp eye out. The trail looked like trail, kind of, but the kicker was the two burned nails in a burned tree. I was willing to bet that that was where the sign for Browns Lake used to be.

The main trail heads off to the right.
In some ways, the trip down was really fast. The steep sections went by really quickly. But the flats seemed to linger and drag out. It seemed like we had only passed one copse of live trees on the way up and then we were passing our third and I was wondering when we were going to hit the marshy lake again. I love being out in the wilderness, but when I'm headed for the car, I want to get there NOW.
The green growths seems so much greener against the burned dirt and trees.

Heading down the steeps

We paused after the two right angle turns to have a pack off snack. Then we moved on and made good time to the marsh lake. I knew it wouldn't be more than 30 minutes from the trail junction before we reached the first ford, so I hurried my steps and got there faster than I expected.
Here comes the sun!





Hello, marshy lake!
And, surprise! There were two more backpackers across the river, who looked like they were striking camp. As there would be no way to hear them or for them to hear me, I didn't yell across, but I did wave when they could see me. Once I was across, I didn't really talk to them, because I had to tend to my water bladder and get going. Ambrose had said that I could go right to the car, without waiting for him at the next ford.
The trail junction sign had something written on the back, but I'm not quite sure what it reads.
Now, this did make me a little nervous, because that ford makes me nervous. But Ambrose trusted that I could do it by myself, and it wasn't like he had actually needed to help me cross it before. It was just that his presence made me feel more comfortable in case of emergency.
Ambrose chatted with them, a man and a woman, and I did chime in when I had something relevant (and could hear them over the roar of the river). But, again, it isn't in me to be so social. And I had a mission. Get to the car, as fast as I can!

I did not stop for a lot of pictures. I pushed off at a hard pace and kept it hard. I ate energy chews periodically and tried to drink more than I thought I needed. This was my chance to get some hard exercise in, and I reveled in it. My body had adjusted to the burden of my pack and I felt comfortable and self-sufficient.

I ran into two of the forest service personnel crossing one of the streams. They had marked some trees with pink ribbon and were talking as I walked passed them and waved. They waved back, and I moved on.
I kept thinking that someone would approach me, from either direction, and ask where the fire was, because I was moving so quickly. I didn't quite break into a run, but I kept at a walking pace just slower than where I would start to jog. And I thought about how I would answer such a question.

"In my pants!"

Because at that point, my main focus was not the car and the coconut water that resided therein, oh no, it was the rustic bathroom at the trailhead where I would be able to relieve myself without worrying about digging a cat hole or splashing anything on my sandals or boots, socks or ankles and pants or gaiters. What luxury!
The first snake I've seen on this trail.

This tree is a little awkward to get around.
When I reached the ford, I tried to be efficient with my gaiters-boots-socks off, cross river, socks-boots-gaiters on procedure, but I still took around 25 minutes to do it. Still, I was less than an hour from the trailhead at that point, and I thought I could get there before noon, if I really pushed it and did the section in less than 35 minutes.

I almost made it.
I got so close!

But 5 hours and 28 minutes to do 9.18 miles and come down over 3100 feet is nothing to sneeze at. I was happy to get back to the car and the toilet.
After visiting the toilet, I pulled the car over to the campsite we had used before and started setting up my waiting area. I put a tarp on the table, and then put my old sleeping pad on top of that. I arranged my change of clothes, cocowater, book, soap and water nearby. I had everything but my sandals, but by that time I didn't care. I figured I could wait to leave the table until Ambrose got back. So I washed my feet and then settled down to wait.

He arrived at 6 hours and 3 minutes.

But he did cheat by fording the last crossing without taking off his boots. Which means he hiked that last section with water filled hydro-massage boots. And he surprised me by arriving before the couple we'd seen did, if only by about a minute. He said he caught them by doing the crossing that way.

I cooked our lunch before we got in the car to drive home. This was just the dress rehearsal for next week, when I'd be taking time off of work to do a 4 day hike of the Queens River Loop.