Stump Lake Day 3

Around 4 in the morning, I had to get up to pee. When I got back to the tent, I couldn't fall back asleep, and I could hear my friend rolling around restlessly. I finally asked her if she was awake, and she was. We chatted for a bit while lying there in the dark, eventually trailing off and drifting back into sleep for the short time remaining before the 6 am alarm. 

When I'm solo and really on it, I can pack up and be hiking in about 45 minutes. When I'm with my husband, we typically take between 55 and 75 minutes from wake up to leave camp. Because my friend does not have that kind of experience, I allotted us 120 minutes. We took about 127. 

It was very cold in the morning; so cold, that I offered my down jacket to my friend to wear, since I could wear my rain gear with my long johns under my hiking clothes and be okay. She took me up on it, though it didn't fit her like it does me (she's much taller). It was better than being out there with nothing at all for sure. 

I didn't have anything to cook that morning for breakfast, but my friend did, so she worked her stove while I ate my cold cookie and filtered water. She did offer me coffee, which I had to sadly decline. I would have been happy to take that weight from her, but alas, no coffee for me at that time. I was giving my tummy a break from unadulterated coffee, and I wasn't about to haul cream out into the woods, not even on a 3 day trip. 

At some point that morning, she finally had to dig her first hole. Backpacker milestone! I also had to dig a hole, which always delays me in getting on the trail, but the sun came out and got us moving a bit quicker, and we made it on to the trail a little after 8 in the morning. Well within my tolerance for the day's hike. 

Good morning, tent!

Good morning, Stump Lake!

And, goodbye, Stump Lake!

Now, my friend was a bit skeptical about hiking the entire way back to the car in one stretch. It would be nearly 6 miles, and she still had a vivid memory of how hard it was to climb up there in 2 days. But I had the experience to draw on to know that hiking downhill always goes faster than hiking uphill, and I've taken many trips where my husband and I would hike 2 days out and 1 day back. I predicted we'd get to the car about noon, but assured her that even if we hiked at the very slow pace of 1 mile per hour, we'd be at the car by 2 pm. 

Thank goodness, my experience proved true. She wondered at how much easier the trail was as we hiked. Before too long, we both needed a break to change clothes; we had started with many more layers since it was a chilly morning, but the movement of the hiking soon warmed us more than comfortably. 

On the way up, there had been several little "trail problems" that had more than one solution. On the way up, I took one route, and on the way down, I made sure to take the other one, because I wanted to give my friend the experience of different ways. I also wanted to make it clear to her that while we may have taken one way on the way up, that didn't mean the other ways weren't worth using. 

One of these was a little boggy stream crossing that had log options on either side; different sizes and heights from the ground providing different challenges. The other one I recall specifically was a large log, bigger than I could stand over, and covered in rough bark. On the way up, I chose to go over it, even though there was a go-around trail, because the go around went uphill and I didn't want to climb more than necessary. But on our hike down, we took the go-around, in part because it was painful to get over it, and in part because descending the go-around was easier than ascending it. 

Just a bit of uphill on our mostly downhill day.

The sun caught us.

Crossing the boggy section on the small logs this time.

Teeny-tiny waterfall.

Before too long, we made it to the no trail sign, and then all the way down to the stream crossing. Now, my friend's crossing shoes took a long time to dry the day before, and I knew she didn't have any other shoes at the car, so I suggested she take one of two options. Option one: use crossing shoes, and accept the possibility of having wet sandals in the car all the way home. Option two: cross in boots, and either get them wet and hike with them wet the two miles to the car, OR keep them mostly dry by doing a rock hop, which involved crossing that gap before reaching hoppable rocks. 

She, wisely, I think, chose to keep her boots on, but let me go first. 

My legs were too short to bridge the gap safely in a step, because the bank was very slippery. So I examined the gap, and saw a submerged rock a couple inches below the surface in the middle of the gap. If I could set one foot down on it just right, I might get my shoe a bit wet, but I'd be able to keep the other foot completely dry. A compromise, but one I was willing to take. Since I was hiking in Altra's my heel did get wet when I put it on that rock, but not very wet. And when my friend placed her booted foot on it, her sole was robust enough to keep her from getting wet at all (her boots are not waterproof, but they did have thick soles - that started to come off of the uppers on this trip, time for new boots!). 

Making excellent time down the trail.

Though we went slower across these rocky sections.

So very close to a full rock hop.

I got some footage of her doing the rock hop, and then we continued hiking. I warned her to take care when we got to the section where we'd descend along a dusty section that has rocks like ball bearings, very easy to slip and slide to your butt on this section. Maybe because I said that, neither of us fell - I did come close, but that was more me tripping over my own feet that getting pulled down by the trail. 

When we got to the little footbridge, my friend paused and asked me if I'd heard that sound. I wasn't sure what sound she meant, so I repeated it, to the best of my ability and she said yeah, that one. I was like, hmm, I don't know. But then it repeated, and close enough for us to determine it was time to get out of the way. Three boys on mountain bikes flew into view. Two splashed right through the creek, and the third, seeing the splashes, decided to walk his across. Rather than using the little footbridge, he used what I had always thought was a useless narrow log in the stream to walk his bike across. Now I know what those logs are for! 

Hop those rocks!

Downhill hiking, yay!

Already back to the junction! 2 miles to the trailhead.

The cute little footbridge, small log, and me (photo by E.K.).

After they cleared out, we hiked on, and we passed the bikes near a swimming hole where we could hear the boys talking about how very cold the water was. We saw more people hiking in as we hiked out; that made sense, since it was a Saturday (we both wanted Sunday as a recovery day before having to back to work on Monday). Some of them were hiking with fishing gear, others just with hard seltzer. 

This mudhole has evolved in the years I've hiked this trail. 

It was a gorgeous morning for hiking.

We got to the trailhead without incident.

So glad to make it back to the car!

Close to the campground, we saw a guy sitting on a rock in the middle of the creek, looking like he was meditating. And when we came to the campground (just after noon!), we were greeted by barking dogs and the sight of a nearly full campground. I wanted to get to the pit toilet right away, but someone was in it. As soon as that person left, I made a beeline, but I saw she was handing off her TP to someone else and saw a conflict. She offered to rock-paper-scissors with me for the right to next, and I countered with "I just spent 3 days backpacking." 

"You win," she said, and graciously allowed me to go before her. 

Then my friend and I took some time to eat something and rinse off our faces in the creek. Before too long, we were ready to go. I was pretty tired by this point, so I had warned her that I would need to be singing along to music to keep me focused on the road - not that we couldn't talk, but I would use the music to keep my mind awake and if we were talking, I'd use the talking to keep sharp. I figure it's a lot easier to keep songs running than to talk constantly, so that's what I do. 

I also made sure to drive straighter lines on the forest service road to reduce the possibility of car sickness. It may have helped. Traffic wasn't too bad going down, though before we reached the highway, we beheld quite a sight. In the truck in front of us, the passenger was making sexy times with the driver. Both were in silhouette, and we could literally see the woman's tongue sticking out and licking the driver's face. I raised my camera to take a photo and they stopped for a bit, but then started up again, so I decided to film them instead, but only got a snap of a non-sexy silhouette. 

We drove some back roads and then cut over to 84. I got her home and then, somehow, made it to my own, where I got to collapse in the arms of my husband for a bit. Only a bit, because I needed to turn around all my gear for another trip the following weekend. 

Blackmare Lake Becomes Stump Lake Day 2

Though we were both pretty cold overnight, it wasn't too hard to get up the next morning. In part because we weren't getting up all that early. We had less than 4 miles to backpack, so I wasn't worried at all about leaving by a particular time. It was a total leisure morning, starting with my friend cooking breakfast and making coffee. 

I wasn't drinking coffee at that time, so I just enjoyed the smell of hers, and begged a bit of hot water to somewhat reheat my mac and cheese. I figured extra watery would be fine if the water were warm. It didn't actually heat that much, but I ate it all anyway, because hunger. 

We ended up setting out close to 9 am, which is way late for what I usually do, but was perfect for this particular trip. The sun was out and the smoke haze had been blown away overnight, leaving us with beautifully clear vistas once we got high enough. 

But first, we had to cross the creek. 

Now, I was kitted out in my crossing set up, which for this trip was my hiking Altras with neither socks nor liners in. She had her sandalshoes on and her boots laced together and hung around her neck. We went down to the water and I went first. I reached the edge of the rock hop and just grabbed that little tree and tossed it downstream. Then I started going for the jump. My friend decided she'd just use her crossing shoes as intended and crossed while I was still nerving myself up. 

I planted both trekking poles in the far bank. I reached out my right foot and tried to find a solid place from which to launch myself across the gap. Slip, slide, there. Right there. Okay! 

With a mighty barbaric yawp, I used trekking poles and my one foot to bring my body and pack across the gap. Feet remained dry, aw yeah. 

Then we sat down to get our feet all set up for hiking. From my vantage, I saw a tiny little mushroom growing under the bank and I made sure to point it out to her. And from that point on, both of us went on a bit of a mushroom finding kick. 

There were certainly a lot of mushrooms to be found on our route (though no morels). 

Ready to go!

That's some cold water.

So we tried to avoid walking in it as much as possible.

There were a few trees down, but overall the trail was in good shape.

Some of us didn't need to duck for all the downed trees (photo by E.K.).

Plenty of trees down, but not across the trail itself.

After the crossing, the trail climbs. A lot. It's got a bit of variety, but mostly it's up. There were switchbacks and ramps and a few large downed trees that required upward go arounds. I saw quite a few huckleberry bushes, but we were far too late in the season to see any berries. We stopped every 20 minutes or so for a brief break, and I made sure to give us bigger breaks every now and again as well. 

Eventually, we made our way all the way to the infamous "no trail" sign. Here, we took one of those longer breaks and had a talk about our route. The original plan had been to go to Blackmare Lake, but based on our hike so far, I didn't think either of us was in the shape to make it. It isn't a long hike to Blackmare along the no trail, but it isn't really a trail either. There are route markers, and I have been there several times, but I haven't been there in a couple years, so I didn't know exactly how difficult it was going to be. But I did know that unless there had been some maintenance right by the lake itself, we would be facing a very difficult climb around fallen trees right at the end of the hike. And that's after a 500 foot climb in a quarter mile and several other precarious climbs, both up and down. 

So I tried to figure out how far it was from the no trail sign to Stump Lake. Stump Lake was the site of my first real solo overnight (technically, I did a solo overnight at Skillern Hot Springs, but that doesn't really "count" as solo to me, because there were other campers there so I wasn't alone). That trip was the one where the whole idea of my Hike with Me books was born. And once my friend understood that Stump Lake was a) not a consolation prize but a cool destination in and of itself and b) not more than 2 miles from where we currently were, she was down to go there. 

The "no trail" sign!

My friend says, "No" to the "no trail."

And I'm like, it's just up this way ;) (photo by E.K.)

We'll be back for that trail.

I made the 'not more than 2 miles' determination by looking at my picture of the sign from the last trail junction, which put the Needles Summit at 4 miles. Needles Summit is just past Stump Lake, and I could see by my map that we were closer to Stump Lake than that junction, hence it must be less than 2 miles. 

Of course, we still had to climb. Quite a bit actually. I'm quite proud of my friend and the way she pushed on, even though it was tough. We were both sweating profusely and I actually walked right past the lake, because I hadn't been there in so long. That's one of the cool things about Stump Lake; it's a high mountain lake that's practically invisible from the trail, but once you step off the trail and see it, you are amazed that it can hide like that. 

It's a little gem of a lake, complete with a namesake stump sticking out of it on one end. And there was a nice campsite ready for us, complete with logs to sit on around a fire ring. Perfect place for cooking! 

Relatively easy to get over, but that bark was rough on legs.

Crossing a boggy section of trail on a big log.

More mushrooms.

Early in the season, this stretch is usually soaking wet, but in August, totally dry.

Almost made it to the lake.

First order of business: take a break! We were both pretty tired and overheated from the hike up, so first we just collapsed around the fire ring and recovered. The sun was out and made sparkles on the lake, especially when the wind was blowing just so. There were lily pads in bloom around the edges of the lake, dragonflies chasing each other - we even saw some conjoined dragonflies mating on the wing. Stump Lake is a magical place, full of beauty, and oh-so-quiet. 

I'm taking a break, I am (photo by E.K.).

Lots of beautiful scenery around Stump Lake (photo by E.K.).

Magical photo of the stump by E.K.

Oh what a beautiful lake.

The stump is still hanging out.

And we got some sunshine.

I had to dig a hole several times that day, and while I normally wouldn't talk too much about that at camp, my friend had yet to dig a hole in the outdoors, her trips always having been short enough for her body to hold off on such activity. So I did talk a bit about various techniques for using the trowel as well as my two tactics: Preparation and Emergency. For a Preparation, I would first dig a hole, and then position myself over it to do my business. For an Emergency, I find a place relatively clear of plants and rocks and do my business, only digging a hole for it and burying it after the fact. Each one has advantages and disadvantages; and, before you learn how to aim, Preparation often requires some moving and reburying of anything that misses the hole. 

Once we had rested sufficiently, we needed to get water. The water right by the campsite was coming up scuzzy, full of debris and gunk. So we went on a little safari to find a better place to draw from. We started by going to the lake's inlet, but the bank there was just muddy, though the view was very pretty with lots of water lilies in bloom. 

Then we went around the other side. I knew from experience that our best bet was a boulder that jutted out into the water far enough to clear the weeds, but was low enough to the water that we could use it. While my friend tried a bankside spot, I shoved my way past some small trees and bushes to sit down on a rock. 

I used a nearby piece of wood to clear the water of surface debris and bugs, then swept my CNOC through to fill it. When she saw the quality of water I was getting and compared it to what she got, she asked me if I could fill hers as well. Since I was already perched, and rather precariously, I agreed as long as she came over to grab my bag while I filled hers. 

We headed back to camp with 6 liters of water, ready to get hydrated. Before the evening came, we actually went back to that same spot to top our water off - better to get it in the warmth of the day than have to go get some in the chill of the morning. 

I found a nice big thwacky stick for pounding in stakes. Yes, it was overkill. Yes, it was fun (photo by E.K.).

Tent all set up, close to the fire pit because we weren't making fire.

The biggest mushrooms we found, and so many!

Lily pad flower in Stump Lake.

Another late blooming wildflower.

A woodpecker!

Ursack in place.

Cool twisted tree.

Last picture before retreating into the tent.

For this evening's tent, we both wanted to try and be warmer than last night. My first suggestion was putting our towels down under our sleeping pads; this provides just a smidge more insulation from the ground and prevents my pad from sliding (hers is of a different material and actually slid more on the towel). I also emphasized that night that we shouldn't be chasing the cold, but retaining what heat we had. We retreated to the tent earlier in the evening, and I made sure to get my warm night socks on as soon as I was in for the night. Sometimes, it feels like my feet heat up better without socks, but not on a backpacking trip. 

I also ate my entire dinner that night, which was a high calorie/protein chicken alfredo by Peak Refuel. It took me some time to finish it, but I knew I'd need that if I wanted to sleep more warmly that night. Plus snacks; as I advised my friend, I often find that I can't get back to sleep after peeing unless I both eat and drink. I also gave her the advice that I had recently learned about staying warm - if you wake up cold, go pee, because your body is using energy to keep all that urine at body temperature instead of keeping your toes warm. It sucks to get out of the tent in the cold, yes, but you'll be more efficient at heating yourself when you get back in. 

Plus, I told her if it got cold enough, I would not hesitate to cuddle with her to generate more warmth together. 

We slept much more warmly that night, which was a good thing, because I had decided in my authority as trip leader to get us up much earlier, at 6 am, with the goal of starting to hike by 8 am. 

Blackmare Lake Day 1

I set off on a Thursday morning to go pick up my friend from her house. When I got there, we did spend some time talking gear and arranging things before leaving. For example, we agreed that she would be the cook for our group, so I would get to leave my cooking kit in the car - only fair since I would be carrying out the tent. 

The drive up to Donnelly went very smoothly, and I remembered the first turn easily. We drove by old Roseberry and the Cecilia Larkin house (name known to us only by the sign out front). I turned there as well, but I missed my next turn at Paddy Flat Rd and had to turn around to get to it. Once we got on that road, we had a bit of adventure when we found that cows were being driven along the road by a cowboy on an ATV. I went very slow while the calves gamboled along the road. 

From that point, we were driving on a logging road that soon entered the forest. It's twisty and winding and it climbs. We had one close encounter with a truck coming the other way at what seemed like an unsafe rate of speed, but otherwise the drive was fine - for me. Unfortunately, the way I like driving those roads, swooping the curves, was making my friend a bit carsick. Soon enough though, we reached the Kennally Creek Campground and after a few minutes her woes had passed. 

Which was a good thing, because I'd brought some homemade applesauce along, and I really wanted her to try it! 

At the campground, we saw a bunch of horse trailers and one truck parked near the trailhead, but there were no campers at all. The truck turned out to belong to some day hikers staying in a forest service cabin about 5 miles away. I tried to ask them about the condition of the trail they had just come off, but they didn't understand my question (or I didn't understand their answer). They seemed a bit in awe that my friend and I were going on a backpacking trip. 

We got our gear all situated and changed over into our hiking gear as needed. Then it was time to head out. 

This trail is very well traveled; although Kennally was empty when we left, it gets a lot of use over the weekends. At first, you can even walk abreast with someone, because the trail is so wide. But soon enough we were single file and making our way up the first climb of the day along a muddy stretch of trail. 

We are ready to go!

Such a nice start to the trail.

The sky was a bit overcast, but not too smoky. The air was reasonably cool, though we both got hot from the exertion pretty quick. Usually, I do a 50 minute time or a 60 minute timer, but my friend was drinking out of a bottle that she couldn't easily reach by herself, so I set us a 20 minute timer to make sure she would get sufficient water breaks. I was drinking out of a bladder, so I didn't need to stop for drinking. I do love that about a bladder. 

We paused to take pictures at the bridge over Kennally Creek. And then again soon after at the little footbridge over the side stream. From there, I pointed out a campsite that I've used in the past, where some small animals came in the night and chewed up my bootlaces. And then it was time for the second big climb of the day. Kind of the last one, but it depends on how you count it - as one big one with a couple downhills mixed in or as several individual climbs. 

A little muddy climb.

The footbridge over Kennally Creek.

Kennally Creek

The little footbridge.

I haven't actually hiked this way in a couple years, so I was interested in places where the trail had clearly gotten a recent reroute (like I said, they take care of this trail). One particular section of trail was completely changed, so that it went around to the edge of the ridge where you could hear the stream rushing down below instead of staying more interior like it used to. 

My friend hadn't had the opportunity to go backpacking yet this summer, so she was feeling the elevation gain and the weight of the pack. I was feeling a bit rundown after my most recent trip (which was the ICT from Dry Saddle to Lynx Meadows trail head, part of which had NO trail at all), so I didn't mind keeping to a slower pace one bit. 

Mostly because it was only two miles to our campsite. We were going to arrive well before dark no matter how slow we walked, having started around noon. 

Climbing!

Aw, someone carved a tree on the stump.

That's a significant reroute.

Getting closer to the campsite!

And, indeed, it wasn't long before we came upon the trail junction, where we would be turning off in the morning, and the campsite, just to the left of said junction. We dropped packs and then went down to get water with our matching CNOC bags. This would also give us a chance to examine the crossing and determine whether we'd need to wear our crossing shoes in the morning. 

The East Fork of Kennally Creek was looking particularly gorgeous that afternoon. The water level was low enough that it almost looked like one could do a rock hop across rather than taking boots off and switching to crossing shoes. However, there was a section at the far side of the water that could prove difficult; there was a small tree down right across the gap, freshly fallen with needles still green. 

We took pictures and thought about camping down there close to the water, but I pointed out that it would get a lot colder next to the water, so we stuck with the up top site. We also decided to head out with kitted out for crossing in the morning; better to start the next day's hike with dry boots than risk getting them wet with a rock hop that wasn't complete. 

Back at the campsite, we did camp chores. We picked a spot for the tent and got it erected. I showed her what direction to go if a hole needed to be dug. We looked around for trees to secure our food bags; I had an Ursack, which requires a medium sized trunk to be tied around while she had a standard bag that we needed to hang. 

Junction!

Tent all set up.

Cool bent tree.

Ursack up.

Tomorrow's creek crossing; today's water source.

Pretty flowers hanging on in the cold (photo by E.K.)

One of many mushrooms.

Lovely tall trees (photo by E.K.).

The Ursack didn't take too long, because trees like that are not exactly in short supply in that area. Finding a decent branch to hang from took a bit longer, because most of the trees in the area have branches that slope downward at a fairly sharp angle. It would be hard to hang something from them even if they weren't so close to their trunks. Ideally, the bag is hung 10 feet high and 10 feet out from the branch's trunk. In practice, I go for 10 feet high and as far from a trunk as I can manage. 

Once we found a branch that would do, I got ready to demonstrate to my friend how to get the rope up there. I picked a rock that was about fist sized and started wrapping one of the paracord around it. I showed her how I had knotted it and then dropped it to see if the rope would hold before I flung it into the air. My first wrap wasn't secure enough so I went again. 

Then it was time to show her how to toss it over the branch. My intention was to do one demo throw and then let her do it, I swear. I had no intention of getting that rock over the branch! And yet, when I went into my preferred method of throwing, which involves swinging the rock on its rope and then releasing at just the right moment to give it an underhand arc, I managed to release at just the right moment, with just the right amount of power. 

I got it over that branch on the very first try. 

This NEVER happens!

Now, I did offer to pull it down so that she could give it a try, but that idea was quickly voted down. I mean, I've had trips where I spent many a tearful half hour trying to get my fricking rope up and over a fricking branch. Pulling this rope down would be disrespectful, really. Like refusing a gift from the universe. If I pulled it down, then we wouldn't get it back up for hours. 

One toss to get that line up. One toss!

As we spent some time just chatting and hanging out, the rumble of a helicopter's blades sounded from above. It took a while to come into view, but when it did, we could see it had a bucket attachment. I figured it was doing down to Deadwood to bring water up for some fire, but I wasn't sure which one. It went back and forth several times that evening. 

In the very center of this photo is a helicopter hauling a water bucket.

Soon enough, we were ready to cook dinner. Hunger comes early and hard out in the woods. We figured out how to use her Jetboil, and I was actually quite impressed with it. Not enough to stop using my old reliable stove, but perhaps if this one craps out, I might go to a Jetboil. We each had dehydrated meals for dinner; mine was Three Cheese Macaroni and Cheese by Backpackers Pantry, and her was Chicken and Mashed Potatoes by Mountain House. 

I didn't end up finishing mine, because it's a pretty calorie dense meal for just one person. For the first time, I saved it to eat for breakfast the next day. I haven't done that before. I either eat all my dinner or my husband finishes it off for me. I wasn't sure I'd be able to stomach ice cold mac and cheese, even though it's super tasty while hot. 

Not long after dinner, we retreated to the tent for warmth. There was an evening breeze at that site, and even with both my vestibule doors closed, I had trouble staying warm. It was late August, after all, which is practically autumn by the calendar, and actually autumn by the changes in the leaves we were already seeing.