The Fin, a rock spire surrounding Rae Lakes, could be seen clearly behind Dollar Lake, as we posed for a picture and almost fell in. We ran into Alex and Kathleen on the other side of this lake. They had barely slept--as the cool breeze and damp air off the lake froze their sleeping bags and bodies. So note to hikers-- don't camp by lakes if it's cold.
Craggy peaks littered the scenery surrounding Rae Lakes. We stopped for a long, late morning break. I lent Bob my warm, comfy sleep system and encouraged him to take a nap, which he did. I ate peanut butter-dipped tortillas and journaled at a lakeside overlook. Here is what I wrote that day:
"If the High Sierra is an orchestra--the mountains are the wind section--creating stories with peaks and valleys, color with shapely crags over blue waters, drama with geologic rock formations, and drawing you to the climactic edge with ridgewalks and high pass summits. The trees, shrubs, grasses and animals--deer, chipmunk, squirrels, marmots, bears, are the horn section of the orchestra de High Sierra-- setting the tone and rhythm of life, creating surprises that delight, living in extreme places like high cliffs or low islands, all adding humor and fun to this dramatic song. And we, Bob and Lee, backpackers, are both audience and conductor."
Awaking after his nap, Bob led the way into the lake, for a necessary swim in deep, cold waters. I don't know what expression we were expressing in this picture, but it captures the wonder on this moment fully.
The smoke was encroaching on our perfect setting, creating a Mordor-esque mountain horizon beyond the water. We decided to push on. The trail curved around Rae Lakes masterfully, exposing new views constantly while we treaded along the edge of the two lakes, on our way to Glen Pass.
Painted Lady jutted towards the sky as we hiked on to Glen. The path led to a false summit that had us guessing where to go. We eventually saw black dots--people-- on a shaley cliff above. We climbed on.
We made the pass and then continued along the ridge amid densely gathering smoke.
The smoke was so thick we had to don our cowboy bandannas once again. The nearby mountains couldn't be seen at all. The Rough Fire was directly west of us now and gaining size.
The Sun, The Smoke. We saw the burning red evening sun setting through the dense smoke, a sight we had been warned about on day 2. Our lungs hurt as we hiked steadily down and then up towards Forrester Pass. We camped at a forest clearing, made dinner and tried not to breath too much. Hopefully the smoke would clear in the morning so we could make the 3000 foot climb to Forrester. We heard that the skies were clear after Forrester. I hope so. You can't hike many days in this...
Craggy peaks littered the scenery surrounding Rae Lakes. We stopped for a long, late morning break. I lent Bob my warm, comfy sleep system and encouraged him to take a nap, which he did. I ate peanut butter-dipped tortillas and journaled at a lakeside overlook. Here is what I wrote that day:
"If the High Sierra is an orchestra--the mountains are the wind section--creating stories with peaks and valleys, color with shapely crags over blue waters, drama with geologic rock formations, and drawing you to the climactic edge with ridgewalks and high pass summits. The trees, shrubs, grasses and animals--deer, chipmunk, squirrels, marmots, bears, are the horn section of the orchestra de High Sierra-- setting the tone and rhythm of life, creating surprises that delight, living in extreme places like high cliffs or low islands, all adding humor and fun to this dramatic song. And we, Bob and Lee, backpackers, are both audience and conductor."
Awaking after his nap, Bob led the way into the lake, for a necessary swim in deep, cold waters. I don't know what expression we were expressing in this picture, but it captures the wonder on this moment fully.
The smoke was encroaching on our perfect setting, creating a Mordor-esque mountain horizon beyond the water. We decided to push on. The trail curved around Rae Lakes masterfully, exposing new views constantly while we treaded along the edge of the two lakes, on our way to Glen Pass.
Comments
Post a Comment