MonikaC
Well-Known Member
It seems like I always pull some boneheaded move for these trips. At least one. This time, I had all my permethrin-sprayed clothes all neatly packed away but forgot to take out a set for walking in. Not a big deal as my driving clothes were perfectly suitable with the exception of not having mosquito repellent sprayed on them. I never do these trips in shorts, wanting to protect my legs from mosquitos, stickers, scratchy branches, etc, but that was how I walked in. Then I missed a turn when I was 3/4 of the way in. It wasn’t signed & I thought I had somehow wandered onto a spur trail as the one coming in on my left was obviously a main trail. A mile or so further along, there was a junction that clearly indicated that where I had intended to go was behind me. I took out my phone with Gaia GPS, checked where I was and turned around. About 1/2 mile from the last stream crossing, I met up with the outfitter who had brought my gear in and she told me where she had left it. After the fiasco 2 years ago, when the outfitter failed to bring my gear in, I didn’t want another 26-mile day of walking in & out, so I still was carrying everything I would need for 2 nights just in case. Fortunately, this outfitter was competent and everything was there. I found a nice spot to camp on top of a knoll close to the gear drop, overlooking Sandpoint Lake, with many nice granite boulders and slabs to serve as kitchen, dining and lounge areas.
It rained all the next day, which was fine with me as I was tired from the 13 mile hike in. I caught up on sleep and was ready to hike to & past Middle Fork Lake the next day with a full pack. When I had checked the weather forecast the day before hiking in, it had shown intense rain/thunderstorms from the night before I walked in (Wednesday) but clearing by Saturday. Indeed, Wednesday night had thunder & lightning almost simultaneously as well as heavy rain. In addition, the only other people camped in the area were in the group campground, but one woman there had an affinity for screaming. Her last one (that I was present for) was @5am; an absolutely blood curdling scream followed by, “get out of here!”. I thought it was a bear going through their camp, but usually there are other yells as the bruin makes it way by other campers and there was nothing. They did, however, start to sing a few minutes later. But I digress; back to the hike. I camped @ 5 1/2 miles in, partway between Middle Fork Lake and Lee Lake at a little over 10,000’. Typical afternoon thundershowers punctuated the day starting around noon & made for more nap time. I could hear the wind howling up higher, in what I came to think of as the wind machine. It made me think of a feature in Rocky Mountain National Park called the Keyboard of the Winds.
The next day dawned grey, cold and damp, made even more so by footwear that hadn’t been dry in 4 days. If I didn’t get trench foot, I thought, I’d be doing good. Still, I hiked up to the base of Mont St Michel. The following day looked more promising, so I went beyond Mont St Michel, above Pronghorn. There was a climber camped at the base of Pronghorn in a red North Face tent. As I passed Pronghorn, it lit up gloriously golden for a few minutes in what was to be the only sunshine of the day. I got up to a saddle where Pronghorn and Dragonhead were in profile on one side and Mont St Michel on the other with Lake Donna below. I wanted to see if the sun would break through again, but after a short break in the clouds when the weak rays of the sun didn’t reach the crags, I started to pack up. I had only gotten a few steps when the lightning & thunder, 3 seconds apart started. “Let’s get out of here!” I told my dog & we raced down the talus as fast as I could safely go. A sprained ankle or worse was not something to take lightly in those conditions. Graupel pelted down for nearly the entire 2 1/2 miles back to camp.
This is the view from just a few minutes behind my camp. Mont St Michel is on the left, Mount Bonneville in center and Pronghorn on the right.
The next morning, snow/graupel coated the north faces of all the peaks, showing off their contours. I packed up & we headed back to Sandpoint Lake. We met a man who had bailed from the High Route, though his buddy kept on. Upon arriving back at my base camp that I had devolved to something sub-human as my opposing thumbs no longer worked to undo the buckles on my dog’s packs. That afternoon, I awoke from my nap to see the ground around my tent covered in hail/graupel. I thought of the hikers who had continued on the High Route and thought that the man who had dropped out must have been really glad that he did. 2000’ higher, it must have been pretty horrendous. Just walking through the wet willows, it took my gloves 2 days to dry.
The next morning brought a nice layer of fog across Sandpoint Lake and I jumped out of the tent to photograph it.
More to come in the "Landscape" forum.
It rained all the next day, which was fine with me as I was tired from the 13 mile hike in. I caught up on sleep and was ready to hike to & past Middle Fork Lake the next day with a full pack. When I had checked the weather forecast the day before hiking in, it had shown intense rain/thunderstorms from the night before I walked in (Wednesday) but clearing by Saturday. Indeed, Wednesday night had thunder & lightning almost simultaneously as well as heavy rain. In addition, the only other people camped in the area were in the group campground, but one woman there had an affinity for screaming. Her last one (that I was present for) was @5am; an absolutely blood curdling scream followed by, “get out of here!”. I thought it was a bear going through their camp, but usually there are other yells as the bruin makes it way by other campers and there was nothing. They did, however, start to sing a few minutes later. But I digress; back to the hike. I camped @ 5 1/2 miles in, partway between Middle Fork Lake and Lee Lake at a little over 10,000’. Typical afternoon thundershowers punctuated the day starting around noon & made for more nap time. I could hear the wind howling up higher, in what I came to think of as the wind machine. It made me think of a feature in Rocky Mountain National Park called the Keyboard of the Winds.
The next day dawned grey, cold and damp, made even more so by footwear that hadn’t been dry in 4 days. If I didn’t get trench foot, I thought, I’d be doing good. Still, I hiked up to the base of Mont St Michel. The following day looked more promising, so I went beyond Mont St Michel, above Pronghorn. There was a climber camped at the base of Pronghorn in a red North Face tent. As I passed Pronghorn, it lit up gloriously golden for a few minutes in what was to be the only sunshine of the day. I got up to a saddle where Pronghorn and Dragonhead were in profile on one side and Mont St Michel on the other with Lake Donna below. I wanted to see if the sun would break through again, but after a short break in the clouds when the weak rays of the sun didn’t reach the crags, I started to pack up. I had only gotten a few steps when the lightning & thunder, 3 seconds apart started. “Let’s get out of here!” I told my dog & we raced down the talus as fast as I could safely go. A sprained ankle or worse was not something to take lightly in those conditions. Graupel pelted down for nearly the entire 2 1/2 miles back to camp.
This is the view from just a few minutes behind my camp. Mont St Michel is on the left, Mount Bonneville in center and Pronghorn on the right.
The next morning, snow/graupel coated the north faces of all the peaks, showing off their contours. I packed up & we headed back to Sandpoint Lake. We met a man who had bailed from the High Route, though his buddy kept on. Upon arriving back at my base camp that I had devolved to something sub-human as my opposing thumbs no longer worked to undo the buckles on my dog’s packs. That afternoon, I awoke from my nap to see the ground around my tent covered in hail/graupel. I thought of the hikers who had continued on the High Route and thought that the man who had dropped out must have been really glad that he did. 2000’ higher, it must have been pretty horrendous. Just walking through the wet willows, it took my gloves 2 days to dry.
The next morning brought a nice layer of fog across Sandpoint Lake and I jumped out of the tent to photograph it.
More to come in the "Landscape" forum.
