Precursor #2 to September.

The backpacking trip I alluded to earlier was a two-night stay at Pamelia Lake, just southwest of Mt. Jefferson.  The campground was recommended by friends (they had me at "flat 2.2 mile hike in") and we were able to snag their favorite campsite.

I can't imagine why it's their favorite campsite

Patrick wisely brought his hammock,
I wisely brought Carol's old crocs

Access to Pamelia Lake is restricted, so even though the campsites were close together and basically right on the lake trail, we had a pretty quiet night.  The ranger stopped by to say hello and tell us about some GIS research happening in the area.  He also let us know that the loop trail we were considering the next day still had a good bit of snow on it.

(Helpful hint: in the literary world, they call this foreshadowing.)

After the ranger took off, we settled in for dinner.  This was the first camping test with my new food restrictions (no potato, no wheat, no dairy + grain for those of you who haven't heard).  Turns out, pre-made black eyed peas with sauteed zucchini (and sausage, of course) tastes pretty darned good, and lasts a day without refrigeration. 

anything made at a campsite and eaten with a spork

tastes pretty darned good, though

That first night, we enjoyed the hammock and the stars (even a shooting star!).  We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast the next morning and headed out around 10am on our three hour tour - I mean, 12 mile hike.  The first six miles were easy inclines and descends full of wildflowers, great views of Mt. Jefferson, and lovely tall trees.

I {heart} Oregon

We took our time, took lots of pictures, took in the views.  Eventually we hit a few small patches of snow on the trail.  Tromping over them, we mocked the ranger - "ha! he calls this snow?"  Sometime around 1pm we hit this...

what, you don't see the trail?

And that is what we tromped through for the next five miles... armed only with a basic map of the trail, some food and a water filter.

In hindsight, it was dumb...  But as Frank Turner sings, if you're all about the destination, then take a *&^% flight, right?

For the first mile or so, it was fun.  We followed some pre-existing footsteps, made our own, watched for trail markers in the trees, and when we couldn't find those, looked for sawed trunks to mark the trail (I cannot take any credit for that brilliance).  I even saw a little brown frog.  In the snow!  Crazy.

 

these became my new bff

The next three miles were not so fun.  Hiking about a mile an hour in many feet of snow, constantly looking for the next marker and watching footsteps, was mentally and physically exhausting.  And the false reprieves!  Every 30 minutes or so we would hit actual trail like the one above, make some good progress and start to perk up, only to run into more snow.  Patrick did an amazing job keeping us on the right track and keeping my spirits up, but the hours kept passing and I eventually started worrying.

The last snowed-in mile was not really fun at all.  I was tired, one of Patrick's boots was toast, it was getting late.  We had no warm clothes and were low on food.

But then a dog saved the day.  Well, a dog's footprints that Patrick spotted.  We were able to follow the backtrack to the trail, the snow went away, and we booked it down the mountain. On the way down we passed the couple with the dog and thanked them profusely.

we did stop to admire Hunts Lake

(or maybe it was Hanks Lake)

and mountain goats!

(who did not sing us depressing songs)

We also ran into the ranger somewhere around mile 11, and when he heard that we'd done the whole loop, he exclaimed, "Wow!  I'm proud of you guys!"  That just can't be a good thing.

Yes, in hindsight it was dumb, but at the same time, it was a great adventure and we were proud of ourselves too.  (Well, I was proud of Patrick - I was pretty much just along for the ride.)  There were times in the snow when I wished we would run into someone, just to know we were on the right track, but for the most part it was lovely to be alone in the wilderness, testing ourselves, for the whole day.

Clarence, Seymour and the bowling pin

drank all the wine while we were gone

We slept like rocks that night, headed out after another leisurely breakfast and stopped for a little reminiscing and ice cream along the way.  Experiment #2 - another success!

next time, Clarence carries the backpack