Having camped on occasion before, I remember not being as comfortable in my sleeping bag as I normally am in our flannel sheets on our thick, soft, queen size mattress in the relative comfort of our house. I had hoped that my brand new Marmot Atom 40-degree 900-fill down sleeping bag would alleviate that discomfort. I should have tested that theory before our 14-day hike. I was sweaty and sticky and didn't have room to sprawl out (even to a modest degree) as I normally might. Well, I guess I have 12 more nights to try and obviate the problem. At the very least, I figure that, if I keep sleeping (or not sleeping, as the case may be) this poorly, eventually I'll be so tired that I'll sleep like a baby. I wish I had brought fleece PJs, as I had considered doing.
As will typify this trip, we're up sometime after the crack of dawn. I'll need the rest each night, so this pattern is fine with me. As difficult and long as some of our days are (and as late as we get in on a couple of occasions), the sleep is welcome.
This is our first breakfast of the trip. Our chance to try our breakfast system. We start out the same as for dinner. Pour one of our Nalgene bottles into our high-tech titanium pot (I may mention numerous times that our pot and its lid are constructed of titanium, as I think it's very cool and it cost me 90 bucks—2 pots and 2 lids, but we brought just the smaller set), boil the water, and voila, we have water for my oatmeal, Matt's cream of wheat, and one hot chocolate each. Each of us has a lexan cup that will be all we need for the breakfast ceremony. I dump two packets of oatmeal into the cup, pour water in almost to the top, stir, warm my hands, then warm my belly. The hand-warming is a stupendous fringe benefit that the hot chocolate also offers and in which I will bask time and again on this hike. Anyway, I try to get most of the grains of oatmeal out of the cup before dumping in the packet of hot chocolate and adding another cup of hot water (we make sure to put the lid back on the pot after each pouring so as to help it retain its heat as long as possible). After imbibing the hot chocolate, the cup is relatively clean. I simply add a bit of clean water, slosh it around, clean the rim with my fingers, and throw the water overboard. Matt had the foresight to bring several hankies, one of which becomes our cookware-drying hanky. After breakfast is over, one cup slides into the other, and both go into the pot. Matt adds a towel to the mix to prevent clanking, and the unit goes into his pack somewhere in the course of his packing process.
Taking a break. I don't know if making the tent the first thing into my backpack is a good idea or not, but it does dictate that we stuff our sleeping bags into their stuff sacks, roll up our sleeping pads, remove various and sundry items from the storage gizmo on top, and clean out our other stuff such as pillow, clothing, and camera gear, before we can break it down, get it into its bag, and finally get it into my pack. So each morning, I end up getting a late start packing my backpack, as I have to wait for the tent. Thankfully, Matt is pretty methodical about packing while I'm pretty haphazard. Put the tent in, stuff my sleeping bag in, stuff my pillow in, throw the rest of the crap on top, hook my sleeping pad and tripod onto the outside...done. We both end up finishing at about the same time.
I have two pouches that I attach to the outside of my backpack and that hold all manner of small items...extra straps, spoon, lighter, camera accessories, etc., etc., etc. Next time, I'll be a little more organized in this regard. I don't know where anything is. If I need an extra camera battery, I have to empty out both of these pouches. When I need my spoon for meals, I have to dig through sundry items. Kind of a pain in the neck and I don't really get past it during the hike.
I put mole skin on the big toe on my right foot, as there is a hot spot developing there. This is the same hot spot that began to develop on some of my practice hikes, of which there were far too few. Having gone downhill for a few miles the day before has exacerbated things. My slightly pudgy 174-pound frame along with 52 pounds extra on my back will be hard on my body over the next two weeks. Not only will I develop numerous hot spots and blisters, but I will feel the aches and pains brought on by the hike for weeks after its completion. About quarter past nine, we head out. I think it must help me to break each day's hike down into sections. Either that or I just like maps. I look at the map and break today down into three main sections. There will be an easy section along the South Mowich River, a tough uphill to get up the other side of the valley, and then a relatively easy section along the ridge to Golden Lakes. Knowing that there will be some tough sections over the coming days, breaking it down gives me manageable chunks to digest.
Heading out of camp, we're careful to check the sign to make sure we go the right direction. Even though today's hike is a measly six-and-a-half miles, or so, I don't want to have to backtrack. Carefully checking signs and junctions along the trail is something Matt and I do throughout the hike. We never miss a trail, a turn, or a camp. Crossing the South Mowich River is interesting but uneventful. The river is low and the bridges are commensurately small. A couple are little more than sticks. We have to look carefully to find them. We manage to get across and find the trail on the other side. Checking the map and GPS along the way helps us stay on track. Unfortunately, the farther we go, the closer we get to the switchbacks we'll have to climb. I guess the 20,000 feet of elevation gain has to come from somewhere. This will be part of it. I make it up these climbs by taking frequent breaks. I rest for just a minute to catch my breath, rest my calves, or take a swig of water, or drop the pack and have a snack. Four hours after we begin, we make it to the top. Each time we attain a ridgeline, I'm a happy man. I know we've accomplished something significant and I feel like making camp will be possible. We celebrate by having some salami and cheese (Tillamook medium cheddar, of course).
I know the hard part is behind us, so we set out at a good clip, hiking just below a solid layer of clouds, something we will see more of than we'd like during the coming days. There are grass-like plants impinging on the trail from every side, like thousands of little green water fountains springing from the ground. In this case, it's easier to hike without the trekking poles, so I just carry them in one hand, grasping them around their midsection, so I can employ them easily if needed. Unfortunately, I need to use the restroom, but will try and wait for camp. I estimate that we'll reach camp in around an hour. After an hour and fifteen minutes of relatively easy hiking, we arrive, and just in the nick of time. I have diarrhea. We get to the pit toilet, drop our things, Matt goes to look for a site, and I relieve myself. I don't think I could've made it much farther.
Much relieved, we take the last site. All the other sites were full, either because of their great views, or because they don't have a bees nest. Not sure which is more motivational. Matt tells me I have to see the view from site #5. After setting up our tent, we head back down the trail to a large lake, one of many that comprise Golden Lakes. I begin to fill water bottles with my MSR WaterWorks II filter. Matt and I hang out here for a while, enjoying the solitude. I take some pictures while Matt does some reading. As we linger, fog rolls in. I take advantage of the mystery that fog can bring to a scene and keep snapping away.
Soon thereafter, we head back to camp for some supper. After supper, we head over to the viewpoint near site #5 to check out that view. Of course, all we can see is the fog and clouds. We head back toward the middle of camp and discover another lake. There are more than a dozen lakes around here. We hang out for a bit and I snap some more photos. The clouds begin to clear and we head back over near site #5 to a lookout that could be its own site, but is apparently just an area for enjoying the view, right next door to the guys we met at Mowich River Camp who managed to snag site #5, the one with the perfect view.The guys from site #5 and Mowich River Camp are already gathered, presumably expecting a nice sunset. We'll see if the clouds are gone for the day. Yoga guy (Wes) is already there, stretching his muscles, or meditating or whatever. Matt and I make six. We're soon joined by Gretchen, Amy, and Matt (different Matt).
Amy says she has gone swimming at a few other lakes along their route, but says it's too cold to go here at Golden Lakes. In my own mind, I agree. Someone asks how long we think it will be until the sun sets. People start placing bets. No more than 20 minutes. I say 30. Do I hear 40? One guy holds his arms up in the air, forming an angle between sun and horizon, talking about minutes and arc-seconds, and drawing some equations in the sand with his finger. I harangue Matt about not getting involved in the math. He laments—as he will do on more than one occasion during the hike—that he doesn't know more about the heavenly bodies. Eventually, the sun is down, it starts to get cold, and I've already used up way too much of the first of two 4-gigabyte Compact Flash cards, so I head back to our buzzing camp site to go to bed. The gathering begins to break up at this point. I love being a trend setter. The bees are already in bed. Matt and I fall asleep in the silence.
Photos of the Hike
No comments:
Post a Comment