Monday, August 23, 2004
Shannon Pass, With Snow!
08/23/04
Last night it rained all night. As the rain started, I was just getting to sleep. Much to my shock, I discovered that my bivy was filling with water.
I was happy that Apple Pie had offered to let me stay in her tent despite recent tensions. I ran over there with a half-wet bag and soon was asleep. I woke up during the night to wet feet in my bag. There was a huge puddle at my feet, and the foot of my bag was soaked. Ugh.
We got a late start, and as soon as the views opened up, I could see that the higher peaks had gotten snow last night. It was lovely.
During the morning, I saw eight people bailing out because of the rain, and I passed six people in two parties hiking in despite the rain.
I took an early lunch at a bridge that had a nice breeze and, most importantly, sunshine while I was there. I dried my stuff as best I could, but my bag was still pretty damp when I packed it up.
Today was the day to climb into the heart of the Winds, and I was ready to climb. I left the Green River valley as it closed up into the mountains and climbed in the trees. The scenery opened up again at Vista Pass, which offered amazing views, especially with the dusting of snow up high.
I dropped down from Vista Pass to begin my approach to Shannon Pass. At one point, the trail through grass dissolved into a canyon of boulders. As I got closer, I could see a trail through the boulders, but rockslides obliterated the trail in many places. I'd look for a cairn and climb to it to regain the trail.
I knew a trail was there, I just had to find it, over and over. Views opened up even more on the way to Shannon Pass with very distinctive peaks.
I'd also walked back into spring. Flowers were fresh in bloom, and I even saw a new flower, a nicely fragrant, fuchsia-colored primrose of sorts.
Just before the pass, Jonathan's maps offered a tempting, mostly cross-country, route over Knapsack Col. I decided to pass because of the existing snow, potential weather, and where I'd end up at the end of the day. I didn't want to be in a high, exposed, off-trail site in potentially bad weather with a wet sleeping bag alone. Call me a wimp.
As I made a turn to switchback up to Shannon Pass, I met two guys coming down.
I'd seen their tent near the lake below. We talked for a bit, and they seemed pretty interesting.
The guy with the beard estimated that it was a good 4 miles to the Jean Lakes, and that I had better keep a good pace. I thought that he didn't know a thru-hiker pace, but I thanked him for the information.
I mentioned the cross-country route I had wanted to take, and he said that I shouldn't be disappointed with what was to come on the route I was taking.
What I didn't know was how beautiful it was going to be, especially with the dark storm clouds to the east and the unobstructed evening sun to the west.
I couldn't stop taking pictures: the light would change, or a 100 yards would change my view, and I'd get started taking photos all over again. Ridges revealed themselves, the clouds conspired with the peaks to perfection, and the sun warmed to amazing amber shades. At one point I was running down the trail hoping to not miss the light on the view I was anticipating at the next rise.
Further along, the trail moved into the river, or, more accurately, the river had moved onto the trail. I'm not talking about when water is flowing down the trail. In a couple of spots the trail was low and parallel to the river. The recent rain and melting snow brought up the water levels so that the trail was under flowing water. A cross-country path up the hillside kept my feet dry, but I eventually had to cross the same stream, getting my feet wet.
I did need to watch my pace to get to a good place to camp before dark.
I got to Lower Jean Lake at dark, but managed to find a great campsite on a small bluff over the north end of the lake and its inlet stream.
I hadn't had dinner when I stopped, but what really stopped me was facing another wet crossing. I did not want a wet crossing so late in the day. I was tired and crazed from both not eating and the fantastic views.
Rather than push on, I knew that it was in my best interest to stop. This is what I call, "Trust Your Watch." I knew I needed to stop, plus there were some mean-looking clouds coming my way. With a damp bag, I wanted to have my shelter up before the rain began.
I set up my blue tarp while the water for dinner was boiling. I was so out of it from hunger that I considered skipping dinner, as strange as that may sound. I know, though, that I have to eat to be able to hike, so I pushed passed thoughts of going straight to sleep.
My home for the night had white pines protecting me on two sides. I am comfortable as I settle in for the night.
