In anticipation of my journey into the unknown, I was wracked with anxiety leading up to my trip. This manifested itself as weird, ominous dreams. In the days before, I dreamt of death and getting hurt and maybe things that should have made me reconsider. The night before, as I lay asleep in my car, I dreamt I got out to find a man standing there. He was average-looking, bald, dressed plainly. He stared at me, and what was unnerving was his smile: wide and unnatural, something evil, dead and knowing in his eyes.
I woke to my heart racing. I had almost forgotten where I was. I told myself I was safe and it was just a dream, but it was certainly an interesting start to the morning. It was still mostly dark and cold when I woke. My windows fogged from my body heat. I forced myself out of my warm cocoon. The sun was beginning to peek up around the mountains. The clouds were even darker and angrier than the night before, and soon it started raining. I had planned to use the pit toilet just a short walk down the road but changed my mind in that moment. Instead, I sat in the front seat of Yuki, my Subaru Impreza and forced down breakfast. I’m usually a go, go, go kind of person, so it was hard for me to have a slow morning, but I knew I had to be very conscious of my caloric intake today and the coming days if I wanted to stay healthy on the trail. I ate two hard-boiled eggs and an everything bagel with guacamole.
The rain had been mostly bluffing, so at that point I got dressed and headed to the pit toilet. Naturally, I didn’t press the lock down all the way and got walked in on, so that was super cool and not embarrassing at all. Push lock 1, Jordyn 0.
I was almost ready to go. The woman who had walked in on me struck up a conversation about whether it was my first time there and where I was headed. I told her I was going to Island Lake and back. She said she was hiking to the Elkhart Trailhead, and her friend was shuttling her back to the Green River Lakes Trailhead (where we were). That route is popular and is about 40 miles total. I mentioned I’d thought about doing that, but I didn’t have anyone to shuttle me back. She offered a ride if we were on the same schedule, but she had only planned to do one night, which I felt was nuts. I didn’t say that, and I thanked her anyway. I was itching to get going. My pack weighed in at 38 lbs, sitting heavy on my hips. With trekking poles in hand, I began my journey.
My goal was to make camp that night in Three Forks, a beautiful meadow beside the winding Green River. It was roughly 11 miles of mostly flat terrain. The trek starts along the Green River Lakes (hence the trailhead name), two beautiful blue-green lakes that stretch onward into the valley. As I passed over a small bridge, blue hour gave way to sunrise, which was promptly interrupted by a storm moving in. In alpine regions this can happen quite quickly and can be very dangerous if you are above treeline. Luckily, I hadn’t made it that far, so I was still low elevation. Well, low considering where I would be going (this hike starts at about 8,000ft above sea level).
The newly awoken sun fought with the dark clouds to create a surreal, ethereal golden glow against the mountains, which contrasted against the blackened skies. I had planned to stop for a snack break, which turned more into me shoving my handmade trail mix, which consisted of mixed nuts, pretzels, and Nerds Gummy Clusters (a perfect mix of salty and sweet), while I got my rain jacket, rain pants, and pack cover on. I got everything on on time before the rain started to come down.
I made my way down the meandering path just up the hill from the lakes: up, down, left, right as you follow the lakes and Squaretop Mountain gets closer and closer. The storm passed as quickly as it came, but the skies stayed cloudy and dramatic most of the day, allowing for great photographs, and man, was the scenery photogenic. I could’ve gotten the hike done faster, but I couldn’t stop taking photos. They don’t do the area justice, and it’s hard to grasp the scale of these mountains from photographs alone.
Around noon, I stopped for lunch along the river. I had already made it past the two lakes, and the Green River would be my companion for nearly the rest of the way. I had to filter more water as I had almost finished the two liters I packed with me. I set up my gravity filter. I grabbed the “dirty bag” and filled it up with water from the river; it has a strap you can clip to a tree branch to hang it. I attached a tube from the bag to the filter, then another tube to the opposite end of the filter and into either my water bladder or my Nalgene bottle.
As I wait for my gravity filter to do its thing, I have to pee really bad. I hadn’t seen anyone in a while, and there weren’t many places to go off trail. I tried to go as far away from the water as I could to keep it clean, but of course, as soon as I pulled down my pants, another hiker came down the trail. I’ve never pulled my pants up so fast, my underwear still down around my knees. He says hello. Yup, hi, hello, nothing going on here. Cool, cool, cool. Can’t blame a faulty lock for this one. I’ve gotten walked up on twice today. Good times.
With my water filtered, I sat on a log facing the river and ate my lunch: two tuna packets, two tortillas, mayo, and sriracha thrown together in a plastic bag. Honestly, better than expected, even though I think it looks like cat food. The river was a stunning milky blue/green, and the sun hit it in a way that made it shimmer, and you could get lost in it forever. Lost in my thoughts, enjoying the view, I didn’t hear another hiker come up the trail. He said hello to me, making me jump just about to the moon. I swung my head back quickly to look at him and said hello back. He gave me a weird look and kept walking. I’m really killing it out here socially, guys, really. I mean he’s the one who scared me, but whatever.
Along my way, I found a plethora of wild raspberries. I ate a few, trying not to overindulge and leave some for the animals who actually need it. The smell of pine sap filled the cool, crisp air. Sometimes I could forget how heavy my pack was. As I approached the meadow where I would set up camp, I kept trying to peer through the trees to take it in as the yellow grasses stretched to the river and the mountains beyond. The trees were too thick, however, nature trying to keep itself a surprise, and I would have to wait until I found the trail that would take me down off the main trail into the yellow paradise.
After entering the meadow, I followed a foot trail to the edge of some pine trees where I set up camp for the night. It was one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever camped. It had everything: trees/cover, a divine river, mountains, a meadow, and even a little beach perfect for hanging out, soaking aching feet, and filtering water. The water babbled, and birds flew and sang overhead, happy that the sun was finally coming out. I ate dinner early because I thought it would rain. That proved to be a mistake as I grew hungry in the middle of the night. My dinner was a Chicken Tikka Masala Mountain House Meal. Bougie, I know. It was okay. It wasn’t as good as I remembered when I had it during a 14-mile backpack with the Forest Service.
As night crept on, the realization that I couldn’t turn back crept up on me too. I was a woman alone in the woods with no one else around, and there was no backing out now. I lay in my tent, snuggled into my sleeping bag. Every sound was amplified, and every sound was a monster coming to get me. Oddly enough, the scary scenarios rattling around in my brain were not of animals coming to eat me but of a man coming to kill me. I would be a very easy murder victim here, no witnesses, no one to hear me scream. Why did I do this again? Tomorrow would remind me in the early morning mist, but that is for my day 2 blog post. I also couldn’t get a message through to my husband on my Garmin InReach.
A terrible night’s sleep consisting of maybe 2-3 hours of light sleep awaited me. At 9 PM, I sent an InReach message to my friend Rhonda, hoping it would get through to her, and she could relay it to my husband. I didn’t get a response, which made me worry I’d wasted a lot of money on this thing. I woke several times that night. Once to something scuttering around my tent, another to a large splash in the river, a fish jumping, I hoped. Tomorrow, I had a roughly five-mile backpack to Peak Lake, and man did I wish for better sleep.
Tune in for my day 2 as I struggle with exhaustion and isolation.
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