I woke up around 5:30 AM, or did I ever really fall asleep? I tried to rest a little more but ultimately gave up. I slowly packed up everything inside my tent while staying snuggled inside my sleeping bag. It was cold, and I wanted to stay warm for as long as possible. I got dressed and left my tent.
As I was gathering all my things together, I went to get my bear canister and make breakfast. I had placed my bear canister away from my camp, as you’re supposed to, across the Meadow. The sun was beginning to rise, and it was still fairly dark, especially in my little cluster of trees. My headlight sat upon my head, its light guiding my way. Mist blanketed the ground, further lowering visibility.
As I left my little tree-cluster nook and headed into the meadow, a large black silhouette about 100 feet away stopped me in my tracks. I stared, not sure what I was seeing. I needed to assess the threat. It was moving, so definitely an animal, but far too large and not nearly the right shape to be a bear. A cow? No, Jordyn, that’s stupid; there isn’t any grazing allowed in the wilderness. Oh! A moose! How cool, I thought. There were no antlers, a female likely.
She likely knew I was there; moose have very good hearing and smell, although their sight isn’t very good. I remained quiet and watched for a moment. She moved parallel to me further down the meadow, revealing her baby who had been tucked behind her. Oh wow! She has a baby, so cute…oh shit! She has a baby. I quietly walked backward into the treeline. Well, I guess I’m not having breakfast right now.
I went back to my tent and decided to work on taking it down while I waited for the moose to leave the area. Across the river, I watched Mama head further into the meadow, her baby trailing along. At this point she very obviously noticed me, but didn’t seem to care much. There was enough distance between us.
High off my awesome albeit scary wildlife encounter, I was now free to retrieve my bear canister. I made breakfast, oatmeal with powdered milk, which I accidentally burnt and it tasted disgusting, but you can afford to waste food in the backcountry, so I wolfed it down anyway.
My goal today is to make it to Peak Lake for camp. It’s about 5 miles away, but it’s roughly a 1,500-foot climb over first Vista Pass and then Cube Rock Pass.
It was endless switchbacks up the mountain. I was the only one on the trail. I still hadn’t heard from anyone on my InReach, so I messaged my mom. Naturally, I got a quick response. She wasn’t happy I was alone. Yeah, well, what ya gonna do.
My movements were sluggish. I fed myself right; I’m well hydrated, but that means very little if you’re not well rested. My body and brain never really had a chance to repair the nonsense I put my body through yesterday, and now I’m putting it through even more today. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss my bed and some of the comforts of civilization, but my body is a machine, and I keep pushing onward.
Around 9 AM, I get a response from Rhonda saying I’m one of the wildest people she knows and that she will pass my message on to my husband. Now he has both my mom and Rhonda filling him in. I’m at the fork in the trail where it diverges up to Summit Lake or to the right towards a different lake. I go up towards Summit Lake. I hope this is the right way, as it is in the right direction, but Summit Lake diverges to the right on the map, and I’ll need to go left at some point to head toward Peak Lake. Trusting the process, I said screw it and headed up toward Summit Lake.
I really didn’t want to camp at Summit Lake if I didn’t have to. I really wanted to sleep near other people that night, because I wasn’t sure I could afford another bad night’s sleep, and I wasn’t sure how popular Summit Lake was. I wasn’t sure how popular Peak Lake was either, for that matter. I grew frustrated in my sleep-deprived state. Eventually, I saw the sign for Vista Pass and knew ultimately I was going in the right direction. I veered to the left and headed up Vista Pass. Vista Pass wasn’t too bad.
I encountered a problem as I approached Cube Rock Pass, however. It was a large scree field with massive boulders straight up to a saddle. I was only about half a mile away from Peak Lake. However, the path seemed to disappear before me. It was like a maze: easy to find your way through if you have an eagle-eye view, but difficult if you’re actually in the maze. I saw some cairns and tried to head that way, but there were only two or three, plus a few that I couldn’t tell were cairns that were knocked down or rocks that fell that way. Maybe I’m just dumb, but I could not figure it out.
I had to climb over massive boulders with a heavy pack and no clear idea of the safest route. I used my trekking poles to steady myself, but the massive gaps between rocks meant potential danger if I lost my footing. Smaller rocks between the boulders could be loose, and I had to test them before trusting them. My exhaustion caught up to me, and I cried tears of frustration as I decided it wasn’t worth the risk; I wasn’t sure I had the bandwidth to keep going. Even if I made it to Peak Lake, I had no desire to come back down this way.
I was really disappointed in myself because I’d never turned around before, but ultimately proud because I recognized nature’s formidable power and realized it wasn’t worth the risk. A sprained ankle or broken leg could turn into a dire survival situation out here. I had my Garmin InReach, but it would still take emergency services a long time to get to me. It was nearly 1 PM, and I hadn’t seen another person all day. Also, there were hella spiders in the scree field; did I really want to be stuck here with them? No. The answers is no.
I booked it back down and then back up and down Vista Pass. You wouldn’t think it, but going downhill can be harder than going up. You use muscles you don’t normally use, and your knees have to work overtime to keep you stable. This would be my undoing on day three, but that’s a story for later. As soon as I was back under tree cover, I rested on a big rock in the shade. I lay on it, and it was like a giant ice pack, and it felt so nice on my sore muscles.
I ate one of my Mountain House Meals for lunch, while switching to sandals to let my feet breathe. My toes had been slamming violently into the end of the shoebox of my boot. I applied some moleskin, hoping it would offer more cushioning. I allowed myself a little bit of pampering before continuing. I was afraid that if I stayed too long, I wouldn’t be able to keep going. My toes were killing me all the way down, slamming constantly into the toe box, and I accidentally kicked a few loose rocks on the trail that felt super good.
I was thinking about where I wanted to camp for the night. I decided to camp in the same spot as the first night, since I might sleep better now that my nervous system is already familiar with the area. I also liked the idea of getting back to my car by day three instead of spending a third night in the wilderness. I didn’t rest as I hoofed it back to camp. I was fantasizing the whole time about sticking my sore feet and legs in the nice, cold, milky green water of the river near camp.
I got to the meadow around 5 PM. I had dinner, did some yoga and stretching on the little beach area by the river, and then went to bed.
Around 10 PM, I was lying on my sleeping pad staring at the netting roof of my tent when I heard something scampering around my tent. Don’t worry, it was something small, something I could take. I looked around but couldn’t see anything. Then a louder sound. What the hell! Then, wouldn’t you know it, a mouse goes running across the roof of my tent under the rain fly. I swung my legs up and kicked in, and he took off. It’s not the first time I’ve had mice running around my tent, but it is the first one I’ve had run over my head (that I know of). I can now feel him run underneath my tent as I feel the bump to my lower back. I roll my eyes. They’re so annoying when they do this.
The mouse tries again. He runs over the top, and once again, I kick the roof. The bounce makes him do a front flip, and he takes off. I roll over and put my AirPods in, hit play on a podcast, and close my eyes. I decide whatever is going on outside my tent is none of my business. I need to sleep, and sleep I do.
Tune in next time for the final part of my solo backpack adventure.
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