Out of the wilderness

And then it was time to close the circle, to hike down the mountain and leave this wonderful wilderness behind.

On Mary's advice, we took the lower "Horses Only" trail back to the parking lot rather than the less well maintained "Hikers" trail. That seemed a good choice! Given the number of washed out trail sections leaning over open slopes that, if much shorter than the ones we had already traversed, were still considerable enough to make our final hike interesting. 

Could a horse and rider actually manage that trail? Possibly so, but given the option I would walk instead.

Everyone took time in the parking lot to clean up and change into fresh clothing. On the way out, we stopped in to visit Prairie City's Eclipse Store, chat with the proprietors, and share the excitement and anticipation of those magic two-plus minutes on August 21.

We ate lunch together with the last of the local crew members and said goodbye.

Back to Boise. Keith and Kirsten fly back to Virginia tomorrow, and I will head northwest.

Wednesday

Another early start, this time to outrace the sun's heat on the ridge climb stripped by last year's fire. Kirsten and I made it barely in time.

Keith scouted ahead for ways around snow barriers reported by other hikers on the trail, while Tom lead us around the edge of a smaller ice pack.

When we caught up with Keith, we found him looking at a hundred-yard section of ice-blocked trail on a near vertical slope. No surprise that so many hikers had turned back!  Our two mentors, though, stepped over the trail edge and into the scrub that clung to the slope, edged along and through narrow rock fields, over smaller snow packs. The cross country approach saved time, our guides said, as we descended to Slide Lake. 

The rest of the group, who had come up from the other direction, welcomed us! They were getting ready for a short walk to explore Little Slide Lake, would we like to come along?

Sure! We'd hardly had any exercise that day, the sun was still high in the sky, and the mosquitos were still descending on anyone who stayed still for more than a few minutes.

As it turned out, Little Slide Lake was as much a highlight of the trip as Strawberry Falls and the mountain summit. The glass-clear water, the thick sea green moss covering the bottom, and the rock ledges and trees surrounding the lake called thoughts of fae folk to mind, the sun's warmth invited thoughts of an impromptu swim call -- so a few of us did.   

Tuesday: getting High

Still recovering from Monday's summit climb and descent, we still rose shortly after sunup, breakfasted, and struck camp. Full packs, with extra water.

At the base of the scree slope, Kirsten and I carefully reviewed the possible ascent options. Where was the cross trail at the top where our climb would finish? We could not see it. 

We chose our path to work upward in short scrambles between the islands of relatively stable ground. Kirsten chose to pick out sure footing among the rivers of middle-sized shards, while I dug my boots in and worked upward on finer gravel. We alternated leads, leapfrogging between patches of evergreen scrub and avoiding looking back down until we were firmly seated on solid outcrops. 

Very aware of our novice abilities, the long open slope at our backs, and our packs' effect on our balance, we climbed slowly. Finally, I spotted a long, flat difference in the slope's appearance under the rising sun. We debated. Could it be the trail? We climbed higher. 

It was the trail, success after an hour's struggle! High fives and hugs for making it on our own before the more experienced hikers caught up.

We followed the well defined track south off the scree, off the mountain, and down to the meeting point on the ridge.

At the intersection, Kirsten chose a grove out of the sun. Unfolding my sleeping pad, I lay back, watched the wiry little tree's branches move in the morning breeze, and enjoyed the peaceful quiet. 

A hummingbird, the only one I ever saw on the trip whirred up and perched less than a yard above me! 

When Kevin and Tom arrived from their scouting of the trail ahead, we repacked our gear and hikedl south towards High Lake. Onward!

As Kirsten and I approached the turn around a bluff that would reveal the lake to us, Keith hailed us from a rock outcropping on the ridge above us. "Snow blocked! Come around, come up this way!"

We looked up the thirty feet incline of sharp-edged boulders, scrub, and loose rocks, shook our heads, sighed, and picked our way up the slope. Sure, why not? Compared to our morning ascent, it was hardly worth mentioning.

An hour later, we descended a slope laid bare of shade by a forest fire last year. The afternoon sun ate away our fading energy, leaving little strength left to appreciate the alpinr lake's quiet beauty nd set up camp in a grove of unburned trees at the lake's edge. We beat back the mosquitos, ate and retired.

One  more mountain pass, and the finish line for the full circuit hike would be in sight.

Monday, July 10 Ups and Downs

Updated to correct calendar sequence of events. The second day of our adventure was Monday -- mbj.

4 am wake up to the soft rumble of the falls, and up at 5 to strike camp. (Another common theme of our time here, actually a welcome one for me.) I walked back down the trail to immerse myself in the waterfall one more time, and then rejoined Kirsten to break camp and head out ahead of the group.

The trail went up smoothly through the pine forests, past great walls of uplifted seabed decorated with a light green lichen that gave the layered cliffs an appearance like that of rows of cuneiform writing. The Artist's signature, perhaps?

An unhappy discovery -- my smartphone battery was exhausted. All photographic records of our travels would have to wait for others to share what they had captured.

Onward over open meadows with hundreds of brightly colored flowers! Kirsten photographed them all. (Yes, I will post them as soon as she sends me the link.) 

The trails grew narrower, the vistas more awe-inspiring.

We clambered carefully over a number of trail-blocking snowdrifts and skirted a few others (common theme number 3). The others began catching up with us while we were eating lunch at a campsite just below the climb to Strawberry Ridge.

Based on reports of more snowdrifts ahead, the team changed plans to amend our self-contained status and include us in their climb to the summit (yet another common theme, numer 4!) We emptied our packs of nonessentials and followed them up the trail.

Just short of the ridgetop, the trail switchback disappeared into a large snowdrift -- impassable for our gear and experience level. Prospects for summiting the mountain looked grim.

Keith and Tom, our crew's mountain goats, went around the snowdrift and straight up the slope to the ridge, then called down from a few hundred feet above that the trail was clear on top of the ridge. Mary, the group's informal leader, declared that she was going to make the climb and invited us along (ct #4). 

Several team members gifted with less adventurous and more sensible spirits declined, but Kirsten and I looked up at the open slope and then accepted her invitation. Neither of us wanted to leave the summit unclimbed. Excelsior?

So up we went following Mary's lead, bushwhacking our way across loose earth and stone, around rock outcrops topped with scrub, and finally -- with a helping hand or two -- through a break in the snowdrift at the ridgetop.

Then, a mile-long march along an exposed slope with the early afternoon sun beating down on us and a final ascent over shattered stone plates to Strawberry Mountain's summit at 9042 feet!

We sat in the sun, posed for photos (yes, many photos which I will share as soon as I receive them), and looked down on trails we had walked and on trails yet to come ... which brought up a concern. 

The gear that Kirsten and I needed to set camp for the night, which we had originally planned to bring to the ridge, was down below the ridge and effectively beyond our ability to retrieve before sundown. Also, the plan to continue on was threatened by reports of more trail blocking snowdrifts ahead on the team's planned circuit through High Lake and Slide Lake. The party that had accepted us could be left with no option other than a long retreat back over the way we had come.

Keith proposed that he and Tom could lead us on a run down one of the rivers of shattered rock plates leading off the mountain, followed by a bushwhack shortcut to the location where we had left our gear. We were to camp there overnight, and then return refreshed and ready to ascend the slope one more time.

With our full packs. On our own. Why not?

While we were struggling up several hundred feet of loose scree, Keith and Tom would reconnoiter the trail to High Lake and find alternate paths around any impassable snowdrifts. We would meet on the ridge, then, continue to High Lake, camp, recover, and forge onward to meet Mary and the remaining team members at Slice Lake. Thursday, then, we would hike out to the trailhead and successfully complete the full Strawberry Wilderness circuit that the team had planned and that neither Kirsten or I had expected to do.

In for a dime, in for a dollar ....

Running down a steep slope of loose rock turned out to be more enjoyable than it sounded, although more exhausting. When we reached the bottom without stumbling and rolling downhill with an avalanche of stones, we limped after our team mountain goats as they pushed over and through obstacles straight back to the site where we had cached our gear. It saved us a considerable amount of time, they said. 

Kirsten and I set up our tents and avoided the mosquitos by resting inside. Partly recovered, we managed to get through the evening rituals of  filtering water, making dinner, and retiring before hikers' midnight (sundown) with the mountain looming above us.

Looking up at the summit the next morning, we agreed that it was hard to believe we had been at the top just a day earlier, and had completed a total of about 5000 feet of ascents and descents in one day. But we did, and there were more adventures yet to come!

Arrival and climb to Strawberry Falls

Updated to correct calendar of events. Our arrival was on Sunday -- mbj

Early up! Keith packed in minutes, and out the door searching for the best free breakfast he can find. The hotel's breakfast was enough for me, and Kirsten followed for the same when she woke; we gathered at her table to review plans.

Leaving Keith to meet his ride, Kirsten and I shoehorned our gear into the Ion and left for the trailhead. We stopped for a hearty lunch in Unity, Oregon (bulking up on carbs for the trail), then drove into the Malheur forest eagerly trying to identify Strawberry Mountain among the many peaks ahead and hopong to get a head start on the rest of the group.

This looked good!

(An aside about photos; the ones posted here are my own inadequte efforts. The group included a professional photographer, a semi--pro, and a ccouple of eager amateurs. I plan to add links to those photos when they post them online.)

About half the group was there when we arrived at 1 pm, though, eating lunch. So much for arriving early. At least, we weren't last.

Forewarned that the group 's attitudes toward Eastern hikers had been biased by previous guest, we worked the crowd, assuring everyone that we were slow, but would hike as a self-contained team to avoid interfering with their plans. The first part of this proved true, as we found ourselves well behind the  pack, puffing our way up the steady slopes.

Forest-covered hills -- Easterners call them mountains. Tall pines.  And then, at the end of another exhausting climb in the afternoon  heat, a ghostly blue-white mist filling the air at the end of the green tunnel.

Strawberry Falls. I dropped pack and walked into glory. The sun was shining through the tall pines on the ridge above, the dark stone layers and green lichen glowed, and the mist from the cataract above enveloped me.

We clambered up a short slope -- the first of many on the trip as it turned out, and the easiest --  set up our camp above the falls.

Strawberry Mountain

Back from the four day expedition to the Strawberry Wilderness -- great hiking team, sanity defying climbs, wonderful sights beyond description, moments to remember for a lifetime.

Also, complete exhaustion. I plan to post more details over the weekend, on my way northwest.

But they all look alike!

Final day for this leg started off track when the alarm clock failed to set itself. I managed to get everything jammed back into the Ion again before 6, and headed out on the freeway.

Since the entire trip followed two interstates and in the interest of getting on the road, I decided to give the map software a rest until I got to Boise. Interstate 15 South to Interstate 84 North, who needs an electronic coach for that?

Spinning south on I-15 at the low end of the customary speeds out this way, I noted after a couple of hours that (a) the gas tank was approaching the 1/4 mark again, (b) my stomach was looking for more than a breakfast bar, and (c) I still hadn't seen the turn for I-84 yet.

Next intersection -- "No Service". This is getting tiresome, I thought ... but the bright yellow seashell marked the third intersection as a resupply point long before the standard exit markers were visible. Gas, friendly waitress, omelet breakfast, and -- thirty miles past the turn?  Back we go.

Fortunately, today was planned as a "near zero" half day, allowing for shopping and other preparations. As it was, I still wound up out and about past midday.

Not to worry, it was a dry heat.

On my way to Boise, not Salt Lake City

2659 miles, five days. I'm ready to go out walking for a while.

Next post should be up by the 15th, after we return from backpacking in Oregon's Strawberry Lake region.