Day 2 – Friday, August 16

I wake on my mostly deflated sleeping pad around 6 am. What a terrible night’s sleep. I had to refill the pad every hour or two to make it through the night, and thus slept only in bits.

I spend the better part of my first hour awake trying to locate the leak in my pad. It is slow enough that it cannot be heard or felt, but fast enough that it clearly impacted my sleep – the worst combo. I stare out over Perfection Lake, bleary-eyed, considering my choices. I can’t have a night like that again. The necessary items to repair the leak are with me, but that involves locating it. There are plenty of lakes around, so I could use water to see where air is bubbling, but I’ve never had success with that technique. After a physically draining day yesterday and a poor night’s sleep, I have enough energy for only one of two options: 

• Spend the morning at a lake finding and fixing the leak
  OR
• Hike out the 11-12 miles with 6000+ feet of elevation loss

Because of the nature of the leak, I think it’s unlikely I’ll have good success with the water-leak-finding mission. Doing that and then hiking out would be too much and would risk injury on the steep descent. I don’t want to waste my one day in the core fixing a sleeping pad leak. And, I cannot sleep on the bare ground another night.

Looks like I’m hiking out today.

A pretty amazing campsite, all things considered. I found out later this spot is quite popular and I was lucky to find it open.

The Reluctant Goodbye

As I start to slowly pack up, I do hiker math in my head. It’s about 11-12 miles to my car, depending on which source I believe. 2-3 of the first miles are mostly flat and through the core, but then the descent begins in earnest. The first part of the descent, to Lake Viviane and then to Snow Lakes, will be steep and difficult. 

I have done a lot of hiking, but have never descended 6000 feet in a day. I’m not sure how that is going to impact me and/or slow me. Then, once back at the car, I need to drive 2 hours to get home. Sigh. I should start hiking out now. 

I resolve to hike a mile or so to Leprechaun Lake, a highlight of the core, and eat breakfast there. That will give me a leisurely break in the core before I descend in earnest. I finish packing up quickly and start hiking out at 8 am.

View from my campsite to the far end of Perfection Lake. Through that outlet and below is Crystal Lake.

Enchanting, Indeed

In the morning light, it is easy to see how this area was named. The lakes, mystical white rock, and charming larch trees give this area a fairy tale quality. It is beautiful and ethereal.

Back on the trail, I start by skirting around Inspiration Lake. If Perfection Lake lived up to its name, Inspiration does even more. The mirror reflection is uncanny. I can hardly tell where the creamy rocks end and the water begins. 

Inspiration Lake

The trail winds back around to Perfection Lake, this time on the other side. Seeing the whole of the the lake from this angle really heightens the sense of being in a fairy tale. White stones, rippling clouds, still water – this area is stunning. 

Rounding Perfection Lake.

Shortly, I find myself heading over and past Sprite Lake, on my way to the lower core and Leprechaun Lake. (The whimsical names of the lakes really feed into the Enchantments spirit for me.)

Sprite Lake

Once at Leprechaun Lake, I stop on an outcropping to filter water and eat breakfast. I finally am able to stomach the fancy donut I couldn’t eat yesterday. In fact, I can’t help but notice how normal my stomach feels. When it’s been upset for so long, feeling normal feels like a weight lifted off.

That confirms it: the stomach troubles of yesterday were definitely anxiety. Now that the stressful first day of the trip is over, my nerves are gone. I’m left with the focus to get through today, which I will absolutely need.

Leprechaun Lake from my breakfast spot.

‘Trail’

The exit from Leprechaun Lake is where I really start to get a feel for what awaits me. There are times, rounding the lake, that I cannot imagine where a trail would be. Then, I see a cairn in an impossible spot. And it’s only the beginning.

Lake Viviane from above

I follow a cairn around one bend to see what looks like the path diving off of a cliff.

How is there a trail here? For the hundredth time since I arrived in the core, I think to myself: are humans even supposed to be here? It is truly amazing we found a way.

This part of the descent takes me down granite slabs and rock staircases until I reach and cross the outlet from Lake Viviane. From here, the Viviane Falls crash hundreds of feet, eventually leading to Snow Lakes below. They will be my first break from this descent.

The beginning of the descent. The rebar is supposed to help, I guess? Upper and Lower Snow Lakes are visible in the distance.

Cairn to Cairn to Cairn

The climb down to Snow Lakes is only 1.3 miles, but loses over 1300 vertical feet. Most of it is across steep granite slabs. I am very grateful I started with fresh trail-runners yesterday – grippy tread is absolutely necessary for keeping traction across these rock faces.

I also made sure to do the heel-lock lacing technique this morning, which is keeping my toes from hitting the front of my shoes. They are still sliding in my shoes a bit, but I know it could be a lot worse. I do wish I had the foresight to grab the rubber tips for my trekking poles – it would be helpful for them to grip the rock a little better. 

May the cairns guide your way

It takes me well over a hour to hike the 1.3 miles from Lake Viviane. I take it cautiously since I am alone, and have no regrets. But when I arrive at the lakes, I have never been happier to see flat trail. The trail is fast and cruisey around Upper Snow Lake, and I pass four privies. Clearly, this a popular area to camp.

The Snow Lakes are manmade lakes, and Upper Snow clearly shows it. It feels worlds different from the wonderland I was in just this morning. I immediately understand why the Core is the most sought after area. 

The dam between upper and lower Snow Lakes. Hikers cross this as part of the trail. In the spring runoff, water can cover the dam.

Nada

The easy hike around Snow was a lovely break, but now another steep descent begins to Nada Lake. This one does not involve any granite slabs, thankfully. Just lots of loose rock, steep footing, and an extremely loud and powerful manmade waterfall gushing from a pipe underneath lower Snow Lake. I wasn’t able to get any good pictures of it, but it sounded like a jet engine readying for takeoff.

Soon, though, the trail calms and I find myself at a beautiful lunch spot on Nada Lake. While Snow Lakes looked too manmade for my taste, Nada is a beautiful deep blue-green and makes for a peaceful lunch. (The lack of sleep and big descent was catching up to me at this point, so I never took a picture.)

I strongly consider setting up my tent and staying right there, trying to fix my sleeping pad and staying the night, but the area where I am lunching says “day-use only.” The campsites nearby are nowhere near as nice.

I decide to move on, and look at the stats ahead. I have already hiked over 6 miles with 2700 feet of descent. Even still, the majority of my descending is yet to come.

I have over 5 miles and 3700 feet of loss to go. 

My toes cringe when I realize the stats left. They are already tender from hiking down steep slabs of granite. I think good thoughts for my knees – my left knee has been known to start audibly clicking on long descents. 

Most of the remaining hike is steep and rocky, full of switchbacks. At some point I slip on a loose rock and land directly on my elbow. I can immediately tell it will bruise, but I’m glad to not be worse injured. The fall means that fatigue is setting in, so I need to focus.

I stop to gather water and have one last break 2.5 miles from the end. I’m glad I did, because the last 2 miles are out of the trees, with direct, hot sun exposure.  I would have absolutely run out of water if I didn’t stop to top off.

A mile from the end, I can see my car shimmering in the parking lot. I had been warned this would happen, so I actually was looking forward to this milestone. The final mile is a soulless climb down about 20 switchbacks, edging ever closer to the cars. This Strava segment is called “20 Switchbacks of Disenchantment,” which feels about right.

Another shot of Snow Lakes from above.

I make good time at the end, arriving back at my car to take in my surroundings. Just this morning, I was in a beautiful fairy tale land, and now I am surrounded by dusty cars and smelly porta potties. My initial reaction is disappointment in the Enchantments themselves, and to wonder if they really did live up to the hype. In hindsight, I know that was frustration speaking from a long, hard, unwanted hike out. 

The Enchantments core zone is a beautiful area. I cannot wait to go back, and have learned lessons that will make my next trip even better. (More to come on those lessons soon!)

The floor of my tent. Oh, so that’s why my sleeping pad sprung a leak. More to come…