Civilization and its Discontents — Wonderland Trail Day Four

(Golden Lakes to Mowich Lake Campground.  Per my AllTrails app:  Length: 11.21 miles; Elevation gain: 2,520 ft.; Moving Time: 4:44; Total Time: 6:20)

This was another sort of restless night, but I was actually sleeping soundly when I perceived the light increasing… no!  Not yet!

The Benefits of Early Rising

I had learned a lesson the day before that an early start has many benefits.  There is the feeling of virtue at being the first on the trail.  There is the peace and solitude and birdsong early in the morning.  There is the ability to spend more time hiking in the cool of the morning before it heats up.  There is the ability to hike without sunscreen for awhile, until the sun rises higher.  There are the added hours of daylight that provide a cushion if you have a long day, or want to take a side excursion, or even if you have a minor injury that slows you down.  There are fewer insects while breaking camp.  There may be an earlier arrival at your destination, and more choice of camp sites.  Really, the only downside is that the first person on trail in the morning has the “pleasure” of clearing out all the cobwebs laced across the trail overnight.  That can be mildly unpleasant, but no spider ever bit me.  Clumsy me probably deserved to have been bitten though, considering the many, many times I destroyed their delicate overnight spinning.

Warmer Outside Than I Expected

A funny thing about the Big Agnes tent is that it is so light and well ventilated that the temperature inside the tent is about the same as it is outside.  It took me a few days to realize this, so on waking up this morning, when it felt chilly inside the tent, I expected it would be freezing outside of it.  To my surprise, it felt fine.

I had another granola breakfast, but inside the tent this time.  Not because it was warmer, but because the mosquitos were already active, even so early in the morning.  In fact, though I consider it a weakness except in extremis, after breakfast I donned my head net, which made breaking camp much more pleasant.  What do the damn mozzies suck on when there are no people around?  And what percentage get the blood needed to reproduce?  Somehow they manage to thrive, to our collective misery!

Starting Off, Just Me and the Mad Deer!

Before leaving camp, I took the photo of Golden Lake that is the featured image of this post.  A perfect reflection in the early morning.  I did not see the mama bear nor her two cubs that were reportedly hanging about the nearby meadows.  I would have liked to have seen them, just not from a vantage point between them!  I did spook a deer though, that went galloping randomly all over the meadow.  I wondered if the psychotic creature might have “mad deer” disease.

I was on the trail by 6:42, a pattern I resolved to continue.  In the cool solitude I passed a couple of small lakes, through a fairly level patch, and then down, down to the Mowich River.  The trail team does an amazing job every year, and even within every hiking season, to keep the trail viable.  As massive amounts of stone, sand, and gravel come down from the glacier above, these glacial rivers meander wildly.  Yet when it happens, as by magic, we hikers find a new path laid, lined by rocks, leading to a new bridge in a new place.  Bravo!  Still, these bridges — often only a roughly planed log, with or without a primitive handrail — can make for nervous crossings as we watch the grey glacial water roaring below with incredible power.  A fall would very likely be fatal.  But over we go.

This was such a bridge, without the handrail, that crossed one of the active branches of the Mowich.  I would have preferred a railing, but did not resort to butt-skootching across (casting no shame on those who wisely did so!):

The lightly planed log, without a railing, hastily put in place by the trail crew to finish crossing the Mowich River

I met my first people of the day, a threesome, just after crossing.  I told them to thank me for clearing the spiders.  Then up again, the story of the Wonderland Trail, up then down then up then down seemingly endlessly.  I now examined the map more closely to pick up features, like switchbacks, which could help me measure my progress.  An altimeter would have helped with this too, and I wished I had brought one.  I tried to breathe in a regular way to give me a steady pace, but it soon devolved into huge panting gasps and exhales.  I was fine, but I sure didn’t sound like it.

I stopped for lunch at the first flowing brook after an abortive attempt to collect water at an earlier spot that was basically just water dripping from moss.  Most of the Trail has a profusion of water filling spots, but a few stretches go several miles without water.

No problem filling a water bottle from THIS stream!

Later in the season, after most of the snow has melted, these waterless stretches become longer and more frequent.  As I needed a lot of hydration with my chemotherapy, I was a little paranoid about running out.  As a result, no doubt I carried a lot more water weight than was strictly necessary.  I don’t regret it.

Is it a Bear?!!

Just before the destination, Mowich Lake, I encountered a big, fresh bear turd by the trail.  A moment later it was behind me!  No, not the bear, it was a person, but with my ursine mindset they sure scared me.

No Silly, it’s Silly-Vization

Then, suddenly, cars, and tourists, and a parking lot.  Civilization, as it were.  I expected this but the reality was jarring.  I also expected to find a power outlet, but in that I was disappointed.  The end of the road here, it turns out, is quite a few miles beyond the end of the power lines.  I realized I would lose power in a day or two and lose communication with Lee, my AllTrail records of my trip, and – perhaps worst of all – my ability to take photographs.  I only hoped that I could get a charge later, in the White River Campground, and resume these efforts.

The campsite here was exposed and the sun was blasting down.  While my norm is to set up camp right away, I held off pitching my tent for fear it might literally melt.  The tent seemed that thin and frail, though it had held up admirably.

The Gifts of Friendship

Gita arrived ahead of Polly and Darcy and together we recovered our plastic bucket caches of food from the bins behind the vacant ranger station.  My first cache, a symbol of progess!  With more time together my impression of Gita had improved markedly, and I was really enjoying his company.  He was very bright and much less dogmatic than I had assumed from our first conversation.

In the spirit of friendship, I gave the three of them one of my two tangerines from the cache and I ate the other.  Fresh fruit felt like such a luxury!  I also gave them several of my expensive freeze-dried meals as I pared my food weight to a more appropriate level.  As I told folks, I had shopped as though I were 6’8” and 375 lbs., but in reality, I am a little smaller than that!  It was better to give it away than to waste it and, in the end, I only took a couple of Clif Bars to the “free give-away” box at the ranger station.  When I opened that box there were six other Clif Bars already there, seeming to prove that these dense “treats” were no longer the hip thing they once had been.

Then I went for a late afternoon swim in Mowich Lake (the ranger said that underwear swimming was fine) and washed some clothes.  (Again, with no soap, all the washing takes place through a couple rounds of soaking and wringing out.)

Is Cleanliness next to Godliness?  Maybe!

In fact, my lack of hand soap was a sanitation problem that was disgusting me somewhat.  After going to the bathroom, a pure water wash felt insufficient.  So, I took advantage of the more modern bathroom at Mowich Lake and squeezed copious amounts of Purell into a plastic bag, then I nested that into a used sealable granola bag to double protect my pack from leakage.  Problem solved.  While I was at it, I stole a couple yards of toilet paper to make sure I would not run out.

When I got back to the camping area I got my first news from the outside world in four days.  Apparently, someone had tried to shoot Donald Trump but had only managed to nick his ear.  As a political junkie I would have expected to be ravenous for more news.  Instead, I got into my tent and went to sleep.