Rosary Lakes

Lane brought a new toy to this hike. It was a brand new GPS with a screen large enough for a Super Bowl party in a Las Vegas sports bar. Suddenly, my own humble GPS seemed woefully inadequate and while I congratulated Lane, deep down inside I may have been envious. However, Lane made the mistake of showing Edwin the new GPS and that in turn, wound up interjecting three bushwhack side-trips into this otherwise staid hike on the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT).

The Rosary Beads

A bunch of us were camping at nearby Odell Lake and our original plan was to hike in the Waldo Lake area. However, the Cedar Creek Fire had rendered the Waldo Lake Wilderness trail system off limits, and wisely so. The nearby Diamond Peak Wilderness was off limits too, due to a different fire, and the two closures didn't really leave a lot of open trails to choose from. But lucky us, a small section of the Pacific Crest Trail between the two wilderness areas remained open and was just minutes away from Odell Lake and that's the story of how we wound up hiking to the Rosary Lakes.

The first several miles were well forested

A light rain fell off and on during the entire hike and the forest was filled with the hissing sound of rainfall to go along with the noisy chattering of our little group. We may have numbered few, but our voices were mighty. The PCT gently climbed through a forest comprised of uniformly sized trees, which were also uniformly fuzzy with a light green coat of lichen and moss. 

Lower Rosary Lakes is the epitome of stillness

In short order, the trail crested and then dropped into the basin of Lower Rosary Lake. The rain had temporarily abated and the lake was like polished onyx, the dark waters reflecting the surrounding forest, mountains, and gray sky above. The craggy spire of Pulpit Rock dominated the view here, as it did at all three Rosary Lakes. The stillness of the water was preternatural and we spoke in hushed reverential tones for fear the sound waves from our voices would rend the serenity asunder. As we gazed in wonder at the idyllic scene, the spell was broken by a brazen doe coming to join us. Clearly, she was quite habituated to the presence of humans.

Edwin Lake

Our next stop would have been Middle Rosary Lake but Edwin espied a marshy pond off-trail and before you could say "no, Edwin, no!" we were all following the madman as he tromped through a mild tangle of woods and vegetation to reach the body of water. The pond was somewhat inaccessible in that a shallow marsh of water, mud, grass, and maybe a bog orchid or two kept us away from the main body, not that we wanted to swim on this semi-rainy day anyway.

Pulpit Rock is nearest to Middle Rosary Lake

Once we were able to pry Edwin away from his discovery of a small lake (we'll have to petition the Oregon Geographic Names Board to name it Edwin Lake) we resumed hiking on the PCT up to Middle Rosary Lake. The craggy spire of Pulpit Rock again dominated the view, being closest to the trail at Middle Rosary Lake. Accordingly, we stopped for a bit to gawk at the sight of the imposing pinnacle reflecting upon a quiet and serene lake.

Penny excels at the balance beam

At Upper Rosary Lake, the last bead in the rosary, so to speak, we decided to leave the PCT and take a use-path around the back side of the lake. After crossing a grassy marsh on fallen logs, we followed a faint track which didn't take long to go sketchy and disappear altogether. However, navigation was simple, all we had to do was keep the lake on the right, and eventually we'd rejoin the PCT, which is exactly what happened.

Backpacker's digs at Lower Rosary Lake

"What's that?" Lane was consulting his new GPS and sharp-eyed Edwin spotted another small lake on the GPS screen. And before you could say "oh no, not again!" we were all following Edwin to a backpacker's campsite. Here PCT through-hikers had fashioned a living room set out of rocks from Pulpit Rock's avalanche basin but Edwin had his eyes set on the small pond in back of the campsite.

A nameless pond full of ripples from the rain

We hatched a plan to walk around the pond, expecting to find another sketchy path going round. Nope, the faint track we had set out on soon "dissipated" (quoting Terry, here) and we were soon fighting the brush, which was in turn doing a fine job of fighting back. It was much easier to head downhill away from the pond through a forest, where presumably we'd eventually run into Lower Rosary Lake and that is exactly what happened. 

Literally can't see the forest for the trees

Edwin wasn't done though, he again studied the screen on Lane's GPS and figured out the first pond we had bushwhacked to, was the source of Rosary Creek. That creek then plunged steeply down the mountainside before emptying into Odell Lake, right near our campground. Before you could say "bushwhack thrice", Edwin and Terry were off into the forest to shortcut the route home. The remainder of our group, being averse to getting lost, nifty widescreen hi-def GPS notwithstanding, returned to the trailhead. I'm both happy and sad to report Edwin and Terry beat us back to camp. In the meantime we have a new rule: don't let Edwin look at your GPS!

Late summer is the season for pinesap

For more photos of this hike, please visit the Flickr album.

Fawn and Stag Lakes

Forgive me if I start fawning over Fawn Lake. Sometimes, it feels like mountain lakes in the Cascades are a dime a dozen but Fawn Lake is arguably one of the better ones. Situated in a high mountain pass at the base of several cragged and jagged peaks, the postcard view of the lake is a ready made advertisement for hiking in the Diamond Peak Wilderness. To top it off, there is a large rocky bench overlooking the lake with just the perfect backpacking campsite atop it. Be it day hike or backpack trip, Fawn Lake is most definitely a worthy destination. 

These guys!

Doe Lake is nowhere to be found but never fear, Fawn Lake is not an orphan because a protective and nurturing Stag Lake keeps watch from nearby. I can relate to that because I single-parented my kids for seven years, and how about a tip of the hat to all the stags out there raising fawns all on their own. Anyway, after hiking to Stag Lake, I'm all about stagging over Stag Lake because Fawn Lake comes in a close second best, scenery-wise. And if you think I overplayed the cervine puns and references, “Oh, deer!” is all I’ve got to say. By the way, my mother's sister Lerna has always gone by the name of Ler for short, but us kids just call her Aunt Ler. Oh, deer, once again.

Let's go hiking!

This was the final day of our campout at Odell Lake so it stood to reason that our last hike had better be a good one. We disembarked from our vehicles at the Crescent Lake boat ramp parking lot and in a hiking oddity, we had to hike a short distance to the actual Fawn Lake Trailhead. In other words, we had to hike from the trailhead to the trailhead, and that made about as much sense as the Electoral College. We were going to Fawn Lake of course, but the Metolius-Windigo Trail also departs from the same trailhead. Curious about this trail, I did a little research and found out the MWT is about 100 miles long and runs from the Mount Jefferson Wilderness to Windigo Pass in our own Umpqua National Forest. I'm game, who's with me on this? 

An easy walk through gorgeous woods

But back to the subject at hand, I'm supposed to be writing about the hike to Fawn Lake and not about enticing 100 mile long trails that call to me. In keeping with the volcanic legacy of the Diamond Peak Wilderness, the trail was dry and dusty and surrounded by a lush and healthy forest that gradually transitioned to a forest of scrawny lodgepole pine trees as we gained elevation. The grade was always uphill but never what I would call steep so it was a pleasant walk through the woods and volcanic dust on the way up to Fawn Lake. 

The gawking begins at Fawn Lake

After three miles of easy hiking, we arrived at peaceful Fawn Lake. The lake reposed poetically in a forested bowl surrounded by tall mountains. At the opposite end of the lake, loomed craggy Lakeview Mountain, Peak 6892, and Redtop Mountain which was mostly tucked around a corner of the lake. The air was fairly still so all the aforementioned peaks reflected nicely on the lake's surface. I had been here before but none of my ducklings had been, so it did my heart good to hear all the oohing and aahing from my appreciative brood. 

Part of the hike up to Stag Lake

After a requisite stop for a view soak, we grabbed the Crater Butte Trail which rounded the north shore of Fawn Lake. The path climbed steadily through thin woods and low scrub, the view of the lake improving until it eventually receded from view. The trail was seemingly heading straight to Peak 6892 but before we crash landed on the peak, so to speak, we made a right turn onto the Stag Lake Trail. 

The Stag Lake impostor

"Is that all there is?" we collectively wondered as we gazed at a very unimpressive semi-stagnant pond with lily pads floating on the surface. All that work to get here and it was sad indeed to get so disappointed by an underwhelming pond until John noticed a continuation of the trail. And me with a GPS that I didn't even think to consult with! Fortunately, the trail did continue to a lake that just had to be Stag Lake. Just to be sure, I checked my GPS this time. 

All the magnificent scenery still cannot
prevent me from acting like an idiot

Stag Lake sits right at the foot of craggy and impressive Lakeview Mountain, the gray rock looking as formidable and unassailable as a medieval redoubt. The symmetrical cone of Peak 6892 was also looking down upon Stag Lake, just not from front and center like Lakeview Mountain was doing. Lake, mountains, and forests were all reposing under a clear and deep blue sky spread out above. Such magnificent scenery just demanded a lengthy and reverential contemplation stop and we so obliged. 

Missy hikes through a lodgepole forest

After an hour-long view soak, lunch, and general all-around lollygaggery spent lazing in the sunshine with maybe a nap or two by a hiker or two, it was back the way we had come. On the way back, we made sure to retrieve some of our friends who stayed behind at Fawn Lake for a shorter hike and I’m glad to report we finished the hike with the same amount of hikers we started out with. I’m also glad to report that the weather was absolutely glorious, unlike my only other outing here where I had to run down the trail dodging lightning bolts hurled by weather gods using me for target practice. Some experiences don’t need to be relived. 

Part of that great campout at Odell Lake

All present agreed this had been a grand hike and the whole campout at Odell Lake had been an unqualified success. For more photos of this hike, please visit the Flickr album. 

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Yoran Lake to Midnight Lake

Mount Yoran is a comparitively smallish pinnacle that has the misfortune of eternally standing next to massive Diamond Peak. Anywhere else, Mount Yoran would be an impressive peak in its own right but whatever stature it may have had gets eclipsed by the imposing geologic marvel that is Diamond Peak. At the feet of both Diamond Peak and Mount Yoran lies Yoran Lake, and all things Yoran have the misfortune of being so named because I always trot out the hackneyed one-liner “That one’s Yoran and that one’s his’n!” I’ve got a million of them folks, and that’s why I hike alone a lot.

Penny demonstrates a case of the eebie-jeebies

We (Friends of the Umpqua) began hiking from the Trapper Creek Trailhead, where signs advised that the log bridge over Trapper Creek was damaged and as a consequence, closed. Naturally, we all hiked past the sign and across the one-railed bridge, some of us sure-footed as mountain goats and others as wobbly as dizzy drunks fresh off a merry-go-round. The bridge did have some damage but did not particularly look or feel structurally unsound. It spanned rushing Trapper Creek coursing about fifteen feet below, and the exposure engendered by the narrowness of the log and the lack of a handrail on the right side gave some hikers the eebie-jeebies but we all made it safely across without incident.

The forest sublime

Once past Trapper Creek, our route inclined uphill through a lush forest and that was the story for the next four miles or so. Also a theme of the hike were ripe grouseberries. These small red berries are a member of the huckleberry family and although the berries are much smaller than their delicious cousins, I daresay the grouseberries have a much sweeter flavor. I can say this because along with my friends, grazing and sampling the berries growing on the low plants was a thing for the entire hike.

Just another lake next to the trail

At about the three-mile mark, a side trail took us to an unnamed lake near the trail. I’m not sure why the lake has been deemed unworthy of a name, for it was fairly large, blue-watered, and somewhat photogenic. It was the first of many such lakes seen on this hike, most of which were also unnamed. It was here that mosquitoes began to make their pestering presence known, which stands to reason, given all the water just standing in the forests below Diamond Peak.

Perfect view of Yoran Lake and Diamond Peak

Next up was Karen Lake and after a brief visit there, it was just a short walk over to Yoran Lake, the crown jewel in the day’s lake tiara. What Yoran Lake has that all the other lakes don’t is a postcard view of Diamond Peak looming over the blue lake. A steady breeze ruffled up the lake’s surface so there was no photography of the mountain reflecting upon the surface today, but the view was awesome nonetheless. In tribute to the lakeside vista, we all plopped down on the sloping banks and ate lunch while also partaking of the incredible scenery.

Penny becomes a temporary PCT through-hiker

Several years ago, Kevin, Dale, and I backpacked in this area and we at this point, had to bushwhack cross-country to reach Lils Lake and the Pacific Crest Trail. Nowadays however, a maintained and bonafide trail connects lakes Yoran and Lils so I'm sad to say no navigational challenges presented themselves on this day. Once we hit Lils Lake with Mount Yoran looming high on the western ridge line, it was just a short walk up to the Pacific Crest Trail.

The Hidden Lake inspection crew

There were all manner of small ponds, wet spots, swamps, lakelets, and other erstwhile mosquito hatcheries next to the trail, too numerous to mention even though I just mentioned them. The first lake worthy of a name was Hidden Lake and after taking the short path to the lake, I wondered why it was named Hidden Lake, because we easily found it.

Message board of sorts at a PCT backpack campsite

The next several miles were a pleasant descent through a very well shaded forest, increasingly appreciated as the day warmed up. Also, as we lost elevation, the mosquitoes became less and less of a nuisance, which was also appreciated. There were two more named lakes, Arrowhead and Midnight, and we paid a visit to each in turn. Arrowhead Lake is so named because it does resemble an arrowhead when seen on the map and Midnight is so named because of some reason unbeknownst to me. Maybe it’s shaped like midnight.

Shoreline at Karen Lake

It is possible to return to Trapper Creek from the Pengra Pass Trailhead via trail, making for a 12ish mile loop hike but we did this as a shuttle, ending our venture at Pengra Pass. Still, we got in nearly eleven miles of hiking, six mountain lakes with a name, and something like sixteen hundred six lakes without. Not bad for a day’s work. Plus, I got to use the “That one's Yoran and that one’s his’n!” line on some unsuspecting hikers who had to put up with me since I had the car and keys.

Midnight Lake in broad daylight

For more photos of this hike, please visit the Flickr album.

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Maiden Peak

One recent hot summer day, Lane and I went off in search of a fair Maiden. No, that's not what it sounds like, the object of our affection on this particular day was 7,818 foot high Maiden Peak. Neither one of us had ever been to the top of Maiden Peak before so you might say this was a maiden hike to Maiden Peak for us Maiden maidens. 

Lush forest surrounded the trail

Starting at the Maiden Peak Trailhead, which is near Gold Lake which in turn is near Willamette Pass, our first impression was that of walking uphill. Stands to reason, since the trail would gain about 2,800 feet of elevation in nearly 6 miles, most of it seemingly in the last mile. While the grade was never overwhelming (except for the last mile), it was constant. And the the last mile?  Lane said it was like falling because it only hurts at the end. You could say the same thing about hot salsa, too. My own wry observation is that spending all day with the Maiden left me with tired legs and sore feet, plus I was covered in sweat, dust, and itchy mosquito bites which is pretty much what you deserve when you go wandering off in search of fair maidens.

Pinesap emerges

My preconceived notion about the Maiden Peak Trail was that it was a dry and dusty hike. Not true at all, for the trail was green and lush for all but the last mile of the hike. The trail ambled through a thick fir forest and we were grateful for the shade as it has been fairly warm lately. The understory was carpeted with low-growing Cascade huckleberry, some of which had the small but delicious red berries on them. Little prince's pine was flowering still and the pale orange stalks of pinesap were pushing through the soil.

We grazed next to Skyline Creek

Before the days of the Pacific Crest Trail, Oregon boasted the Oregon Skyline Trail which essentially did what the Pacific Crest Trail does now. However, the Skyline Trail was much more sensible than the PCT because the OST made sure to hit all the creeks and lakes on the way, keeping long distance hikers well watered. The PCT builders insisted the new trail needed to stay high on the Cascade crest and eventually, the Skyline Trail sort of disappeared from sight when the PCT received all the hiking love after construction. I was reminded of all this because the Maiden Peak Trail below the PCT was part of the old Skyline Trail and it crossed Skyline Creek, still flowing fast and fresh in late summer. Blueberries were in season along the creek and I'm glad to report many blueberries were harmed in the hiking of this hike.

Hiking uphill for 6 miles makes Lane sad

I keep citing that last mile because it was pretty sleep but the mile from Skyline Creek to the Pacific Crest Trail was also pretty sleep, climbing 600 feet in a warm-up for the upcoming summit slog. We stopped for a brief rest and sandwich stop after crossing the PCT and met a very fit pair of age fifty-something gentlemen running (yes, I said "running") to the top of Maiden Peak. We ran into them again on their way down and they told us they were training for "The Waldo", a 62-mile trail run in the Waldo Lake area that also summits three peaks along the way. Lane and I felt like little girls (or maybe old maids), compared to their level of fitness and trail derring-do.

Toad had to hike uphill, too

There really isn't a lot to report about the middle portion of the hike as the trail steadily climbed up through the viewless forest. Periodically, stagnant ponds lay next to the trail and that explained the mosquitoes. Polliwogs swam in the turbid waters and the occasional toad was spotted hopping away in panic. And just as Lane and I both became complacent about the relatively gentle grade: Wham!

Did I mention the trail was steep?

The trail went steep and didn't even pretend to switchback and our progress became as slow and painful as a constipatory turd making its way out into the world. The trees began to thin out, rockpiles showed up here and there, and the trail went from normal dirt to dusty pumice. At a cairn marking the intersection with the "Leap of Faith" trail (a steep and faint track dropping down to Maiden Lake), we made a left turn and for the first time all day, we felt like the actual summit of Maiden Peak was imminent.

First view from the top of Maiden Peak

Sure enough, the trees thinned out altogether and we strolled out onto the barren summit of Maiden Peak. Wow! Mountains and lakes everywhere and views all the way to Inner Mongolia. Ok, I'm exaggerating, maybe Outer Mongolia. Actually, we could see South Sister, her head hiding in the clouds and just beyond, the spire of Mount Washington, looking all the world like Sauron's redoubt in Mordor. At Maiden's feet lay bright blue Bobby Lake with Maiden's nearest mountain neighbor The Twins rising just beyond the lake.

View to Davis Lake and Wickiup Reservoir 

Waldo Lake is Oregon's second largest natural lake and we could see pretty much all of it. To the south were lakes Odell, Crescent, and Lower Rosary. Diamond Peak had plenty of snow and clouds surrrounding it and further beyond was the pinnacle of Mount Thielsen. A small little mound near Thielsen was Tipsoo Peak, where I had hiked the day prior. To the east lay semi-dry Wickiup Reservoir and Davis Lake on a forested plain with central Oregon stretching out further beyond all the way to Outer Mongolia.

Old maid on Maiden Peak

Clouds were forming on the west side of Maiden Peak and the resultant shadows mottled the forested topography below. A chill wind was blowing on the summit and it nearly felt like winter. Windbreakers were quickly donned for protection from the wind. After sandwiches were consumed and all the possible photographs were taken, it was time to head back as after all, we still had a six-mile hike back to the car.

The Twins, with the Three Sisters further beyond

As we descended, shadows lengthened in the forest while sunbeams slanted through the trees. We noticed several miles of old wire abandoned along the trail and armed with that knowledge, we became quite adept at picking out the ceramic insulators from the "good old days" tacked onto trees. It had been a long hike and we arrived at the trailhead at 8 o'clock, pretty much at sunset. Tack on dinner in Cottage Grove and a three-plus hour drive to Roseburg, we arrived at our hometown a few clock ticks before midnight. But hey, that'll happen when you chase fair Maidens!  

Little prince's pine

For more pictures of this hike, please visit the Flickr album.

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Diamond Peak Loop

Many years ago, I went on my first backpack trip as a mature adult. Well, the "mature" part might be debatable but anyway, I showed up with a pack that must have weighed at least as much as a blue whale, or so it seemed. Overly heavy to be sure, but I was prepared for every conceivable calamity ranging from earthquakes to a rabid moose bite. My friend Ned Landis, with nothing but kindness in his heart, went through my pack and offloaded a lot of that unnecessary weight. Even so, the pack was too damn heavy. From that fateful trip, I did learn one lesson that still stays with me to this day: weight does matter!

Dinner is a dehydrated dragonfly head

Nowadays, I get mad at myself if my pack is over 30 pounds and just like Ned did so many years ago, I go through newbie's packs and remove stuff and preach the gospel learned on that fateful trip "Weight does matter!" Newbies tend to overpack just as I did on that fateful first trip, it is up to us grizzled veterans to demonstrate our lighter packs and total backpacking knowledge and general all-around awesomeness. That's why it was disconcerting when newbie Kevin showed up with a lighter pack than both mine and Dale's. We were both showed up by a rookie!

Day 1

Bridge over Trapper Creek

Although this trip consisted of five days in the Diamond Peak Wilderness, the hike got off to a decidedly non-wilderness feel when right at the start we crossed several railroad tracks, our heads swiveling back and forth as we kept a watchful eye out for any speeding trains. The tracks concluded the civilized portion of the hike as just on the other side, a wooden sign marked our entry into the wilderness.

Beargreass

The Yoran Lake Trail initially climbed gently through a beautifully greened out forest. Trapper Creek was full of water and was running fast with spring snow melt. The mosquitoes weren't too bad and we enjoyed our nice little forest stroll. 

Diamond Peak, from Yoran Lake

After several miles, the uphill slant increased in severity as the trail gained elevation. Pretty much all 8 miles of the first day's hike was spent plodding uphill. Just as we were starting to get bored with viewless forest, the trail did a walk-by past an unnamed lake, Karen Lake, and then Yoran Lake, each lake larger than the one before. Yoran Lake in particular provided us some wow with a great view of snowy Diamond Peak looming over the body of water. The mosquitoes increased in number and became generally annoying but not voracious enough (yet) to make us lose our sanity.

I'm following Richard, I better check my GPS!

We had been hiking on the Yoran Lake Trail and the trail ended at its namesake lake. It was a little bit of a problem because our route required us to be on the Pacific Crest Trail which ran almost a mile to the north and was slightly uphill from Yoran Lake. Armed with compass and GPS we left the trail, following Yoran Lake until there was no more Yoran Lake to follow. Continuing northward beyond the lake, we bushwhacked through the forest, placing an inordinate faith in all our electronic navigational gadgetry.

Lils Lake

Exactly according to plan, we popped out of the forest at scenic Lils Lake and one short uphill bushwhack spit us out of the forest and onto the Pacific Crest Trail. All total, the day's hiking would gain over 2,100 feet of elevation with a substantial amount of the total gain taking place on this section of the PCT. In short, it was a tedious slog up to a pass below Mount Yoran, Diamond Peak's immediate neighbor. 

Mount Yoran, above an unamed lake near Divide Lake

All that uphill became a very steep drop to the base of Mount Yoran and Divide Lake, our home for the night. Just a small, seemingly unremarkable lake but Divide Lake is all about location, location, location! The lake is strategically situated at the base of Mount Yoran and the view of both lake and mountain was breathtaking.

The mosquitoes were kind enough
to share Divide Lake with us

Camp was pitched on a rocky bluff overlooking Divide Lake, to the accompaniment of thousands of buzzing mosquitoes. Dale discovered he had forgotten not only his cool hat with the neck shade, but he had also forgotten his spoon. Improvising, he used his Deuce of Spades trowel (which he swears had only touched dirt during its lifetime) much to the perpetual amusement of Kevin and I. If I had forgotten anything, I'm not telling because its my blog and I can write whatever I want to. Newbie Kevin, on the other hand, had not forgotten a thing. Anyway, much merriment ensued along with puns about the trowel doing double doody and how Dale could really shovel the food down, etc.

Day 2

Grandeur

All that steep drop down to Divide Lake made for a big climb back up to the Pacific Crest Trail; might as well get the hard stuff done first thing in the morning. Our reward for returning back to the PCT was a relatively level trail and some world-class scenery as the venerable trail contoured below the massive rock wall of Diamond Peak. The easier walking was much appreciated, coming as it did after a tough hiking day.

Our view for most of Day 2

This was my favorite part of the trip. The PCT undulated gently in slow rolling ups and downs through an alpine rock garden. Snow drifts covered the trail and small tarns collected snow melt just off trail. Penstemon and partridge foot bloomed between rocks as we walked through miles of delightful rock gardens. Nascent streams trickled musically across the trail, the crystalline clarity of the water entrancing passing hikers. And always, Diamond Peak, its rocky crags flecked with snow, loomed above the trail. Kevin admitted that on the Day 1 slog, he wondered why he had volunteered to come along, but it all made sense on Day 2.

We could see all the way to Mount Shasta

We pretty much had the PCT to ourselves although we did run into two scrawny ladies doing a marathon trail run and one backpacker who'd been hiking since starting at Mount Shasta about a week prior. Speaking of Mount Shasta, amazingly we could see the peak on the horizon as we rounded the south end of Diamond Peak. The sky was cloudy and it felt like rain was coming, yet there was Shasta, faintly visible from a mere 145 miles away! Other peaks nearer and dearer to us Oregonians were eminently visible from the PCT: Middle and South Sister, Maiden Peak, Cowhorn Mountain, Sawtooth Mountain, Union Peak, Mount Thielsen, and Mount Bailey.  Sounds like a roster of my blog posts over the years!

Colorful Rockpile Lake

A trail junction past the southern end of Diamond Peak was our cue to jump off the PCT and take a side trail to Rockpile Lake. Nearby Marie Lake gets a lot of backpacking love as it's the logical starting point for those climbing up to the top of Diamond Peak. However, stunningly colored Rockpile Lake is much more scenic and we had the place to ourselves, although the mosquitoes drove us into our tents well before the sun went down.

Day 3

Celebrating Clean Underwear Day

Day 3 of a 5 day trip marks the halfway point and as such, is that cherished and special day euphemistically referred to as Clean Underwear Day! Clean underwear is not overrated and let's just say we left Rockpile Lake with buoyant enthusiasm engendered by the wonderful sensation of freshly laundered clothing "down there", to put it delicately.

Mountain View Lake view

It was an uphill trudge for the first couple of miles on the hike away from the Pacific Crest Trail. After cresting a broad rise, a rest break was taken at the aptly named Mountain View Lake. There was a mountain, there was a view, and there was a lake. Seriously, the little lake provided an awesome vista of snowy Diamond Peak rising above the waters. After a short view soak, it was then all downhill for the rest of the day. As the trail lost elevation, the scenery transitioned from all that wonderful alpine wonderland to dull, drab, and dusty lodgepole forest that was singularly uninteresting. The main excitement on this part was reaching the Whitefish Trail which then delivered us to Diamond View Lake, our home for the next two nights.

A perfect ending

It had been a short 6.7 mile hike to Diamond View Lake so there was plenty of time to kill. Kevin and I sat by the lake all afternoon, cameras clicking all the while,  If anything, the view here of Diamond Peak was even more scenic than the view at Mountain View Lake. The sun eventually sank behind the mountain and more camera clicking took place with the advent of a spectacular sunset.

Day 4

Why we hike

There's a "Leave it to Beaver" episode where Ward Cleaver takes Wally, Beaver, and friends to the movies. When they exit the theater, they find Beaver is still in the theater. Lumpy goes back into the theater to find Beaver but Beaver comes out and now where's Lumpy? So Wally goes to find Lumpy and Lumpy comes out and then someone has to go find Wally, and so on so forth for 30 minutes. Well, we were ready to start our day hike to Saddle Lake and Dale has to go back and get his GPS. But wait, I have to go back and get my hiking poles. Now, are we ready, guys? Whoops, I forgot my GPS. Even Kevin got into the act, having to go retrieve a hiking pole. Cue the laugh track and cut to commercial!

Saddle up, Kevin, we're going to Saddle Lake!

Anyway, Day 4's festivities got off to a great start (once we actually started!) with Diamond Peak reflecting on the mirrored surface of Diamond View Lake in a quintessential postcard view. If every day of the rest of my life started out like that, I'd probably be much easier to get along with. Our itinerary  for Day 4 was a short day-hike to aptly name Saddle Lake, which sits on a forested saddle between Peak 6982 and Redtop Mountain. It was a brisk climb away from Diamond View Lake and we were all glad we weren't toting fully loaded backpacks. Most of the day hike was spent in forest but here and there the crest of Diamond Peak appeared between the trees on the climb up to Saddle Lake.

Bug with a heart-shaped butt

It was a lengthy and enjoyable lollygag next to Saddle Lake, the time spent watching mothy little bug things swim across the surface of the lake. Periodically, large armored beetles with heart-shaped carapaces crawled on us, triggering the occasional "Gah!" moment. The day and lake water were each on the cool side, otherwise we may have gone swimming with the mothy things.

Dale and his amazing Sooper Dooper Pooper Scooper spoon

Back at camp, we shared Diamond View Lake with some Pacific Crest Trail thru-hikers whose trail names were Bubba Gump and Smiley. Pleasantries were exchanged from a safe distance as they had that certain air about them that comes from way too many miles on the trail between showers, even the mosquitoes laid off of them. And speaking of showers, Day 4 was Bath Day and all members of our party at various junctures waded into Diamond View Lake (sorry, fishies!) to remove trail dust and that certain air about us.

Night light

Just like the night before, the sunset at the lake was spectacular, albeit cloudier. Much photography ensued while slapping at mosquitoes. Back at camp, our sleep was interrupted by a sick sounding croak emanating from the trees. Dale was sleeping in his hammock and although the croak sounded a lot like Dale, the croaking originated from a point much higher in the trees than his hammock. It was probably a dyspeptic crow, expressing displeasure with our uncommonly clean camp.

Day 5

Not the most interesting trail ever

Day 5 was getaway day and the hike out was about 5 downhill miles. As the path dropped down towards Odell Lake, Trapper Creek showed up next to the trail again as the forest morphed from dull lodgepole to a verdant forest draped with old man's beard. Lupine and beargrass bloomed next to the trail, providing a colorful counterpoint to all the greenery.





As usual, we had to step over the odd tree that had fallen across the trail, nothing new there. However, there was a large patch of downed trees that made the trail darn near impassable and we had to snake our way through the branches and trunks, passing our packs forward hand to hand like a bucket brigade from a 19th century house fire. Kevin's pack was still the lightest, darn it.

Back to civilization!

As we continued to lose elevation next to Trapper Creek, the trail tread widened, the ground well-tamped by frequent use in an indication we were nearing the trailhead. And sure enough, after a perfunctory 5 miles, we crossed the railroad tracks that had an Amtrak passenger train parked on a railway siding, waiting idly for no apparent reason. From there, it was off to a real breakfast at Odell Lake Resort where we ate outside so as not to "perfume" the restaurant. And I'm both happy and sad to report Kevin did not fall for the "guy with the lightest pack buys the meal" trick.

Sunset at Diamond View Lake

For more pictures of this hike, please visit the Flickr album.

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