I went solo today on a hike
that was to be sooo long and take sooo long, that Miki chose to stay with the
dogs since we would be leaving them for so long by themselves and her parents
probably wouldn’t drive out for the day to dog sit.
After I went over and over the trail to Lake Solitude with
the different literature handed to us when we arrived at the park, the visitor
center info, plus the map we bought and thought…this would be a good hike. And I visited with our moose ranger and
she recommended it, but she emphasized it was a lonnnng hike.
This is what the Day Hikes brochure from the National
Park Service says about it…
“Lake Solitude, 19.0 miles (roundtrip), 10 hours,
3375 ft total climbing, STRENUOUS”
Epic is what I thought. I must do it. I can’t control the distance or the elevation change, but I
can control me…to an extent. We
got a little intelligence on it the day we climbed up to Inspiration Point with
Betty. We talked to a couple that
had just come down the Cascade Canyon part of it (3.3 miles) up to where there
is a fork in the trail. At the
fork, if you go north it takes you to Lake Solitude, which I had researched a
little and looked good for fishing, plus beautimus maximus. If you go south and I didn’t care,
since I was going north.
Cascade Canyon is a valley between two mountains (the word canyon brings
up a different image for me than what I saw). I had no recollection of doing this with my family growing
up, so it was uncharted territory for me.
The couple said it was a gentle incline and was very doable…and they
didn’t look like they’d do anything too difficult. It was on.
We had planned on it taking
me all day and when should Miki alert the mountain search and rescue unit
should things go awry. She
prepared me two sandwiches and snacks (both healthy and not so). I packed away the bare essentials for
fishing, some bear spray, rain stuff, trekking poles, camera, and miscellaneous
other stuff. Set the alarm for 6
and to be on the road by 6:30 was
the plan.
The first 30 minutes of the
day was flawless. Had my fill of
oatmeal. We said our goodbyes
(Miki knew I wasn’t coming back…okay I exaggerate a little) and I woke the
campground with the start of my truck (diesel is a bit noisier than gas). As we have grown accustomed to over the
last week, the wildfire’s smoke fills the valley (or hole…what they called
valleys in the old days…thus Jackson Hole) and shrouds the mountains in a
haze. Throughout the day, the wind
picks up and clears much of it away.
This morning, the sun rose with a fiery (no pun intended) redness to it
as it shone through the smoke filled air. And as I drove to my trailhead, I
watched the sun light up the Teton Mountains from the jagged peaks down.
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You get the idea. |
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The morning sun washing over the Teton peaks. |
I knew it was cold out,
because it has been every morning since we arrived, but when I looked at the
truck thermometer, it read 26 degrees F.
That is the coldest night we have had yet. I was dressed properly and was still good to go. The sun would be rising soon and would
help warm me up in the first few miles.
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Proof, I am not just cold! |
I pulled into Jenny Lake’s
visitor center parking lot and headed straight for the outhouse. I was hoping to get that taken care of,
if you know what I mean and I think you do, before hitting the trail. I was initially afraid that the seat
might be so cold that I would stick to it, but then if you think about the
science behind what is going on in there, or should I say down there…think
compost pile. I walked in and it
was significantly warmer, no frostbutt frostbite today. I kind of hated to leave it’s comfort but
the trail called. I thought of
contingency plans, wild animal attack scenarios, and the fact that Miki was
thinking she was already a widow (remember, I exaggerate a little).
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Not so much a warming hut, but a warming butt. |
After finishing my strategic
planning I called Miki (cause I had 1 bar on my cell) and let her know I was
still alive, was hitting the trail a little late, and don’t make any arrangements
for me yet. The morning air was
exhilarating even for a non-morning person. My adrenaline was running a bit high for a number of
reasons. I was heading into
unknown territory alone, animals are active in the morning, and the tourist
hikers would not be out in force for hours. I felt good and was up for the challenge.
The first couple of miles
takes you around Jenny Lake, which during the summer months there is a shuttle boat
that takes you across the lake and it saves your legs those miles. It is relatively level walking, with
sporadic elevations changes, but it mostly hugs the lakeshore.
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Jenny Lake with a lone fisherman in a tiny red boat. |
As I was admiring the deepening of the
fall colors and the freshness of my legs, I came to the top of one small hill
as it made a left hand curve on the trail and a mother moose and her twins were
staring at me as I lifted my head to see them seeing me. I was about 10-15 feet from her
watchful eyes and she was only about 6 feet off the trail. In a matter of seconds, I reflected
back on the ranger’s statement that bears run from moose and they have good aim
with their big-o-long legs. I
collected my thoughts while admiring the twins (I think their names were Molly
and Lucy), snapped a few pictures (cause nothing stands in the way of a blog)
and accessed my chances of getting by without harm. I talked out loud a while, as if we were conversing about my
chances of survival. She lowered
her head and began to eat again, while her babies lay down to digest their
breakfast. I slowly inched forward
while she slowly kept eating and observed her head could easily rest atop my
head. If she felt that comfy to
eat, I felt that comfy to make my move.
My hope was that the big bush between us, being about 6 feet away now,
would give me time to yell, “I love you Miki!” as I was trampled to death. But it was not to be today. As I slipped beyond her death reach,
the adrenaline (of which I just used up 6 months worth) that was already self
induced, had just exponentially increased and I was booking it down the trail
to make up for lost time. You see,
the 10 hours the Day Hikes guide suggested that you allow, was for your average
tourist. I am a retired old guy
out to be not average.
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Colors changing more everyday. |
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There is Molly and Lucy on the right and mom staring right at me. |
With one incident down and
the trail blurring by, I made it to the other side of the lake where the summer
shuttles drop you off and the elevation starts up in earnest. I still had one bar, so I called Miki one
more time to let her know of my progress and my run in with some of the local
wildlife. I was not deterred and
was moving on. Up I went.
I kept making good progress
and decided to make a quick stop at Hidden Falls to see if dad was still
there…he was. Off I headed for
Inspiration Point.
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Rockin' the Clemson hat, thanks Callie and Grace!
Plus I wanted to make sure the rescue helicopter
would be able to see me. |
I arrived there having only
seen one other person at the falls, not dad! It was peaceful and I felt as though I had moved out of
moose territory. I took a few
moments at Inspiration Point for some hydration, a photo, tie one shoe a little
tighter, and off I went.
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Approaching Inspiration Point. Love the trees and their
curves. |
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Jenny Lake peering through the smokey haze. |
Now my feet were on new
ground. 3.3 miles to a fork in the
trail and surely there would be some surprises along the way. It was pretty exciting and that helped
as the adrenaline was wearing off.
I motored on, trying to keep a good pace. I left a rockier trail to be walking on a softer forest
floor, with rocky elevation changes as I went up. Kind of on cruise control at this point, I rounded a curve
to an opening of chest high willows, only to see a bull moose a few feet off
the trail having breakfast, just as the previous moose family I met. This time I saw them first and my pace
slowed dramatically to a stop as he looked up and we began to assess each
other. Having passed the previous
inspection of mother moose, I felt confident about this encounter too, but had
to get the okay. He was a bit
farther off the trail now, out of kicking range, but he was still eyeing me as
if to say, “Where are your antlers, sissy?” When he started nibbling the willows I made my move up the
trail only to spot another male moose, whose rack was a bit smaller. He had not paid me much attention from
the get go, so I respectfully eased by him and tried to stop the film running
in my head of my life passing before my eyes. That is 5 moose, mooses, meese, whatever, in about an hour’s
time. That is like a moose-alanche,
moose-o-rama, or a mooseslam. I
felt privileged.
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Proof that I didn't just get all these photos off Google Images. |
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Big dude. |
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Little dude. |
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Cascade Canyon as it opens up after the moose encounter. |
Evidently, my adrenaline
reserves kicked in and I was wasting no time in ascending Cascade Canyon. The only problem now was that I felt
this was an oasis for Wild Things (remember the book?) and that every brown
stump, fallen dead tree covered with brown needles, or the rustling of
chipmunks next to the trail was a grizzly. My adrenaline was directed to my senses, where Spider Man
had nothing on me. With bear spray
within easy reach, I kept on and finally reached the fork in the trail. I must have scared off a dozen or more
bears, cause I never saw a single one!
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Who knew a little chipmunk could instill so much fear while scurrying
around in the underbrush. |
A short break and I headed off on the north fork of the Cascade Canyon Trail towards Lake Solitude. It began with a steady and semi-steep elevation gain, but soon opened to another remarkably beautiful valley surrounded by high peaks on either side. The elevation became more gradual and I knew the 2.7 miles to go would be bearable (no pun intended). By this time I had passed a few hikers coming down from camping out above somewhere and my animal radar was not as intense. This valley had more rockslides to cross and one in particular where you could hear water rushing under it, but could not see where it entered nor where it exited. It was as if you might fall through at any moment and be swept away…okay I am getting a little carried away, but it beats worrying about bears. At this time of the season, the wildflowers are usually pretty much history, but I ran across a small smattering of some that brightened up a very monochromatic rockslide. A little further up the trail I started hearing the whistles of the yellow-bellied marmots. I also saw what looked like a smaller version of them, but with very dark fur, more like a beaver, but not.
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Lake Solitude within reach. |
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A new valley, a new view. |
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A little lasting holdout of summer, these flowers were
a welcome sight. |
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Hearing water underfoot, kind of strange and creepy. |
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Dark colored marmot looking creature. |
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Yellow-bellied marmot getting some sun. |
At last I was reaching the
end of the canyon and figured the lake had to be there, pretty good deductive
reasoning, huh? I could see the
line of fir trees along the crest of a hill where nothing else seemed to get
higher and a couple of small waterfalls could be seen and could be the water outlets
for the lake. I came across a sign
stating 200 more yards. The final
push up some nicely placed rocks to form steps, lead me to one of the most
spectacular alpine lakes I have seen.
Lake Solitude.
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The tree line indicates I am done going up. |
WOW! The water was like a mirror, reflecting
the surrounding peaks in its reflection.
But more noticeable were the small, random, concentric ripples all over
the lake…TROUT! And they were
hungry and looking for food, of which I had a nice fake supply of flies to
share. But first I needed to
replenish my supply of energy. I
was hungry too and I broke out the food bag Miki had prepared. I finished my water I’d brought and
took out our water filter and pumped some fresh, cold lake water for
later. So excited to meet the
fish, whose home I’d come to visit, I strung up my rod, chose a fly that looked
enticing, and began casting away.
It was either the first or second cast that showed these cutthroat trout
were ready, willing, and able to find my fly no matter how badly I cast
it. I lost track of how many I
caught, but they ranged from 4-5 inches up to around 15, at least that is about
the biggest one I caught. Man, are
they beautiful to look at and they fight like crazy for as small as they
are. I took another food break and
downed some of that fresh water. There was a small group of girls
lounging on a large flat rock by the lake, probably early college age. Who knows what they were talking about,
but they did it from before I got there until after I left (Callie, Grace...you
two could have fit right in). A
group of 3 guys around my age, I think, arrived shortly after I did. Another couple came just before
them. They all ended up on a rocky
peninsula extending into the lake and started talking. Before long the young guy jumped in the
lake, then yelled some profanity about its temperature. That was followed by his
wife/girlfriend, with much the same result. Somehow they convinced one of the older guys to strip down
to his undies and follow their lead.
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First glimpse of heaven. |
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Satisfied in appetite for both food and fish, time to say goodbye. |
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Hard to see the fish, but harder to take a picture of them while they are flopping
around in your hand. Most of the time you could literally see them take the fly
...awesome! |
By one o’clock, I had eaten
and fished for two hours. It was
time to hit the trail and descend the way I came. About 30 minutes into my descent, I came across a couple
that asked if I had seen a bear and that they had passed another couple going
down that had seen one in this valley.
I said no and picked up my pace while putting my head on a swivel. By the time I made it back to the fork
in the trail, my beardar was wanning and I just kept going. I also started seeing an increase in
foot traffic as I passed so many people in inappropriate footwear, it made my
feet hurt. Passed the bull moose
encounter area, passed Inspiration Point, and as I passed Hidden Falls, I
raised two fingers on one hand to form the Peace sign. This was something my dad was known for
doing instead of waving hello or goodbye.
Peace dad.
I made it back to the
parking lot while passing numerous tourists, whom I am sure were saying to
themselves or their trailmates, “Wow, he moves pretty good for an old
guy.” Passed the mother moose and
her twins, who were still in the same area where I saw them this morning. And passed the summer shuttle boat
launch dock that would have saved me a few miles and some time had they been up
and running, but then I would have missed my moose induced adrenaline surge.
I barely had enough battery
power to call Miki and tell her to cancel the services she had planned for me
and that I would be home in about 45 minutes. She sounded excited and that is all I needed to hear.
Let’s review: “Lake
Solitude, 19.0 miles (roundtrip), 10 hours (I
did it in 6.25 hrs…3.5 hrs up and 2.75 hrs down), 3375 ft total climbing,
STRENUOUS”
STRENUOUS…well, parts, but
overall I’d say moderate, with a sprinkle of easy, and a smidgeon of strenuous.
The pictures and the words
do not do this hike justice or describe how I felt while on the trail. It is different than any other hike
I’ve done…similar in some ways, but unique unto itself. Kind of like me, I did pretty good
today for an old guy! I’d
say Epic good.
My Zen from the Road:
This day did not go by without taking a toll. It took a toll on Miki because she was concerned for me and
rightly so. A toll on me, because
my body will be paying for this adventure for a number of days to come (I can
already feel it). Many things we
choose to do come with a price and as long as we are willing to pay that price,
we will keep on doing them. My
body will heal and I will most likely hike another day that will result in
similar pain. I’ve heard some
people say that pain lets you know you are alive. Not that you have to live in pain to be alive, but it can be
a reminder that you are.
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