An Epic Day

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.

You get the idea.

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. 

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).

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.  

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.

Colors changing more everyday.

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.

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.

Approaching Inspiration Point.  Love the trees and their
curves.

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. 

Proof that I didn't just get all these photos off Google Images.

Big dude.

Little dude.

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!

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.

Lake Solitude within reach.

A new valley, a new view.

A little lasting holdout of summer, these flowers were
a welcome sight.

Hearing water underfoot, kind of strange and creepy.

Dark colored marmot looking creature.

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.

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. 

First glimpse of heaven.

Satisfied in appetite for both food and fish, time to say goodbye.

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.