Rolan the pilot later told us that the lake never did freeze over, but that’s probably because the high winds kept it choppy and delayed the freeze up. I personally believe in ‘Murphy’ and that if we had not moved camp the wind would have died and the lakes would have frozen solid. These days I always carry a satellite phone into the field and call the charter service for early pick up or weather updates. But back then you never really knew when the plane would come back to pick you up, and weather delays were common especially after a big storm. What would we have done if the lake had frozen over on the day of the pick up? So I think the move to the lower lake was the right choice.
It always clears up once you decide to leave.
The next morning it was still snowing and blowing, but it let up by the time we left and the sun even came out later when we returned for the tents. It would have been a perfect day to go skiing! But the only skiing we did was with over-stuffed, unbelievably heavy packs on our backs. We could not carry all the gear in one trip so the plan was to take the meat, goat hide, and non-essential gear to a point halfway to the lower lake, and then come back for the tents and everything else and take it all the way to the lower lake to set up another camp. I stuffed so much into my pack that the sides ripped slightly.
Skiing is not fun with a heavy pack on your back.
The start of our trek was not so bad because we had the partially packed trail from our sojourn the previous evening. But once we left this trail and started to break our own trail the slog began. Not only was the snow deep, but also we had to climb over and around big boulders and negotiate cliffs. We even had to climb about 200 feet above lake level to get around the cliffs associated with the creek’s canyon. At one point, to avoid having to climb all the way down into a valley and up the steep other side, we chose to negotiate a sloping, slippery ledge about 2 feet wide and 15 feet long with a big cliff beneath it. To go around through the valley would have delayed us at least an hour and we would have had to negotiate numerous small cliffs. So one at a time we crawled across, trying to not look down. We finally get to a ridge with a gentle slope and not too many rocks and we thought we had it made. We actually skied down to the creek at the bottom. Another mile of side hilling and we came to a large flat plain with considerably less snow. The plain is about 800 feet below the upper lakes. According to the map, we are less than halfway down, but it appeared we had negotiated the worst of it. Seemed like a good place to cache the goat meat, hide and non-essentials, and head back up to the lake for the rest of our camp.
Hiking in deep snow with a heavy pack is worse than skiing in deep snow with a heavy pack.
To save weight, and since we figure we already have a broken in a trail, we leave our skis with the cache, and head back up to the upper lake camp. Even though it is mostly uphill, what a relief to hike with an empty pack! Back at camp we pack up the tents and spend a considerable amount of time figuring out how to tie the ungainly coolers onto the packs. Digging the tents out of the snow is not easy either, and getting the guy line pins out from under rocks that have frozen in place got a little frustrating. When we’re done there is a huge crater in the snow where the tents had been set up. We finally packed up all the odds and ends and coolers and headed back down the trail. The sun even came out for a bit. We negotiated the slippery ledge for a third time and postholed on down to the meat cache. I particularly remember the side hill for the last mile before the meat cache. I postholed up to my knees with every other step. At the meat cache we repack our bags leave the coolers and put the skis back on. We feel like we are making good time and will be at the lower lake well before dark.
Creeks while nice routes for short distances are associated with ravines, cliffs and waterfalls.
At first, skiing on the flat creek plain, we make good time. To avoid what on the map looks like a waterfall we climb a hundred feet or so out of the valley. My brother wants to continue following the creek all the way to the lake – it is a more direct route and does not look bad. The flat, gravel creek bottom far below looks particularly enticing. I want to go the long way around the backside of a valley bowl on the hillside, staying high above the alders until we are just above the lake, and only then descend the short distance to the lake. Thank God I was stubborn. We later determine that the hillside to the main creek bottom is riddled with cliffs and alder, as is the final stretch of the creek bottom to the lake. If we had gone that way, we probably would not have made it to the lake until the next day. But for a while everyone is convinced that I picked the bad route as we side hill around the valley bowl and are forced to cross two fairly deep ravines. Each is 50 to 100 feet deep, but has steep, slippery sides. By this point we are whacked-out tired and any sort of climb is agony. We have left the snow and have put the skiis back on the packs – ptarmigan are everywhere. I have never seen such a large flock.
Thick alders and salmonberry are the worst Kodiak has to offer.
Finally, after another climb to avoid alders, we get to the ridge above the lake. The lake is just below us and it looks like a short, easy hike down. Turns out we should have headed straight down, but the alders and salmonberry are less thick on the ridge so we continue on the ridge for as long as we can. It soon gets very bad. At one point while fighting the thick brush I almost step off a sheer 100-foot cliff. Skiis are hanging up on alders, and the salmonberries bushes are holding back the legs. It is a struggle to move forward. We cut towards the lake and it actually gets worse – big boulders with spaces between them and thick alders. No one breaks a leg and we finally make it to the lakeshore just at dusk.
Complicated tents are hell to set up when one is mentally and physically finished.
At the lake we walk along the shore for a couple of hundred yards to a flat grassy area at the head of the lake. Luckily for us there is the perfect campsite at hand because we would not have had the time or energy to go looking for one. We set up tents in the gloaming and the wind chills us down quickly. I barely get my tent up before I am shaking with cold. I huddle in my sleeping bag to warm up. Dicky and Scott have a harder time with their tent. In their state of diminished mental abilities they can’t seem to get the poles into the right sleeves. I hear them cursing me as they set up the tent two or three times before they get it right. Later, we do warm up and eat dinner by the lakeshore. The wind has picked up and it is cold. The lack of whiskey is sorely noticed, and the percocet in the medical kit seriously considered. Patrick
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