Suicide Ridge, Emerald, and Sapphire Lakes

As it turned out, our early start wasn't quite early enough. The day was already beginning to heat up and we had a lot of exposed miles to get through for the day. Leaving Laura and Jeremiah back at camp to do their mommy-son thing, Lanore, Rachel, and I set off for our day's run. From what I knew about the trail, I didn't expect it to be a run the whole way, so we planned to return by two o'clock at the latest. At least, that's how the plan went.

We woke up early enough, but after slightly too much leisure in our breakfast, we didn't hit the trail until almost nine o'clock. Oops. The first few miles were shady and passed quickly. Rachel took the lead, setting a really nice pace...until she spooked a bear in the bushes and turned around to run back the other way. "It was big and it growled," she said when she finally met up with me and Lanore a few moments later. After that, they turned me into bear bait and made me lead while we called out to the bear, begging it to eat the others first.

Once we turned off to the connector trail that joins our route with the trail to the Caribou Lakes (a trip Matt and I did a few weeks earlier), the trail went from runnable to a slow slog pretty quickly.

Some sections were rocky, some were smooth, and some were so overgrown that I'm pretty sure my friends were wondering why they let me take them on these "fun" adventures.

The good thing about these tough adventures is that I rarely lead them somewhere that the misery isn't worth the trouble. In this case, once we popped above the trees and shrubs, the view was incredible. Every few switchbacks, of which there were over one hundred on this single south-facing slope, the scenery became increasingly beautiful.

Beautiful friends, beautiful view.

The trail eventually became steep enough that we had to mountain-goat it up. Rachel and Lanore nicknamed me MG because apparently I climb like a mountain goat.

After a long while, we reached the crest of Sawtooth Ridge and peered down the other side.

The familiar view of Caribou Lake greeted me, although this time it was only visible through a thickening cloud of wildfire haze from a fire burning sixty miles northwest of here.

We stopped for a snack and some photos and then retraced our steps back into the Stuart Fork drainage.

I wish I could say the downhill trip was faster, but it never is on terrain this rocky and steep. I watched as Lanore took off, our group's fearless downhiller, while Rachel crab crawled down on all fours for almost a mile. My technique was something between the two.

By the time we reached the valley floor, it was already about noon. We checked our water supply before deciding whether or not to turn back. Since I made it this far and had yet to tag the two mountain lakes, I voted we continue. My friends agreed, adding that we would definitely have to make it to the lakes so we didn't die of dehydration in the ninety degree heat without any water.

Emerald Lake!!!

The next two miles to the lake seemed to take even longer than those going up the ridge. All three of us ran out of water. I grew sausage fingers. It was not good. By the time we reached Emerald Lake, we were more than overjoyed to find water. I ran across the granite boulders and immediately stuck my hands in. It was heaven.

I love that Lanore captured my excitement in this shot.

We quickly refilled our water bladders and added the purifying tablets. Since we hadn't planned on a refill, these were all I had in my emergency kit. Our water took half an hour to purify so we waited. With our feet in the water. The forced break wasn't entirely unwelcomed.

Ohhh yeah. Icy lake water on my head.

It was a little tough to get moving again after our thirty minute break was over but we did. I didn't want to come this far and not make it to the second lake. Then I took the first sip of my purified water. It tasted like swimming pool water. Bleh. I guess that's why these have always been my backup system? Better than giardia I guess.

Looking back at where we came: Emerald Lake and Sawtooth Ridge in the background

Climbing along the granite slabs, we came across remnants of an old mining operation. It appeared that Sapphire Lake was held in place by a giant dam. For some reason, I wasn't expecting this lake to be man-made.

Our stop at Sapphire Lake was much shorter than at Emerald Lake, but it was definitely worth the trip. The wildfire smoke added a mysterious quality to the scenery.

Then we were finally able to retrace our steps and head back downhill. It was already four o'clock, two hours longer than we told Laura we'd be back at camp. We hoped she wouldn't be worried about us.

When we finally reached Morris Meadow, the golden hour had returned, only this time it was the evening version. It was beautiful.

All afternoon I had been dreaming about soaking in the creek at camp. When we reached camp again, I made a beeline for my fresh outfit, dinner, and then plopped myself into the water. It wasn't as refreshing as it would have been had we arrived in the afternoon as planned, but it was still satisfying for my sore, sun wary body.

Meanwhile, Rachel parked herself in Lanore's camp chair and only the promise of dinner could pry her out.

We swapped stories about our day. The hike in the night before had been too many miles in the heat for Jeremiah, so he and Laura passed the day reading their book, playing games, and throwing the stick for the dog. Before we knew it, the sky was darkening again and it was time to hang our food up in the tree.

Since my early backpacking days, I have always used with a bear can. My trips had always been to alpine areas without trees so rather than risking it, I usually bring the can. With a big group like ours, we decided to hang our food instead. It all went up in Rachel's backpack. Food for five people and a dog weighs a ton and it was so amusing to watch us hoist it up into the tree (best hanging tree I've ever seen!) that we had the kiddo take our photo. 

How many people does it take to hoist 60 lbs of food into the air?

Completely exhausted from the miles and dehydration of the day (and without a massive headache), sleep came quickly. What a full day!

15 miles, 6:48, 4,477 ft. gain

Pretty sweet topo map of our route

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Sunday, we made our trip back to the car. Since it was all smooth singletrack leading downhill, we made it out in record time. We wasted no time jumping in the car, making a beeline for the iced coffee. Rachel had her heart set on a salad and a side of baby carrots, Lanore wanted to spoil herself with a mocha, and I couldn't wait to chow down on a giant gingersnap cookie and wash it down with the world's largest iced coffee. Jeremiah and Laura moved at their own pace, which happened to be about the same as ours. Go figure.

This was the best girls' weekend. I love these two ladies to pieces and am so happy they're a part of my life. Running and adventuring would not be the same without them.

Ladies' Backpacking Weekend

If it seems like I spent a lot of August in the Trinity Alps, that's because I did. Just over a week after my quick overnight run trip with Matt, I was headed back out with a different set of friends. All summer long, Lanore, Rachel, and I tried to plan a trip. This was easier said than done. It seemed that no matter what, two of us were available but the third wasn't. By mid-summer, we finally had a date that worked for all three of us. We even invited a fourth person with us...which turned into five, plus a dog.

On a Ladies' backpacking weekend, one must be stylish.

Our caravan of vehicles meandered through the sweltering canyons, over the hills, and through all that darn road construction. I didn't realize it when I moved here, but it's definitely not easy to get out. By the time we reached the trailhead, it was already ninety degrees. Bleh. I didn't love that.

Right from the start, our group broke apart by pace: Rachel and I up ahead, Laura, Lanore, and seven year old Jeremiah, bringing up the rear. Rachel and I chatted along at a comfortable pace just below overheating. It wasn't until we were a few miles up the trail that we realized the rest of our group wasn't very close behind. Oops.

Super cool tree

We did our best to lollygag and stop for snacks and photos, but still our friends weren't catching up. We started to wonder what had happened. Normally I don't leave anyone behind but I'm not good in the heat and was distracted by the discomfort it caused so I put my blinders on and tried to shut out the world.

Rare photo of the photographer doing her thing.

By five o'clock, Rachel and I were nearing our planned camp for the night. Still no sign of our friends. We snacked for an hour. Still nobody. Fearing the worst, we retraced our steps while talking about what would happen if we didn't find our friends. Could they have taken a wrong turn?

Suddenly, I felt a blunt whack across my forehead. Somehow I missed the largest downed tree ever just inches too low for my head to be able to clear it safely. I saw stars. I nearly burst into tears. Then the headache began.

A few moments later, I heard voices and the sound of a whistle. Our friends!! YAY! They're not dead! Lanore looked more than happy to be reunited with our pack and the five of us (plus a dog too) set off up the river valley in search of camp.

We spent entirely too much time searching for a site. Being that it was evening on Friday night, there was already a large amount of people gathered around their campfires for the night. Once we found a spot, we wasted no time setting up the tent and getting things set for the night. We gathered beside a nearby stream to cook dinner and top off our water bottles for the night. I wowed everyone with my ability to empty an entire Mountain House Mac and Cheese package by myself.

Then we piled into the tent. As it turned out, Lanore's supposed three person tent was what REI calls a two plus tent. Basically that means two people with a little extra room for gear. I don't think it was ever meant for three people to squeeze in. I'm quite the princess when I tent camp, so when I realized one of us had to pretty much sleep at the foot of the tent, I was really worried. Lanore kept reassuring me we would fit, citing that she and her two (very slender) daughters fit in there on their JMT trip.

I washed down two ibuprofen to help get rid of that still throbbing headache while Lanore read to us the dangers of ibuprofen from a copy of Runner's World. Oh the irony. Perhaps tomorrow would be less eventful....

Our adventure destination for Saturday. We hoped the smoke would clear.

12.3 miles, 2183 ft gain. 5:28.

Boulder Creek Lakes

About a week after our backpacking trip to Caribou Lakes, the siren song of mountain summer called to us once again. This time, Matt's weekend was a quick turnaround and offered us some thirty odd hours of free time before he had to get back to the office.

The nearest trailhead to our home is also the most accessible so we chose that in the interest of skewing the time in the car vs. time in the mountains ratio in our favor. When we hit the turnoff at the highway, however, the tire pressure light was on so we had no choice but to continue on to Weaverville, half an hour out of the way, to refill the tire and hoped it was a slow leak (thankfully, yes, but we did have it repaired a couple days later). So much for a shorter drive....

Canyon Creek

By the time we pulled into the campground, we were the last ones in for the night. No more sites remained. Whew! We're now professionals again and setting up camp was quick work. Within half an hour, we were tucked in bed with a too-early-o'clock wake up alarm set.

Subaru tailgate + solar lanterns= Perfect mood lighting for making breakfast at 4am.

As we broke down camp the next morning, I had to remind myself that sometimes the best adventures begin before dawn. I repeated that until my coffee had a chance to take over as cheerleader. I washed down some oatmeal, sipped water, and then spent entirely too much time deciding whether or not I need a layer beyond my arm sleeves. Morning runs are always like that. By the time we're at the trailhead and starting our watches the sky was beginning to fill with light.

Another day, another run.

The steep walls of the Canyon Creek canyon kept the temperatures down as we ascended through the forest. We reached the lower falls just as the day's warmth became noticeable.

Some more climbing and then we hit the trail junction. Until this point, we were unsure which route we'd take: Canyon Creek Lakes or those up the Boulder Creek Spur. Arguing that we'd never gone up the side trail before, we chose the latter.

Creek crossings are pleasant in August.

Only real runnable section of the spur trail.

The trail crossed a wide, gentle stream and then effectively petered out completely. We bushwhacked for almost a mile before we emerged to the granite slabs above treeline. By then, the views emerged and the final stretch to the lakes, while not runnable at all, were picturesque and worth all the scratches up and down my arms and legs.

Almost to the lakes

We reached the lakes by about nine o'clock and to our surprise, no campers were to be found. We had the whole lake to ourselves!? I wasted no time talking Matt into a dip in the lake. We could cool off and the mountain air would dry out outfits for the return trip, I reasoned. Perfect, right? I thought so.

After a prolonged dip in the lake, which was the warmest alpine lake experience of my life, we air dried on the shoreline rocks as we ate our sandwiches. I had just finished pulling on my shoes when the first day hikers of the morning arrived.

We had to cross this waterfall twice.

Looking back toward the lakes. A fire on Mount Hilton (the peak on the right) would be discovered that afternoon.

Our lone wildlife encounter was this guy. I've had encounters with bears, moose, elk, and miscellaneous smaller creatures, but snakes and lizards spook me the most.

Bonus: My reflexes cause me to jump so high I doubt one will ever bite me.

We retraced our steps to the main trail, where we then encountered some fifty hikers coming in for day and overnight trips. Since the entire return trip was downhill, we reached our car in record time. I mixed up some pink lemonade in freshly filtered creek water and it was divine. While I'm not a huge fan of summertime temperatures (it was 80 when we finished), having a full day's worth of adventure before most people get out of the tent is pretty cool.

On the drive home, we grazed on salty snacks, saving ourselves for the blackberry milkshake heaven that is Raging Creek. Along with my milkshake, Matt and I split some chili cheese fries. Then  we returned home, probably before Zoey and the chickens noticed we were gone. :)

15.75 miles, 4:35 (not including swim), 3,123 ft. gain.

Bonus shot: While waiting for far too long (again) at that slide spot they're still removing dirt from two years later, we spot this guy and ponder the question: Is he even wearing any clothes?

Oh NorCal, you're a special place alright.

Caribou Lakes

Summertime in the mountains is fleeting. The snow hangs on well into the summertime months. Then as soon as I get the hang of my packing system and commuting to the mountains on the weekends, the wildfires spark and poof, the season is over.  This summer, we managed to squeeze three trips into that brief window before chillier fall weather took hold.

After a trips back to the Midwest in June and July, it felt like summer was almost over by the time we finally got our packs loaded up and pointed the car inland. We kissed Zoey and the chickens goodbye for a brief trip. The Trinity Alps, the nearest mountain range to our home is typically two or three hours by car. Due to a slide that came down on the highway in 2016, there's still an area of long-term construction and it takes about an hour more than before. Ugh.

Trip coordinator finalizing the details.

We spent too many hours in the car, navigating first through construction, then twenty miles down a gravel road. As I tucked myself into bed at a campground near the trailhead, I hoped it would be worth it.

The forecast predicted abundant sunshine and temperatures in the nineties. We were up before the sun to try and get to camp before the day really heated up. We set out on the trail just as the sun began to filter into the valley. Like most trails in the Trinities, we had to work for our views straight from the car. We ascended some five thousand feet in three miles before we found our first views. After that, the terrain leveled out a little bit and we were treated to some spectacular views.

Almost an alpine view

Since this weekend fell on a true Saturday-Sunday weekend, we weren't sure whether we'd find a campsite. Normally Matt's weekends fall during the week, so it was new for us to encounter other hikers on the trail.

The remaining miles to the lake flew by as we admired granite peaks all around us, clusters of wildflowers, and kept our eyes peeled for the cirques that would contain those namesake Caribou Lakes.

Can you spot the lakes?

I jumped into princess mode as we looked for a campsite at the first lake. Too many people. Too brushy. Too rocky.

Snowfall Lake and Little Caribou Lake.

Eventually we settled on a private spot on a lake about half a mile off the main trail. It had gorgeous views of Little Caribou Lake and easy access to water near the campsite and perhaps most importantly to us: trees to hang our hammock. Another plus was that we weren't piled on top of any other camps.

Campsite perfection!

We spent the afternoon napping in the hammock, reading, swimming, and lounging around. That night, we spotted a family of marten rushing back and forth from a tree near our campsite to the stream. I had never seen one before so it was quite the treat to watch them run and play.

I loved watching these guys.

Ginger Husband hiding in the shade.

Perfect bikini weather

Double hammock was worth the extra pack weight. Perfect for naps.

Can you tell I have no plans to leave anytime soon?

The next morning, we were once again up before the sun. We welcomed the slight chill in the air as we set off from camp. Our goal for the day was to reach Sawtooth Ridge and check out the view from the other side.

Up with the sun and some of the smoke

We made our way to the upper set of lakes, skirting around tents that people had pitched directly in the trail. What the heck? I admit I wasn't exactly sympathetic to the fact that we woke up the whole lot of them.

Big Caribou Lake

Passing through a few patches of snow, it appeared someone had built numerous rock cairns. We followed them for awhile before we realized they were taking us completely off trail. After awhile, it was easy to figure out where the trail should be and we eventually made our way on the correct path.

Steeper than it looked.

Ascending the north side of the ridge was a bit challenging. Both steep and snow covered in places, we were grateful to have brought some extra traction for our shoes. I found it ironic that I was hiking through snow in shorts and a tank top.

By mid-morning, we were peering over the other side of the ridge and into the Stuart Fork drainage. We hiked as far as we could safely get along the ridge and were treated to views of Emerald and Sapphire Lakes. One day I need to make it all the way up to those lakes too.

Sawtooth Ridge

Emerald and Sapphire Lakes

We had a quick snack while we took in the view and then retreated the way we came.

My happy place! with Big Caribou Lake

Ridgeline flowers

Northern girl forever. Even eighty is too hot.

By noon, we were back at camp, swinging carefree from the double hammock. Matt and I passed the time the same as the previous afternoon: swimming, napping, and reading. Time moves more slowly out in the wilderness and for quality couple's time, I'm a grateful.

Swimmin' action shot

Pond near our campsite. Gorgeous but far too many mosquitoes to stay long.

Alpenglow

That night the smoke from a nearby fire began to pour in and creep up the canyon. We woke up to hazy views and I was happy to break down camp and get back to the car before my asthma had a chance to flare up.

This is my favorite time of day when I'm backpacking.

Burn scar and more smoke coming in from the west.

As we drove the twenty mile gravel road back out to the highway, we both agreed: It was worth it.