August
10th – Pine Lakes
Ashes
and Avalanches
- Trail: Pine Lakes - Summit Point to Pack Station
- Miles: 17
- Riders: Self - Lee
- Horses: Jack - King
August
10th. The date is a thing for me. It's when I try to make
my annual trek to Pine Lakes in the Eagle Cap Wilderness. I've made
the trek before this date and I've made it after. While going after
is totally acceptable, I avoid it because I like to see the lakes
full to the brim and wildflowers of every color under the sun. To go
before is to risk adverse conditions including but not limited to:
deep snow fields – impassable snow monoliths – failure to locate
trail due to snow coverage – dangerous creek crossings courtesy of
snow melt. This is not an exhaustive list. It is merely one that
covers those conditions I have personally discovered the hard way.
With that said – it has been worth it...every single time.
I
rode into Pine Lakes for the first time nearly 40 years ago. The date
was August 10th. The trail was in good shape...a lot
better than it is now. The Forest Service no longer maintains trails.
They are mandated by law to do so and is, in fact, one of their
primary responsibilities...but, well, that's a discussion for a
different blog. Thankfully, outside groups such as Back Country
Horseman – Cornucopia Pack Station Outfitters and others have
picked up the slack.
August
10th, 2023 was rolling up quickly. Lee had never been to
the area surrounding Pine Likes. I told him I would be making my
annual trek and would be more than happy to have him join me. I also
added my disclaimer: It is rugged country. The navigability of the
trails are unpredictable. We could end up fighting our way to the
very end of the trail only to encounter an obstacle forcing us to
turn back the way we came. It would be a 17 mile ride in perfect
conditions and possibly twice that if Murphy shows up. By definition
– this would be a “Lee Ride.”
While
on that subject, I am going to take the time and the words to digress
a bit. The term “Trail Ride.” Two words that together might evoke
a benign connotation. A group of riders frolicking merrily down a
groomed trail on their way to a catered wine tasting experience.
That's one type. Then there is the other: The type we call a “Lee
Ride.” Both Trail rides and Lee rides suggest the involvement of a
horse and rider. The similarities end there.
There
may or may not be a trail on a Lee ride. If The Lee ride does indeed
follow a trail of some fashion – you can bet your puckered butt
cheeks you won't meet a dude string on it. It might be on a map –
it might not. You learn to embrace a Lee Ride and just go with it.
Consequently, Lee did not bat an eye at my disclaimer. Lee does not
drink – but that did not stop me from replenishing my Fireball
flask.
Lee
and Susan drove to The Cabin the evening before. I would rather ride
a loop than up and back. We parked his truck, also called “The
Beast” at Cornucopia. If the trail gods were with us –
we would loop around the back side of the lakes and come out at the
pack station. We would haul the horses in my rig and put in at Summit
Point.
I
feel if you survive the haul in you're halfway through the battle.
The usual steep, winding roads littered with potholes and washboards
threaten to vibrate you off the mountainside. I suppose it if were
easy to get to – it wouldn't be worth going.
Jack's
hind feet still cannot support a shoe. I put his Easy Boot sneakers
on the backs and carried an extra pair that will slip over his fronts
if needed. He would likely need them. I don't think they make a boot
that will hold up in terrain like what is in the Eagle Caps. Miles of
granite and shale make short work of a rubber sole. I carried the
extra set betting I'd need them before we got off the mountain. It
was a bet easily won.
Putting
in at Summit Point starts you out at a higher elevation so the ascent
is not as steep. The short grade from the parking lot to the trail
head skirting the lookout to me is the worst. From there, it is
approximately 3 miles to Little Eagle Meadows and Schneider's Cabin.
I've
seen Schneider's cabin in better condition than we found it this
year... I've seen it in a lot worse, too. I don't know the history of
the cabin other than the name. I assume it was built by Chris
Schneider – long time resident and multi-term mayor of Cornucopia.
A trip to the local museum is on my list.
You
leave Little Eagle Meadows and begin to ascend quickly. The trail is
not for the faint of heart. Straight up on one side – straight down
on the other and nothing for footing but sure-footed pony and a
prayer. There is one ravine in particular that gives me a bit of the
willies. Jack wasn't old enough to ride back then so I was leading
him with packs loaded with gear. We came to the ravine – up on the
high side lay a saddle blanket. Strewn straight down the ravine as
far as you can see was pack boxes and gear. I don't know if a horse
or mule could survive that wreck and wondered what lay beyond.
We
passed through a saddle and up the ridge to where the trail forks:
Crater Lake one way – Pine Lakes the other. Lee had casually
mentioned earlier he would like to check out Crater Lake as well.
It's not that far from Pine Lakes but it is slow going. We would not
have time to get to both in a day ride. We took the Pine Lakes trail
and worked our way over a downed tree blocking the trail.
The
view from the top of the ridge looking down on Pine Lakes is
deceiving. It looks like you are almost there from this vantage
point. You are not. Last year a tall monolith of a glacier blocked
the trail at the highest point. You couldn't go around from either
side or through it. Three of us spent an hour hacking at it before
shoving it over the edge and continuing on.
August
10th did not disappoint. The lakes were filled to the
brim. Small patches of innocuous snow added to the aesthetics of one
of Gods greatest masterpieces. You would be hard pressed to find a
more beautiful place.
Dropping
into the lakes from the back side is one of the more challenging
sections. Not challenging as in particularly dangerous....it's just
straight down over granite switchback after switchback. I find it
best to zone out, trust your horse and get down it without thinking
too much. I have seen where this section of switchbacks is referred
to as The Nip and Tuck. However, I believe the official Nip and Tuck
is on the other side of the lakes going out via the Pack Station.
I've seen the latter on an old (very old) map my Uncle showed me
years ago. Either way, it is an adequate description for both.
We
hobbled the horses in a large meadow above the lake. A web of rills
feed the meadow producing a carpet of lush grass dotted with
wildflowers of purple, yellow and orange. If I get to pick – this
would be a good place to die.
I
set my lunch aside, gathered my camera and told Lee I would be back
shortly. There is something I have to do. I climbed down a steep
ravine carved over the ages by a creek cascading to the lakes below.
I sat on the same large downfall laying directly in the center of the
V of the ravine I'd discovered almost 4 decades before. Orange Indian
Paintbrush and yellow mountain daisy framed the pristine blue lakes.
This shot would reenact a photograph spanning 40 years. When my days
are done here on earth, my ashes will become part of this
masterpiece.
I
mentioned to Lee that I was going to make my kids pack my ashes up
the mountain and spread them in the spot overlooking the lakes –
assuming they can find my dead carcass. He casually shrugged and
said: “Heck, I'll do it for them.” While that's a terribly sweet
thing to offer, it was a bit disturbing, too. Lee is older than I am.
He said it with such confidence I was left wondering what the hell
does he know that I don't?
We
finished the descent into the lakes. No turning back now. This is
where I get a little nervous. Would the trail leading out be
passable? If not - the thought of riding back out the 8+ miles we
came in wasn't something I relished.
We
skirted the lakes. I could see that naked girl rock was mostly under
water. I pointed to the infamous spot: "She'd have to be a
skinny naked girl to be sunbathing on that this year!" Lee gave
me a puzzled look. I grinned: "I'm not admitting to anything
and that's all I'm saying about that!"
Lee
hailed a small encampment of tents pitched on the small stretch of
earth seperating the two lakes. "Hello in camp!" We visited
briefly before continuing around to cross Pine Creek at the base of
the dam. I sent up a silent prayer that Murphy was on vacation in the
back country of some other planet as we started the descent toward
home.
The
Nip N Tuck switch-backs over a mountain face of granite. You wouldn't
call it a walk in the park but it was vastly improved. It looked like
somebody had somehow broken up the obstacles of granite boulders that
had blocked the trail in previous years. In their place lay shards.
As
we zig-zagged down the mountain – an overview of the wooded valley
below came into view. A huge swath of downfall and debris consumed
the trail below. Lee had seen this type of thing before: Avalanche.
We'd have to find a way through or around it. There wasn't enough day
left to turn back. Damn you Murphy.
Part
way off the mountain, I caught movement in my peripheral vision. I
turned to catch a glimpse of a young mountain goat disappearing
behind a jagged rock formation. I'd never seen mountain goats in all
the years on this trail! I kept looking for it hoping to get a
picture but it remained hid. I fought the urge to hike up to the
formation and see what there was to see. We didn't have the time.
Next year...
We
had arrived at the avalanche carnage and was relieved to find a path
had been cleared through the debris. Take that, Murphy! Beneath the
debris lay several feet of snow. The snow supported King better than
it did Jack but we managed to get through to the other side without
incident.
Nothing
looked familiar. The avalanche had totally changed the landscape of
this section of trail. We crossed a creek that wasn't there before. I
pulled out my GPS to verify we were still following the right trail.
When I finally reached something that did look familiar – I
realized we weren't nearly as far as I thought.
The
remainder of trail was unaltered by time, avalanches or other natural
phenomena. We soon reached the familiar trail disappearing over a
massive array of granite boulders. Holes drilled into the rock for
blasting scarred the granite giants in pockmarks.
We
reached my least favorite part of the loop: an exposed, barren
hillside of loose shale that ate the toes out of Jack's Easy Boot
sneakers. They weren't designed for this type of terrain but had held
up better than I expected. They had served their purpose.
It
was close to 6:00 PM when we reached the pack station. The couple
that run the outfitting business were outside working on a mule. We
stopped and talked for a good hour. The couple asked how the trail
was coming off The Nip N Tuck. They were the ones who had cleared the
way off the Nip N Tuck and cut a path through the avalanche debris.
That was a LOT of work. I explained that I grew up in this area and
rode around Cornucopia often. They invited me to stop in anytime. It
is an offer I will surely accept.
Lee's
trusty “Beast” (coolest truck ever) waited to haul us home. We
stashed the horses in the portable panels I set up at The Cabin. Lee
drove me back to Summit Point to pick up my rig. By the time I got
off the Summit, hauled Jack and turned him out and arrived back at
The Cabin– it was 9:00PM. Susan and Lee would spend another night
before returning home.
Epilogue:
Normally
my trail logs are no more than a few paragraphs in length. I log the
name of the trail– the miles rode – the riders, horses and dogs
that participated and a short description under "notes."
An August 10th trail log is special...at least to me. As a
result – this trail log is longer than most out of necessity. There
are several reason I blog.
One:
I write because, well...because it's what I do. Same for breathing
and blinking. Try going without either of those and see how it turns
out.
Two:
I blog so that my grandkids know I did something in my retirement
years other than watch reality TV and eat bon-bons. (do they even
make bon-bons any more?)
Three:
I can't remember shit. Seriously. If I don't write it down, it didn't
happen. Proof in point: The disappearance of The Wilderness Tree.
I
believe I am resistant to change. As we entered Little Eagle Meadows
– we came upon a newly erected (at least within the last year)
Eagle Cap Wilderness boundary sign. I found that odd since we weren't
yet in the wilderness. The official, albeit old, wilderness boundary
sign is nailed to The Wilderness Tree a few miles up the trail from
Schneider's Cabin. Jim Palmer – if you are reading this – you
are surely shaking your head and cracking up about now.
We
crossed Little Eagle meadow and proceeded to climb toward the the
sky-lit saddle. A few miles in, I realized I hadn't yet seen the
Wilderness Tree. I didn't miss it...I never miss it. It's one of the
landmarks I look forward to when making this trip. The sign is old
and has broken in to pieces but somebody always nails it back on it's
rightful place on the Wilderness Tree.
We
came to where the Wilderness Tree once stood; a regal
sentry...guardian of the realm between civilized society and untamed
wilds. No "sign" of the dilapidated wooden artifact OR tree
to be found. Those bastards. They don't have time or resources to
clear trail but they can find it in their cold, shriveled little
hearts to cut down a treasured, historical tree and place the sign in
another location....THE WRONG LOCATION. What kind of a sick mind
would do such a thing? What's next...decapitation of the Statue of
Liberty? I would stew and grumble for miles.
Some
time later, as we descended the Nip and Tuck...it hit me. I hadn't
seen the Wilderness tree because we hadn't got to it yet! It's not on
the Summit Side of the lakes – it's on the Pack Station side! I
whacked myself in the forehead with my palm: Is this what it's like
to get old?
Sure
enough – between the avalanche sight and the Red Bridge – my
Wilderness Tree loomed proud and regal...sporting a brand-spanking
new “Eagle Cap Wilderness” sign. Sorry Forest Service...I take
back calling you sick bastards. However, the sign you put up in
Little Eagle is still in the wrong spot!
The
end of my August 10th adventure brings me to why I blog
reason number four: Humor.
To
find the humor in adversity and every day life is essential to
me. By the end of the day, if you can't laugh at yourself and find
the humor in the fumbles, misfortunes and mishaps...what are we here
for? Why would God give to us and no other animal on the planet, the
gift of laughter? If we were merely the accidental product of a “Big
Bang” - we would not possess the ability to laugh.
I
won't speak for anybody else – but I know for sure I'm not getting
out of this world alive. I could get thrown off my horse and eaten by
a pack of wolves tomorrow. I could pass away in my sleep at 102. I
could die of cancer in 6 months. There's only one person that knows
the how and when and He, thankfully...ain't telling.
When
my time does come and my kids are cussing me for requesting they pack
my remains over the Nip N Tuck at 8,000 feet elevation – I pray
they find solace in something I have written. Perhaps it will be this
very blog. As the wind lifts my ashes, think of them as tiny grains
of laughter sprinkling down over orange Indian paintbrush and yellow
mountain daisies...to be carried gently on the breeze to the pristine
blue waters of Pine Lakes below.
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| The Wilderness Tree |
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