10. Downs Lake


Tuesday, July 27, 1982

Joe's journal:

We decided to take a rest day and have a party to celebrate the half-way point in our trip.  We spent the morning washing ourselves and our clothes.  In the afternoon, Greg and I tried rock climbing a prominent point on the ridge to the east of us. We were turned back by rain after two pitches.


Tom and I took an inventory of our remaining consumables.

Due to rain, we held our party in the big tent.  We started with hors d'oeurves of pilot biscuits with cheese spread and peanut butter.  Then we had fruit cocktail which had been rehydrated with rum instead of water.  We also each had our own cocktails.  I had my peach brandy.  Tom had his George Dickel. Greg had his Russian Vodka and Doug had his rum. We had chicken and noodles for dinner with bouillon and freeze-dried peas added.  Hot apple cobbler for dessert.  We all had another cocktail or two.  We played poker with matches.  The rain never slowed down.  We all hit the sack about 10:30.


Tom's journal:

A well-deserved day off today.  We washed ourselves and our clothes, the latter being accomplished by wrapping them in Doug's nylon hammock and suspending it under a waterfall.

The morning was clear, but it didn't last long.  We had pancakes for breakfast, which were delicious.

This is a bigger valley than at Turquoise Lake.  We are at almost exactly the same elevation.  It rained last night and has been threatening today.  The wind is blowing from the south, which we haven't seen before.  We've got a huge campsite on a big grassy stretch on the east side of the lake.  We've been planning a party for tonight.  It is our tenth day and the halfway point of the trip.

There is a long ridge running north-south (roughly) behind us.  It must be almost two miles long and looks like a razor edge at the top.  The pass is to the northwest.  There is another, very narrow valley to the north of there.  Across the lake, which is the same color as Turquoise Lake, the mountains are more individual.  One looks like the conning tower on a WWII submarine.

It has been eight days since I've seen another human other than the three derelicts composing the remainder of this party. Joe and Greg are going to go rock climbing on the ridge behind us.  They say.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  

They did.  About 5:30, a bank of clouds oozed over the ridge and eased in from the south.  They filled this little valley and the air was suddenly water.

So we've retired to the tent to carry out our party threat, the revenge of Mother Nature (the bitch) be damned.

For an appetizer, we had pilot biscuits with cheese spread and peanut butter.  Doug says we should market it as a Downs Bar.  Doug is nuts, of course.

Downs Bars

We played "Went to a Party Last Night" and it came out like this:  Apple cobbler, Banana pie, Cherry vodka, Dill pickles, Egg nog, Fu yung soup, Grapefruit, Horseshit, Ice cream, Jakarta tea, Kosher pickles, Lard, Milk of magnesia, No-doz, Oreo cookies, Poptarts, Queen Elizabeth II, Ravioli, Spaghetti with meatballs, Tangerines, Umbrella, Vienna sausages, Winchester rifles, Xylocaine, Yard apes on a spit, and nobody can remember what the "Z" one was.

Our camp at Downs Lake with No Man's Pass beyond

Wednesday, July 28, 1982

Joe's journal:

Today, we are again delayed by bad weather.  It is afternoon, we are all in the tent, and our clothes are on the line getting wetter.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We have been sitting in the tent all day, and just can't get enough to eat.  We played poker and spades and spit.  


Tom's journal:

Downs Lake still.  We're still high in the clouds and the pine needles are still falling on the tent.  We've got to wait for this to break.  Traveling in these mountains in the rain is not only miserable, it's downright dangerous.  It's chilly, too.    




It's probably about 4:30 pm.  The pine needles have been relentless all day long.  We have sat here in this tent and talked about food for the past five or six hours.  We're all about to starve.  This inactivity is giving us time to realize the fact.  We've decided to eat Greg, but debate continues over whether to kill him now or let him starve to death naturally.  We're leaning towards killing him now, on the assumption there wouldn't be much left if he were allowed to starve.  There isn't much there now.

Greg wants a cheeseburger.  Joe has opted for Mexican food, which is sensible since we've decided that's what we'll eat when we get out.  I am holding out for a big, juicy plate of lasagna.  Doug appears ready to eat anything. 

Joe has tried hard to remain aloof from the discussions of food, knowing full well about all they accomplish is making us hungrier.  However, his resolve is beginning to crumble under the weight of our constant conversations:  He just said he'd pay $5 for a decent cheeseburger.

Doug and I have been singing "Cheeseburger in Paradise" for several days now.  Every time Joe catches us he says, "You guys have GOT to stop singing that song."

Somebody made the mistake of mentioning the Dan'l Boone Inn.  God, I'm starving.

We've discussed with watering mouths several desserts.  A hot fudge cake would be real good about now.  Greg says the first thing he wants is a gallon of ice cream.  "I'm going to be really selfish and eat the whole thing myself.  Don't try to stop me." Wouldn't think of it, old buddy.  We'll probably be face down in a burrito by then and too busy to notice anyway.

Doug wants a Greek dessert called baclava.  He's decided to march into a McDonald's and demand baclava.  "Then their signs can say '50 Quadrillion Sold . . . And One Baclava,'" he says.


Thursday, July 29, 1982

Joe's journal:

We had hoped to leave early this morning, but we awoke to more miserable weather.  The temperature dropped to 30 degrees during the night. The higher rocks and mountains all around us were dusted with fresh snow when I got up.  

This rain storm has lasted for over 48 hours.  We have been imprisoned in the tent.  We hear rockslides in the distance.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Today, we sat in the tent again, but our appetites were not as voracious.  It is now sunset.  Tom has got a fire going, and the clouds are beginning to break up.  

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tom and I stayed up late.  We stood around the fire, drank George Dickel and sang Diamonds in the Rough.  It was quite good, actually.  We watched the moon set behind the rocks to the west of us, and have now retired to our sleeping bags.

We plan to descend the valley in the morning, and join Glacier Trail which will take us to the base of Gannett Peak.  We should be there in two days.


Tom's journal:

Downs Lake.  Still in the tent.  We've been peeking out the door every thirty minutes or so for two days now saying we could see the end of this front.

Even the mountains right across the lake are often obscured from our vision.  This damn thing has just sat on us.  

It snowed last night.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

It has cleared tonight, and there are four very relieved Tennesseans here to witness it.  The moon is a welcome sight.  


Tom & George

Joe and I are sitting here by the first fire we've had in three days, watching the canyon light up.  It is really quite beautiful.



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