11. To Big Meadows and Dinwoody Creek

Friday, July 30, 1982

Joe's journal:

We awoke to beautiful clear skies.  We broke camp and started toward the lower end of the lake.  At the smaller lakes below Downs Lake we met a NOLS group.  These were the first people Greg and I had seen in 9 days, and first Tom and Doug had seen in 11 days.



Shortly after, we met a man and his wife bushwacking down the same creek we were (Down's Fork.). They were ending their vacation early because he thought he had strep throat.  I offered them penicillin, which they were very happy to accept.  They gave us two bags of trail mix, some homemade beef jerky, some bacon-flavored cheese snack, and two packages of pancake and syrup mixes.   

By lunchtime, we had joined a regularly maintained trail.  It was the first time we were on a trail since we left Lake Louise on July 19th.  

We stopped and had lunch at the intersection of Downs Fork Trail and Glacier Trail.  Later, we hiked to the southern end of Big Meadows and set up camp.


Tom's journal:

It got down to 24 degrees last night at Downs Lake.  

We are on the trail.  We've stopped to reconnoiter a bit.  We came down from Downs Lake early this morning.  Everybody was anxious to move some before the rain settled in again.

It was a steep drop from Downs Lake.  We're almost back into summer again.  

And we saw people again!  I went 10 days without that particular reminder of civilization.  The first bunch we saw were teenage kids on a NOLS expedition (National Outdoor Leadership School) on their sixteenth day.  They were in the process of resupplying.  




We rounded two small, un-named lakes and started down a stream to the Glacier Trail, a main thoroughfare.  On the way down we met a couple from California who were on their way out, cutting their trip short because he had strep throat, or so she thought.  So Joe gave them a bottle of penicillin.  They were most grateful, and gave us some food in exchange.

They gave us two bags of trail mix, one of which Greg promptly poured out on the ground.  We didn't think twice, or probably even once; we scooped up what we could and ate it.  

"That's really sad," the guy said.  Well, he obviously hadn't been out very long. There was nothing wrong with the stuff.  A few pine needles never hurt anybody.

Later on, we saw two wranglers on horseback taking four heavily laden mules to supply some group, probably another NOLS group.

We got on a trail today.  A trail?  A trail!  Will wonders never cease.  After covering about two or three miles a day the first part of this excursion, we can now go for several without undue problem.

We're camped with a fellow named Alan, a native, at the southern end of Big Meadow.  Like Turquoise Lake, it is an apt, if unimaginative, description.

We are headed to Gannett Peak, which shouldn't be too far away to the south.  That seems to be the main drawing card in this area.  We've seen several other hikers.

We hope to get within climbing distance - up and down in a day - tomorrow, and climb it Sunday.

Two weeks ago we were in Saratoga.  A week ago we made it from Ross to Upper Ross and got rained on.

It's been a nice night.  This is a long, narrow meadow with the usual steep rock slides.  The moon is shining from the south end of the meadow, where we are, lighting the valley, the meadow-bottom, and the slopes.  The rock is lighter than the trees.  The air is misty near the river.  It is still.  Joe and I wandered out toward the center of the meadow and stood with our hands in our pockets and the back of our heads between our shoulder blades, watching.

We have a nice fire against a big vertical rock, with semi-dry grass to sit on for a change.  We enjoy the feeling; we've been out a good while now, and the mosquitoes don't seem to bother us as much as they did when we started, though there are just as many of them.

Big Meadows

Saturday, July 31, 1982

Joe's journal:

I got packed earlier than everyone else so I headed on up the trail towards Dinwoody Glacier.  It was a beautiful, level, easy hike.  About 1/2 mile from camp, as I rounded a bend, I got an awesome first view of Gannett Peak.  

First view of Gannett Peak

The trail stayed along Dinwoody Creek, sometimes in the trees, sometimes through open meadows.  At one point, I took off my boots and waded across a stream which fed into Dinwoody Creek.  At Floyd Wilson's Meadow, I stopped and waited for Tom and Doug and Greg.

After lunch, we continued up the trail for a couple of miles and put our camp along Dinwoody Creek in the high canyon that leads about a mile to Dinwoody Glacier.

Our camp on Dinwoody Creek

Tom's journal:

It's about 9:30 in the morning.  We're breaking camp.  This makes two full weeks on the trail.  We should get to Gannett tonight and climb it tomorrow in honor of Gary Fergus' birthday.

Joe took off early this morning, and we hiked at a distance from each other all day.  We stopped for lunch at Floyd Wilson Meadows.

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

It was a perfect day to hike.  Along the way, we talked to Ralph, the wrangler, and The Man From Near Muscogee.  They were coming back from delivering their supplies.

"Swapped fourteen 25-pound bags of food for all these sacks of garbage," Ralph said, indicating several sacks of what indeed appeared to be garbage.

They gave us a sweet roll apiece -- I guess we were beginning to LOOK hungry by this time -- and five Merit cigarettes.  TMFNM said he would leave me a full pack at their campsite tonight.

They even offered to shoe me.  "Wouldn't you like to be able to say you came all the way out here to get shod?" asked TMFNM.  I'm sure Mike would appreciate horseshoe nails in his hiking boots.  "Be kind of hard on his toes," Ralph said.

They described the evils of the deer fly, or three-cornered fly, as the Indians [sic] call them.  Ralph drew a triangle on his hammer handle to indicate the size and shape.  "Insect repellent won't stop them.  Put a drop on your arm and they'll bore right through it to get to you," claimed TMFNM, who had an infectious laugh.  He even got Ralph to smile a time or two.  Ralph smiled with his eyes.

We're camped tonight along the Glacier Trail.  We can see Gannett, but just across the way is Heep Steep Peak.  How about that.

Doug managed to spill a pot full of just-prepared Rice Stromboli.  He turned to grab something to scoop up the mess, when a marmot suddenly appeared and started eating it.  We ate it anyway, of course.  Doug apprehensively asked Greg how it tasted.  "It tastes like Stromboli with dirt," Greg replied. 

We're at 10,400 feet on the side of a hill.  It's tremendously windy.  It's not even near dark, and we're all in the tents.

The marmot that ate some of our dinner


Location: 85MG59PG+QM

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