6. To Ross Lake

Wednesday, July 21, 1982; Hidden Lake

Joe's journal:

The overnight low at Hidden Lake last night was 38 degrees.

Greg and I left for Ross Lake with about 30 pounds of gear apiece.  We found a campsite at Ross Lake, well-sheltered and full of mosquitoes.  It is right at the end of a melting snowfield.  On our return trip, we had hoped to find an easier route from Hidden Lake by following the river. That was a disaster.  Greg and I ended up climbing a 100 foot bluff over the river.





See Greg in upper left?





Looking west towards Ross Lake from near our Hidden Lake camp

Tom's journal:

Hidden Lake.  It's a gorgeous, still, clear morning.  Greg and Doug are around the lake fishing in a pond-like extension of the lake. We saw our first snow yesterday.  Greg threw a clump of it at me.  I took a bath this morning, as did Greg.  Joe's working on breakfast.

In addition to the mosquitoes, there are several zillion flies of three or four basic types around.  Bothersome little critters.  The chipmunks, or whatever they are, are bold to a fault.  One of them got into the trout we had wrapped in tin foil by the fire, and didn't even apologize.  Indeed, he seemed upset when we ran him off.  

Joe and Greg are going to pack some of the gear on up to Ross Lake later today.  I think I'll be real lazy and do a little fishing.

The only sounds I can hear right now are the babbling of the stream feeding into the lake to the east, birds, the omnipresent daytime buzzing of insects, a slight breeze, and our clatterings.  Not a cloud in the sky.  It's 85 degrees.  It got down to 38 last night.  It's a visual delight no matter where you look.  The rock face across the lake, the glaciers, the lake itself, the stream bed to the east lined with evergreens, the lower spot to the west of us on this side where the main watershed heads downhill to Lake Louise.

Apparently, water feeds into here in several different places on account of the melting snow.  There are streams all over the place, some small, some not so small.  The rock slides from the cliff across the way may make getting around the lake a pain in the proverbial ass.  We'll see tomorrow.

The grandeur of this place is hard to describe.  Everything is on a very large scale.  Makes one feel rather smallish.

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

Now it's mid-afternoon.  All three of my cohorts went on to Ross.  I fished for a few hours and caught my lunch on a dry fly - a first.  It is a beautiful day.  About noon, these big fluffy cumulous clouds started marching across the sky in steady procession.  Being here is a majestic movie with a very slow script.  I saw a hummingbird a little while ago.

Last night we had a campfire that begged to be sung around.  So we did.  We finished Diamonds in the Rough, congratulated ourselves, stood around looking at the cloudless, starry sky.  Moments after we finished, the most spectacular shooting star any of us had ever seen ripped across the sky, from one horizon to the other, trailing a contrail like a scaled-down comet.  It followed the path of the visible part of the Milky Way.

We made several awe-struck sounds.  This was much more than just another shooting star.

"It's a sign," Joe said. "They like our singing."  He said later he was overcome by emotion.

"I swear to you, right after we sang Diamond in the Rough I was thinking we need a signal to let us know what the gods thought, and then that star went across the sky."   It was one of the most remarkable experiences of my life.   


Thursday, July 22, 1982; Ross Lake

Joe's journal:

We left our camp at Hidden Lake about 10:30.  The route to Ross Lake required us to scramble to the very opposite end of Hidden Lake over tremendous piles of boulders.  Then, a relatively easy ascent to two small lakes and then a mostly level hike to Ross Lake.  

Tom, at one point, realized he had left his camera aways back.  I stopped and waited while he went back for it.  Greg and Doug went on.  Eventually, Tom and I got to our campsite but did not find Greg and Doug.  They eventually showed up.  They had taken the scenic route.


Greg fishing at Ross Lake

Tom's journal:

It's morning.  We're leaving this magnificent spot for Ross Lake.  We stayed up and admired the fire and sky a while longer last night.  Our poke was an old spruce limb with four knots at its business end.  After fiddling with the fire for a few minutes, I lifted it out and all the knots were aflame.  I held it aloft, still burning, as a signal to any spacecraft that we were ready to go anytime they were ready to come get us.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Now it's afternoon, and we're at Ross Lake.  Getting around Hidden Lake took us over boulders.  Hopping from one to another of those things is hazardous business, especially when they move.  Some of the big ones even wiggle, which because of the surprise of it is doubly tricky.  Greg almost went into the drink at one point, but managed to scramble to safety.  It's rough on the knees, especially when all the weight must be raised by one leg.  And we weren't even carrying all our gear.  The size of some of those rocks makes one feel diminutive, almost insignificant.


More grand scenery here.  We're right at the base of the peaks with the glaciers on top.  This is a long lake running north-south.  The hike up here was longer than it need have been.  We got lost all together, then Greg and Doug got lost on their own.  We found a large bone near the campsite.  Joe showed it to Doug and said "See that? That's the femur of the last guy Greg guided up here. He thought he was at Gannett Peak when he died."

Doug is moving pretty well, though a bit slower than the rest of us.  I forgot my camera and had to go back for it, which I've got to quit doing lest my sister find out and do harm to my person.

We've hiked back into springtime.  How about that.  At this altitude the snow has melted only recently.  The flowers are out in full force.  Red, yellow, purple blossoms lend a little color to this often barren, harsh landscape.


The view across the landscape is magnificent.  I'm sitting on a small rock shelf looking straight across at a huge glacier easing down the east side of some peak or another.  The same scene is all along the opposite side of the lake.  Glorious. We're really up in the mountains now.  Our horizons are about straight up.  A storm could sneak up on us without much warning at all.

My official estimate for removing the mosquito remnants from our skin and clothing is two weeks of steady scrubbing.

After threatening to rain it has cleared.  The sun is glittering on the lake, and all is right with the world.

Our camp at Ross Lake



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