Heart Lake, Goat Rocks Wilderness
August 23-24, 2010

Months after I made the trek to Heart Lake, I finally had enough "unscheduled" time to write about it.  So here I sit in my home office, staring out the window, with so many things to reflect upon, but only have this one opportunity to write.  My other interests like motocross and cycling get me in shape, but offer little time to think.  Slowly, I am returning to that place I used to be, that place where everything was in harmony and made sense, that place where you could see contrasts in life.  Slowly.

Ever since my solo trip of Last August, I have been pondering spending a night at Heart Lake.  It seemed to be a beautiful spot seldom visited and that is what I needed.  The world is getting crowded, and although that does not bother me, I still need a break from it once in a while.  Fossil decided to join me for some possible goat sightings before we loaded up the truck to head up.  I chose to park at the secluded and unused horse trailer parking lot to get my seclusion started.

I knew it was unused because there was no way a horse was going to flounder around what I had last year without having to be put down half way up the ridge.  According to the NFS web site, the trail now was worse than in 2007.  I smiled at the opportunity of serenity waiting for me on the other side of the ridge.

After merging with the Lilly Basin trail, we thumped our way up before meeting a couple older people heading down wearing looks of disgust.  They truly looked beat and offered warnings of what lie ahead, like some, expecting to boost their egos by changing our mindset because of their difficulties.  Amber and I just smiled before responding with a "Sounds like fun." comment.  They shook their heads before grumbling off.  I know people that have hiked through hell and anything in this area failed in comparison.  It was just a matter of perspective, I imagine.

We hit the edge of The Wreckage and found it was far worse than in 2007.  But, it was on a ridgeline and easy to navigate through.

We got to the end of the first section and I could not help but laugh.  It was quite a mess, but fun to climb through as it made me feel like a kid all over again.  The next sections were easier to navigate, but harder to climb over.

Clear of The Wreckage, the hiking was easy in the fading afternoon light.  The air was thinning and starting to cool into a pleasant breeze.  I glanced around for any signs of wildlife, but found only peace and quiet with just the sounds of Amber's huffing and the local insects to break the silence.

The wildflowers were abundant as I stopped frequently to sniff the last of summer's bounty.  The feeling was already starting to set in.  Freedom and the parallel lack of security.  The relationship between those two are constant as I was well aware of what side I spent most of my early lifetime.

Something I have been trying to get Amber to understand is how, with more security, there is less freedom.  This applies to everything from marriage to materialistic possessions.  A simplified analogy would be convicts serving time in prison.  She understood and related to what she was looking for here.  "Zoos are OK, but still suck.", she said.  Animals act differently when confined and lost is the essence of their beauty that lies in their freedom.  Although in a zoo they are given everything they need to survive, a black bear in a zoo is a far different animal than one in Enchanted Valley.

After five miles of scrambling, climbing, stooping, and crawling, we broke out into the open with the trial leading over our ridge's saddle.  Amber was singing as I just smiled and left her alone.  She did not want to lead, she just wanted to saunter while savoring.  I could live with that.

We crested the saddle before she asked where the lake was.  I explained we had to encompass Lilly Basin first, but it would be worth the wait.

Lilly Basin in the late Summer/early Fall has to be one of the most beautiful places I have ever been to.  Water seeps from rocks, providing tens of tiny creeks to gather water from, but also enabling large swaths of wildflowers to go in places you would not think to look for them.

I had to smell every species and wasted as much time as I could in doing so.  Amber copied me and seemed to enjoy the time spent.

Avalanche Lilies, Paintbrush, Lupine, and many others lined the trail for seemingly endless stretches at a time.

Swaths of blooming Bear Grass to the sizes that Amber has never seen sprung up in various areas.  Amber has seen the grass before, but never in bloom and was surprised it looked like this in late Summer.

The first half of the basin was patchy forest, often bisected with fields of wild flowers while the second half is above timber line sporting unimaginable views in all directions.  Amber was still sniffing flowers while I was eager to break out of the green.

I stopped at a seasonal creek for a taste.  The water was as cold and sweet as I remembered.  Amber took a taste also before plunging head first into a deeper pool to gulp greedily.

The trail tilted upwards as we made out way to the second saddle.  Amber was getting anxious for the lake, but I made her stop and glance at the ridge we had just come along, up, and over.  I loved this view with Mt. Rainier looming high in the distance.

As we climbed, Amber looked for goats to pass the time.  I assured her the interior was littered with them, but doubt I convinced her.  I broke away from her souring mood to focus on the land I was in once again.  I loved it here and missed the freedom of the open environment.

At the top of the saddle was the junction to Angry Mountain, another trail on my list I wanted to hike. Amber's facial expression was a sense of pure joy.  No, it does not look that way, but she wanted me to take this picture of her and Rainier and, as a bonus, I got to tease her about it later.

The sun was dropping fast, but our goal was hiding just behind the rocky columns in front of us.  We quickly thumped our way down, taking a right fork of what I had reluctantly passed back in 07'.

We reached the lake to find it was already occupied, placing me in a funk as I hoped for some solitude to read by.  We hiked around the lake for fifteen minutes as the sun dropped lower on the horizon, looking for any spot flat enough to pitch the Hex.  We found one snuggled amongst the trees at the lake's outlet, but declined it.  Amber was curious why, but I just did not have it in me to explain in the simplest of terms the need for star gazing.

We stomped around for a half hour before meeting up with the lake's current residents.  We were in luck as the people there were the good sort and very easy to talk to.  They too had a little girl about Amber's age that they brought along with them, making us feel more comfortable.  I tried to coax Amber into talking with her to, maybe, share some stories from the trail, but Amber was in a rather reclusive mood and only wanted privacy.  I soon found a great spot on the edge of the lake and pitched the Hex out of view of the others before starting up a fire.  After dinner, sleep called early to this quiet, lovely place.  Amber read as I quickly fell asleep.

The moon was full, but hidden from our basin, lighting up the entire bowl as the night's sleep was interrupted several times by circling coyotes.  They sang repeatedly not more than 50 years away as I listed excitedly to their song.    It was beautiful and I had no problem getting back to sleep after the music had faded.

I tilted my head back and opened my eyes until my neck started to cramp.  I flopped over on my belly laying my chin on my folded hands to continue watching the shadow of Goat Ridge drop down the cirque towards our little lake-side camp site.  I did not want to leave today, I wanted to stay here, or in McCall Basin, or at Goat Lake, even climb Old Snowy.  I wanted to stay at least another day, but Amber was having a hard time readjusting to the out of doors.

We packed up faster than it took our neighbors to get their boots on.  We walked cross country until we met up with the main trail.  Amber asked if we were heading home, but I stayed silent and kept walking.  I knew what had to be done and was in the process of doing it.  Five minutes was all it took to gain what I required to get what I wanted.  I pointed out a heard of 35 goats on the ridge just in front of our camp.  Her smiles confirmed we were heading to Goat Lake.

We rounded Heart Lake as I pointed out where our campsite was amongst the trees between the left and right auricle.  It was funny listening to her try to acknowledge me as her head was rotating in all directions.

Amber asked me where we were heading as I finally told her Goat Lake.  I wanted her to see more of Goat Rock's interior and Goat Lake would suffice.

I walked off the trail on purpose to check out a possible future campsite before stumbling up to Marmot doing it's thing.  Amber and I had a sit while we watched the chubby vermin dig up roots. 

As the trail tilted upwards, the wind picked up.  Amber was still not over the massive storms we walked through in So-Cal and asked where we were heading and how far.  I pointed to the saddle just right of Hawkeye Point as she let out a boisterous gasp.

I assured her as we walked it was not as bad as it seemed as the elevation came on slow and steady.  There was, however, one section that slowed me quite a bit in 2007.  A 50+ degree slope of solid snow that was rock hard and smooth as ice stood between us and our saddle.

I knew how much of a pain it was to circumvent the snow field last time, so I chose the pass further to the left.  It looked steeper, but safer with much less chance of sliding out of ones control.

There was a small spur trail off to the left of the main trail that led up to the saddle.  It was steep going and very exposed, but easy.

We made it without drama to a bowl just below the saddle and had a sit for some lunch.  Amber's mood improved as a little bird kept us company waiting for a handout.  I still felt like Amber was in a funky mood, but tried to ignore it as we were in an unbelievably beautiful place.

After lunch, we shouldered our packs for the final push to the saddle that sat just below the summit of Hawkeye Point.  I pondered making the summit, but with the wind constantly throwing me off balance, I agreed with Amber before starting the 200 foot plunge to meet with the trail again.

Once on the other side of the saddle the wind died, the temperature warmed, and Amber started rambling again.

We ran into an attractive lady who worked at the Washington Humane Society with her dog and stopped to chat.  I posed some questions about what would be the best breed to hike with, but really wanted some excuse to talk to someone who had a superior conversational menu, one that sported more than just YouTube videos.

A short jaunt saw us at the Lake I have been dying to show Amber.  With snow still on it's surface, goats on it's ridge and no one around, it would be a perfect rest spot.

I let Amber wander around while I boiled water for some noodles she wanted.  I tried to soak into the land I was in, but couldn't.  Amber's mood would not let me as the snow was too deep or not deep enough, there was not enough wildlife or questions about how hard will it be to get out today.  I ignored the noise and stared at the pretty water, dancing as the wind hit it's surface.

Amber scarfed down the hot noodles as my eyes caressed the ridges behind her leading to the 7930 foot summit of Old Snowy's summit.

We packed up and headed back to where we came from.  While walking, Amber's mood improved as she redundantly tried to convince me how great a return trip would be.  I just hugged her and thanked her for the time we had, albeit minimal it was.

I pulled out in front of Amber in order to gain time to stop and think.  It seems I am always thinking, but really, in our fast paced world of go-go-go, this is only time I get to do something that I am naturally made for.  I know many people who don't think and just do.  These people are viewed as successful in society, but they cannot recall the simplest of experiences in any detail; a trade-off, I suppose.

When I think in a place such as this, I try desperately to block out every queued mental demand, because it does not matter here.  There is not a thing I can do about the president in our company who cannot attain an IP address over WLAN keeping him from utilizing VPN while visiting Bangalore.  When you are separated from such burdens that are deemed so important back home, you have mental freedom.  With that freedom comes living deliberately, something I have not done in a long time.

We soon arrived at the snow field and I began the process of kicking steps.  Luckily, the snow was soft enough to kick, but a little too soft to linger on.  Amber got the scare of her life as she thought she could reposition her foot out of my steps and started sliding.  She slid on all fours (a good thing) and controlled her slide for 100 feet until she hit the end and rolled over the rocks.  Not a single bump or bruise to be had as the only casualty was a Platy bottle that got slashed from the sharp rocks.  I thought of sliding after her, but the slope was not long enough and I would have hit her at an accelerated speed, probably sending us both to the hospital.

Amber slowly recoveed from her slide as we approached the fork to the lake.  Contrary to what she was saying all day yesterday and today, she wanted to stay another night.  I explained that she convinced me otherwise as I had not packed enough food for another day.  Needless to say, the little girl just simply could not be appeased this weekend and wept.

We started the vigorous efforts in climbing over the blow down along the ridge top before dropping towards the truck.  As always, returning back seems longer than the hike to ones destination, but the day was pleasant anyway.

This really was a beautiful hike if one could overlook the efforts.  Amber assured me she was glad she came even with her incident.  It really did freak her out, as I am sure it was worse from her vantage point.  I glanced one more time over the obstacle course and smiled.  We still had it in us.

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