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The Gift Of
Sacrifice |
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Morning came too soon as I slept like a log after hanging all our scented gear in the chalet's shelter. It seems we had a wee-tiny visitor last night as he made a bit of racket while rummaging through our stuff, but never damaging or soiling anything.
I stumbled outside for some fresh air and to boil up some tea. Indeed the last winter had record snowfall as there was not this much snow on the cliffs when Bob and I were here in the spring of 2004. It was beautiful here and I entertained the thought of staying another night, but was not sure if we had enough food. That little girl of mine ate like a bird at home. Not so when active. Once active, she ate more than I did.
I sipped on my hot tea while scouting out the area, letting Amber sleep in a little more. It looked much different here in the fall. In spring, the foliage is minimal, giving you more expansive views. I could not tell you which season is best as it is breathtaking here year-round.
I glanced up at the peak Bob and I looked down on the chalet back in 2005. I missed the alpine. I missed the desert. I missed hiking. I missed hiking with Bob. I missed Hart Lake. I have not done a lot of hiking lately and felt a desire renewed.
Walking back to the chalet, I opened the door to a still-snoozing Amber. I gently woke her asking if she wanted to go look for bear on our way out of the valley. The day was fine, as it usually is in Olympic mornings when I am here, as we packed up and set out on the trail before any of the others.
Heading up the valley reminded me of Bob and My bear encounter. I chuckled and reminded myself to stay more alert than I was then. If you cannot see them, they are still probably there, I said out loud. Amber and I made for the banks of the Quinault as we looked for any signs of bruin.
Sure enough, we found a fresh pile of scat, proving that my answers to her "bear questions" were accurate. We carefully made our way up the Quinault until the trail started pulling away from the shore. We then went cross country to regain the trail being careful not to surprise anything.
Up the trail climbed as I thought this would make or break the little go-getter. She chugged her way up every switchback, stopping only momentarily for water and views. The weather looked so-so, but appeared pretty bad in the valley.
Making the pass an hour sooner than I had planned, I asked Amber if she wanted to climb up to the glacier. After all, this time it was my dream. She just wanted to stay here and play in the tarns, but I, unknowing of what was really there, chanced a promise of better things at the top.
She reluctantly dropped her tadpoles and shouldered her pack, warning me if my bluff did not pay off.
I kept reassuring Amber that it was worth the 800 foot climb as we huffed our way upwards.
The trail wandered back and forth, gaining elevation quickly. The 800 feet are attained in a short nine tenths of a mile, making this one of the harder climbs of the trip. I was surprised how well she chugged up the trail since having such a hard day yesterday.
The top was in sight and it drove me a little too hard as I ended up pushing the pace faster than Amber could handle. I took a small break and gazed at he swaths of wild flowers while she caught up. It was remarkable.
The elevation sported views of Mt. Elk Lick, Mt. Lacrosse, White Mountain, Mt. Steel, and Mt. Duckabush. It was simply breathtaking.
We made the ridge top before noticing a very picturesque tarn just below us pleading us to be camped at. Amber wanted to check it out, but I insisted that we climb the last portion to the edge of the moraine dam.
I made the final push and could not believe my eyes once at the top. It was incredible as the icy cold wind blew through my shirt, forcing me to don my rain jacket. I just stood there and gawked at the mountain with all it's features. The lake, still partially frozen, and the glacier which had gained considerable volume from last winter's record snow falls. I pray this is a sign that our glaciers may start to be on the rebound, but I doubt it.
We took a snapshot with Amber donning the cheesiest grin she could. She was happy here and so was I.
After standing for too long, I took a look around the end of the moraine dam and spotted the lake's outsource. To my left, 2 fawns were grazing as Amber and I snuck up on them after descending. One was huge and looked to be pregnant, with the other one much smaller. Amber loved the sight, but still the pressure ensued to check out the larger tarn.
We continued down to the tarn as she found a so-called quicker route and could not hold back her enthusiasm. I did not think a wet, cold butt was worth the twenty extra feet and chose to walk. The look on her face made me wonder if I had made the wise decision.
As I looked around for future potential camp sites, Amber was on the prowl. Fresh bear scat was found, along with countless pollywogs. She finally admitted that this spot was indeed better than the one at the pass. My gamble paid off.
As she walked, small frogs hopped about, trying to get away from the blue giant. The child can't not touch. She picked up as many as she could to show me. I was off looking to make sure blackie was not angry for our intrusion.
Play time was over as we made a quick descent, rapidly passing Camp Siberia then Honeymoon Meadows. The weather, of course, was closing in fast and we were starting to get a little tired. We stopped momentarily to chat with a friendly couple that were camped here. But, as Amber wanted to camp at Diamond Meadows again, we quickly ventured on two more miles.
The trail bobbed and weaved gently through the valley, while slowly losing elevation. What I saw at Diamond Meadows shocked me as four new groups and five horses filled the sites. Every last one, this time. The mist started as we plodded on for Big Timber. Our last hope.
The camp was vacant. Once there, I did the usual; dressed before making dinner, started a fire, and after all of it, hung all the scented items. As the fire roared to life, and it was a huge, hot, beautiful fire, it started. The deluge from last night was back and it was here to stay. I pitched the tarp as well as I could before it endured a 13 hour downpour. The only issue during the night was a small area at the foot of the tarp had turned into a waterbed as the water could not drain away fast enough. Ultimately, we stayed warm and dry all night. If I was in Nevada City, CA, I would shake Henry's hand personally for such a fine design.
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