Fall Trip to a Hidden Mountain Lake

A quick trip seven miles up to a high mountain lake reminded me of all the reasons I love wild country.

(click on any picture to enlarge it)

The Aspen trees I passed by were in their fall glory. Aspen leaves on the ground were covered with water droplets from the melting snow, some which was still present in pockets shaded by the evergreens.

The moist air during my trip made earth smells very noticeable - that of the decaying aspen leaves, and of the low blueberry shrubs covering the spruce fir forest floor. These smells are the hardest to describe but are the most memorable - when you return to the high country and pick them up again you remember - they are much of the character of the mountains.

In one of the rare periods when the sun was out and then disappeared again behind a cloud, I noticed the whole nature of the forest change, as if a thousand living creatures were taking in the light and warmth, and dropped a few degrees in intensity in its absence.

The trail went along the edge of a cliff, then dropped down into a valley drained by a fast mountain stream, which me and the dogs had to cross.

The stream was swollen by the recent snow, and I let the dogs off leash so they could find their own best way across. I have learned from experience that it is hard enough to balance yourself on a rock or log without having the added burden of holding on to a rope of some nervous dogs. We all made the other side with no problems.

By the time I got to the lake I was chilled and exhausted. Warming my cold and hurting fingers over my stove was my first priority, after which I set up the tent and fed Ben and Maggie then made myself some rice and hot chocolate with Three Musketeer bars for desert, Some rest and food and getting the tent up renewed my energy and got me feeling warm and secure.

Just having a tent up when the weather turns bad is enough to make one feel a lot more secure in wilderness - knowing that you can rest out of the wind and snow if you need to.

I spent the hour before dark watching the clouds and light change on the alpine peaks above the lake. After throwing a ball for Ben and Maggie a while, I sat on a rock to play the harmonica and watch the stars come out.

When it was full dark thousands of stars spread across the black windswept sky. I could see a red planet up to the north, and the thick belt of stars of the milky way overhead. Once the whole sky lite up by some far-off lightning.

I noticed how the thin pyramid spruce and fir seemed to point to the stars just above and among their tops, as if this is the country where the best of this earth and the clarity of the heavens are weaved together.

While sitting there next to the lake under the gorgeous wilderness night sky, I remembered how much my old dog Bud would have enjoyed all this, and that he would have been beside me on this rock leaning against my shoulder, looking across the lake and into the trees and up to the mountain, listening for sounds from elk or deer or perhaps a bear or fox coming out at dark. But I also knew that if there is a spirit world for dogs that Bud wouldn't miss any of this.

It wasnt' long before Ben and Maggie stopped exploring and chasing each other and finally feeling the effects of our long day, came over and sat by me, Maggie on my left and Ben on my right. They pressed up against me to take the edge off the wind by gathering some of my warmth, and showed their happiness and gratitude by licking my face.

A quick trip to a secluded mountain lake, aspen leaves blowing in front of a dark spruce forest, a sudden snow thunderstorm, bear tracks through the snow ahead on the trail I was following, tall and slender fir reaching into a profoundly beautiful night sky, accompanied by my mountain-hearted border collies, all reminded me of the reasons I love wild country.