Lower Rae Lakes to Marjory Lake
I’m pretty sure today is officially the longest I’ve ever been on a backpacking trip. From today until the end, each day is both metaphorically, and literally new territory.
Today we will climb all day long, before dropping down just a little bit to our campground for the night. Though our morning campsite is lovely, and today is bound to be long and hard, I’m ready to get on the trail. This is largely because our camp mates are loud and annoying in the special way that only frat boys can be, and I have zero desire to spend more time around them than is purely necessary.
The first half of the day is spent ascending through trees, and as a result I take almost no pictures. I’ve never quite figured out to take a nice picture of the forest on an iPhone, how to capture that soft light that filters through the trees and illuminates everything. Somehow, when photographed, that same light looks dull and flat and I always end up deleting the pictures.
We take our lunch break at Twin Lakes which rests right at the edge of tree line, backed by steep granite cliffs. Keith bounds around the lake, his recent success with fishing has kindled some sort of dormant hunter gatherer instinct and he’s itching to put his new found skills to the test.
My first priority of the day is washing my hair which has grown increasingly gross, oily, and itchy. Unfortunately the only real option is to dump cold, non-soapy lake water on my head again and again until I feel somewhat clean. So that’s what I do, it’s a sensation somewhere between refreshing and brain freeze. After I sit in the sun, snacking and listening to podcasts when I come to the realization that I’ve been carrying three of Keith’s breakfasts. Well damn. I’ve been worrying that I’ll run out of food, and now it’s almost certain that I will. This was such a big conversation between Keith and I before we started. How much food was too much, how much is too little and un safe, why does food weigh so damn much? On and on until we settled on about 1.5lbs of food per person per day. It all feels impossible to know and even after all our stressing I apparently wasn’t that attentive while packing. At least my pack is a little lighter now.
The wind is picking up, and the sun is getting lower in the sky, urging us to make miles before we’re stuck hiking in the dark. The benefit is that the climb towards Pinchot pass is bathed in the most wonderful afternoon light that spills over the rolling hills of dry grass and rock outcroppings.
Conversation is sparse. So it’s time for podcasts! I listen to the delightful Nicole Antoinette interview Oiselle’s Sally Bergsen where I find myself nodding along vigorously with all their smart insights. Sally talks about the power of feminism in business, being the underdog, and building a brand. After Sally I listen to a podcast about a guy riding his bike across America which randomly brings me to tears. It’s not even that good of an episode, but here I am in some sort of emotional quagmire that I cannot understand. I’m not usually one to cry, stoic to a fault, but here I hike on the side of a 12,000ft pass with my face dripping. Hiking long distances does weird things to your emotions it would seem.
At the summit of the pass we meet an awesome couple! They’re our age, really nice, and only later do I realize that my social skills have gone to crap in five short days and I have yet again forgotten to ask what people’s names are. Regardless, they’re going on a different trip that us. Potential new friends turn back into strangers as we depart the top of Pinchot pass in opposite directions.
For the first time since we started this trip we’re camping alone. Blissful solitude! Being able to pee without worrying about strangers looking at your butt! No hiker bro’s yell-talking after dark! Our only neighbors are an older couple camped a few hundred meters away who crawl into their tents before the sun has even set, leaving us alone to watch the sun set over the lake: laughing and talking about farts and our complete degradation of etiquette.