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Packtrip into the Sawtooth Mountains |
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Monday, Aug 26, 2002 - Riding to Sheep Corral Basin
Black clouds rolling in, a certain calmness interrupted with gusts of wind - then the sky opened. Sheets of water poured onto the dry soil, thunder and lightening struck nearly simultaneouly in the Sawtooth Mountains to the East and the Northern Cascades to the North - this all I could watch from the safeness of our home in Twisp. Tomorrow morning we would ride into the Sawtooth mountains. I hoped this weather would not last but clear the way to a lasting blue sky. And so it was. The next morning after breakfast we took off to Steve Darwoods’ ranch in Carlton with our houseguests Neil, Ken, Liz and Lilly, who had arrived from Seattle the night before. The ranch was our meeting place. While Steve and Jess were busy packing the gear and loading the horses and mules into the trailers, we stood around and got acquainted and/or re-acquainted. Steve and Randa from Mazama, who were on the pack trip into the Sawtooth 2 years ago, were there. Neil and Ken were the only once who rode into the Pasayten Wilderness last year. Linda, Liz and Lilly were new to the group - but not inexperienced riders. Lilly is a Texas girl and practically grew up in the saddle. Our cook this year was Gale.
Soon our little procession started off to Gold Creek. There we parked the cars, collected our lunch bags from Gale and got a horse each assigned from Steve. He gave Heidi to Gair, and I got Shadow. Those were the same horses we rode last year. Steve always remembers who rode which of his horses. Gale led us on the trail to the base camp. Steve and Jess followed with the pack mules. After about 2 hours we had lunch at Eagle Pond. While eating our sandwiches we watched the mule train go by. They would arrive at base camp before us. After lunch we had about another 1 hour to go. We had mostly gone through wooded forest but now it was changing. We were higher up and there were views of the mountains peaks with small patches of snow here and there, rockslides and rolling green hills. After Horsehead Pass (7300 feet), the horses carried us safely down steep hills. Below us we could see Boiling Lake. After we had dropped about 500 feet we reached Sheep Corral base camp. It was time to set up the tents. Steve helped the ladies who had come alone. All of a sudden it got cold and dark clouds were passing over us. Thick hail was pounding down but it soon stopped and blue was visible again. We sat around the campfire and had coffee and wine. When darkness set in after dinner our group dispersed and settled into their tents. Tuesday, Aug 27, - Day Trip to Cub Lake ^ When I woke up it was bright in the tent and there was the sound of ringing bells. It was 2:30am. I was curious, unzipped the tent just enough to peek outside and saw a bright moon hanging in the sky, bathing the landscape in a silver blue light. The hobbled horses were grazing nearby, causing this ruckus with their bells. I climbed back into my sleeping bag and tried to sleep a little more.
The next morning was cold. Our camp was in the shadow of the mountains to the East, and even though we could see the sun lit up the mountains to the West, their warm rays did not reach us until about 9:00am. Luckily Gale had warm coffee brewing first thing in the morning. There is always hot coffee and hot water for tea. It is warm around the campfire - and very comfortable, unless one sits in the direction where the wind is blowing the smoke. After breakfast we saddled the horses and left for Cub Lake. Everybody had made his or her own lunch except me. I had forgotten to make my lunch after breakfast, so Gale was nice enough to prepare a brown lunch bag for me. She met us on the trail riding out and handed it to me. I stored it in my saddlebag. The ride to Cub Lake was mostly through the woods. All of a sudden there was a sudden excitement and yells from the front of the line. Linda’s horse Cinder had bucked and thrown her off. Bees had startled her horse. Linda was not hurt, which was lucky. She climbed right back on Cinder and kept going. Of course this little incident gave us a lot to talk about.
Steve explained that Cub Lake was named after a Piper Cub, and airplane, that crashed in the lake and was never retrieved. (I thought it had been named after a bear cub). Our group spread out at the lake, reading, relaxing or fishing. Steve, Gair, Linda and I got back onto the horses and rode another 40 minutes or so to a waterfall at Prince Creek. Our trail led us into the Chelan National Forest and through an area that had partially burned last year by the Chelan fire. A lot of the underbrush and the lower branches of the pine trees were scorched. When we reached the falls we had dropped about 2,900 feet from base camp. We perched on rocks above the falls and had our lunch. It was very beautiful and peaceful there. I took photographs, relaxed and cooled my broken toe - which I had broken a couple of weeks ago - in a pool of cool, crystal clear water. Then we went back. Our ride took us along a mountain edge and over rocky hills with a lot of small pine tree growing right out of the rocks. Back at Cub Lake we learned that our fly fishermen (and women) had caught some trout. I stretched out in the sand by the lake and soon drifted off into a sleep, dreaming about grilled trout for breakfast.
Our ride back to camp was uneventful. I pondered over how much better I was able to handle my horse now - because this was my third pack trip. It was a lot of fun. Back at camp Gair and I put on our walking shoes and climbed up a ridge to a ledge from where we could see Boiling Lake. On the way we saw several marmots. They were either scurrying about or sitting by the entry to their holes, quickly disappearing into it when we got too close for their comfort. In the evening by the campfire, Steve was reciting cowboy poems, accompanied by his guitar. Soon everybody was contributing to the entertainment - either with a poem, a song or a story. Actually, this is not entirely voluntarily. Everybody has to contribute. It went around the circle, we were taking turns. Gair wanted to be skipped. He thought he could get out of it. After we went around the circle once, he changed his mind and came through with a story after all. Wednesday, Aug 28 - Trips to Angel’s Staircase and Boiling Lake ^ I awoke in the middle of the night with a splitting headache. It was so bad I had to take two Aspirin. Then I felt nauseated. I listened to the bells of the horses, which were back at the tents. When the morning came I was not sure whether I wanted to get up - but I did so after all. I felt a little better after breakfast. Ken was sick; he stayed in his tent. Unfortunately he was missing out on the grilled trout for breakfast, which he had helped to catch the day before. Our goal this day was a place called "Angel’s Staircase". On the way we stopped to look up at Eagle Mountain, named so because it looks like an eagle perched to fly. Lower and Upper Eagle Lake were named after it. At Angels Staircase, our trusty horses carried us up the steep climb to the top. Beautiful views every turn! However, we could not just sit back and enjoy the view. The climb was quite scary. We really had to pay attention, making sure we would lean forward on the horse to make it easier for the animal and to guide it uphill across some of the rocks that were flat in shape, easy to slip on with a hoof. Steve called out to us once that he had lost only one person on this climb. He refunded the money to him - for that day only. Cowboy humor!
There was not much we could do at the top but to stand around and admire the view. There was not even enough room to tie up the horses. They stood where we had stopped and dismounted. When we got back on, the horses were required to do a 180-degree turn on the spot, because of steep crevices on either side. Climbing down was scarier for the riders than for the horses. The horses knew what they were doing and once in a while even pulled some green, succulent grass to munch on. As far as I was concerned, at every tight corner it felt like the horse could not make the turn. Any second we would tumble down the mountain. Liz was riding behind me. I could hear her softly humming to herself, probably to comfort herself. But it is amazing how good the horses are, how heavy and strong and yet so delicate and limber. They had no problems at all. Soon we were down on the flat again, looking up at the magnificent mountains that we had just viewed from above. It was a relatively short ride back to camp, only about 45 minutes. Steve and Randa dismounted their horses, intending to stay in camp for the rest of the day. Liz and Lilly got off because they were planning to hike to Boiling Lake. The rest of us stayed on their horses. Ken, who was feeling better, joined us, and soon we were off on our way to Boiling Lake. It was another short ride, just across the ridge from our camp.
I had brought some apples from Seattle to give them to the horses as a treat. After I had given an apple to Shadow the other horses crowded around me because they wanted one, too. They were so cute. Luckily I had enough apples so nobody had to be left out. Boiling Lake is a shallow, green lake. Nobody knows exactly why it is called Boiling Lake. There are several different stories. The fact is that the lake does have some bubbles at times that make it look like the lake is boiling. Neil, Linda and Ken were fishing, and Gair could be spotted sitting on the grass with a writing pad. He was writing a lot. I took a little snooze in the grass in the shade of a tree. Then I walked around with my camera, taking pictures.
When it was time to go back to camp, I offered the use of my horse to either Liz or Lilly because I was in the mood to hike back to camp. Liz gladly accepted. Lilly and I took off on foot, choosing a different - a longer path - back to camp than the one across the ridge. We had fun talking, telling each other interesting stories about our lives. We were so busy talking; we missed the final turn and kept walking into the wrong direction. We eventually noticed that "this doesn’t look right", the mountain range was too far off. Lilly started scouting into the woods on to higher plateaus, trying to get a closer look to where the camp could be. We left the path and started walking back across the land, climbing over rocks and mountain streams. At one point Lil thought she caught the glimpse of a horse, and at the same time we heard someone whistling from afar. "They are seeing us! They are whistling for us!" Lilly called "I’d whistle back but I can’t whistle!" We happily stumbled towards the direction of the whistling but soon realized the whistling did not come from people but from animals. I recalled someone talking about "whistling marmots". They were probably warming each other about us approaching. We finally did reach camp. Dinner had not started yet. People were snacking on appetizers. There was also leftover trout from breakfast. It was cut into small strips, easily to be picked up and eaten by hand. Neil and Ken were not at camp; they had left on foot to find Lilly and me. When they came back, they told us they had found our steps and traced them back to the point where they abruptly stopped, where we had left the trail. I was grateful they would not let us get lost.
After a fabulous dinner, prepared by our gourmet cook Gale, we sat again around the campfire, telling more stories, singing more songs and reciting more poems. Gair surprised us with a poem he wrote about our pack trip while he was sitting at Boiling Lake. The last night the hobbled horses spent a lot of time around our tents, which robbed the sleep for some of us - but not for me. I was wearing earplugs. Thursday, Aug 29, - Back into the Valley ^ Breakfast consisted of hot biscuits and gravy, fruit, eggs and sausages, steaming hot coffee and hot water for tea. Then it was time to break camp. This meant, we had to get busy taking down the tents, packing our gear and bringing it up to a central location. The kitchen tent had to be taken down, too. While Steve and Jess wrapped up the gear into big canvas sheets and tied them up to the mules, we stood around and watched. Gale led us on the way out. On a rocky mountainside we all of a sudden had to stop. The word spread from the front of the line to the back to get off the horses as quickly as possible. What was the matter? We had encountered a group of mountain bikers. This can be a potential hazard for the horses. If only one of them gets startled or scared and takes off, the other horses would freak out, too. Gale told us to lead the horses on foot and not to wrap the leading rope around our hand but to hold the rope loosely. That way, if a horse gets frightened and takes off, it would not drag the rider along. This was a good precaution. We passed the mountain bikers, who had put their bikes down, and greeted and thanked them. It was a 9 mile ride back to the parking lot at Gold Creek. There the horses went into the trailer and our little procession proceeded back to Steve's ranch in Carlton. It was time to say good bye …..and talk about where we might want to go next year! Packtrip Photos | |||||||||||||||||||
