Backpacking 2008, Part II

Most photos by relatives

(Yes, the bridge really was this broken)

Story #2:

I knew I was in for a challenging trip when I packed my mismatched little collection of camping stuff into my stepdaughter's pack, which I had asked to borrow, and then put it on me and found it didn't fit. She's a size zero and I'm currently a size... well, let's just say the hip strap didn't make it around me, and I cried when I could be alone with only Husband present. We switched out her pack for my brother-in- law's old pack, and were on our way.

At the trailhead the mosquitoes were miserable--just a harbinger of what was to come. We headed off up the trail, which is not currently maintained by the forest service due to budget cuts. So we were scrambling under and over fallen trees, catching our packs on overhanging branches, and having to beat back the jungle to make our way forward. The bridge over the river was out and has never been rebuilt; we had to cross on a single log. I am known for falling off logs into streams, but fortunately made it across this one, thanks to walking sticks which I bought at REI last Sunday ... for far too much money.

Husband knew that I was not a seasoned backpacker, so he had packed more of our stuff onto his back than I had on mine. And that made me cry, too, seeing him so loaded down. I felt so bad at seeing him suffer because of my insufficiencies and because he wanted me to have a good experience on this trip. Yep, I was feeling inept and weepy.

We finally arrived, drenched with sweat, at Trout Lake and pitched our tents under the trees in gathering gloom. The chipmunks were out to get our food, so it had to be hung up in a tree once supper was over. The forest service had set up a potty box in the woods where it was too scary for a town girl like me to go until the next morning, when I could see where things were. We settled into our tent (which, being new to us, took some time to figure out) after supper and fell into an exhausted sleep.

The next day we packed up our tents again and started off up the trail for a 2000-foot climb. The trail was in horrible condition. At one point we had to take our packs off and pass them across several huge fallen logs. The devil's club--a short thorny plant--was snagging at our ankles. The switchbacks were tortuous, and we couldn't hear each other very well because of the roar of the waterfall.

To top it all off, it began raining. Four hours later, drenched to the bone and chilled, we walked into the Copper Lake basin and set up camp between rain showers. Theoretically we weren't allowed a fire, but we made one anyway in a pit where previous campers had apparently done the same.

Did I mention that I knew nothing about camping? The stoves mystified me, and the only food I'd brought was trail food, so I felt like a leech on the relatives, who had brought all the evening meals. Washing dishes is a pain when you're squatting on the ground or sitting on a low log; my joints don't bend as well as when I was a kid. And the pumps for purifying lake water for our use were another mystery. I'd never seen one before. I was in an unfamiliar culture, and just wanted to do what I always do in a new culture: sit in a corner somewhere and watch. Mostly, that's what I did.

That evening I crawled out of my tent to make my way down the little hill to our supper area. I put my hand on a tree trunk, and stepped on the root as I went around it in my journey. The root was slippery, and my boot slipped out from under me. But my hand was still on the tree trunk so my arm was bent back and up, and I dislocated my right shoulder.

I was in so much pain, my whole body was shaking. My physical therapist stepdaughter and my physician sister-in-law worked on me, and in about ten excruciating minutes, the arm had popped twice, the second time bringing it back into it's rightful place. Sister-in-law (ever prepared) gave me some Percoset and anti-inflammatory medication, which were a mercy, and son-in-law made me some hot chocolate to help me warm up. After supper I hung dizzily onto Husband until we reached our tent, where I could crawl in and collapse into a 12-hour sleep. My shoulder ached the rest of the trip, except after I took a couple of anti-inflammatory pills each day.

And did I mention the weather? It was terrible. Mostly it was cold and rainy, with the clouds obscuring the mountains around Copper Lake. The day it did clear off we went on a long hike that took us another 1200 feet up switchbacks and over a pass and down to Big Heart Lake, which still had some ice on it. The mosquitoes at Big Heart were the worst, attacking my elbows (the only place I'd forgotten to apply repellent) with a vengeance. And then when we got back under clear skies with no cloud cover, it was a cold, cold night in the tent, trying to sleep warmly beside our belongings that were still wet from the rain.

We were going to stay until Saturday, but on Friday we decided to hike out, as the rain was not backing off. Plus, speaking for myself, I was becoming quite put off by my own stinky clothes. Once again my husband carried too much, despite my protestations--this time as an effort to lighten the load pulling on my injured shoulder--and I watched with tears in my eyes as he tried to struggle back up when trying to navigate under trees that had fallen across the trail. And again we hiked in the rain. My boots were not a good fit for me; by the time the return hike was done my left foot was numb down one side and I got a blister on the bottom of my toe.

On the way out we passed chirpy, clean hikers coming up the hill for their weekend camping trips. I wanted to box them about the ears and say, "Go back! Don't you realize this is insanity?! It's cold. It's rainy. The animals will try to eat your food. The mosquitoes will devour you alive. The trail isn't in good shape. The bridge up the trail is broken."

But we just smiled and said, "The scenery is worth it!" and hiked onward in dignity.

Postscript:

So, which story will you believe?

They're actually both true. It's always more fun to tell a backpacking story that adds another black pearl to my string of "horrible backpacking experiences." But the truth is, I'm really glad I went and had the whole mix of experiences. I loved being with family. And I learned a lot that will prepare me to make next time a better experience.

And yes, I do plan on a "next time."

Isn't that amazing?