Saturday, July 29

We had a leisurely morning, putting boots on the trail shortly after 8.

As I said, I’ve hiked to Bench Lake before, solo. I remember easily finding the beginning of the “trail”. I recall seeing a few cairns, and that the trail was not great, disappearing and reappearing, but I don’t remember it being particularly challenging. I have a quite distinct memory of the final few yards before reaching the lake where I lost my full water bottle.

For most of my professional life, when doing software support, I had a saying: “The user is not a reliable witness.” They either don’t really remember what they did, or they have some motive for not telling the whole story. When it comes to getting from the trail to Bench Lake, I was not a reliable witness.

We found no obvious trail near Ptarmigan Creek. Route finding was challenging. We did come across a few small cairns, but very few. And the last few yards involved a five or six-foot climb up solid rock, not the steep, loose stuff I distinctly recall. How is it my memory has tricked me so?

When we arrived at this final six-foot climb we met two hikers on their way down. They had zone camped up here. They said they’d wanted to “get to the lake”, but didn’t say which one. I think they meant Ptarmigan Lake. In any event, Bench Lake was the only one they reached. I give them lots of credit, climbing up here with backpacks.

I don’t know how many hikers make it up here, but I don’t imagine it’s many. Even so, they found somebody’s water bottle. It wasn’t mine from the last time I was here, but a disposable one. They reported seeing a nice herd of elk and that they found an elk skeleton. We exchanged farewells and headed our separate ways.

Standing at the outlet of Bench Lake you are at the foot of a large valley, “The Wonderland”. From here, we will head north up the valley to find the confluence of the outlet streams of the three alpine lakes. In theory, we could go to either Snowdrift or Wonderland and come down the other. No amount of map study is as good as getting eyes on the terrain.

Until about September, the choice in these valleys is whether to slog through marshy meadows or keep to higher ground and deal with deadfall mazes. I didn’t mind the wet ground so much, it was never ankle-deep. But Gordon was in lightweight shoes and was getting his feet wet. We kept switching back and forth.

We were nearly to the confluence before we got a good view of the outlet from Snowdrift. It looked really steep. I certainly didn’t want to hike down it, and I wasn’t sure I was willing to go up. It was getting on towards 11, and we still had a mile of bushwhacking and 700 vertical feet to go. There was no way I’d be able to get to both today, so it was an easy decision to head to Wonderland Lake and skip Snowdrift.

The creek in this wide, flat valley often becomes braided, running two, three, or four courses through the meadows. We crossed Ptarmigan’s outlet and then Wonderland’s, to climb up to the lake on the western side of its stream. We made at least four crossings to cross the two streams. In this area, we came across where the elk had bedded down. The grass was flattened by five or six elk. We didn’t see any elk all day, it’s a big valley, but I was stepping over their droppings constantly.

Having made our way to the head of the valley, it was time to make our second big climb: 350′ in 0.2 miles. Gordon led the way. He’s an excellent route-finder. He’s sensitive to my limitations regarding exposure, and he’s quicker than I am and gets far enough ahead of me that even if he backtracks a few yards, I never catch up. Saves me a lot of effort.

At the top of the climb, you emerge onto a broad and deep shelf of dune-like granite marbled with ponds and grassy ramps. The shelf holds both lakes, maybe half a mile apart. We still had another two hundred feet to climb, but nothing steep. There was no krummholz, and the only willow I saw was no more than a foot tall and easily avoided. Maybe it was the climb, but the view of Andrews Peak behind us was breathtaking.

The second or third time we told each other the lake was over the next rise, we finally emerged above the southern shore.

The hike from the campsite to the lake is only about three miles. Adding a mile round trip to the other lake doesn’t sound too bad, particularly given the open sight lines. We didn’t get to the lake until 12:35, so maybe had we left an hour earlier… even so, it wouldn’t have mattered. I was beat: my next step from here was to head back to camp.

I ate my picnic lunch and watched the world go by. Gordon circumnavigated the lake, pausing often to inspect something that caught his attention. We started back.

Only a few steps below the lake it started raining, soon followed by rolling thunder. After a few minutes, the rain turned to hail. But it was over before long. We didn’t exactly follow our route up. Not that we weren’t trying. “Did we come up the right side of that outcropping or the left?”

Back near the confluence of the streams, before making four or five crossings, we came across the elk skeleton the other hikers reported. I’ve seen a few now, and generally they’re not so much “skeletons” as “piles of bones”. This one, though, had an intact backbone.

Approaching Bench Lake, we came across a tree with an NPS sign posting “No Fishing”. I’m sure we walked right by it on the way up, but it’s facing north instead of south. It’s pretty weather-worn; has probably been there for several years. I wonder how often they send a ranger up there to replace it.

Just before returning to where we met the other hikers, we spotted a nice game trail. Gordon followed it. It wasn’t in the right direction; he suggested that it just bypassed the big rock we’d have to climb down. I wondered aloud how far we wanted to follow it. Gordon’s response was, “That’s the question!” We never turned back.

Next to Bench Lake’s outlet is a glacial knob about a hundred feet high. The trail took us over the saddle between the knob and the mountain flank to the east. In camp last night, I spent quite a while looking at this terrain. I was wondering if it might be easier just to head to Ptarmigan Creek in a straight line from the camp instead of taking the trail to the creek. It seemed doable. I didn’t even consider coming down from the saddle, though.

Game trails are nice until they’re not. This one was nice for quite a while before it petered out on a stretch of steep, loose aggregate. My favorite! I was too concentrated on my next step to look for my tent down below. I’m sure there were several places where it would have been visible. The steep, loose stuff turned into a deadfall maze that eventually led us to Ptarmigan Creek, only a hundred yards or so above the trail.

Back at camp, we put our cans of beer in the stream to chill. We were visited again by the lone doe, retracing her steps of yesterday evening almost exactly, and at almost the same time of day. She made an extra visit, well after eight, when all was in shadow, she in a mad dash.

It was overcast when we turned in, but on my early morning comfort break the stars were shining brightly.

Sunday, July 30

The hike out was routine. I spotted two snakes, one not longer than 18″, the other not shorter than a foot. I’ve seen snakes in the Park before, but not more than a handful. I was surprised to see two, within just a few minutes of each other. I also had a covey of dusky grouse cross the trail in front of me. I didn’t get a good count, maybe a dozen, including four young ones.

I was happy to be headed home. Yesterday was a maximum effort day; exhausting but fulfilling. I’m so fortunate that I am healthy enough and fit enough and have the means to take these trips. I try not to take it for granted.

I really enjoy navigating my way through this untracked wilderness.