Tag Archives: Pine Marten

Return to Pine Marten

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I have a compulsion to collect things. It’s a mental defect. As a kid, it was coins and Hot Wheels. Growing up, I switched to books, magazines, records, CDs, and more. In a materialistic sense, it’s not healthy. I’m working on myself. It’s been a while since I’ve bought a book, and I’m trying not to buy a book unless I can’t get it from the library. I haven’t bought a CD or magazine in years now.

But I can’t help myself. I still collect things. Now it’s race tracks and alpine lakes.

Two days before this backpacking trip, I returned from a trip to Europe to drive on two race tracks – Spa-Francorchamps and the Nordschleife. Now it’s time to bag another alpine lake or two.

A side-effect of my lake collecting is that when I go backpacking, it’s more of an expedition than a “hey, let’s spend a couple of days in the back country.” I have to go somewhere new. I’ve been to a lot of beautiful lakes, but I’m driven to go somewhere new. As a bonus, we could make an assault on Pettingell Lake and maybe find Lake Solitude, which we missed last time. So that’s the expedition. Primary objective: Lake Powell. Secondary objectives: Pettingell and Solitude.

Lake Powell is quite remote. The guidebooks suggest getting there from the east side – via Black Lake and Frozen Lake. That route is well beyond my ability. Definite “no-go” terrain for me. So if I want to get to Lake Powell, I’m looking at a significant bushwhack up North Inlet.

When Gordon and I camped at Pine Marten before, the target was Lake Catherine, via Nokoni and Nanita. We made a loop, returning from Catherine down its outlet to the confluence with North Inlet, and down the valley to camp.

So we’ve already been through the terrain on more than half the route to Lake Powell. I said on that last trip that it was “an arduous bushwhack,” but I also said we managed a mile an hour. So that’s three and a half hours to Powell. Add some buffer, and nine hours should cover it, including a break. That’ll be Monday. Sunday is the hike to the campsite, and an attempt to reach Pettingell.

August 10-12

I’ve described the hike to Pine Marten before, so I won’t repeat myself.

We arrived at the campsite around 1:30. The first thing I did was set up the camp chair. When I bought the chair, I was wondering if it would be worth the bulk and weight on these backpacking trips, but I no longer have any doubts.

At 3:30, we headed up the trail to Lake Nokoni to get to Pettingell. I’ve been to the top of the ridge above Nokoni and didn’t like it. It’s steep – about as steep as I want to deal with. As a bonus, the footing is bad. But since I’ve done it before, I know I can do it again.

Gordon had put eyes on the lake on the last trip, but didn’t get there. So he had a good idea of a good route. It turned out to be about as steep as the slope above Nokoni. The footing wasn’t treacherous, though.

We enjoyed a nice dinner picnic break on the shore of Pettingell. We didn’t lollygag for long, though, as the sun had dropped below the ridge.

The climb above Pettingell was challenging. From Pettingell to the top of the ridge is about 330′ more than from Nokoni to the top. Gordon led the way. It didn’t take long for me to really start to blow! I was at maximum respiration. Deep breaths, as fast as the bellows would operate. Gordon would pause and let me catch up. He wasn’t even breathing hard.

I had a few minutes to recover as we crossed the relatively flat top of the ridge – thin forest, no deadfall, easy walking – before reaching the steep, potentially slippery descent. The view is great, so I just took my time.

Off the ridge and back at beautiful Lake Nokoni, Gordon stayed a bit to enjoy the surroundings. I was so adrenalized, I couldn’t sit down, so I headed back to camp. I got there a bit after 7, and Gordon was 10 or 15 minutes behind me.

Sunday night was cold. In my sleeping bag, I wore my thermal underwear, sweat pants, long-sleeved t-shirt, and my hoodie.

Monday morning, we had a guest visit our camp. Gordon and I were seated about 15′ apart, me in my camp chair, him on a rock. He said, “There’s a pine marten right behind you.” I couldn’t see it, so I got out of the chair and took a couple of steps toward Gordon before turning around. It casually loped out of sight. Neither of us stood a chance of getting a picture. That’s the first time I’ve ever seen a pine marten.

At a quarter to nine, we headed up the valley. It was rough going. An arduous bushwhack, no doubt. And we weren’t making a mile an hour. Going was fairly easy, as long as we could follow game trails. That was all too seldom.

The going got a bit harder after the confluence with Catherine’s outlet stream, because we were only now gaining any significant elevation.

About a fat half-mile from the lake, still about 700′ of elevation above us – a third of our total elevation gain – we talked timing. I wanted to be back at camp no later than 7. We could continue for an hour more; we might get there in that time, but even if we did, we’d have to turn around right away.

We stopped and had lunch, resting for only half an hour before heading back. On the return trip, we had as much difficulty finding game trails to follow as we did on the way up.

At one point, hours away from camp, standing in dense forest, a pile of deer pellets at my feet, looking for tracks, I said to myself (in a joking way) that I should consider the life choices that put me here.

We did stumble upon Lake Solitude. I was beginning to think it was fictional. We’d been through the valley twice without finding it. Sure, it’s on the satellite image and on all the maps and in the hiking guides, but it’s an elaborate fiction. But, finally, here it is, in all its … ordinaryness. Worth a visit only if you’re collecting lakes, or if you come across it on the way to somewhere interesting.

We arrived back in camp at 6. If we’d have continued another hour, we wouldn’t have gotten back until 8, around dusk. Not good.

Our return took us right through Pine Marten #2, now occupied by two women. We chatted a bit. They’ve visited a number of lakes that are on my “impossible” list – places beyond my range or skill. They said the same thing others have said – the way to get to Powell is from the other side. That route is farther out of my capabilities than today’s route.

I don’t want to make the day out to be miserable. Well, I sort of do. But there are always interesting or wonderful things to see. Following the tracks, we came across places where elk had bedded down for a night. One spot had a strong musky smell. I think the elk were here just a few hours earlier.

We came across a moose antler, an elk antler, what was probably part of a hipbone of a deer, and a couple of jawbones. On the steeper section, we passed by a couple of beautiful cascades and falls.

  • Pettingell Lake
  • Pettingell Lake
  • Bear poo?
  • Mt. Alice
  • Lake Solitude
  • Lake Solitude

Monday night was warmer. I slept better – in fact, one of my best nights’ sleep in two weeks. I guess nine hours of bushwhacking will do that to you.

Much of the forest that the trail to the camp goes through was burned a few years ago. Fires are a natural part of the forest ecosystem. (But the gigantic fires we’ve been having the last couple of decades is not natural.) I try to find the positives: one of the positives for a good stretch of trail is an abundance of raspberries. Raspberries need direct sunlight, so they’re thriving after the fire. I snacked liberally on berries both passes through this section.

On the hike back to the car, nearly at the Park boundary, we ran into a ranger. After checking our permit, he asked a few questions about wildlife. I mentioned that we saw a pine marten at camp. He said that a few years ago, he saw one there but failed to get a photo of it next to the Pine Marten sign – they don’t pose for pictures. I also said we finally found Lake Solitude. He called it a “mud hole”, so I’m not the only one with a low opinion of the place.

I’m a little disappointed we didn’t make it to Lake Powell. I knew it would be a challenge for me (Gordon could have made it – I slow him down considerably), but I’m a believer that one’s reach should exceed one’s grasp. You can’t find your limits without trying to surpass them. On the other hand, I finally bagged Pettingell Lake and Lake Solitude, and enjoyed a couple of days in the back country. Any time in the Park is a good time in the Park.

Pine Marten 1

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My third and final backcountry permit is for the 24th and 25th at Pine Marten, the campsite at the base of the spur trail to Lake Nokoni and Lake Nanita. I’ve been to both of them on day trips. Once to Nanita and once failing to reach Pettingell Lake. This time, the idea is to get to ‘Lake Catherine’, the officially unnamed lake highest in the valley between Andrews Peak and Mount Alice.

The Foster Guide says it’s 12.8 miles from the trailhead with an elevation gain of 1,800′. This is not a fair description. Her route is from Lake Nanita, which has the hiker crossing a ridge at just over 11,000′ and another that reaches nearly 11,400′ to get to a lake at only 10,600′. There is another way to get there without gaining and losing so much elevation: follow the stream.

The Pine Marten campsite is at something like 7.8 miles in, and sits at 9,500′. The route via Nanita, then, is five miles and climbs a total of 2100 feet. The bushwhack is maybe 3.5 miles and gains about 1000 feet. The Nanita route is quite scenic and navigation is trivial. The bushwhack route is through dense forest with few views and constantly challenging route-finding.

After pondering for some time, I decided a loop might be the best way: take the Nanita route to get there and bushwhack on the return trip. As a bonus, it should be easy to pick up Lake Solitude.

Thursday, September 24

Gordon drove; we had our choice of spaces in the small parking lot at the trailhead and were hiking before nine. It was a beautiful morning, with some high, thin, wispy clouds. There was a fair amount of haze when you faced the sun, but a nice, deep blue with the sun to your back. No breeze to speak of.

Just a few minutes after passing the cabin at the Park boundary we heard our first elk bugle.

Not long after that a helicopter flew over. It was a cargo chopper, with counter-rotating blades. It wasn’t carrying anything. A few minutes later, it came back down the valley. This was the first of what ultimately was five round trips. After the empty run, it had what looked like a telephone pole dangling vertically; something as big as the telephone pole, but carried horizontally; a pallet stacked with large crates; and finally two nets full of smaller items.

This last drop we had a sort of front-row seat. Just before reaching the stringer bridge that crosses the North Inlet, we were stopped by a ranger wearing a fluorescent vest: “You have to wait here a minute.” They’re staging the materials to rebuild the bridge. The work won’t get started until next summer, but they said they were lucky to get helicopter time, given the demands of the Cameron Peak fire.

We chatted with them a bit. One gal had worked on the crew doing the big boardwalk project on the Onahu Creek trail. She said they still had three weeks to go. Another ranger said he’d been to Catherine. I asked if he went from Nanita or up the creek. “Up the creek. Not much deadfall.” Gordon heard “Lots of deadfall.” In any event, it confirmed the “Nanita there, bushwhack back” loop was doable.

Cargo drop

We learned that the first, empty, trip of the helicopter was to hit the landing zone with its prop wash, knock anything loose out of the trees. The landing zone wasn’t a natural occurrence: it looks like they cut down a number of trees.

The bridge is looking pretty sad. There are a couple of patches on it, but it looks like a careless horse could break a leg. The materials they dropped looked to be an upgrade from the existing structure. I believe the current bridge is the second one, built in the 1970s.

Our campsite was just a few more yards up the trail. There are two sites here, we took Pine Marten #2, the higher of the two. Google maps has the location of the campsite wrong. I like the actual location over Google’s misinformation. It’s right on the North Inlet. Very easy access to water, and I find the sound of the rushing water quite pleasant.

We made excellent time, averaging a bit less than two miles per hour. It is a fairly mellow trail; when I day hiked it, I managed two and a half miles an hour. This is the longest stretch of trail in the Park that I can maintain that pace. Having arrived so early, we headed up to Nokoni. Then, depending on how I felt, we could possibly visit Pettingell.

They need to send a crew up this trail with a saw and clear the deadfall that blocks the trail in several places. The first, and biggest, was just below the campsite – we had to navigate that with the big packs.

It took us an hour to get to Nokoni. I decided I’d rather lounge about the lake than hike another two hours and climb a steep 500′ slope. Gordon thought the extra hiking was just the thing and headed off up the slope. I found a spot on the opposite shore and followed his progress. He made much better time than I could. Before he left, he told me he’d signal me from the top to tell me whether he’d continue on down to the lake or abandon the quest. I watched him climb most of the way but lost him just before he got to the top, so I don’t know what he signaled.

Lake Nokoni

Ultimately, he was gone for an hour and a half. He put eyes on the lake but didn’t quite get there. I think I made a sound choice. It would have been more like two hours for me. I might think differently had Gordon made it, but I was comfortable with the day’s effort.

On the way back to camp we ran into a solo hiker. He was wondering if he could make it to Nanita. He was staying well below us, back by Ptarmigan Creek, at either Ptarmigan or Porcupine. Given how far he had to go back, I suggested that going to Nanita might put him in the dark before he got back to his camp. He told us he’d bought a permit for Lost Lake, but due to the Cameron Peak fire, they moved him to Porcupine.

Back to camp at 5:15, we chowed down and chatted and had a beer. It had been a nice, warm day all day, calm, very pleasant. The wispy clouds were gone by mid-afternoon. When the sun went down, it started to cool down fast. Before long, I was wearing nearly everything I brought: long underwear, t-shirt, sweats, hoodie, and the rain jacket on top of all that. A few minutes after eight, I called it quits and climbed into the tent and sleeping bag. It took me a while to get warm.

By the time of my inevitable nocturnal excursion, the quarter moon had set and the stars were shining brightly. I didn’t see the Milky Way but I could see the light pollution from Denver.