TRAVELING LIGHT
“Traveling Light, it’s the only way to fly”
From
“Traveling Light”, by J.J. Cale
Christy and I shifted gears
on Friday. After several days of car
camping and dayhiking on extremely popular trails, it was time for an
adventure, and a true wilderness experience.
We got that, and more, with a 3-day backpacking trip starting at Logan
Pass.
In April, I submitted a
request for a backcountry permit to the Park Service. Unfortunately, my request was just one of hundreds (thousands?)
received by the park. Demand for
popular campsites always exceeds availability in the summer months. As a result, the Park is forced to put all
of the requests into a lottery. This
year, I was not particularly lucky.
Apparently the offering I made to the Permit Gods was deemed
inadequate. All of the available slots
for our first choice of routes (the famous northern loop, connecting Granite
Park, Stoney Indian Pass, and Many Glacier) were long gone when my number came
up. Fortunately, we were granted a
permit for our second choice. That
second choice turned out to be one hell of a trip. Christy and I agree that the first day alone was the most
beautiful, and most difficult, hike of our lives.
Our permit granted us
permission to camp at Sperry on Friday night and Gunsight Lake on
Saturday. The hike between them, over
Lincoln and Gunsight Passes, is considered one of the finest in the Park. Unfortunately, getting to Sperry by the
standard route, up from Lake McDonald, would require a 7-mile trudge through the
woods with a climb of 3500’. That
didn’t sound appealing, but pre-trip research revealed a more intriguing
option.
From Sperry, a trail runs 3
miles or so to Comeau Pass, on the brink of Sperry Glacier. Another 3-mile stretch of trail runs from
Logan Pass to Hidden Lake. Between them
is the famed off-trail route through Floral Park. It’s a cross-country route that promised unparalleled scenery,
adventure, and challenge. If we could
successfully find our way through to Comeau Pass, a good trail would lead us on
to Sperry. Going that way would be
twice as long, and much more difficult, but it would also be a lot more
fun. On Thursday evening, Christy and I
debated its merits once again. We
poured over maps, photos, and written descriptions of the route a final
time. Finally we decided to go for it,
throwing caution to the wind.
Then the rain came. It was the first significant rainfall we’d
received all week, but it couldn’t have come at a more inopportune time. I tossed and turned all night, worrying
about the weather. There’s no way we’d
attempt the cross-country route through Floral Park in rain or fog.
Luckily, the rain ended
shortly before 6 that morning. We got
up shortly thereafter and broke camp.
This took a little longer than normal, thanks to all of the wet gear. I’d been told to expect the approximately
14-mile hike to take 10-12 hours. Based
on that, I figured that an 8am start should get us to Sperry no later than
8pm. With daylight lasting until 9:30,
that seemed like plenty of cushion.
We left Many Glacier for the
final time, spotting a Mama Grizzly and Cub on the way out. Once on highway 89 we picked up the pace, as
the speed limit there is an aggressive 70 mph.
We had just cleared a curve, when I spotted a huge Elk starting to cross
the road 50 yards ahead. I slammed on
the brakes, which was quite exciting at 65 mph. It was close – in fact, we almost passed under that horse-sized
Elk. It cleared our path just in
time. After I removed my face from the
steering column, we were able to get going again (albeit at a much slower
speed). This is one backpacking trip
that almost ended before it began. We
were lucky, but the trip wasn’t exactly off to a great start. I knew I’d have to stop at the restrooms at
Logan Pass just to change underwear.
The drive to Logan Pass was,
thankfully, less eventful. At the
trailhead, we encountered a male Bighorn Sheep roaming the parking lot. I’m not sure, but I’m guessing that he was
looking for a Dodge pickup truck to pick a fight with. We finished loading our packs, which we had
attempted to keep as light as possible.
In fact, we’d only brought one sleeping bag. We did have a fleece blanket that zips into it. That arrangement isn’t very comfortable, but
it saves a couple of pounds. I was
carrying all of our food and gear, but I’m pretty sure my pack was still under
40 pounds. Christy’s pack probably
weighed half of my normal daypack. I
could pick it up effortlessly with one hand.
Even with water, it was probably less than 10 pounds. We made the final obligatory stop at the
restrooms, returned to the car, twice, for overlooked items, and finally hit
the trail just after 8:30.
ON THE BOARDWALK
We found the trail to Hidden
Lake up the hill behind the Visitor Center.
The trail starts out on a boardwalk, which was constructed to protect
the fragile alpine tundra in the area.
There were some lingering clouds leftover from the previous night’s
rain, but they were clearing rapidly.
We had great views of the surrounding peaks, but the fantastic scenery
was only beginning.
A moderate climb over many
steps brought us to the end of the boardwalk.
From there, we followed a wide trail out to the Hidden Lake
Overlook. At the overlook, we found a
spectacular view of Hidden Lake and the snow-clad peaks of the Continental
Divide. We also found a handful of
Mountain Goats. They were roaming
around the viewpoint, and weren’t disturbed at all by our presence.
From there, we followed a
rugged trail down to the lake, where the views were more intimate. We stopped at the lakeshore just after 10am
for our first break. We had a snack,
filtered water, and slathered on poison to ward off the sudden onslaught of
mosquitoes. The area around Hidden Lake
turned out to be the only place in the park that we encountered significant
numbers of the little flying demons.
MY SECOND GUESS WAS MY FIRST MISTAKE
We were packing up to leave
when we encountered a group of 5 dayhikers.
They had started at Logan Pass shortly after us, and were planning on
hiking some 20 miles, through Floral Park and all the way out to Lake
McDonald. I was surprised that they
hadn’t gotten an earlier start, but figured they could keep a faster pace,
since they were carrying light packs.
Their leader, Allison, had done the route through Floral Park twice
before, but in the opposite direction.
It was somewhat comforting, knowing that other people would be nearby
(even if they were ahead of us), and that one of them had been through here
before. We figured we’d be able to keep
an eye on the route they chose to follow, which might be beneficial.
We headed out ahead of them,
and rock hopped the outlet stream without difficulty. From there, we followed a fisherman’s path along the shore of
Hidden Lake. This was extremely scenic
and pleasant, except for the bugs.
Although there was a path, this part of the route did require a little
bushwhacking. Christy led the way, and
every time she brushed a branch on a fir tree, it sent a cloud of mosquitoes
airborne. Each branch of each tree
must’ve hosted hundreds, if not thousands, of the little devils. Since I was following Christy, I had no
choice but to walk through those clouds.
I quickly learned to hold my breath every time Christy brushed against a
branch.
Fortunately there wasn’t too
much bushwhacking. Soon we entered open
meadows, which provided even better views of the lake. The upper part of the lake features dozens
of tiny rocky islands that only add to its beauty. At this point, I knew it was time to start looking for the route
up, away from the lake. Several people,
and at least one guidebook, had warned me not to head up too soon, as
apparently that is a common mistake.
Although that warning is appropriate, waiting too long is just as
bad. The far end of Hidden Lake is
hemmed in by sheer cliffs. Finding the
right spot to leave Hidden Lake is the key to the entire route.
We started up at what looked
to be the right spot. We climbed
through open meadows to the base of a small cliff, and a choice. From here, a steep ramp provides access to
the top of the lowest cliffs. My gut
feeling was that this was the correct way.
However, I was worried about climbing too soon. Plus, I’d heard that the climb initially
followed a faint path, and there wasn’t even a hint of a goat trail there. Not wanting to make a mistake, I dropped my
pack so I could scout.
I stayed low at first,
skirting the base of the cliffs. Before
long, I stumbled across an obvious trail. I thought it might be a continuation
of the fisherman’s path, but we were a fair distance above the lake. I followed it for a few minutes, as it
curved around and began to climb. I was
pretty sure that it must be the correct route, and headed back to rejoin
Christy. I was almost back when I met
Allison and the rest of the dayhikers.
They were also searching for the correct route. She had thought that the route I’d initially
identified was right, but I’d changed my mind, telling them about the path I’d
scouted. After a brief debate, everyone
decided to follow that path. Allison
was also under the impression that a faint trail marked the beginning of the
route.
We followed the path as far
as I’d scouted, and beyond. It climbed
some, but always stayed at the base of the cliffs. I kept expecting a break in the cliffs to appear, but it didn’t
happen. Finally we turned a corner, and
then end of the lake loomed ahead of us.
Clearly, we had missed the correct route up. Nobody wanted to backtrack though. What to do?
Allison scouted out a route,
climbing steeply through the cliffs above us.
She was making progress, but if she ran into a sheer wall, we’d be
screwed. Christy and I debated
backtracking, but decided to risk it.
This was extremely difficult
for me, as I was the only person there carrying a full pack. I followed everyone else, pulling myself up
using rocks, trees, and anything else I could get my hands on for
leverage. Luckily, Allison was able to
find a way through. A few minutes
later, we reached the bench above the lower cliffs. The good news was that our first challenge was behind us. Unfortunately, many more lay ahead, and this
one had taken far more time and energy than it should have. One of these days, I’ll learn to trust my
instincts and not second-guess myself.
RAG DOLL
The next part of the hike
was a delightful stroll. Ahead of us,
the headwall separating Hidden Lake from Floral Park promised a rigorous climb. After some easy hiking, we dropped down into
the basin above Hidden Lake, where we were treated to more great views. From there, the hike turned into a grunt, as
we had to ascend more than 1000’ in less than a mile. We climbed steep talus and scree, making our own switchbacks as
needed.
This climb would’ve been
tough under ideal conditions.
Unfortunately, conditions for us were not ideal. It was a breezy morning, and the wind was
literally howling through here. It was
coming from the other side of the divide, racing unimpeded towards the lake
below. The wind wasn’t constant though,
and every once in a while, a stronger gust would knock me backwards. My large pack was acting like a sail, and at
times it was all I could do to hold my ground.
On more than one occasion, I was actually knocked to the ground. I was being tossed around like a rag
doll. At times, I made better progress
crawling. Even then, I couldn’t
completely avoid the wind.
I thought about
quitting. Every time the wind slammed
me into the side of the mountain, I contemplated retreating to Logan Pass. I’d been looking forward to this trip for
months though. All of the training I’d
put in had been geared towards this hike.
I forced myself on, but I didn’t just climb with stubborn
determination. As I went, I
learned. Before long, I could
anticipate the brutal gusts of wind that threatened to toss me off the
mountain. When I felt one coming, I
flattened myself against the slope.
After it passed, I’d scramble higher.
After an eternity, we
crested the ridge. We were greeted with
a startling view of Avalanche Lake, almost 4000’ directly below. It was a spectacular vista, but it wasn’t
one we could enjoy for long. Instead,
we scrambled up to a minor summit, and around the back side to avoid the
wind. On the far side, we found an even
more spectacular view. We had our first
clear view of the Sperry Glacier, a long swath of snow and ice tumbling down
towards Floral Park, far below. In the
opposite direction, we had a fantastic look back over to Hidden Lake to the
peaks surrounding Logan Pass.
POINT OF NO RETURN
We stopped there for a
brief, late lunch. Being just east of
the minor summit at least blocked most of the wind. It was 2pm, which meant that by my reckoning, we were 2 hours
behind schedule. Before the trip, I
thought we might actually make it to Floral Park for lunch. Boy, had I miscalculated. We knew that continuing from here would
require an incredibly steep descent to Floral Park, followed by a long,
grueling climb to the base of the glacier.
From there, we planned to follow the bottom of the glacier, before one
final climb up to Comeau Pass. Once at
the pass, 3 miles of hiking on a good trail would deliver us to camp. But how long would that take?
We still had two major
climbs and descents, and estimating the time it would take to follow the
glacier was virtually impossible. If we
turned around there, we still had plenty of time to return to Logan Pass before
dark. However, if we made the plunge
down to Floral Park, there would be no turning back. From there, it would probably be quicker and easier to continue.
Our new friends were eating
lunch nearby, so I dropped in to have a little consultation. Although their packs were lighter, they
weren’t moving any faster than we were.
I was mildly surprised to find that they were planning on
continuing. Did they really think they
could make it to Lake McDonald in 7 hours?
I was concerned about making it to Sperry in that amount of time. Allison told me that she thought we could
reach Comeau Pass in 4 or 5 hours without any trouble. I had my doubts, but I didn’t really want to
give up, either. Christy and I
discussed our options, and decided to continue on. We figured we could always make an emergency camp if we had to.
DOWN IN A HOLE
We followed Allison and the
rest of the dayhikers over the edge and down into a steep, narrow chasm. There were two gullies we could’ve
descended, and both looked nasty.
Allison chose the one on the right, and it was probably a little better
than the other. At least once we got
into the gully, we were out of the wind.
This was probably Christy’s
least favorite part of the day. The
gully was exceptionally steep, and Floral Park looked a long way away. We descended carefully, grabbing on to rocks,
trees, small rodents, and anything else that would provide a hold. This was tedious, and Christy actually did
some of it on the seat of her pants.
Our progress was slow, but eventually we found ourselves at the edge of
the meadows of Floral Park, just above a small but charming lake. We found some blooming flowers, including
Fireweed, and enjoyed great views of the glacier and the surrounding
peaks.
We had fallen behind Allison
and her group. While I was waiting for
Christy, I viewed the route they’d chosen in bewilderment. Rather than descending into Floral Park and
climbing out the other side, they were attempting to traverse the hillside a
few hundred feet above. The problem
with that was that the slope was exceptionally steep, and covered in talus and
scree. That route looked tedious, and
maybe even dangerous. Christy caught up
to me, took one look at them, and said, “Why are they going that way? We aren’t going that way, are we”? My response? “Hell, no”. There was no
way that saving a couple hundred feet of elevation gain was worth that misery.
Actually, we were out of
water, so we needed to head down to the lake, anyway. On the way, we passed an immense pile of bear scat. After seeing that, I was pretty sure we
wouldn’t be making an emergency camp in Floral Park. We reached the lake, where we had a snack, relaxed in the sun,
and enjoyed the view. By the time we
left the lake, Allison and her group had at least a 30 minute head start. It was already 4pm.
SPOILED ROTTEN
The climb up from the lake
was tough, but not as brutal as I feared.
We were able to avoid most of the talus and scree, and made our own
switchbacks to reduce the grade. Before
long, we passed some waist-high Fir trees and the grade eased. We scaled a rib of solid rock, and caught up
to Allison’s group at a stream on the far side. They’d had a 30 minute head start, but we’d caught up to them an
hour later. I think they were a little
shocked that we had caught up to them so quickly. Clearly, we had chosen the better route.
From there, we continued
ahead on a relatively easy course towards the base of a cliff. Then we followed the cliffs, heading closer
to the glacier. There were a couple of
nervous moments along here, as we had to cross a few steep scree slopes. Allison’s group took a different strategy,
making a beeline towards Comeau Pass. I
had my doubts about this approach, but then, I wasn’t completely confident in
the route I planned to take, either.
It was along this stretch
that the frame of my glasses broke. One
moment I was walking along, and the next, my glasses fell right off my
face. I probably would’ve been
surprised, if this wasn’t the third or fourth time that this has happened with
these frames. Unfortunately, the
glasses landed on a rock (where else could they have landed?) and one of the
lenses got scratched. Needless to say,
I won’t ever buy another pair of frames made by Coleman. I’m not sure if that’s the same Coleman that
makes camping stoves, lanterns, and coolers, but if it is, I think they should
probably stick with what they are good at.
As we hiked, the glacier
loomed closer. The views of all of that
snow and ice were fantastic, yet daunting.
Sperry glacier is receding, like all of the glaciers in the park, but
it’s still huge. As we got closer
though, my admiration quickly turned to dismay. The base of the glacier, where we had planned to hike, was no
longer there. In its place were rock,
water, and debris. The new base of the
glacier was higher up on the mountain, but on a very steep slope. In places, we could see huge crevasses –
fissures in the ice waiting to swallow an unsuspecting hiker. I met Christy’s dismayed look with one of my
own. There was no way we could safely
cross the foot of the glacier.
We scrambled down into a
narrow draw, and crossed the first of dozens of streams draining the
glacier. The water was the color of
milk. From there, we scrambled up a
pile of rocks to the top of the next ridge.
From there, we could see what lay ahead – another gully and stream, and another
ridge. Downstream from us, a large
milky lake loomed between steep rock walls.
When I looked that way, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Allison’s group was working their way around
the rocky lakeshore, heading TOWARDS us.
Apparently their direct route hadn’t worked any better.
MAZE
“The overhead view is of me in a maze
And you see what I’m hunting, just a few steps away
But I take a wrong turn, and I’m on the wrong path
The people all watching enjoy a good laugh
Embarrassed in failure, I try to reverse
The course that my tread had already traversed
So doing the trauma engulfing my dream
Invaded through what was an unguarded seam
The torrent of helplessness swept me away
To the cavern of shame and the hall of dismay
Inside me a voice keeps repeating this phrase:
’You've lost it, you'll never get out of this maze’.”
From
“Maze”, by Phish.
We scrambled through another
gully and over the next ridge. At the
next stream, we ran into Allison’s crew.
They seemed…frustrated. I was
worried about our pace, but the incredible beauty of the area gave me an
incredible adrenaline rush. Hiking here
was like walking across another planet.
It was a place where the sky was black, the water was white, the snow
was red, and the ice was blue. The
rocks came in a myriad of swirled colors, the likes of which I’d never seen
before. Dozens of sheer peaks soared
into the sky, and that massive glacier towered over the whole scene.
It was a beautiful place,
but it was not a place I’d want to hike through after dark. With the glacier impassable, I knew that the
hike would take hours longer. My only
concern was that we didn’t have any time to spare. It was approaching 6pm, and an easy route to the pass was not
apparent. Finding even a marginal
campsite would be exceptionally difficult.
Finding a way through the
maze below the glacier provided the toughest navigational challenge of the
trip. It was impossible to see anything
down in the gullies, and the views from the ridges weren’t much better. Plus, my vision was compromised, thanks to
my broken glasses. We took the strategy
of trying to stay as close to the glacier as possible. Most of the lakes were farther from the
glacier, and they looked impassable. We
also used another simple, yet effective technique to find our way through. When Allison’s group picked a route, we
usually went the opposite way. This
almost always worked. On several
occasions, they would race ahead, only to have to backtrack. In this way, we kept running into them. They were definitely moving faster than us,
but less efficiently.
The routine continued,
climbing up talus, scree, and boulders to crest a ridge, only to have to find a
way down into the next gully. Even if
we knew exactly where to go, this would’ve been slow-going. Finally we passed the far end of the
glacier, but steep cliffs prevented us from climbing directly up to the
pass. Instead, we had to follow a large
creek downstream towards a small lake in the distance. An escape route failed to present itself,
and we had to continue beyond the lake before we found a shallow place to
cross. Once on the far side, we found a
break in the cliffs. Ahead of us was a
series of benches. That route looked
difficult, but passable.
SOLID ROCK
This part of the climb was a
joy. It was wonderful leaving all the
boulders, talus, scree, and water behind.
We scrambled up from one bench to the next, all on solid rock. Occasionally the rock gave way to
snowfields, but those were pleasant, too, and the solid rock always resumed on
the far side. At one point, I thought we
were on the final ascent to the pass, but when I reached the crest, I
discovered it was a false summit.
Another snowfield loomed ahead, and more rock. Then another sizeable stream intervened. I got one boot a little wet crossing that
one. Finally, after more rock and snow,
a giant cairn, signifying the pass, loomed above us. We reached it a couple of minutes later, and all the adrenaline
I’d been running on for the last few hours left me. I practically collapsed there.
It was 8:30, almost 12 hours after we’d left Logan Pass.
Most of Allison’s group was
there when we arrived, but Allison’s father was behind us. None of us would reach our destinations
before dark, but at least we were out of the maze, and the rest of the route
was on good trail. We had a quick snack,
located our headlamps, and started down the trail to Sperry.
It began with steep descent
on an impressive stairway carved out of solid rock. From there, we followed switchbacks steadily downhill. The sun was already behind a nearby peak
though, and the last daylight was fading quickly. We were still above treeline when we were forced to switch our
headlamps on. Allison’s group passed us
shortly thereafter. They were moving
fast, despite only having 3 headlamps for 5 people. Presumably they made it down safely.
BLACK
We plodded on towards
Sperry, moving slowly thanks to exhaustion and fading light. Before long, it was totally dark. There was no moon, and a dazzling array of
stars provided the only light beyond our headlamps. At one point, I think I actually fell asleep as I was walking. At what point is a daydream, a dream? I also grew delirious. In the distance, we could see the lights at
the Sperry Chalet. Occasionally the
lights would go on, then off, on and off.
Was someone trying to signal us?
It wasn’t until later that I realized that someone was simply opening
and closing the door.
We reached treeline, and
prime grizzly habitat. That’s really
not the place to be hiking after dark in Glacier. Christy and I were so tired, if a bear had attacked, we probably
wouldn’t have cared. Still, we
attempted to make plenty of noise. I
made up a story and related it to Christy, telling her that the Sperry Glacier
was actually named for former Journey singer Steve Perry. She didn’t get the joke. We tried singing, but we didn’t make it far
through “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall”.
“Row, row, row your boat” was also rather uninspired.
Finally, after an eternity
or two, we reached a junction, and a sign.
It stated that the campground was a ½ mile ahead. A ½ mile!
Good grief already! We climbed a
quarter mile or so to the Chalet, where another sign stated that the campground
was a ½ mile ahead. We were not amused.
ALIVE
“’I’m still alive’, she said, ‘but do I deserve to
be?’”
From
“Alive”, by Pearl Jam
A bit later, we reached the
trail to the campground. Here we found
a map, showing the layout of the campground, including the campsites, the
toilet, the cooking area, and the pond.
The sign was a big help, because I’m not sure if I ever would’ve found
the water in the dark without it. We
were still making a fair bit of noise as we entered the camping area, which
probably wasn’t the best form at 10:30, but I think I’d decided that I didn’t
want to be eaten by a bear, after all.
We were trying to figure out how to find a vacant campsite, when a
disembodied and mildly annoyed voice floated through the air, telling us that
the last two sites were open. We
stumbled over there, and set up the tent quickly. Christy was ready for bed, but I wanted a hot meal.
We found the cooking area,
and I got water from the pond. We
boiled water, and added it to our freeze-dried meals. Once they were ready, I all but strapped the bag to my face. Dinner was consumed in a matter of a couple
of minutes. We went to bed a few minutes
later, shortly before midnight. Despite
the uncomfortable sleeping arrangements, we didn’t have much trouble falling
asleep. Staying that way, however, was
a different matter. On several
occasions, I woke due to cramps in my legs.
Needless to say, stretching out wasn’t much of an option.
WAITING ON THE BUS
We slept in the next
morning, or at least we tried to. It
would probably be more accurate to say that we both laid there until the heat
and cramped conditions became unbearable.
Eventually we limped over to the cooking area and boiled water for
oatmeal. Actually, I wasn’t feeling too
bad, but my legs were sore and tired from Friday’s epic 14-hour hike. During breakfast, Christy stated that she
wasn’t sure she could make it over two passes to Gunsight Lake. We discussed our options, but I left the
final decision up to Christy. I still
wanted to hike over to Gunsight Lake, but after the hike through Floral Park,
bailing out a day early wasn’t a terrible idea, either. Plus, I knew that no matter how nice
Gunsight Pass was, it couldn’t top Floral Park.
Christy chose to head
out. We broke camp at 11:30, which must
be some kind of a record. Before we
left though, a handful of mountain goats wandered into camp. They seemed annoyed that we were still
there, like we were late checking out or something. It didn’t occur to me until later that they probably stop at each
of the campsites every afternoon in search of salt.
We headed down the trail,
but didn’t make it far before stopping for lunch. We ate along a creek, where we could enjoy the sunshine and the
sound of rushing water. The hike from
there was pretty much a trudge through the woods. At one point, we were treated to a nice view of Lake
McDonald. Otherwise, we found ourselves
mainly looking at the trees. We did
pass a number of other hikers, and even a couple of horseback riders, heading
up.
We finally reached the zoo
that is the Lake McDonald area later that afternoon. After wandering around a bit, we eventually located the waiting area
for the shuttle bus, across from the store.
The bus stop at Lake McDonald leaves a lot to be desired. Each time a bus comes in, it’s impossible to
tell which direction it’s headed. The
first bus was going the wrong direction.
The second was full, and the third was also heading towards Apgar. Finally, after 30 minutes or so, we got the
last 2 seats on one bound for Logan Pass.
I took the seat next to the driver, which was unfortunate for him, as
I’m sure I smelled terrible.
It was a long wait, and an
even longer drive, but we arrived at Logan Pass later that afternoon. We found our way to the rental car, and
headed down the Sun Road, with plans to spend our last few nights at the Rising
Sun campground. Fortunately, there were
quite a few free sites when we arrived, and we found a nice one after driving
through the campground for a while. It
wasn’t until after we set up camp that Christy realized she’d left her boots on
the shuttle bus. The next morning, we
stopped at the St. Mary visitor center.
They called the Apgar Transit Center for us, and found out that her
boots were at the lost and found there.
We made plans to pick them up on our way out of the park on
Thursday. It was a relief that she
hadn’t lost them after all.
That evening, we had dinner
at Two Sisters again. We had planned on
eating at Park Place, but there was quite a crowd waiting to be seated
there. We enjoyed burgers and fries at
Two Sisters, but my metabolism was going crazy. After dinner, as we were leaving, I mentioned to Christy that I
was hungry again. Fortunately I was
able to fill up with beer back at camp.
The backpack through Floral
Park was fantastic, and I’d love to do it again some day. Next time though, I think I’ll do it
differently. The ideal approach would
be to reserve a night at the Sperry Chalet.
On the first day, we’d hike over Gunsight and Lincoln Passes, and down
to the Chalet. It would be a fairly
challenging hike, but we wouldn’t need to carry much since we’d be staying at
the Chalet. We’d get an early start the
next morning, and hike up to Comeau Pass and on through Floral Park. I think this hike would be easier in this
direction, although finding the correct route down from Comeau Pass would be
critical.
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