Although not quite my favorite hike ever, this hike is the one I am most likely to recommend to anyone and has the most scenery per mile of any that I’ve ever done.
➻ Quick Facts
I am posting this summer’s trips out of order, but prior to this trip, my exopod and trowel had been pilfered while I was camping at Green River Lakes, costing me quite a bit of money, and all of my fishing tackle. I had been using the fabulous Deuce trowel (improved version), but decided that I didn’t feel like spending that much money on another one. The UST U-Dig-It Trowel (UST= Ultimate Survival Technologies) seemed to be less polished with less features, but it also only weighed 0.64 oz and cost just $8.29.
The improved The Tent Lab Deuce of Spades #3, which I had been using prior to it being stolen, had cost me a solid $22.95 and weighed 0.97 oz. While folks had noted that they found the edges of the U-Dig-It to be sharp, I didn’t personally feel that they were. I let some other folks try it out, and they also thought that the edges weren’t beveled enough, so I decided to put some friction tape around the handle. If you, too, are a slippery-handed slobbergoat, this might be something that you consider doing, as well. Regardless, this isn’t my friend Miriam’s UST Parashovel, so don’t expect to go digging through roots with it.
With the Stough Creek expedition out of the way, I had to attend to some military matters in Cheyenne. I finished Stough Creek on Saturday, 03 Aug 19, and departed for Cheyenne from Rock Springs on 04 Aug. I left Rock Springs in the afternoon to make the 277-mile drive. I didn’t have a plan for lodging, but thought that I might just camp in the Pole Creek Ponds area and fish, as allegedly some of those ponds have golden trout. Approaching Arlington, my check engine light went off. I’d just had the vehicle serviced for the intake manifold, and had the differential and other fluids replaced, so I was somewhat perturbed. I pulled over and, at some point, turned on the AC and smelled something funky, too. (As it turns out, this was just some spilled fluid.)
Anyway, I decided to stop at Arlington, since it would be dark in an hour, and assess the situation, and I let my leadership know. After plugging in my code reader at the off-ramp, I determined that it was probably a small crack in the vacuum system that was being sensed at high altitude (passing 9000), and I had talked to a mechanic about this already, so my concern was alleviated. I elected to drive up the river at Arlington, which I like, and one of the rare, nice pull-offs was available. I set up my bed in the back of my Jeep just as it started to rain and turned in.
The next morning, Monday the 5th, it was on to Cheyenne to celebrate ‘MERICA; before I showed up, I drove by my old apartment on Country Club avenue. The new tenant wasn’t watering the lawn, had let one of my shrubs die, and was probably a Nazi. However, my apricot tree was doing rather well, so that made me pretty happy. Anyway, I went off to work and enjoyed the delights that come with wearing the uniform.
After work, I went out to the Woodhouse Public Access area hoping to find a camping spot, but it was prohibited there. I then went up toward the Pole Creek Lakes and looked around, but all the signs also prohibited camping…leading me to go across the Vedauwoo road south toward the interstate. I talked to Kristi and got some gas while looking for a camp, because I drove and drove and drove and everywhere was taken, so yes, I had to go all the way into Laramie to fill up…and ended up not finding a spot to park until it was almost dark out, off the road by the abandoned Pole Creek Ski area. I set up my shower and took a bath amidst a plague of mosquitoes, but the pop-up tent does help with that.
I arose early on the 6th and fulfilled the rest of my obligations, making sure to get rid of the deprecated camouflage that I no longer needed. Before I left, I noted that yes, my friend Henry LaViolette is often wrong, and also that Mr. Cooner Tooner, who had outprocessed like the dog he is, had not taken his magnetic name plate off his locker. I elected to help him finish his outprocessing, and now do in fact own this bit of military history.
I then departed for Casper, where I found cheap lodging. I didn’t really need it, but I had purchased it in advance so that I could charge my electronics if they were low. My lodging for the night was the Super 8, and I got to hear the very excitable, young lady next door talk to all of her friends about her latest relationship, her friend’s latest relationship, her other friend’s latest *denied* relationship, and more. It was pretty tedious, so I turned up the TV fairly loud and went to get a pizza from Pizza Hut, as healthy eating is important. On the way to the hotel, I also got some gas—$2.46 wasn’t a terrible deal! What’s with a car-dog wash, though?
When I got back, the vociferous vixen (just a guess) was silent, and I was able to quickly eat, shower, and go to sleep.
⤑ Day 1, 7 Aug: Coffeen Park Trailhead to Robin Lake
The next day I hit the road and made my way up towards Sheridan. The drive is long and tedious. Sheridan holds some negative memories for me, so I always feel somewhat conflicted about the area.
I took an earlier exit toward Story to intercept Red Grade Road, which is beautiful.
I’d driven it to hike around some of the reservoirs back in the fall of 2012 with my friend William P. “Poison” Wayland, which is a notable year as I rejected the love of a gal from Sheridan as she had a kid, which terrified me. That was a mistake that I learned from. Since then, a number of trailheads have been added along the actual road, which is weird, because they seem like very poor choices of places to hike given the nearby beauty. Yet even still they had plenty of cars.
Before losing service, I downloaded some more podcasts, as I wasn’t exactly sure how many days I’d be out, and then kept going. Here’s my general “breakdown” of how to get to Coffeen Park Trailhead from the Sheridan area. I highly suggest that you put the coordinates in your GPS, as the roads back there are kinda rabbit-warren-esque:
“From Sheridan, take Red Grade Road until you get to the FR-298 cutoff. Follow 298 until it goes around a reservoir, then follow FR 293, keeping right for the most part. There are a few signs to help guide you to Coffeen Park Trailhead. A high-clearance 4×4 is required for this “road,” which is more of a goat track than anything else.”
The drive up is just beautiful, with awesome views across meadows to towering peaks in the distance. Although I didn’t have a definite plan in mind, I thought that perhaps I’d try to reach Sawtooth Lakes, and if I failed to get to them, I wouldn’t be too unhappy, as it would leave me with a reason to come back. I like having areas that I haven’t yet explored!
I made it to the trailhead without scraping, but there were a couple of sections that I had to approach very carefully; thankfully the creek crossings were not bad at this time of year, and there was no mud. To give you an idea of the time, I left the interstate around 12PM, and it was exactly 3PM when I hiked past the “regulations” sign. Unfortunately, the memory card in my dashcam gave up the ghost, so I didn’t manage to get video of the road. I strongly recommend utilizing this trailhead after the worst of the snowmelt is done. But perhaps I am too cautious.
There were not many vehicles at the TH (less than 10, but still more than what I found at Battle Park when I hiked Middle Cloud Peak Lakes), but I wasn’t sure if that would correlate to a lack of people in the wilderness, as many people use the Lower Paint Rock Lake trailhead or are doing the Solitude Trail loop. I had actually considered and initially planned to utilize the Lower Paint Rock TH myself before I attached this hike to my Cheyenne trip, as it’s quicker to access from the eastern side of the state, and the extra 1.5 miles or so of hiking isn’t that bad.
Once I got to the TH, I took my time getting my gear set up to my satisfaction, as I wasn’t on a schedule, and knew that I could camp pretty much wherever I felt like. I also ate basically the entire pizza from Pizza Hut, which may not have been my best decision ever. My biggest decision to make was on the food…should I take those little, cherry handpies? SO MUCH WEIGHT. And of course there are Haribo gummy bears…not to speak of the delicious Doritos.
Well I’m a dadgum grown man, so I took some of each! I packed enough meals for about a week (or more depending on how hungry I was), loaded the pack on, and hit the trail…well, after setting up my solar shower to be warm for my return. I checked out the wilderness regulations sign, which had the standard Cloud Peak Wilderness (CPW) notes, which really are only worst around the popular lakes, and bad if you want a fire above 9,200 feet…and most of the dang place is above that, so…well, this boy doesn’t like fires that much, so it doesn’t bug me. (They stink.)
I looked at my physical map again, but didn’t bring it, as I’d spent so much time memorizing the Google Earth features and the topo that I knew it like the back of my hand. My intent was to at least reach Loomis Lake, and if I had enough time, to also explore Bard and Sawtooth Lakes. I was fairly convinced that I’d have to go up the drainage that connects to Rainbow Lake, and then make my way down a mountain and through the forest before re-ascending. There seemed to be a saddle closer to Loomis, but the topo lines didn’t look promising, and the Google Earth view showed that it kept snow about as well as Antarctica, and I wasn’t about to try and make my way down hundreds of feet of near-vertical, icy snowpack to a boulder field below.
I also was considering perhaps going to Rainbow Lake first, then over the mountain, and perhaps trying to climb “Loomis Pass,” as I was calling it, from below, as often I find climbing easier than descending. Having a laden, pack, though, makes that untenable as well. All these thoughts were in my head as I started out, and I’ll share with you my actual route with the route that I thought that I’d be forced to take.
You can also see my route and camping site…along with exactly the reason that I didn’t want to use this route as my go-to.
Solitude itself is a massive loop trail. I’ve done other parts of it going to Bomber Mountain, hiking to Middle Cloud Peak Lake, exploring Powell Lakes, and visiting 7 Brothers Lakes. (Yes, they’ll be put in there when I get them typed up, if I remember!). I ignored that and kept going, and much to my dismay was soon descending. I hate losing elevation! HATE IT! The good news is that it brought me to East Fork Big Goose Creek, where I immediately did some fishing with my little collapsible pole and a Panther Martin. The Brook trout were stupid, as they always are. After dinking around for about an hour, I moseyed off along the river until it re-connected with the trail, then did the natural thing and headed on up.
The trail (Coffeen Park connector tail 592, thence Solitude Trail 038) starts off fairly flat and wide, and quickly you come to another trail (Trail 113) that goes to Rhinehart Lakes; it splits off to the right and plunges down across the river. The temperature starting out on this hike was pretty straight in my own “hiking thermoneutral zone,” and I never felt hot or cold. (Of course, there’s a lot of research on the thermoneutral variation among humans.)
I was really enjoying the hike up, and noted several old cabins. This area used to have an extensive log flume system when the railroad was first coming out West, which I’d found out while visiting the county museum in Sheridan, which had maps of all the old flumes; I’d also previously found cabins and flume sections, but until 2012, I’d not had a clue as to what I was seeing. I am not certain if the cabins I came across were related to flume activity, or if they were instead in support of the nearby mines. My GaiaGPS maps listed a mine to the east (Bishop Mine), but I also later found a mine near the top of the pass, which is unlisted, and seemed exceedingly ancient.
Regardless, just before a mile in, you’ll pass a trail which goes down to the river; this is trail 025, which goes along Edelman Creek to Emerald Lake and Lakes of the Rough. One day I hope to shoot that trail and loop around to the Crater Lakes area. For this trip, I continued on toward Geneva.
Another half mile or so on, a trail branched off to the left , and back towards where I’d come from. It turns out that it went to Duncan Lake, which was only 1/3 of a mile up the hill. That’s another tempting target just to say that I’ve been, but I was focused on making it to Crystal Lake for the night by that point. I had seen a blog in the past which had a picture of Crystal Lake, and it looked quite attractive, nestled under batholith-like mountains.
Although Big Goose Creek is beside the trail pretty much the entire time, intermittent streams do cross your path, and I filled up at one of them around mile 2, still having not seen anyone. The trail was becoming rockier by this point, but still so much better, in my opinion, than, say, Elkhart to Titcomb over in the Winds, and the grade was blessedly minimal, and also featured very little elevation loss. Rolling grades are the worst, at least in my book.
Around 2.75 miles in or so, I had to cross Big Goose Creek. There was no way to really cross it without taking off my shoes, but I didn’t let that discourage me, and did it anyway. That is, I crossed them via rock-hopping. Yes, I nearly broke my neck, but I didn’t get my feet soaked. During the earlier season, this would not have gone well for me at all. I also met a group of men in their 40s-50s, who were a little soft looking. They asked me where I was headed to, and I remarked, “Well…out and about, you know. Wherever I end up, I guess. I have supplies for a week, so we’ll see where that takes me.” They all seemed very keen on this sort of hiking and one remarked, “That’s the way to live!”
From there, the trail gets a bit rockier and at times a bit steeper; my physical map had led me to believe that I’d have to cross Big Goose Creek again before the lake, but it was very mistaken; you’ll stay west of the creek until reaching Geneva Lake.
I reached Lake Geneva at 5:11 PM (so even though I fished for a long time, I made it to Geneva in just about 2 hours) at what GaiaGPS claimed was exactly 4.0 miles in, and crossed the outlet with the help of a magic stick that I collected. Again, thanks to the season, I didn’t have to remove my shoes. The path goes along the east side of the lake, and it’s quite beautiful, though it does not really feature any camping areas, as it’s too wooded and steep. From what I could tell, the south and north ends of the lake are where you’d want to set up shop if you wanted to stop there. I didn’t, so I did some quick fishing, saw that the fish were all brookies, and thus pressed on.
At the north end of the lake, the trail encounters a parasite (Indian Paintbrush) laden meadow and seems to deviate to the right. I was suspicious of this, but followed it anyway, as it was well worn. It passed signs warning about camping restrictions, as this was labeled a high-use area (though there was not a soul to be found), and I came to the inlet creek. Across from it was an interesting waterfall with a cirque, and I double-checked my map, because it seemed like a place I’d like to explore in the future. My map claimed that it only had a marsh…no lake. Hmmm. I mean, it would at least have a pond, right? Probably barren of fish…but one day I’d like to look at it.
Anyway, though the trail went to the creek, this didn’t seem to be correct for reaching the pass, so I meandered back through the big field toward where I’d came, but cut across to the south, as I figured that the trail must go up the hillside there. Note that my topo data was last updated in like…the 50s or something, so it wasn’t always accurate.
I briefly considered camping in the area, but, while beautiful, I wanted a more secluded spot, and the big meadow wasn’t that. There was a nice site by the creek, but it had a sign warning not to camp there. Onward I went, then, and soon was back on the correct trail, and then ascending quite steeply up switchbacks towards Crystal Lake. I stopped toward the top of the switchbacks, as the trail then heads back downhill, and called some loved ones, threw up a photo on facebook, as there was 4G and a great view, then continued on.
The trail is soon passing through about a mile or so of just horrific deadfall. It’s the stuff of nightmares, but the forest teams really got it off the trail. There must have been an outrageous windstorm at some point, because nearly the entire forest is decimated. I was soon at a creek on an offshoot use trail that lead to beautiful Crystal Lake, where I wished to camp, as it was soon to be dark.
Unfortunately, it was a tight area, featuring a meadow by the lake, surrounded by the dang deadfall, and in the area were some happy campers. I considered trying to peacefully navigate to the far side of the lake sans any disturbance to them, but the state of the forest made this impossible. With reluctance, I pressed on, climbing up higher and higher, until I was eventually at a wonderful park.
This park, by the way, was super beautiful, with a stream running through it, and a great view of the pass. I was tempted to stop at this point, but with the pass now in view, and Robin Lake on the other side, I decided to take my chances and continue on up. Normally I’m pretty relaxed about getting into camp late, but this day I was…I don’t know, really. A bit antsy. I think it was passing up so many nice areas with darkness coming, but not knowing what the future trail held, especially as the opposite side of a pass can make a big difference.
In the park, I noted that there were areas off to the right/west that would make good camping spots, too, if I were in a pinch; looking back on it, there’s a nice, rockfield area that one could descend to Crystal Lake in lieu of the trail, and I’ll probably take that one day. At the south end of the park, you cross the creek again, which I did, and I didn’t see any fish. I guess they can’t make the swim from Crystal Lake! What I did see was a pika (nnneeeeeennnnggghhhh), who was most startled to see me back, and dropped his little bouquet as he bounded off.
I walked through loads of rocks, heading up the pass, and noticed a discolored fan of scree, so I went to investigate. A cave! Well yes, I’ll go in the cave. It’s not very big, and immediately leads to a shaft, which is now filled entirely with water. I guess you could free dive it if you wanted. This area has 4G service, so I shared the mine via Snapchat with one of my friends who is a geology student and nerd.
From the mine, I went back down the hill, crossed the creek, and continued on up the pass, which wasn’t very far, and then stopped to take some pictures. (Note: there are two trails past the creek that are equally rocky and neither seems more official than the other, which I found random and off.)
The view below is towards Steamboat Rock, and it was truly gorgeous, with a bit of haze that gave depth to the landscape—something sometimes lacking when the air is clean and dry. Finding a rock to set my camera on took a bit, and I had to slog back down the hill after packing everything back up in my pack (for weight purposes, I keep my camera on the top and near my spine), as I left some electronics on the ground and didn’t realize it until almost making the top of the pass. On the other hand, at least I did realize it!
Soon I was ascending the rock-strewn pass, which my GPS said topped out at 10,273 feet, and ended with a gorgeous view of Robin Lake and the mountains. I hit the pass at 7:54PM to a beautiful sunset! Then I proceeded off the trail and toward the right side of the lake, that I could be more hidden, as there seemed fewer trees and more trail to the left.
Descending to the south, I crossed North Paint Rock Creek, which had some brookies in it, and then climbed up some flatter, rocky areas to the west. Interestingly, I’ve fished in Paint Rock Creek from out of Solitude Lake some miles away. Part of the loop system!
While the view was great here and the surface flat, I wanted to have trees nearby for some wind protection, and also so that I’d be less visible, so I kept going southwest. I was keenly aware of the failing light, so I ignored the temptation to go and use my tenkara rod on the billions of brookies hitting the surface of little Robin lake.
Soon I was approaching another creek, which was flowing down from the mountain to the west. It was unnamed, though it seemed bigger than North Paint Rock Creek. I found one area that was flat enough in a little clearing abutting some small cliffs, but wondered if there was something better on the south side of the creek. I dropped my pack by a dead tree and set off exploring. Immediately on the other side of the clearing was an area closer to the creek, but with more tufts, which would make for lumpy sleeping.
Across the creek, I found a gorgeous area that had an “advanced” fire ring in one area, and enough use in another that it looked as if outfitters might frequent it. I ultimately declined to stay there, and it was ridden with evergreen nettles, which I don’t care for. The place I had set my backpack was nicer in that regard, as it was grassy.
In the two pictures above, I was in the creek area. Filling water was very easy here, with little in the way of detritus to fight with, and plenty of little cascades to make the intake of water easier. As usual, I brought my little, “one-use” water bottle, which I do not apologize for, as a hard-sided bottle that I can still collapse a bit makes scooping up water much easier than with the soft-sided Sawyer pouches. I had previously bought Platypus pouches to try to use, and those were a waste, as they leaked a ton. I ended up making two water trips as the sun set to the west, to get water for drinking and water for washing up with.
Before setting up camp in the incoming gloaming, I elected to take a few evening shots of the mountains. I was captivated, watching the somewhat gray-drab look turn to a warm alpenglow that washed over my soul. It somehow also brought with it a twinge of longing and regret, realizing that this memory is one that I could share with others, but which others could never share with me.
I snapped out of my sadness. The horizontal wedge of black rock running along the range really stood out to me for its beauty; you can see it in the pictures below. Later on, I’d find another great stripe across the landscape, as if a laser had cut across the ground from orbit, which added to the value of this trip. Yes, I’m a geology nerd. Yes, the new Star Wars recently came out.
Then it was time to take everything out of my pack and set up camp, nestled perfectly at 10,109 feet. I wanted to show the view I had, so I clumsily placed my camera to record the ongoings. While it’s true that it was just me, myself, and I, I also had God with me there, and His presence seems all the more powerful when you’re in the mountains.
“A mountain is the best medicine for a troubled mind. Seldom does man ponder his own insignificance. He thinks he is master of all things.”—Finis Mitchell
After I was doing all of this, I of course snacked around, mostly on some gummies, and listened to some podcasts. I wasn’t too hungry, but I also broke out a cherry handpie and had that; it was just delightful. As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I’ve found that bringing items high in fat and salt help keep me from having daydreams of food, so I also had some Nacho Cheese Doritos.
By this point, it was starting to get dark, so I looked around for a good tree for my bear bag that would also be close by. There aren’t any grizzlies in this area, so it was safe enough, but I decided that I wouldn’t sleep with my bag, as Skurka does. Down closer to the lake there was a clump of trees, and while they didn’t make for the best hanging spot, they were serviceable. I could have walked back down past the creek and into the woods, but I wasn’t all that excited to find a tree with big branches…so spindly tree it was.
For this trip, I’d brought some shows, books, and movies on my phone. Using an app that downloads Youtube videos, I’ve also been able to bring some of them with me, which is good for, say, watching Tom Chick of Quarter to Three play games and also die repeatedly. It’s pretty incredible the amount of entertainment that one can bring these days—Nancy Pallister/Wandering Daisy wrote a great blog just back in 2012 in which she recounted being able to listen to music every now and then on her phone. I didn’t get a smartphone until that very year, so she might have been right there with me in loving all the new options and distractions. I typically don’t watch many movies or videos while hiking, but I love having books to read while I’m eating, and I’ll even go so far as to make PDFs of trip reports from One Mile at a Time, though.
I stayed up a bit later than I should have, cleaned myself off, and fell asleep to the sound of the rushing creek right down the hill nearby. There was no wind, and nothing disturbed me from my sleep.
Day 1 totals: 6.66 miles, +2178/-594′, about 3 hours moving time.
⤑ Day 2: Eunice, Elsa, and Pouch/Birthday Lakes
I had slept well under the star-filled, Western sky, and arose around 0830 to a calm day, filled with sun and little, at least in the beginning, noticeable atmospheric instability. I arose and got dressed. The fish were hitting the surface like mad at Robin Lake, so I made my way down to the area abutting the exposed rocks (away from the marsh and inlet stream) and fished for too long. I chose to use my little spinner instead and my fly rod, and both had great success, though ultimately I chose to fish mostly with the spinning lure in order to save flies. I saw a group of hikers go up and over Geneva Pass as I was wrapping things up, so they had an early start! Good for them.
After fishing for an hour and a half, I went back and packed up my bag. It was now around 10:30, which was a little late, but I could take a leisurely pace and wasn’t too worried. I did note that the sky was starting to fill with clouds and wondered what the future might bring. I started my GPS tracking again and headed off.
I chose to use the western shore of Robin lake, skirting along it and avoiding circling north and back to the trail. The distance was less, the scenery better, and of course there’d be no people. As I walked along the edge, I saw a million fish, and eventually reached the south end of the lake, where I walked across rocks to the eastern side. The creek (properly North Paint Rock Creek) was minuscule at this time of year, so there was no chance of getting wet; in fact, it had pretty much dried up. To the south, I saw another small lake.
I headed up the hill to the east a ways using my gaiaGPS map, which as I’ve mentioned was outdated. Around this point, I saw that my GPS tracks weren’t recording. What? Well, they seemed to be recording, but nothing was “taking.” I decided to start the recording again after saving it, and that seemed to work. (My phone had updated recently, and this problem occurred on this hike and several others; I thought that it might be related to battery-management, but wasn’t sure. It resolved itself later on in the summer.)
Soon I was on the trail…looking at my map, it seemed like I could avoid descending and instead go cross-country to intercept trail 060 to the unnamed lakes (which some people call “Pouch Lakes” and “Fatwoman Lake”). Because I wanted to see how much things had changed since the old GS map was made, I elected to follow trail 038 downhill. The loop-trail certainly didn’t cut off where it was supposed to; I looked for any signs that it had once existed, and basically came up empty-handed.
I descended a total of about 90 feet from the elevation of Robin Lake and passed in between two ponds that really are just a continuation of North Paint Rock Creek. The crossing was trickier than the one just before, and I had to make a number of very quick jumps over startled fish in order to avoid getting wet. I climbed up a small, bald knoll that the trail follows and saw a sign-post—trail 060, I bet!
The trail took me down to an an area of little waterfalls, and seemed to go downhill and south before ascending some loose, gravelly area on the other side. Why? Why would you add on that distance? Why would you even change it from how it was in the 50s? I can’t see a reason for it being so far south now.
I couldn’t figure any of that out, so I just cut across the creek (very easy, got some water, too) and hoofed it across gentle grasses toward where I figured the trail would end up. Other than a few pools of water, the going was easy. Soon I saw the trail on the hill above me, so I headed up toward it.
This section of 060 is fairly straight as it climbs up to 10,050 feet from 9,990, and it was protected from burning sun by plenty of trees. There were a few opportunities for water if you needed it, so I suspect that there are hidden pools above, in the forest. As I exited the forest, I had a pretty view ahead of an area that I’d traverse off-trail on my way back—though I didn’t know that yet! The clouds had gathered some more.
This whole area was just so pretty, with green grass, beautiful trees, amazing rocks, and little bodies of water! I couldn’t believe how much of a blessing this hike was! I took my pictures and continued on up a couple of switchbacks, and entered what amounted to a “pass.” It was rocky, and as I rounded a corner, Blacktooth Peak came into view! What an awesome mountain.
A tad further on I got to see the Pouch and Crater cirques that I’d be in, along with a dry meltpond. This was about 400 feet in elevation gain from the intersection of trail 038 and 060, so not the most efficient use of the terrain if you’re coming from Geneva Pass. (Which I’d demonstrate on my return.) This is what I decided to informally call “Pass 10,355.”
The trail wandered off to the south at the top of this little pass, and seemed to needlessly climb a knoll, perhaps just to be scenic. I didn’t need that, so I followed a little runoff-trail down to a marshy area, which I skirted following a use-trail, and then walked up a low point off trail.
Soon I came to a small pond, which I made my way along. It was rocky, and a solid wall of rock prevented me from continuing along its southeastern edge, so I climbed up a grassy area and found myself back on Trail 060. Off to the right I saw a great boulder to sit on, with stunning views. So what did I do? I went and sat on it, and then I had myself a cherry pie! (And some gummies.) While snacking around, I took some pictures. I was carrying quite a bit of weight in lenses, but I thought it could potentially be worth it.
I headed down the hill and crossed over Trail 060 again, heading southeast rather than following it. In a few hundred feet I crossed a creek and went through a stand of trees, then headed down a hill toward another lake.
I went around it to the south, where I also found a small use trail.
I climbed up the hill about 15 feet and emerged to a stunning vista—Lake Eunice!! SO. DADGUM. GORGEOUS. So many good places to camp! I wondered if I should set up camp there, but it was only 12:30, and it would mean a lot of backtracking for my purposes, plus I wanted to see what was on the other side of the hill, namely Lake Elsa.
I was very tempted to make a camp up on the hill, because the grass and views were just so pretty…I could go and place my tent over by the trees that were on my left, perhaps? As I headed down toward the lake with this consideration, and seeing no one around and being tempted to park it, I happened upon a trail which went up into the forest. It seemed to be fairly well worn for an unmarked use-trail (better than the trail you see by the lake in the picture above), and I figured that it probably went up to Rainbow Lake…it certainly didn’t loop around Lake Eunice. Bah! Well I never have any interest in camping in full view of a trail. Oh well! I beat feet on down to Lake Eunice and fished! Caught a whole bunch of brook trout.
Before 1PM, I was packed back up and heading along the north and east of the lake, where I crossed many little braided creek channels. Though tiny, they were infested with brook trout! I found it curious that there was no use trail on this side of the lake.
Approaching the hill in between Eunice and Elsa, I went east and began climbing through grass with rocks. It was only 100 feet up to the crest, but for some reason it felt much worse to me. I haven’t the faintest idea why this of all climbs bugged me, but I still recall how irritating it was. I noticed the trail that I’d come across earlier, apparently going up toward Rainbow Lake. This use trail actually leads up toward the pass north of Rainbow Lake, and the trail that I saw earlier goes there more directly. Odd. I’ll call these “Rainbow Lake Use Trail” and “Fake Rainbow Lake Use Trail.”
As was par for the course so far, I reached the top of the hill and was staggered by the beauty! My soul exulted! I was so free! So many places to camp! Such beautiful, open areas, with stands of trees below! My thoughts ran a mile a minute, as seen below:
Should I park my tent up here on a flat spot? No, that’s a long trek for water. What about down in the trees by the water? Well, I should approach with care…there aren’t many trees, and I bet it’s inhabited already. I don’t want to upset anyone! I don’t want to be seen, either! Best to be a shadow! Man, this has to be the most popular spot. It’s still quite a ways, I’ll approach and scope it out.
In the pictures above, you’ll see a grove of trees near the water, which I explored a bit, as you can see in my GPS recording. They had what were effectively little clearings in them, and as I walked by, I looked in a bit. No one was there, nor did it appear that anyone had recently visited. This was shocking, since I’d so convinced that I’d find people there. Next time I visit the area, I might spend a night at the lake, though I have a hunch that perhaps Lake Elsa only has brook trout. Also, if you look at the far side of the lake, you’ll notice a little, tree-filled spit of land, which sometimes seems to be an island. It seemed like another great area for camping, though rangers might become angry at one’s proximity to the water, and the views aren’t as nice as toward Cloud Peak.
As I walked toward Lake Elsa, I made the determination that I might just try to park my tent up in the Pouch Lakes above. I really don’t have a clue what the lakes are called, but I’ve seen others call them that—they’re the lakes that the waterfall is coming from, and are in the cirque to the east of Crater Lakes, which have an official name.
Of course, one downside is that the Bighorns can sometimes be inhospitable near lakes; Frozen Lakes was the most miserable I’ve been trying to find a camping location, because the entirety of the ground was covered in boulders as far as the eye could see. I managed to find two places to camp…both on boulders that were big enough to pitch the tent on, but neither of which was really flat and level. Might it be the same by the Pouch Lakes? I could spy some trees, so I didn’t think so. If worst came to worst, I’d drop my pack and go minimalist exploring Pouch Lakes, then head either back down to Elsa, or over to Crater and then down to Cliff or Sheepherder Lake, which sit below Crater Lakes.
In the picture above, you can see where I zoomed in to decide if I wanted to try scaling the cliffs on the other side of the waterfall (to the left/east), as the cliffs on the right were impassable. It looked like the creek mostly went under the boulders, so that part would be easy going (well, other than the boulder field), but I wasn’t certain about the climb along the ledges. On one hand, it would save me elevation gain, which I hate, but on the other hand, with a heavy pack on, I don’t really like putting myself in a place where I can have a bad fall. I made the mental decision to take the extra elevation gain and find my way up through the boulders and grassy patches far to the right. With that done, I pressed on.
Reaching the outlet of Elsa, I was hesitant to try a crossing, as the rocks were a bit widely spaced, but it didn’t look too much easier downhill (in fact, in the immediate area it looked worse), so cross I did. It turned out that there was no problem, and I began to climb up around. If you go to the media file attachment of the picture below and enlarge it, you can see the stand of trees I explored earlier, the crossing, the little spit of land/island, and the waterfall. You can also see how climbing the side of the hill here isn’t that bad. In the second picture is the use trail going up to the Rainbow Lake area. I should also note that there is a use-trail around Lake Elsa, but the official trail never “visits” this lake. (Or the cirques.)
From the crossing at 10,100 feet, I clambered my way up to a low spot at 10,527 while lisetening to “Is Postmodernism Marxist or Libertarian—A Soho Forum Debate.” Professor Stephen RC Hicks debated Dr. Thaddeus Russell, who came off as a hopeless slave to the imbecilic shysterism of Derrida and Foucault. The debate was so stunning in Hicks’ victory over Russell that I had to transcribe some of the latter’s own asinine ramblings. Since you might not click on the link to the transcription, let me go ahead and give you a snippet of something he actually said during the debate:
“There is nothing in my book, in my work, anywhere, that is true. I never speak the truth. I’m telling stories. I’m telling new stories; different stories…you can like them or not. I don’t think they are any more true than any other story—about the holocaust, about World War II…“—Dr. Thaddeus Russell
As I became more and more irritated listening to Russell, whose mind is an obvious boulder-field, the going got progressively more into the lines of outright rock-hopping, though there wasn’t much in the way of slipping boulders. I pissed off a few pikas, as one does when trundling through their territory, but no more than Thaddeus pissed of me. As I crested the depression on my topo, I caught my first view of what I’ll call Lake 10,427, where fish were hitting! I was as refreshed by the sight as I was by every time there was a break from Russell speaking to let Dr. Hicks talk. I knew that I’d made anyone I could, including future hiking partners, listen to this stunner. (Note: and as I type this, I have. Some have been so enraged that they’ve told me to turn it off.)
Lake 10,427 looked gaw-jus and I was eager to fish, but I took a bit of time to assess where I might camp. The south side (on the right) looked unwelcoming as far as boulder-hopping went, and also lacking in shelter or spots to put the tent. The north side was near the waterfall and seemed as if it might have a few places to bed down, so I angled off to the left and descended. The left side is much more boulder-free than the right or middle.