Reading Time: 45 minutes

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A portion of this hike is utterly worth it. A large section I have no interest in seeing again. All of it is better than a minute spent watching Jimmy Fallon. Not yet proofread.

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➤Quick Facts

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⤷Introduction

I had some time off and wanted to hike to Marten Lake, which had interested me since I’d seen a cool picture of it on Panoramio back in 2015. I’m always a bit sad that Panoramio got axed, but the platform was certainly poised to explode with misplaced imagery.

My options to get to Marten Lake were from Green River Lakes or New Fork Lakes, and I chose the latter. Having been to GRL so often yet never having never been to NFL, it seemed like a fun thing to do. I knew that I could do about 40 miles, and I could take 5 days to do it, so it wasn’t a real rush. Unfortunately, the forecast was for a very hot set of days, unlike the previous, cold, rainy hike to Atlantic Canyon. I much prefer colder and rainy.

My options for starting were up on the hill to the south of the lake (road 738/238 or Doubtletop Mountain Trailhead) or by Newfork Lake trailhead by the Narrows Campground. I ended up picking the trailhead by the lake just for ease of mind. My feet were still completely jacked.

Below: beef jerky? (Sorry for grossing you out…best to know what factors might have impacted my opinion of this hike.)

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⤑Day 1: New Fork Lake Trailhead to Marten Lake

I got up early and arrived at the trailhead around 0910. The road in sucked once I got to the lake, but otherwise it was an uneventful trip. After I got there, a group of 6 people arrived, including a couple of older folks, though the rest were around my age. They seemed friendly enough and smiled and nodded at me.

After signing in, I set out at a decent pace, ascending through wooded, lush terrain until I broke out one bald hillside overlooking the lake. From there it was blasted, gradual loss of elevation to lake level at the east end of the lake. As I walked down, numerous kayakers passed hundreds of feet underneath me. I honestly didn’t have a great love in my soul for the look of New Fork Lakes, and the beating sun didn’t help.

Below: New Fork Lakes and looking into the canyon.

Speaking of the beating sun (which I suppose doesn’t really physically beat), for this trip I was wearing a Kuhl Airspeed shirt (revolutionary, and I’ll write a review of it), Sheath Airflow underwear (by far the best for hiking ever), and Kuhl Deceptr pants, as well as my goofy-looking Sunday Afternoons adventure hat (which keeps the sun off of my neck and face, and has retention slots for my glasses) and some sun gloves. In other words, I was protected from that hateful ball of flames in the sky.

I reached the east end of the lakes about 30 minutes into the hike and observed a grazing flock of geese, then passed over a creek which looked very silty. The trail stayed in the sagebrush to avoid the thicket-filled riparian zone, which meant more sun. I crossed another creek, and this one was much better if you wanted to get water, which I didn’t, and kept hoofing it, looking to the south to see the trail I might descend on the way back. I hadn’t decided yet where I’d really hike, and had a number of options depending on speed and how I felt about the entire affair.

Below: Trail after the lakes.

An hour and 12 minutes into the hike I encountered my first hikers, who appeared to be a couple in their 60s. They were hiking out at a decent clip. The lady commented on my gear and said I was prepared for all the sun. She was very interested in my cheap gloves and asked me where to get them. We chatted briefly and continued on our separate ways. The track here began to climb above some backed-up stream/pond areas below. I saw tons of trout hitting the top but didn’t feel like clambering down to fish, so I made my way forward, crossed a creek, and entered into a forested section of the trail, a welcome respite from the heat.

Below: the backwaters spot with fish where the nice couple zipped by the other way, as well as some other sections of trail in the area.

That didn’t last too long! Soon I was sidehilling through more sagebrush and entering the canyon proper, with the walls closing in on both sides. An odd, off-shoot trail seemed to go to the river, and I felt that it seemed like an outfitter spot (typically very nice), but I didn’t make the time to check it out. The trail otherwise ended up above steep, cliffy walls through which the river crashed quite some way below.

4 miles in, I came across a very nice creek in deep shade and got out my water bladder to filter some water. I also ate some berries that I found and listened in shock to Nancy Pelosi saying that she would ensure America supported Israel even if our own nation crumbled to the ground. This was prior to the Hamas nonsense (I write out all my notes for a trip, typically during the trip using my stylus, then import the notes, and when I eventually get time, I upload them in non-stenographer style with my pictures), so I was rather shocked.

Below: into the wilderness I went, but then stopped at the spot with the culvert to be lazy.

I also used the time to read some. A man in his 50s with a lone dog passed me heading uphill. He was dressed for speed and seemed to be a day hiker. I’m not sure that I’d want to day hike the area, but I guess it would beat sitting at home contemplating dying empires.

After my irresponsibly long, 30-minute break, I pressed onward again and was happy that the constriction of the canyon walls meant that I was now in the shade more often than not. This portion of the trail became fairly mundane, and I found myself routinely calculating my pace and wondering if I could make it perhaps all the way to Marten Lake. The challenge to that would be the wicked climb, but if I made a 3mph pace it was easily doable, though the 3mph wouldn’t be. A solid 1.5 mph would net me 15 miles by sundown, and that seemed really easy. In fact, the topo showed that I could likely hit blazing speed on some flats, which would allow me some fishing time along the way.

Below: more trail and some whortleberries.

Just over 5 miles in I came to an awesome section of river with giant pools and huge boulders in the river. I stopped, fished, and ate some gummy worms, but sadly I didn’t get a bite. This area is likely overfished due to how exceptionally alluring it is. Because it was so close to the trail, I decided not to go skinny dipping (no one gets to see that for free), and after 20 minutes, I left.

Below: makes you want to go swimming.

500 feet beyond the pretty pools I came to the river crossing. It was shallow, but after searching upstream, I found no easy way to cross. I didn’t want to soak my injured toe or take off my shoes, so I went back downstream 20 feet and used downed logs and massive boulders as a Tomb-Raider-like crossing experience. Ha! Take that, river crossing. I was pretty surprised that I made it. Definitely not one for the butt-scooters like my very own mother.

Below: the river crossing which I did without getting my feet in the water.

Beyond the crossing the trail ascended to well above the river. Although it was less than 3/4ths of a mile to the next crossing, this portion of my journey seemed to stretch on into eternity. A myriad of small streams cut through (and flowed along) the trail, making for a boggy experience. Finally, at mile 6.5 a leftward hook in the trail brought me to the next crossing. Looking to the southern walls of the canyon, I saw a couple of chutes that looked like the would more-or-less access Palmer Lake, but they weren’t the Palmer Lake trail. In my mind I wondered if perhaps I should make my way up to Palmer Lake now. An ex-girlfriend (super great woman) was named Palmer (now Briggs), and numerous “Palmer” features are in the area, from the lake to the peak. Who was this particular Palmer?

Below: the trail between crossings.

This time the crossing was a bit deeper but had zero places to make it across without wading, so I resigned myself to shucking my shoes and crossing. The water was pretty dang cold. On the other side I used a large boulder to sit down and let my feet dry while I ate some trail snacks. Nightly Offensive AKA Slightly Offensive provided me with some entertainment as I snacked.

After making my way through some arid forest, I came out to a truly beautiful section of canyon/valley with a long, verdant park. This 1.5ish-mile section of trail is really flat and I made some good time. Along the way I encountered some grouse as well as a group of 6 young guys who were resting on their way out. We conversed a bit and I found that they had come down from Palmer Lake. They wanted to know where I was going and I told them perhaps Marten Lake or somewhere thereabouts. They seemed to have great reservations about my stated goals, and warned me that it was going to become an ungodly uphill slog. We parted ways and I kept on. About .5 miles before the Palmer Lake Trail, the day hiker and his dog passed me going back downhill. He asked me if I knew where the Palmer Lake Trail was. I pointed him to it and he sighed a great sigh,

“Well I missed that. Too late now. Maybe next time.”

Below: the trail is much prettier after flattening out around mile 6.3.

The area is a bit confusing, with numerous, well worn paths going off to places unknown (I suspect camping spots for those less pedal-to-the-metal), while the Palmer Trail itself at the branch point is nice at first and then becomes faint.

About 100 feet before the actual trail to the canyon I passed a very nice cascade and considered getting water, but didn’t feel that thirsty…then I stumbled on he trail divergence and decided to go down to the river, where I elected to fish, eat, and get some water after all. It was a nice break and the brook trout were biting (when are they not?). On the JRE, Stephen C. Meyer discussed his views on theism. While I like Meyer’s work (and Bret Weinstein and Heather Heying have said on their podcast that from a scientific perspective, his challenges to the neo-Darwinian models are striking, correct, and must be dealt with in the future), I found that he did a terrible job communicating his views to Rogan, and Rogan, for his part, came across as both extremely dense during the discussion as well as philosophically unintelligible.

Below: enjoyed this spot.

After some time I packed it up and got back on the trail, which made a switchback uphill, meandered a bit, and then beelined through the forest for perhaps half a mile. I could see on the topo that I was approaching switchbacks, and found myself very tempted to cut straight through where they began toward the Lozier Lakes Trail, as I didn’t need to go up to Porcupine Pass. The shortcut would have been .22 miles, rather than the .80-ish via the trails. In the end, I elected to go with my (maybe wrong) theory that laminar flow is faster than turbulent flow, and just took the switchbacks. There was nothing exciting about them, though the area around Porcupine Pass was somewhat scenic.

Below: the climb to Porcupine Pass. The last picture is looking up toward the Lozier Lakes flats.

After taking the right-hand branch toward Lozier Lakes, I noticed that the hillside was much steeper than I had reckoned, so perhaps the shortcut would only have been short in distance, rather than time and effort. I soon arrived at a thundering cascade and was becoming a bit thirsty, but the ravine in which the creek pounded down seemed unappealing to me, so I continued up switchbacks. The views back down the canyon were awesome.

Below: the cascade and looking back at the pretty section of the hike.

Around 4:15PM, I got to a flat section of trail where one crosses the creek. It was time for gummies and water, and I was glad that I’d waited to get water until I’d found such a scenic spot. I left after about 25 minutes and crossed the creek with a small hop, ascending the path slowly but steadily, and soon breaking out to views of a large field. At this time of year, still green, it was beautiful.

Below: a magnificent place for lunch.

About 10 minutes later I crested a little hump and looked upon Kenny Lake. The. Views. Were. Amazing. I was sorely tempted to camp there, but I noticed an older couple camped right between the lake and the trail and I didn’t want to rob them of their solitude, so I headed straight north, climbing toward Marten Lake. The hillside wasn’t too steep, but I was pretty pleased to take a couple of minute-long breaks to take pictures, as the day had been fairly long for me by that point. I also harvested and ate some wild onions!

I just realized that I don’t need to type “Below” because that’s implied. So here’s looking back at where I had lunch, up into the mountains, along the trail, and then at Kenny Lake. Wild onions don’t need to be explained.

The route I chose avoided Kenny Lake entirely in order to not disturb the older hikers, but it wasn’t the most direct route, as it took me up to almost 11,100′, and I ended up cautiously climbing down a small rockface at one point, then crossing some high-elevation springs and creeks. Continuing beyond Kenny Lake would have allowed me to beeline much more directly for Marten Lake. Still, it wasn’t the end of the world, and I happily made my way between deep ponds situated among slabs of granite.

Looking down at Kenny plus some views of the pothole ponds.

Just before 6:15, I popped out with a partial view of Marten Lake. The eastern and northern edges had plenty of grassy spots to camp, and while there were no large trees, rocky features offered wind breaks. As I made my way down toward the lake, I was gradually able to see to the west. One decent spot existed at the western edge of the lake, while the southern shores were steep. A massive boulder field reached down to the water about 1/2-way along the northern shoreline, so getting over to the west seemed like more effort than it was worth.

Marten Lake. Not sure why I took the second photo.

As no one was around, I decided to prioritize scenery for my camping desires, though I still wanted to abide by the rule of staying away from water. I swear I’m the only one that cares about this, and that others don’t doesn’t bother me, but does make me feel goofy…of course, I abide by it mostly to avoid ruining pictures if others want to have clean shots of the scenery.

Walking along the eastern grasses I made my way across a few, soggy streams, then came to the outlet. Some big brook trout were hanging out in there! Cross the creek I found that the northern edge had stunning views of the distant peaks as well as a nice look down into the canyons. The grass here wasn’t soggy, so my only real debate was to be on the lake-facing side or the mountain-facing side, as a small hump prevents you from having views of both (unless you want extreme wind).

Views from the outlet.

I set up my tent near a large boulder and had a nice view of the lake and then found that the wind was just not to my liking, so I picked up the whole tent and carted it down until I found a flat spot with less wind, looking down into the Green River. By this time it was around 7:20 and the sun was going down. The shadows were NOT warm, so I quickly set out to load up my water bladder, a process which involved a 220-foot walk to the cascade out of Marten Lake. Getting water was much easier farther from the outlet.

Looking towards Tourist Creek, Desolation Peak, Flagstone Peak, Klondike Peak, etc. I would like to basecamp around 10,700′ in the Tourist Creek area and then explore around the place. So far my efforts to get my friends to access the area via different routes have not panned out.

Once the water was done, I scrounged around for a little firewood. Well downhill (1000 feet lateral, 200 vertical) there was a stand of trees, but I was able to find enough ancient, dead material that I was satisficed I could take a camp shower without freezing my nipples off. With that done, I prepared dinner, which was Next Mile Meals Buffalo Style Ranch Chicken (I brought my own burrito shells), Bushka’s Kitchen Unstuffed Peppers, and a chocolate brownie.

Dinner was…fine. The view was killer.

The Buffalo Style Ranch Chicken wrap was pretty good and rehydrated well, though it still was a bit dry (not crispy as if it hadn’t rehydrated correctly, but more akin to eating overcooked chicken). I would eat it again, but it wouldn’t be a go-to meal for me. The Bushka’s Kitchen Unstuffed Pepper tasted…healthy. Pretty favorless. I’m not a huge fan on quinoa, so that didn’t help my opinion. Anyway, it came across as a lot of flavorless filler, so I’ll avoid it in the future.

I mean really. The view. God blessed my butt with this one!

The sun was properly down at 8:30 and I didn’t finish dinner until 9:30. The shower after that was quite dang cold, and the fire was rather meager. The wind truly cut through any heat being offered. I found myself glad to be done, but I was grateful to have the salt crust of the day washed away. (I have actually been cut by my own salt before.)

I didn’t get to sleep until after midnight thanks to my Kindle and watching an episode of The Peripheral. Despite the cold night, I slept very well.

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⤑Day 2: Day Hike to Squaretop Mountain

I woke up at 0730, but it was chilly and I didn’t even know what I wanted to do for the day, so I sat in my tent and looked at my map. It looked like I could march over and up Squaretop from my tent, but I wasn’t certain. I hydrated like crazy while waiting for the sun to hit my tent, then (after looking at my salted shirt) got out in my underwear. No one else was around, though a couple of golden eagles soared above, looking for lagomorphs or rodents to eat. My Kuhl shirt was notably salty from the strenuous hike the day before.

Salt crusts and yummy foods.

As I warmed up, I snacked on nuts and Gardetto’s, then did some successful fishing. At 1030, after deciding that Squaretop seemed an easy bag, I set off for the mountain with a smaller water bladder.

Morning fishing.

After walking about 300′ vertically down and a half mile overall, I realized that I forgot the filter for my bladder. Unlike the previous day, a high, broken layer was forming to the distant west (much better than the few, thin cirrus clouds of the morning), so I was protected from the sun. Looking at the edges of Squaretop, I realized that I’d have some opportunities for fresh water anyway, and I could certainly did a natural filtration pool if I needed, so I pressed on. I wouldn’t recommend this to anyone else, but having grown up in the mountains without running water, electricity, or telephone, it presented at most a 30-minute delay to me.

Heading to the saddle between Squaretop and the ridge near Marten Lake (there is a second Marten Lake below this saddle) involved a lot of easy walking along grassy slopes, one dive through a small, treed area, and quite a tedious traverse of a massive boulder field. If I had to do it again, I’d take the elevation loss and regain to avoid the boulder field, as following a small rivulet would have added 1/2 a mile of travel but saved me time and also danger.

That looks like an easy way up! And it is easy enough, but not the way I went. The other two pictures are just views along the way.

The boulder field started out with massive boulders that took a great deal of time to calculate a route through, then became much smaller, looser stones on a much steeper slope. I was relieved when I finally got to some hardpacked soil, but the loose pebbles made it somewhat scary, too. The 10,700′ contour ended up truly not being a friend of ol’ Lucas. At least I had wonderful views of the creek making its way down to the Green River!

Are you actually reading the bolded stuff like some sort of nerd? Sarah, dear sister, you should be since I pay you to proofread thise so now if u don’t catch this i know i lost monsy. Anyway, there was a little trail up to Marten Lake from the Green River which I only saw as I climbed. I’d never seen this trail on satellite images, leading me to suspect that it’s partially a game trail. Whatever creatures made it only made it intermittently. Other than that, you can see portions of brickfields and various views on the way to the saddle.

I reached the 10700′ intersection with the draw leading to the saddle just before noon and began climbing. A steep section with grass was a do-able ascent, but I wanted to look down on the second Marten Lake, so I made for the saddle proper. It seemed that perhaps I could climb the cliffy area abutting the saddle and not have to backtrack, anyway. When I arrived at the saddle, I was impressed with the scenery. Truly amazing. I also took a hard look at the western flank, wondering if I could climb it on the way back to avoid that hellish boulder field.

The other Marten Lake from the saddle. As I take these notes I wonder to myself why I didn’t visit it. Now I have to in the future. So close…oh well, perhaps it will be a nice way to access Squaretop.

Having stared at the other Marten Lake for long enough, I ascended the rock buttress, coming within about 100′ of where I’d descend in the future. I picked my way up carefully, but it wasn’t a scary climb. While falling would hurt and you might break something, there is plenty of room to avoid open exposure and certain-death falls. Because of how steep it was, going down would be harder to do–it would be more difficult to see what was ahead of you, and you’d have to actually climb down small segments, which I find a lot harder than climbing up.

Views from the route up. Pretty easy. Would he harder to pick your way down.

The climb ended at about 11,300′ or so. I made my way northeast avoiding a pseudopeak and sticking to flatter ground. I broke out the gummies on my way and enjoyed them. I was able to look down on Lake 10,900 after only a small climb down the hillside, and it was attractive enough, though not worth scurrying hundreds of feet down to visit, as the depression it sits in restricts your views and you’d only see maybe Greeley Point.

Views from the top.

The distances on Squaretop are deceiving. After cresting the first little pseudopeak, I could see my actual destination in the distance, but while it looked close, I’d actually have to cover 3/4 of a mile of flats (losing 200′), then 1/3 mile of climbing through boulders, then about 1/4 of a mile walking along the boulderfield at the top to see down into Green River Lakes. The total loss of elevation would be around 200 feet, with an additional 500′ climbed. The views during this part of the trip were absolutely worth it.

Do you recognize any features?

After hitting the two high points on Squaretop, I arrived at the overlook at 1354. AMAZING. 100% worth it. I loved being able to look down on the trails I’ve often trod, and seeing the mountains I’ve climbed in this distance. The clouds added to the depth of the scenery, and I sat mesmerized for quite some time.

High points and low points. I’ve kayaked the Green River.

After 45 minutes (and a phone call to my family to save on my satcom data plan), I headed back toward camp. Along the way I passed a couple in their 30s (we didn’t get close enough to talk)as they were making the final ascent, and as I was descending the last leg down to the large flat, I ran into two young guys as they were popping up the side of Squaretop. They informed me that they had set out from GRL that morning and were curious as to where I was coming from. After chatting about our respective trips, we parted ways.

I think most people come up here.

Since it was a little late by this point, I jogged a good portion of the next 1/2 mile, then climbed up and over the pseudopeak to save distance, making a beeline for the grassy hillside I had seen going up. I found the way down pretty easily, though for having grass, it was truly steep. I slid on my butt for some portions, and angled sideways as soon as I could to avoid the almost vertical, loose rocks an dirt straight below. Given my incredible desire to avoid the boulder field again, I made a regrettable decision to climb west and attempt to gain the V-shaped granite highpoint. This was likely somewhat due to the fact that I’d been tempted to make my way to Squaretop via this route in the past. Pro tip: do not do it.

Pretty steep for a grassy area. Would be easier to ski in winter than to walk down in summer.

The scramble up became easier the higher I climbed (aided perhaps by listening to some weird government employee giving testimony about UFOs), and soon enough the steep ascent was behind me. This did NOT mean that things go easier. No. Instead I found myself spending forever picking my way up and down slabs of granite, being turned back here and there, and unable to maintain a consistent contour line. At one point I had to jump a granite slot which was completely sheer and deep. I passed some little meltponds that were at least pretty to look at, but this route took forever.

And now you see one of my worst decisions.

From camp I had seen what looked like a grassy chute that could be ascended, but I was not able to make it there as I came upon another sheer section of granite that led toward the area, but provided no way down at all. I backtracked and made my way to a steep, grassy area that also had some granite slabbing and was well above the lake. At one point I was suspended by my armpits after misjudging how far down the ground was. I hanged there for about a minute trying to calculate how much momentum to carry down with me, because if I tumbled, I’d be going all the way down. My calculation was correct and I landed on the steep hillside below and was able to shed speed over about 15 feet. Then guess what I got to do? YES! A HORRIFIC BOULDER FIELD. This was not a fun one, and there were spider webs galore to make it worse. Ugh!

And this is actually my very worst decision.

I got back to camp at 6 and collected water, then scrounged more ancient, arboral debris for a fire. Dinner for the night was Pack-It Gourmet’s Texas State Fair Chili, which was unmemorable though not off-putting. Surprisingly, the weather had led me to not develop any great thirst, and my one pouch of water had been enough for the whole trip. As the sun started to set (“it’s a good one,” my friend Allen Jones would say), I was a bit hungry still, so I had Peak Refuel’s cheesy chicken and broccoli. This was pretty good if you have a taste for that sort of thing. Sadly, I found that my gummies had gotten lost during my scrambling, so I was out of them for the rest of the trip.

That’s the slot I wanted to reach. Don’t bother. It’s completely cut off by a solid cliff face that you can’t see from the bottom. The evening was perhaps the prettiest I’ve ever had. Dinner was good, though not synced to my taste profile.

I washed up in the whipping wind, which stirred itself up after sundown. Bed for me—by which I mean actually snuggling into my quilt—was around 10, but I kept trying The Peripheral to see if it would take with me and didn’t sleep for quite a bit longer. Once I did, it was peaceful and undisturbed in spite of the wind.

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⤑Day 3: Thompson Lake and Camp at Lake 10783

I woke up with the sun around 0730 and drank some lightly carbonated energy mix before getting out of bed to pee, then back into bed to eat. The morning was warm and still, an evil portent of a hot day ahead, but given the crisp air, eating indoors was a bit nicer. At 0815, a Twin Otter flew over me and a hawk at 12,500 feet, which made for a cool picture…or would have, if I had an actual camera with me. It landed in Great Falls only a couple of hours after it flew over me. I spent some checking my toes and my poor nipples.

Airplane, jerky, and nips.

I elected to spend a couple of hours fishing and indeed had a cookie and nuts as lunch before leaving, which I did around 11:30. It was a very late start, but I had nowhere to go, and today was more of a mooch about than a march to. I left the area by going to the slope I’d walked down by the lake, then shooting a low-lying gap toward Lake 10950, which is shaped rather like a heart. The views were stunning, but it was a dead little lake and not worth camping at.

The way out of camp included rather scrumptious cookies, a bamboo pad, and some new lakes. (As well as old ones.)

The walking in this area was some of the best I’ve ever had, consisting of soft, even grasses and a straight view of everything ahead. I made direct for Lake 10,830, wondering where I would choose to go for the day. Along the way I found what looked like old posts and the remnants of an old trail. I wonder if the Forest Service obliterated another trail back in the day? While I’m wondering, which lakes exactly ARE Lozier Lakes? Do they include Kenny Lake? I am unclear on this.

Lake 10830 had an odd outlet.

I rejoined the trail at 10,810 feet and began climbing uphill, passing along the way an ancient can of dropped bearspray from Kalispell, MT, and gaining the pass at 10,950′ right around 1PM. Clark Lake looked really stunning, so I mentally bookmarked giving it a visit one day.

I didn’t carry it out, but if my friend Lindsey Donohue ever stops by, she can. My friend Eric could have done the job, but he left Montana in favor of (get this) Washington state. Wasn’t even after a traumatic brain injury. No physician has been able to explain it yet. Crazy that it expired back when I worked for BNSF.

Greeley Point was off to my left, but having been up Squaretop, I wasn’t interested in it, and instead vectored south, keeping in my mind the possibility of camping at Thomson Lakes. A distinct drainage was easy to walk up, consisting of a lot of easy rock hopping, and taking me by various, small ponds.

Walking up the drainage. Apparently someone else did the same.

Reaching a pond around 11,200 feet, I found myself drawn by the topography to go west, but that wouldn’t get me to lake 11,200 (not pond), so I corrected and headed uphill to the east. (The low-lying area seems to wrap around and looks very pleasing to the lazy eye; in retrospect I would just take it to get to Thompson Lakes, because 11,200 sucked.)

While there was some more significant boulder climbing along the way, it wasn’t too excessive, and I took a snack/water break at Lake 11,370, which was filled with amphipods. I wanted to go and climb the unnamed peak just to the north of Glover Peak, but I vacillated too much and decided that it wouldn’t get me much in the way of better views than I had already had. Still, a large lake beneath it would have been cool to see, and in the future I would like to visit it as well.

Amphipods at 11370. The snowfield is a way out, though I just walked the boulders/slabs to the left.

I left the amphipod-ridden lake and arrived with an overview of Lake 10,200 at 3PM. It was a big letdown, so I turned toward Thompson Lakes. As I climbed a little pass toward them (could I make it down?), I considered just going down to 11,200 and hiking over to Summit Lake. Once at the pass I had some pretty views of Thompson Lakes and decided to read my book and call my family.

I expected 11200 to be prettier than you see in the pictures, but it wasn’t and I made my way to Thompson Lakes instead. The views from above were pretty cool.

I didn’t head down until 430, and the walk down was easy enough; I was only forced to backtrack a time or two, and I listened to the horrors of Zelensky in Ukraine firing all the recruitment officers due to corruption. Not as horrifying was a marmot which quite literally screamed at me. The walk took 30 minutes.

Screaming marmot and a look at where I came from.

Thompson Lakes were very pretty and had nice fishing for brook trout, plus gave me another place to fill up on water. While the lakes themselves are pretty, with amazing grassy surroundings leading to sandy beaches, they’re blocked from good mountain views, and are above the treeline for the most part. I ended up not exploring the area in depth, as it seemed like an easy area to return to at a future date when I had only a shorter weekend (always good to save some mystery for later). No one was to be seen, though, and given that there 5 lakes, three of which are large and definitely have fish, it would be easy to stake yourself out a place to reside unmolested.

Rippin’ lip at Thompson Lakes. (Mostly barbless…less damage, less landings, so maybe more overall damage?)

After catching a bunch of brookies, I looked at the time and saw it was 1730, so I moved out on a south-southeast orientation (don’t let modern America fool you, this was not a sexual reference). If I go again, I won’t travel between Thompson and No Name Lakes the same way. 800 feet beyond the lake I stopped at I saw a chute down to one of the lower lakes. It looked cliffy around the area, so I didn’t go down the chute, and instead made my way up a rock-laden gully. This took me an extra 120′ vertical; the chute would have been far better and led me to a grassy traverse. I ended up climbing down the other side of the gully and seeing the grassy area I could have walked instead.

The lake I left is in the distance. The two grassy photos show the easier route I could have taken.

Along the way I was blessed to walk through fields of vibrant flowers. Lake 10970 was itself small but picturesque, with great views of Glover Peak. Listening to RFK Jr. talk with Joe Rogan was a real hoot, too—I didn’t mind his voice at all, but have been saddened by his submission to AIPAC, etc., since. I think that Dave Smith from Part of the Problem is correct…Bobby is a great man with so much correct, but not telling the truth about very important topics.

Ponds with verdant edges.

Just beyond Lake 10970 I decided to vector myself south, down another gully-like feature, and was soon overlooking Lake 10790. This lake was pretty cool, shaped somewhat like a pair of wings, and gave me a choice: look around it for a place to camp or head to No Name Lakes, which was my tentative plan. Looking down I saw trout jumping, plenty of firewood, and no people…and it became clear to me that I’d rather be there than at No Name Lakes, which might not have as much wood, but were close to the trail and thus humans.

Lake 10970, my home for the night.

I descended some and headed west toward the outlet but had a spot of difficulty route-finding the way down. While nothing too terrible, for a moment I was convinced that I’d get ledged out. A little bit of butt-sliding and I was making my way down to the shoreline, which itself wasn’t really possible to walk along. Maybe going around the other way would have been quicker—I wasn’t sure. I ended up at the outlet and was pleased at the view, which was worth the minor bit of effort.

The outlet.

It seemed that another set of hills to the west hid an easy way to access No Name Lakes, but I was already decided on this little lake. All that left was to figure out where to camp! I wanted desperately to be adjacent the outlet in order to easily fill my water bladder and to hear the rushing sound of the cascade, but it seemed impolite and was rather close to the water. To the southeast I saw a grassy spot between hills and decided that it would provide a nice place to bed down (I did scramble up the hillside to look at No Name Lakes and decided it wasn’t worth it). The outlet was an easy jump across at this time of year and I quickly made it to the grassy spot, which had stunning views of the nearby mountains. Not only was the scenery perfect, but I managed to get my tent completely flat!

The downside to the selection was the small walk to the lake. While a pond was to the east and closer, it seemed stagnant. The side of the main lake I was on was sheltered from the wind (awesome), but also collected a skim of dead bugs on top of the water surface (less awesome). Still, as I would find out the next day, my choice to camp here was a good one because No Name Lakes was even more boring when I passed by.

I was very taken with my campsite. The third picture shows No Name Lakes. (A portion.)

Although the day had been rather warm, as the sun disappeared, the temperatures fell a little and I was glad to have a small fire to eat beside…and more importantly, to keep me warm during my camp bath. Given that I was the only person around, getting fully nude was a pleasure, much the same way that eating Bushka’s Kitchen’s shepherd’s pie wasn’t. The meal was truly uninspiring and bland, and no amount of salt or pepper redeemed it. I appreciate what they’re going for with natural foods, but I put a premium on flavor, so this meal got a 1/5. Won’t eat again unless my city is being sieged and I’ve already had the boot leather.

Imagine if the food had been as good as the spot I found for my tent.

After reading, I watched Thor: Love and Thunder, which was fun until it became a sermon on embracing the Rainbow Mafia. Christian culture had often failed to make good entertainment (I except Ethan Nicolle and known bigot Doug TenNapel from this statement) because of the need to pointedly moralize, and by golly if the new religion doesn’t do the same these days. It’s too bad that TW fell so far from the heights he achieved with Hunt for the Wilderpeople.

Because my pad and sleeping bag were so hot, I left the rainfly off the tent for the night. Despite the subtraction, I still sweated quite a bit.

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⤑Day 4: Hike Out Via Doubletop Trail

I woke up at 0540 and found the sunrise pretty but the air a bit chilly. My bed was coated in condensation (how???) which irritated me. I read my book until I saw the Atlanta 757 flight from JAC go over and that was my signal that I needed to pack and leave.

G’mornin’ gang!

After assessing my foot and having breakfast (I had too much food still), I got everything packed around 0930, guzzled some aqua, and headed south along the drainage. The walk was mostly grass and quite easy. Soon I passed an elbow of No Name Lakes and then stupidly tried to get around to the east…I came across an arm of the lake that was passable if I took off my shoes, but it certainly wasn’t worth it…then I saw where I had just come from! Dumb. I backtracked and the sun was stupidly hot, so maybe I should have gotten wet!

Below: In the first picture the narrow chokepoint to the mid-right is where I ended up circling to, and then making my way back from. Maybe just going left would have been smarter. The second lake can be seen in the distance. The last picture is the side of the lake I made my way around going back the other direction.

No Name Lakes (or at least one of the unnamed lakes) wasn’t all that pretty, but my opinion was likely modified by the less-than-ideal conditions I experienced when passing it. A group of 6 hikers ascended from the canyon to the west as I neared the far edge of the lake. The area they came from merges with Palmer Canyon and Palmer Canyon Trail, but that’s around 2 miles and 1500 feet lower, so I don’t know if they really did it that way—it would be a lot of boulder-hopping and bushwhacking.

Below: the other hikers coming from ________ and going to ________.

The outlet only had one small jump for me to make, followed by carefully picking my way among bushes and grass tufts until I reached firm ground. The group of 6 saw me as they made for…wherever. I decided to head for Cutthroat and Palmer Lake rather than hanging out and exploring for another night over toward Summit and Elbow Lakes. My map indicated that I could have a long day and make it out ahead of schedule, three normal days and out late, or two very long days and out on time, but without much particularly exciting in the payoff. I could have gone along the Doubletop Trail to Summit and then Summit Lake Trail to Borum Lake Trail to Heart Lake Trail, but again…pretty boring lakes in the forest.

Instead of any of that, I climbed quickly up the 150′ ridge to the west, noting that the group of 6 was doing the same about a fifth of a mile to the south. I followed a natural groove from the ridge and ended up crossing a little creek and sticking north rather than heading for Doubletop Trail 7131 to my south—in the distance I could see the great valley that led toward the Wyoming Range. One more quick creek jump brought me to an inlet stream which was teeming with cutties, and then I was on the main trail again and headed uphill. Cutthroat Lakes was a pretty area with nicely framed views, so I’d certainly recommend it over No Name Lakes. Plus cutties instead of brookies.

Cutthroat Lakes.

The trail jogged uphill and then took a 90 degree turn to the right to follow a depression which led down to the next lakes…then another climb and a much steeper descent with a couple of switchbacks and yet another little pond/lake/inlet crossing. With switchbacks included (and more creek crossings), I was to the next pond in less than 1/4 of a mile. My map indicated that Dean Lake was along a trail about 1/3 of a mile south of pond 10350, which would get me very close to Round Lake. I thought about it, but the terrain just wasn’t staggeringly beautiful. I’m not meaning to denigrate granite lumps in forests, but I don’t think many would be awestruck, and the ups-and-downs aren’t all that pleasant. Oh, and the trail on my map certainly no longer existed in real life…maybe 40 years ago.

Just tromping along.

Given that, I crossed another creek and (you guessed it) climbed uphill and back into the forest along a rather meandering bit of trail. The creek itself could have been followed for a .80-mile straight shot to Palmer Lake, but sometimes there’s a good reason for not having a trail (e.g., Clear Lake up by GRL) and I didn’t feel like being adventurous. It was only 3/4 of a mile to Palmer from the little pond in any case.

Kristi Briggs Lake, formerly Palmer. (Loves God, children, and finance.)

After a steep, 200-foot descent down to Palmer, I found that I had the place to myself, so I drank a gallon of water and caught a bunch of brook trout. Palmer Lake (named after one of my exes) had a cool framing of canyon walls to the west, which I had ascended beneath recently. It was only 1130 so I elected to snack around a bit. On my map it looked like I was about 7-9 miles (or 8.5 in reality) from my Jeep—looked like I’d be out a day early. At 1205 I heard a HUGE hootin’ and hollerin’ of what sounded like a crew of young people, men and women alike. They were up above me and coming down the trail. I quickly packed up and headed out so they could have the place to themselves. I had to decide if I wanted to go down Palmer Canyon or along Doubletop’s ridge, and the desire to be a content tourist led me to choose the climb up Doubletop Mountain. Typically I won’t add an extra 500-600 feet just for the heck of it, but this was one of those days for me.

As I left, I heard one of the young men (with a Southern accent) loudly proclaiming that they’d reached Rainbow Lake. He was only off by 3 miles! Hahaha. Laughing at that as I left, rather than taking the trail down to Heart Lake-ish and steeply up, I aimed for a skewed-ascent on a trail about 1/10th of a mile west (there are a lot of little trails in this area). This worked out in my favor in avoiding pitch, but the trail itself was a narrow, deep rut in many places. I achieved the crest of the hill about 30 minutes after leaving Palmer Lake, but a headache that had begun earlier was really hammering me by the time I got to the top at 10,640′, so I walked about another 1000′ and took a break in the shade. After 15 minutes the nausea abated (more food helped) and a naproxen helped calm the pounding in my brain.

Round Lake.

I pushed on and found the trail to be agreeable and flat overall. Plenty of small rivulets offered emergency water if needed, but it was only about 1.2 miles until I started entering intermittent shade. Sporadic, stagnant ponds didn’t add to the beauty but did break up the monotony of a somewhat dull journey. Unfortunately it was difficult to escape the insane pain in my feet; they were being compressed into hideous lumps and my toe ached. I decided as I trudged along that it was time to find a solution—there has to be a shoe with a better shape for my feet. How in the world can my performance-fit ski boots feel better than my normal shoes?

Doubletop Trail and the Gros Ventre.

Rainbow Lake presented itself at 1420, so I stopped to water myself and fish. In doing so I caught only 0 trout but did at least lose the cap to my fly rod. Blast! Clint Russel’s podcast (Liberty Lockdown) alerted me to Rich Men North of Richmond which helps you date this hike. I don’t really listen to music often, in case you’re wondering.

Rainbow Lake was pretty enough with some outfitter camping spots nearby. It sat in a 1/2 bowl; I liked the cliff and rocks flanking it on one side. 30 minutes (or more) later I left and kept heading steadily downhill. The next mile was forested, but then I entered the fire scar. If I hadn’t already sated myself with water 5280 feet back I’d have enjoyed some of the creek water before going deep into the burn (the creek branched away), but alas, my tummy was full.

Rainbow Lake. The dead trees are not close to the lake.

Just before 1600 I saw New Fork Lakes, and man they looked like a heck of a walk away. The trail was descent enough—maybe a little bit scrabbly with loose gravels in places—and there were a few offshoots that go to various horsey-people trailheads. (I cannot imagine the ennui of walking in to No Names from such places.) At 9000′ I could either start going downhill or follow along the ridge to where my map indicated that another trail would take me down. I picked the known quantity and started the 1.2-mile, 1200′ descent down to New Fork Lakes. Along the way I looked for the other trail and found it…completely covered by deadfall.

Down through the burn.

Cell service let my family know I’d be home early, but other than that I only wasted time eating the plethora of raspberries I found during the descent. I got to the bottom at 1715 and made my way to the river where the trail vanished in tall riparian vegetation. Given that there was no discernible path, I made my own way as best I could, cutting west across the river, and then southwest until I reached sagebrush. I think that perhaps a more distinct trail would have been a bit farther north but I’m not sure—hunting around didn’t seem worth it, either.

Crossing and back to the old Cheap Patriot.

Just before starting the uphill climb along the edge of the lake a man passed me going the opposite direction. He was wearing only shorts, completely wet, and hustling. Stranger than that was that he was the first person I’d seen since Palmer! A last push brought me to my Jeep at 1804. It had been a slow, 11.5-mile +1328/-4159′ day and I found that I wasn’t all that hungry, but I was certainly glad to have a cold soda!

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➤Conclusion and Rating

At just over 40 miles, this hike didn’t have a great beauty-to-mile ratio. I’d say that Squaretop made it worth it, but No Name Lakes on out was a total bore. I think that this is probably better done as a long, point-to-point hike from Elkhart.

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