Reading Time: 33 minutes

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Status: Not yet proofread. This hike was far too hot, and until we found a hidden trail, we were very much over it.

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➻ Quick Facts

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⤷Introduction

I wanted to do Elk Lake (easy from St. Lawrence TH) or Klondike Lake, but mom thought the former was too easy and recently gone over (portions of it), while the latter seemed too hard. She thought we should try a new place, going by Little Bob Lake, down a mountainside, and into the Shangri-La area via North Indian Pass. We might also be able to do Dom/Don Lake and that area as well! Up front, the weather was hideously hot and this did not end up working out at all. In fact, it was by far the hottest hike I’ve ever done, even compared to the first few days of the ill-fated (well, for my companions, not for me) hike to Polaris Lake. It’s also worth noting that we’d wanted to do Indian Ridge to the south, but a local at Wild Iris Sports in Lander told us that an outfitter was required to use it. Little Bob seemed to be permitted with a Trespasser’s permit, though no human we called could tell us definitively. We decided to take that as a “yes,” and if we found out it was a “no,” pay the required money and move on.

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⤑Day 1: Little Bob Lake Has No Fish

I got up early after going to bed late, which meant I only had about 6 hours of sleep. Mom accidentally overslept, but it turned out that was fine, as there were many delays trying to get to the trailhead (bison, road construction, etc.). I also got to spend more time with my beautiful little daughter before leaving, which is always a pleasure—it feels selfish to leave her for a hike. We had also gotten to pick vegetables from our garden the day before.

We also had some confusion about where to meet up, and by “we,” I mean mom, who somehow plugged in the wrong address—as it turned out, there were two roads with the same name in a V shape, and somehow mom ended up far south…of neither road. In any case, we finally met up, drove for quite some time, and then ditched the Patriot off the side of the road and went together in the Wrangler.

The drive up was very slow in light to moderate rain with thunder and lightning, making parts of the road quite boggy in the lower valley, though also pretty beautiful. We took the google maps way, and that was inefficient though effective. There was a much better way to get in/out that I used during the egress. The road itself was definitely 4×4, and about 1.6 miles from the unofficial TH to Little Bob Lake, it became such a serious 4×4 road that I decided to call it quits—didn’t want to scrape up the brand new (leased) Wrangler. I would probably want a lift kit with 37s, or a short wheelbase Jeep to really do it comfortably…or really just any old clunker with a good lift. Not really a place for a new rig unless you want to scrape it up. 

A few words should be written about getting up to the “trailhead,” or as far as you can make it up. First, your GPS will try to take Little Bob Road the entire way, which is really incorrect. You’ll see in the pictures below the correct route up. We went up the wrong way, and coming back down corrected our route. Basically, you’re going to try and take the straightest line possible. There are no gates, fences, etc., that will get in the way, but it’s a true 4×4 road as you go up the mountain. After you crest one notable hill, you’ll go down through a huge meadow. Beyond this is what I call the upper portion of the road. (Oh, and make sure you have your trespass permit.)

The upper portion, which Nancy Pallister called a serious four-wheel drive road, is really more of a side-by-side trail in places. I would also say it’s better just to get an early start, because it’s not a quick trip up, not even the lower portion of the road (which I have been somewhat remiss in mentioning is rather a fun road to screw around on). In any case, we weren’t moving with backpacks till 2:00 p.m., so I decided that we would either end up at Little Bob or Crater Lake—although mom ended up having zero interest in Crater Lake and was pretty possessed by having a short day to begin with. Oh, and I forgot, but as we left, we wanted to take the Lord’s supper, but I’d lost the wine. As it turned out when we got back, I’d just put it in a little container and lost track of it in my large cooler. Oops. I was bummed about that.  

The road after leaving the Jeep was atrocious. Even though you could get a very high clearance Jeep up there, I feel like the going would be almost so slow that walking would take the same amount of time. The road went uphill for a tiny bit from where we parked and then was mostly flat. Cows walked ahead of us for about 3/4 of a mile, which was pretty dang funny, as they refused to get out of the way.  As we walked, we saw lightning all around, and then we started to smell smoke, which made us a little bit worried. We couldn’t see anything, and at one point we were able to contact our family members via cell phone. There was nothing on InciWeb or the news, although ALDARS showed numerous lightning strikes to the west of us, which would mean fires moving our way if they occurred. 

Below: The upper portion of the road.

Eventually, the road entered meadows, which terminated against a forest; at that point the road split off and went right, steeply up to the top of the bald mountainside. Going left we saw a small trail entering the forest, and then followed the trail through the forest. It’s fairly easy to follow and is a very easy walk up to little Bob Lake. We basically went through some trees in a flat forest, climbed a little through a field, and then took a hard left down to Little Bob Lake.

Below: The trail to Little Bob Lake.

Little Bob Lake had come strongly recommended to me by a (now retired) CMSgt friend of mine, with the caveat that he had last been there in 1988, the very year of my birth, and also a year that was notable in the west for huge fires, especially in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem. He’d gone with outfitters and had some smashing success fishing, so I was pretty excited to give ‘er a go. 

We arrived at Little Bob Lake to find tons of spots to put down our tents along the north and east, as they were flat and grassy. Elsewhere it was lumpy, filled with downed trees, or otherwise marshy.  There were numerous old fire rings, with one giant one, and some old outfitter activity—even an old grill. Too bad we didn’t kill a cow! Despite my friend CMSgt Perkins having been to Little Bob for great fishing, it was now devoid of fish entirely. Cows obviously used it to water, but we were able to find a spot near the trees to get water without cowpies and sand (and although we placed our tents right in the use trail, we didn’t think that we’d end up bothering anyone). Mom found amphipods in the water, further showing that it had no fish. Probably not oxygenated well enough, and I had to assume that they had stocked it in the years prior. In any case, it was only 3 miles to hike there from the Jeep, so it was a very early stop. The distant, rocky mountain tops to the south were attractive to see in the dying sunlight, but Little Bob is by no means a destination lake. 

Worryingly, Tanker 10, a giant DC-10 jet retrofitted into an air tanker, flew right over our heads—was it going to Casper to re-fill? As we set up camp, it came zooming back over us, low once again, having only been gone long enough to fight some fire.  It must have been on its way to Boise, judging by the direction. Regardless, at least the smell of smoke had abated a bit!

For dinner, we both chose to eat our heaviest meals (of course.) My mac and cheese was fine, while the spicy birria (also by Adventure Wel)l was also pretty decent (flavor not off-putting, not too spicy, was actual meat, but a little bit bland), and didn’t need any seasonings—still, it wasn’t anything that I’d lick my lips for, and I won’t be purchasing anymore. Both reheated well, although the Adventure Well meals do not have Ziploc (™, I know) closures, and they suggest that you cook them in a pot. I will never cook a meal in a pot. I guess rafters? Car campers? Truly bizarre. The wind picked up, so we said goodnight to each other early and went to our tents—it was a very brisk wind indeed. I read some before going to bed.

During the night it warmed up quite a bit, or at least I did, as I ended up quite sweaty. The wind calmed down like a baby on the nipple, and elk bugled beautifully beneath the slight sliver of moon available to them.  At one point, mom got up to pee and startled what sounded like a moose wading in the lake, but after about 120 seconds of tachycardia, it was clear that the creature had absquatulated into the forested environs. 

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⤑Day 2: Norman Lake and Heat Exhaustion

We woke up with the sun to find it most pleasant and not too windy. Overnight, Mom’s sleeping mat (my most expensive one, which I loaned her) had deflated a couple of times, which was odd because I had just used it the previous hike and had no problems. I wondered at first if it was due to cold air contraction, or perhaps, and more likely, operator error. This I elected to defer until later. Perhaps it was broken and needed a patch, and I didn’t feel like doing that in the morning. Mom said in any case that it was a very slow leak and only left her hip against the ground. 

At this point as I am dictating this, my mother wishes the record to show that we have seen bear sign multiple times, by which we do mean both fresh and old bear poop. Also many cows. 

Around 9:30, we followed a use trail up towards the low spot in the saddle above Lenagon Meadows and trotted along with listening to Blinkist—specifically The Managerial Revolution by James Burnham. The trail was fairly easy to follow, but it came and went, probably being really more of a cow trail based on the cow poop hanging in the trees. Instead of descending to Lenagon Meadows, we followed the contour line, which wasn’t the fastest, but avoided us being in brush. It also avoided losing about 134 to maybe 150 ft. [NOTE: We found a FAR better way to ingress/egress, which is detailed in the last two days, but only if you want to avoid the plateau lakes.] Anyways, this kept us in the shade of the trees for a while, and at the time we thought it was “Probably worth it overall.” Why is that in quotation marks? Because I dictate my travel notes to my phone as I hike, and that’s exactly what it said. Because I use speech-to-text, it takes about as long to fix the notes as it would to just write them, but it also helps me avoid dropping out important details.  

Below: Use trail, then above Lenagon Meadows.

Our goal for the day was Rock Lake or Norman Lake, near Zip and Zap Lakes, which are seemingly unofficially named by Wandering Daisy.  This was primarily because my mom had no interest in Crater Lake and a mild interest in Lake 11,800, which is a glacial remnant up on the plateau. We could basically make our way along the plateau to that high, high lake, then shoot down a chute (we hoped) to the North Indian Pass Trail, which is not maintained.   Our other option was to try and make our way down to Native and Grassy lakes, but I wasn’t sure how the river crossing would be, how the deadfall would pan out, etc. As we neared the 10,800 contour, we began to wonder about whether or not the extra 1000’ of vertical climb was worth it, especially as I like adding on named lakes. 

Along the way, we crossed an ancient fence which was INCREDIBLY cool to me—the effort it must have taken people back in the day to construct that fence was Herculean. Did it really do much good? There was a nice stream flowing down to Lenagon Meadows, just before the fence, and we got a lot of water—then packed some more, because the plateaus can be uncertain in that regard.

Below: Views from the plateau.

The walk was long and slow in the very hot sun; it truly seemed to never end, like hiking to Downs Mountain from the Dubois side. We saw two herds of elk, but other than that, there was very little to distract one from the interminable grass hillsides—a pass to the north seemed uninviting, but would get you to the Dinwoody area rather handily. Finally we came to the ravine we needed to go down…only to find it was actually a mile farther away, and we’d found a very false ravine (great creek,though)! I asked Mom if she wanted to go see Lake 11,800, but she didn’t know. I was able to split the difference by convincing her to just hike half a mile so we could at least look at it. I told Mom to dunk her head, but she refused citing a miniscule cloud blocking the sun making things cool. When I objected to that, she cited clouds to the east that had built up. It was a poor decision, as the clouds to the east do not move to the west, and the tiny cloud was soon gone.

Lake 11,800 is hard to access due to its terminal moraine. Mom agreed to hike around the moraine high enough to get a look at it, despite having to climb a couple hundred feet. She got to where she could barely see it, then headed back to where we left the packs, but I kept going up and got a better view—it was a pretty lake indeed, and I loved the glacial ice still hanging steeply above it. I couldn’t get a good picture with the 4 zoom levels on my phone, so I headed back down and beat mom to our packs, where we got some more water (she didn’t know where we’d left them anyway). Crazily, we could have headed southeast and been basically on top of the world with cell service and everything, but it was late, so we headed down the ravine. 

Below: Rock/Dom areas and the glacial lake.

I would call the ravine gawjus, and it was easy enough this time of year—debris high on the rocky sides indicated just how much washout the area gets in the early summer. There was one section about 150 feet long with troublesome vegetation (though we did find raspberries to eat!), and then we had the worst part: the terminal portion was seriously steep with incredibly loose talus.  As we carefully picked our way down, we saw 10 Tanker zoom by again, and only slightly later, saw two of them meet in midair, one turning right and the other left as they passed very close to each other, a sort of aerial handshake.

When we got to the bottom of the talus (for the most part, as we didn’t go all the way to the main creek, as the terrain was quite rough in that direction), mom flopped down on her back. She was very ill due to the heat throughout the day. I climbed back into the ravine and got her water; she drank some of the icy liquid, and I and I dumped it on her, too. I wondered if maybe we should head down to the merging of Lake 11,800’s creek with the main drainage, as it looked like it had a small spot to camp, but it seemed better to me to find a larger spot.
Below: Down the ravine.

We headed upstream to find a place to camp. Mom couldn’t even carry her pack, so I put hers on and carried both for us. As fate had it, there were no spots to camp until we got to Norman Lake, which had an ok selection in one, small area.

The trail to Norman Lake.

I got mom water and helped her get her tent set up and tucked in, then she went to bed. I stayed up and had food (Pappy’s Carne Guisada by Adventure Well left much to be desired and looked nothing like the pictures) and some relaxing beverage, then hit the hay at 11:30. The night was fine. I snored a bit. Mom’s pad (mine she borrowed) deflated again. 

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⤑Day 3: Rock Lake; the Lost Day

I got up at 5:45 and it was cold as I went to pee. I had a hard time getting back to sleep as the sun was up and hitting my tent. I finally managed to, after having fallen asleep again and drooled all over, and left my tent as it started baking inside. The day was roasting, even in the morning, and mom realized that she lost her bear spray and knife. I looked through my photos and videos and found out that it had to be within about a 25 minute walk, so I headed back down and found them on the trail just a half a mile away. I didn’t relish adding that mile to the trip, though, and when I say walk, I really mean plod. 

Norman Lake

The heat was KILLER. We finally headed out past noon. Norman Lake is nice enough but has limited camping spots, and is long and narrow, sandwiched between the plateau and a steep bank.  Our going was slow, and mom was not truly recovered, but refused to let me carry her pack. There was no trail between the lakes that we could find, but the trek was not notably difficult, just a lot of meandering between brush and trees that must be accomplished.

Once we got to Rock Lake, we just sat in the shade for a while. Eventually we decided it was worth it to nap. Wetting my gloves helped cool me down, too, and we both fell asleep quickly in the shade, despite the heat.

After we woke up, we had to decide where to put our tents; I walked along the banks of the lake and picked up a bird which apparently had some avian form of toxoplasmosis. There are good spots on both sides of Rock Lake’s outlet, and you’re really spoiled for choice, but I liked the spots before crossing best. Some of them were quite well developed (rings, logs to sit on), though the best spots had the worst views, as they were protected from the prevailing western winds by stands of trees.

We then set up the tents (with views) and I went swimming just past a small creek; the lake bottom where I swam was sandy and beautiful, and I got used to the numbing water in only a few minutes. It felt amazing and also served as a bath. When I got back, I told mom about it, and she decided to go skinny dipping for a while. As she did that, I straightened out the camp and started getting dinner ready.

Creatures at Rock Lake.

When she got back, I asked her if she wanted to make the trip to the cirque-held lake above Rock Lake. In her heart, the answer was no. It looked like it would take too much descending and ascending due to cliffs, ledges, and pockets of dense trees, and she thought it would be better if we held it for tomorrow, or just later on. I was personally reminded of my climb above the so-called “Glacier Lakes” near Spider Lake and Heebeecheech, and while it satisfied my desire for completion, it was somewhat underwhelming—Crystal Lake was somewhat the same. So we had dinner, but did not go to the upper lake—it was getting pretty late anyway. My dinner was tres leches cake, white chicken chili, and French onion soup—the soup was the best (but hard to get the cheese off the spoons), but the white chicken chili was certainly worth a repeat. They cake I’d skip in the future. Mom didn’t feel like eating too much; she said she had indigestion. I took hydrochloric acid to help my own digestion. All the while, 10 Tanker(s) kept coming and going. 

Sunset at Rock Lake.

Before bed, I checked mom’s pad and realized that she had the wings set to deflate. I fixed that for her, and there were no more problems with it losing air.

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⤑Day 4: North Indian Pass and Cub and Dom Lakes

I got up at 5:45 to find it very wind-stormy, though it was sprinkling rain as well. I’d hoped to get an early start, but the wind was kicking like that horse I don’t like, and it prevented that. I got back in bed and didn’t get out until 6:30. The threat of storms kept coming and going, and eventually we were treated to a pretty sunrise. I was thankful to have my Kuhl Upriser shorts, too, so that I could easily run out and take pictures without having to be in my gross underwear. They’re insanely lightweight and comfy, and actually have pockets, unlike the ancient running shorts I used to bring along.

Morning at Rock Lake.

With mom being in such shape, reaching Shangi-La was some la-la-land thought. I told her that we could at least go down into the North Fork of Bull Lake Creek via North Indian Pass. I’d carry all the gear! She agreed, so just after 0800 (mom has to do coffee and food), we headed out. We chose different outlet spots to cross, but there are no issues with getting across this lake, especially not later in the year.

It was pretty easy to navigate along the edge of Rock Lake, but perhaps nicer if you stay a bit higher, which we didn’t on the way to the pass—this meant some stands of stunted trees and more up-down-up-down. This late in the season, it looked like you could make it to the Cirque Lake from the south side of the lake, perhaps with just a spot of wading around a granite slab, though the slab appeared to be a low enough angle that it would be walkable with good, grippy shoes.
Last picture is a spot where I think you could cross Rock Lake.

The climb was pretty gradual once we left Rock Lake, and we tried to stay in the abating shadows as we climbed. In some marshy areas, mom wetted her bucket hat and I did the same with my gloves, as it was another scorcher. Mom started to exhaust again rather quickly, and indicated before we even started the actual climb to the pass that she really wasn’t going to go to the North Fork area—the entire reason I’d wanted this trip. Unfortunately, she had no satcom, no water purifier, and no bear spray, so I didn’t feel that I could leave her alone.

We reached the pass with plenty of time to make it to the scenic area of the North Fork and then back to camp, but I couldn’t bring myself to abandon my mom. Certainly, despite my care, I was also given to great consternation, which I realize is unfair.  The pass itself had incredible views of the Milky Lakes area, Shangri-La, and more. It was quite steep at the top of the pass, and the first 20 feet of descent would be shady, but then it was loose talus down to a plateau of shorts, after which would head right/west rather than down. Fremont and its Glacier were pretty show stealing as we gazed, too, pictures, and picked up a spent sidearm round. Mom encouraged me to go on my own, but I declined, despite profound disappointment.
Views from North Indian Pass.

We headed back toward camp early. I felt bad for mom, but her constant questioning of “which way should be go” for the simplest pathing choices and asking how long it would take was starting to wear on me. It also meant that I’d lost out of the two things I most wanted: Crater Lake and North Fork. She told me to quit being mopey which made things a bit worse. I looked at the map, calculated the mileage, and wondered if I’d end up doing the trip via Elkhart Park as an O&B in the future. I sure hoped not. This had been so much effort to get turned back halfway. 

As we headed back down to camp, my intent was to pick up and head to Cub and Dom/Don Lakes. Perhaps we could make the trip better by exploring them; I wanted to explore the high lake about them to the north, too! The biggest worry, given my mom’s constant need to dunk her hat in cold water, was whether or not she could make it back out with a pack on. I certainly didn’t need a heat-stroke mamma, but I had been having a weird issue with my mediastinum for quite some time, and it had gotten quite a bit worse by the middle of the summer—swallowing was sometimes painful, and I developed signs and symptoms that a contingent of physicians called “weird” and “distressing.” One particularly autistic one said, “It’s progressing rapidly, but I don’t think you’re going to die.” Meanwhile, my friends were asking questions such as, “Is it contagious?” and, “Can I have your computer when you die?”

I reckoned in my head that I had to re-envision the entire trip, kind of like how you re-envision living to 92 by saying, “I guess 39 is more years than most people got in 409 B.C.” In this reimagining, we could go down by Native and Grassy Lakes, that way we’d complete a bit more of the fetch quest I call “Check off named lakes in the Winds,” but if we did that, we didn’t know if we could cross the river easily or even get back up without the world’s largest expenditure of energy. Way back in the day, I’d heard that there was a use trail down to Horseshoe Lake from the bald ridge east of Lenagon Meadows, but finding it in the maze of old burn would be basically a miracle, and currently Satan had been rather too active for me to feel good about those chances . In any case, by that point I had already notified my wife and told her that I was going to cancel the rest of my vacation, which kind of sucked, especially as my wife told me that I’d be permitted no hiking with the oncoming newest baby, so…I figured maybe I could take Yue Little to Florida? During the walk next to camp, mom put forth some mostly terrible ideas about how to make things fun. The day was hot again, and not too much of a breeze. 

We tried to get to the overlook to see Norman Lake and ended up being much farther than I expected. During the climb up, I found a coffee lid belonging to AJ. We were able to look down to see that the cirque to the north was not as pretty as I had thought it might be and and the same time decided that it would be something for later, if ever. As one word to the wise, when hiking to the pass out of Rock Lake, it’s better to ascend and achieve the grassy slopes rather than staying too close to the lake in the trees and bushes. (Which I guess I mentioned before.)

Mom was upset so she continued far ahead of me. I walked through the lake in the sandy shallows rather than go back through the outlet—it saved distance and cooled me down.

Once we got to camp, we very slowly packed up in the heat, and then set off for Cub Lake. It’s not many miles, but the going is extraordinarily slow over giant boulders which choke out the forest. It certainly wasn’t fun. Before we got to Zip and Zap Lakes, we passed a muck pond that looked hot and filled with algae. Getting around this was cumbersome as the boulders were so large, and where there weren’t boulders, it was trees. 

Muck Pond and Zip or Zap Lake.

Zip and Zap Lake were not all that beautiful either; we passed in between them, where, should you need, you could camp without being in the midst of/on boulders. The views weren’t as great, though looking East and toward the plains was somewhat attractive. We then made our way to another unnamed lake/pond which had infinity-pool views. We headed northeast and then followed a great animal trail down to an area of verdant muck, then made our way down a boulderfield to Cub Lake. We chose to go west in search of a spot to camp, and also because it looked easier. We could have climbed up just above 10,800 following the areas of hillside without woods, and it looked like the ascent with slightly less descent would have put us at a nice, flat area of meadows—but then it also made it seem that we might need to backtrack some amount.

Zip and Zap Lakes.

Cub Lake looked somewhat like it was on the edge of the universe. We circled the shoreline to the inlet (where it looked like outfitters had been) and then followed a very distinct use path up to Dom Lake; to this day, I’m not sure exactly what connector trails exist to make Cub Lake accessible from the primary trail. Camping spots were not exactly plentiful near Dom Lake, though it is helpful to distinguish between Lower Dom and Upper Dom Lake, or at least that’s what I decided to call them. The upper lake has far more spots to camp than the lower; it’s worth pressing on to that lake, which is more scenic, too.

Cub Lake.

Regardless, we did find one which had many signs of use from prior occupants. They really didn’t seem to care for the pack it in, and pack it out concept, but it was getting late and we needed a place to stay. With thunder threatening, the dusty bowl with the signs of previous occupancy became our home. The compaction of the dirt indicated that likely numerous people ended up stuck there, and it wasn’t the greatest spot. The views of the lake were hidden by trees on one side and a bunker of granite on another. Views of the mountains were blocked by sharply rising granite outcroppings—truly one of the less enjoyable places I’ve ended up. It was, however, well protected from the wind. Mom and I quickly set up tents and got inside to let some sprinkles make their way through. The “storm” moved past quickly.

Camp at Dom/Don Lake.

I had developed something when passing by Cub Lake, secondary to a fly flying nigh into my lungs, leading me to a coughing fit nigh to the point of throwing up. It made eating my French Onion soup painful, even, which is what I did after the storm had moved off. Having left us, we had dinner as the heat kicked back up—ugh.  I made my way east on the granite outcropping and found a nice place to dip my feet in the water of the lake to cool off. Stratocumulus clouds and a rapidly sinking sun made swimming something I was not too interested in. On a tangent, my solar batteries were still at 75% charge.

Cooling off.

We got to bed relatively early, after I explored a little bit of the lake.

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⤑Day 5: Glacier Lakes, Moose Lake, Native Lake, and Grassy Lake

I got up around 5:30 to a storm with rain and thunder—there went the early start. The rain continued through approximately 8:00 a.m. and thereafter was intermittent. During one of the breaks in the rain, I popped up to the upper lake and found it pleasant to behold. However, with the rain coming and going, we realized that we’d just have to deal with it, so we got out and I cobbled together a day pack to take to the higher lakes. We then climbed the granite to our west and went fishing in “upper” Dom Lake, as we were really at a different lake (as mentioned above), as it turned out, separated by cascades. (Mom had been to the cascade the previous night and not loved it overly much, citing a fishy smell.)

Upper Dom/Don Lake.

We spent plenty of time fishing, then crossed the (easy) outlet to the northern side, and thereafter followed a use trail toward the upper lakes. The use trail was quite distinct for the majority of the way and didn’t even suffer from blowdown. It pretty much peters out abeam the inlet area of Upper Don Lake, but it is by no means difficult from there to reach the upper lakes. We ended up fishing the lakes for far too long and then saw that it was 1:00 p.m. We wanted to make it to perhaps Native Lake by the end of the day, so we hustled on out and back to the camp, choosing to skip the highest lakes, which we felt were less likely to have fish, and more likely to delay us if they did. Furthermore, we didn’t think that there would be a huge change in the dynamics of the scenery.  

“Glacier Lakes.”

After getting water and tearing down the tent (and my mom cooling off in the lake), we headed on out. Between Don/Dom and Cub Lakes there is an unnamed pond filled with rock slabs. Instead of following the use trail down to Cub Lake, which we didn’t want to do as it looked like we’d have to regain elevation, we crossed the rocks and then headed straight towards the mountainside and intercepted the actual trail which was well worn and easy to find. We never found the spot that it terminated, but we did see at least one vague offshoot heading down an improbable area toward Cub Lake. 

The pond with the rocks to cross.

The entire trail from Dawn to native Lake is very easy to follow. A sign marks the junction to Rock Lake, even. For the most part, the trail follows a very good fishing stream the entire way down, so you don’t have to worry about water, and if you decide to camp somewhere along the way, there are a few spots and infinite trout.  In any case, there wasn’t much to note about this trail. It would go from cascades to open braided channels and grassy flats, back to cascades sometimes just being a nice, steady river, and is basically shaded the entire way by trees. We passed by Moose Lake at 1620, and were surprised that the trail stays fairly high above it. We didn’t really like the fact we had to gained so much elevation (lots of roller coaster hills) but it worked better and climbing the chute back to the glacial lake.

Moose Lake, the plateau we walked, and Native Lake.

As we descended towards the outlet of Native Lake, we heard, but never saw, people.  I pointed out a possible egress route to mom; there looked to be decent rock buttresses we could walk up to the plateau, if we could reach them. Around Native Lake (a twin by naming with the one near Green River Lakes up Roaring Fork), if you’re following the trail up and into the mountains, you’ll find a short, branching trail which goes to Grass Lake. If you can continue shortly on past that, you’ll find some camping spots right by Native Lake. However, they are close to the trail. It’s better to follow the branching offshoot trail towards Grassy Lake. We did that and saw a group of forest blue TP-like tents in between the lakes, indicating some good camping spots. We didn’t want to disturb the peace of the folks we could head, so we continued on. There’s at least one other good spot to camp and the use trail goes to it; it overlooks Grassy Lake on a prominent, rocky ledge. There are two spots that are entirely level and which have old fire rings present, but no area along Grassy Lake holds more than a 2-person tent in any one spot. We were worried about getting up early and crossing a raging river at the outlets in the cold, so we continued on. The first outlet was mostly rocks. We continued past that, and my mom thought that was it. I told her that even though I didn’t have any good satellite imagery, I was pretty sure there would be two outlets. That was the case, but at this time of year, it was pretty easy to hop on a log and cross it using one magic stick for balance. Huge fish were all in the outlet stream.

Grassy Lake.

In any case, we crossed the two outlets and then realized that there were no further good spots to camp, or really any at all. It was just dead, downed trees and rocks. A small lake was on the map in the root of our egress, but we didn’t really want to head there and risk it. What if we walked the thousand linear feet to that lake and found out it was nothing more than a muck pond surrounded by downed trees (hint: it would be)? Then we’d have to make our way back, and it was getting quite dark. As such, we returned to the rock bluff overlooking the lake and set up our tents there. Mom got water while I hanged the bear bag. As dusk was falling, we saw smoke billowing overhead from the ridge to the north. It was beautiful but we wondered if we’d end up being smoked out, and we also wondered how close the actual fire was. My wife hadn’t texted me any further details about the fires other than there was a small one that was showing at Bull Lake, and one on Sacagawea ridge. With the smoke the way it was, it was hard to tell as it looked like it was perhaps just on the other side of the ridge. 

Fiery sunset.

We ate as much food as we could, knowing that we were leaving a day early. We hoped that the night wouldn’t be quite as warm as the previous night, which had been horrible and had made my head sweat. It ended up being the latest we’d ever gotten to bed, and before going to bed, after my mom had gotten it to her tent, I used two little cloth tablets which expand in water to bathe myself (mom donated them to me). It felt very good, and was the first warm water bath that I had in a while. However, due to the fire danger, I had to do it in the dark cold without anything to warm my bones. Even though it was late, I still spent too much time reading CS Lewis before going to bed. Note: I was using a bag my wife picked up in Germany to put our bear bag inside.

Thinking of my wife and kids always makes me happy.

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⤑Day 6: Hike Out Via a Secret Trail

We got up early and there wasn’t even a storm! Yay! We packed fairly quickly, and then around 0730 headed for the large rock spine leading up towards 10,000 feet or so. It was a fairly direct route toward the Meadows, and if all panned out, maybe would even be a pleasant hike up. As we made our way through the forest filled with dead wood beyond the outlets, we came across a cairn, then another cairn, indicating that others had gone this way before. Finally we came to the lake we’d seen on the map the previous night and found ourselves glad to not stop there—it was a lily pads lake, and more of a glorified swamp than anything else. Then approaching the lake, we found a well-worn trail. There were horse prints all over it. Heck, there was even a set of footprints. Surely this trail wouldn’t be that good would it? We followed it and it took us right up the mountainside, only being hard to discern once, where it crossed over an expanse of granite. It was definitely an outfitter trail, and incredibly well used. In fact, I remarked to my mom that it looked better than what the United States Forest service puts together. It was truly a pleasure to walk up, and we made a rather blistering pace up the mountainside. Eventually it kind of terminated in a v-shaped field which descended the mountain. It seemed that the outfitters and those on foot who knew the secret would make their way rather dispersed to that v-shaped field, head down to the bottom of the v, and then from there take the well crafted use trail all the way down to Phillips Lake (at least that’s where it looked like it headed to when we stumbled across it). 

Finding the trail up from the muck pond.

This trail was so good that Mom and I both remarked that it might actually make the Cub Lake area pleasant to access. From there we had to decide if we wanted to keep climbing up an extra 400 ft or cut through the woods straight towards Lenagon Meadows, making a beeline for it. Words the wise: just head straight for Lenagon Meadows. There were no downed trees to speak of in the forest and the trees that were there were old growth trees with great shade and wide dispersion. There wasn’t any underbrush, nor were there rock piles to climb over. As we went, I whistled the whole time, which mom quickly grew tired of. We quickly made our way to the Meadows and, from there stayed on the north side, passing by cows and seeing arrowhead remnants all over the ground. We listen to Tommy Mikula negotiating cars to take our minds off the remainder of the rather boring hike (well, we also listened to some of Mark Miller, an evangelist at Christ’s Church in Missoula). 

Down to Lenagon, Lenagon, then the long descent.

After Lenagon Meadows, a very defined use trail obviously used by cows basically takes a contour line for the most part right on out to the next huge field, where you’ll find the end of the four-wheel drive road. We descended that four-wheel drive road, and let me tell you something, It goes down forever. Looking out from the bottom, it looked like it was nothing. Descending down it though? Well that was a different story! Yes, it’s deceptive with a false top like you’ve never seen; I was actually glad to have the magic sticks to keep my knees from overheating. In any case, after spending the next 2000 years descending the hillside, we took the four-wheel drive trail right on out to the Jeep, reaching it just 5 hours after starting the day’s hike. I rewarded myself with a cold beverage, and then we headed out to the Patriot under dark, smokey skies. On the way home, I ended up finding out that the fire was near Green River Lakes, where some of my friends were staying as camp hosts. 

Cold and hot.

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➤Conclusion and Rating

This hike was completely unpleasant, but really just due to the heat. Now that I know a quick route, it’s a great way to get to North Indian Pass.

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•  My scientific rating system. I retroactively like this hike, after realizing that it achieved something nice, though other than what I wished for.
• Beauty. Some stunning lakes and scraped grante.
• Camping spots. Plentiful if you know where to look.
• Crowds. We heard people once, but saw people only zero times.
• Difficulty. Strenuous.
• Fishing. There was excellent fishing in various lakes and streams.
• History. I liked an old fence and arrowheads.
• Over/Under Bracket: Over: Stough Creek Basin. Under: North Fork Lake.

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