Reading Time: 31 minutes

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Is this the best way to access Iceberg Lake? I don’t know, but it’s the best way to visit Elbow Lake No 2, and who doesn’t want to do that? Status: Not yet proofread.

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➻ Quick Facts

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⤷Introduction

 A man, who we’ll call Adam O’Nodd, had emailed me in June about climbing up toward Baker Lake from Slide Lake. I had not recommended that he go straight up via the creek above Slide Lake given how bouldery it is. He said that was his favorite type of hike (or something like that), and wanted to have a crack at it. Well fair enough! I had taken some time off in July, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do Ross Lake and the lakes above it (short but intense, and I have never done it because I know it will be mostly a pain without the greatest payoff). Thanks to “Adam,” I elected to take a crack at a different lake I’d been eyeing for literal centuries (that part is a lie, but since 2015): Elbow Lake No 2. Why? The name. The odd location of it, just hanging in the middle of nowhere above the Green River. Having been by Elbow Lake to the south (and I need to go back), Elbow Lake No 2 was on the docket. From there I could just check out various places, including perhaps Bear Lake and Faler Lake, the latter of which I had only ever looked down on. My thought was perhaps to do some loop, going from GRL, over Osborn Mountain (should be doable?), to Faler, up some rocks, blah blah, to Elbow Lake No 2 and out.

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⤑Day 1: A Giant Water Slide, Fishbowl Springs, a Vanished Creek, and Slide Lake

I got a late start on the hike and didn’t leave the Green River Lakes trailhead until two minutes past two. I hadn’t even been certain that I would hike in the area, and had debated redoing Lost Lake (which I didn’t make it to) up by Simpson. In the end I chose GRL. The narrative about getting to Slide Lake won’t be as detailed as it’s on my digi-scrapbook a couple of times and hasn’t changed much.  This was also my first hike with my new Sierra Designs Flex Capacitor backpack!

It was hot when I hit the trail, but going in late meant that I had the place mostly to myself. Due to the heat and late start, I decided not to just climb the mountain and head toward Faler. Not enough daylight. After crossing the outlet of the lower Green River Lake, I took the unmaintained upper trail toward the Clear Creek Junction. The upper trail is preferable as it doesn’t have as much up/down. I noticed a bunch of horses about 1/2 mile behind me, and given that horses often use the upper trail, I hurried. They never caught up to me. I hated the heat, though. Speaking of which, I also decided not to do an off-trail climb of White Rock. No water up along it, and it was roasting out, so NO WAY! 

The upper trail, White Rock’s spine (not climbed due to heat), and the classic view.

The clear creek bridge was still missing, but some logs made a bridge across it. Unfortunately, I twisted while going over, and somehow my bear spray managed to catch and then rip itself free, falling into the river. It had taken my micro-USB cable with it, but I wouldn’t learn that until later. I chased it downstream and hunted for it, but it managed to go under and never reappear after only 60 feet or so; I did find the rest of the bridge, though. Oh well. I continued on and had snacks and a ton of water with electrolytes at the Slide Creek crossing. 

The new bridge is not as nice as the old bridge. Looking up, I was tempted to climb up to Faler via the huge rockpile above Clear Lake. No bear spray, so the temptation quickly waned.

After leaving the area, and on the way up, I ran into some horse people (they all secretly wish they were centaurs) who were quite affable and inquired if I was with the group camping up at the lake. I discerned it was rather a large group—blast. I didn’t want to disturb them. Looking at the satellite imagery, it seemed I could camp south of the inlet in a little clearing.

This time I stopped at the water slide on the way up. It was beautiful, as always. I reached the meadows about an hour after leaving my watering/break spot, where I considered camping. It would mean an early night, given that it was only 5:15 or so. Crossing the river would have been easy, and I had heard that Finis Mitchell used to take horses up along the crest from the lowest portion of the meadow. Though tempted, I kept going. I don’t like early stops. 

Beauty and the Beast.

Fishbowl Springs was cool as always. Though I looked, I couldn’t find a good spot to camp nearby; it was all tight trees and lumps and skeeters.  Although I considered avoiding Slide Lake and heading south and up into the mountains until I was in a flat area around 10,000 feet, but my map only showed marshy areas, and given the limestone, I didn’t know if I’d find water. Oh well, up to Slide Lake!

The meadows, a lost hard hat, and the stream popping out of the ground.

The stream from the lake does go underground near Fishbowl Springs, though. I found this out because I elected to make my way off-trail toward the little clearing and followed a portion of it.

For being off trail in boulders/trees, it wasn’t too bad. Some convective activity rolled in and I got hailed on a little bit, along with some rain, but it wasn’t too bad all things considered. Ethan Nicolle and Adam Yenzer kept me distracted on the way up, talking about Ethan meeting a Ninja Turtle. Better than a real turtle, if you ask me. Looking at the map, I wondered if I should head to the flatish area around 10250’…

Direct route (NO!), what I did, and decent spots to camp. (In blue.)

…just south of the southern portion of the lake. The issue was getting there (slopes? rocks?) and then whether there would be a worthwhile water source. Seemed better to just stick to the lake. (Note: It’s actually a very nice area up there, as it turned out, but most people would probably like to stick to the lake for fishing and protection from slope winds.)

I popped out above Slide Lake at 1830 and then made my way down to the use trails around the edge. No people were present. I looked over where most people camp along the west end of the lake and it was quiet and seemed deserted. Hmm. 

The south side was easy to navigate, but the sky kept spitting on me. It was still warm enough that I didn’t put on a frog togg. By 1900 I had made it basically to the inlet area, southside. This area has a ton of washout rocks from the canyon above it, but also numerous, outfitter-style places to camp. I didn’t want to camp near the trail or the lakeside, so I kept going to the little clearing I’d seen. Sadly, the creek was gone at this time of year (turns out if I’d gone 200 feet more uphill it was still above ground there), and the clearing was filled with sharp rocks and not useful at all. Back to the lakeside I went, eventually finding a spot in the woods with a nice place to put a tent (no rocks). An old tent peg was in the ground, so others had used the exact same spot before. 

As I readied camp, it became quite stormy. This complicated matters for me by stirring up sediment in the lake—too bad I didn’t know about the nearby creek. Dirt, algae, and pine needles made me worry for my filter. I would have to backflush it for sure, but I’d brought a syringe, so it wasn’t hard to do. Perhaps more worrying were all the widowmakers creaking all about. After securing my tent, I took a break as it stormed, and once that was done, I caught some trout. A deer accidentally stumbled upon me. It’s odd how often people and animals accidentally happen upon me.

Fishing done, dinner consisted of Backpacker’s Pantry Hatch Green Chili Mac (boring, some heat, no flavor), Next Mile Meals marinara (which I like, though this batch had an odd flavor profile…maybe it was me), and Peach Cobbler from GastroGnome. The cobbler couldn’t hold a candle to Peak Refuel’s version, and tasted like someone just north of Portland would feel pride in eating it.

I felt very sad to not be with my family, and wished Yue Little could be with me. The mosquitoes helped take my mind off the sadness and the blood out of my body. A small fire allowed me to clean up while avoiding some of the bloodsuckers. The tent was nice and very warm, so the down pants I’d brought with me were not needed.

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⤑Day 2: White Rock, Elbow Lake No 2, and Golden Lakes

I got up at 7:15 for day two, but it started off with thunderstorms and quite cold temperatures. To accompany this selection, God threw in plenty of rain and gusts of wind.  I ended up having to hold over in my tent, so I elected to snack around inside until it warmed up, and then didn’t head out until almost 11:45. The temperature was perfect for a strenuous climb, for which I felt blessed.

As I made my way up, I found the creek was strong and clear before hiding under the limestone ground. Although I considered following the ravine it cut uphill, it was steep and scrabbly, and limestone is sharp and unforgiving, plus I might get ravined out/cliffed out.   If I go again, I might give it a shot just because the geology is neat. Instead, near the entrance to the ravine, I headed left following some animal trails and sidehilling. The trails came and went, sometimes being rather distinct, but eventually I had to engage in an incredibly steep climb up a hillside that was covered in inches of old pine needles. This was far more difficult than one might think it should be, and only low branches allowed me to continue.  My inclinometer showed an average of 38 and a max of 52 degrees…not that bad, but on footing which simply slips away like wet soap, it was quite the challenge. It took me 30 minutes to get from the lake to where the area starts to flatten out, which wasn’t great for only a 500′ climb, but not at all bad given the terrain.

If you want water, I would continue uphill for a bit, as the ravine is still pretty deep at first and it’s easier to walk along the flatter areas. I had some water with me as I didn’t think that I’d get any up there (recall that I thought the creek was dry), so I drank it all and had some chips and gummies, then continued uphill. As the trees start to give away, it’s a good time to get water, as otherwise you’ll be without for a long while. The mountains above me on the left and right were an awesome sight, and even better was a very visible use trail going up the pass. I really loved this area, filled with flowers and stunning views, and would have been happy to camp there. On the other hand, I would not have liked it so much if I’d hiked it in the baking heat. 

I should have gotten more water from the stream when I had the chance, but I was too lazy, and by the time I made the decision to, the stream was a trickle, so I kept going–I did see an old tent peg around 10,400′, though! Humanity!

The trail up the pass ended up being a washed out rut filled with treacherous gravel, so I stuck mostly to the right side of it, so as not to slip down the hillside–it was annoying enough that I considered vectoring east and just climbing the grassy hillside. That would have bypassed the pass, so I didn’t, and reached the crest at 1320, which meant it took me about an hour and fifteen minutes of actual walking, which excludes my lunch period, to get to the top.

The views were simply stunning, and it was so cool to know that I’d hiked so much of it, from the canyon floor to Squaretop across the way! Prominent animal trails headed down into the Green River canyon from the crest, though I’m sure they basically vanish at the tree line. A well-defined trail ran along the crest, heading both toward the trailhead and toward Lost Eagle Peak. I took off my pack and jogged along the spine toward the trailhead to see what I could see. One of the ridges going down toward the lake would have offered great views, but it was too long of a haul, so I only explored it 500 feet, then headed west. The rock and dirt was easy to make good time on.  After spending too long taking pictures, I headed back to my pack. The excursion added a mile to my trip, and worse, 40 minutes!

Grabbing my pack, I headed up toward Lost Eagle Peak. White Pine Ski Resort in Pinedale, WY, has a cute little black diamond run called Lost Eagle, so it kind of gave me a reason to traverse the gently sloping mountain toward the canyon overviews, rather than heading straight toward Elbow Lake No 2. Given that I didn’t have much of a plan, I couldn’t really be too late–only late back to work. 

The trail up Lost Eagle was gorgeous and pleasant, with one “tight” spot that was kind of fun, but which my mother would have hated. I made my way to the canyon overlook (above Slide Lake), which involved a gentle slope over a landscape of infinity.  At the edge of the canyon, sheer walls provided an opportunity to look down 2,000’ on the creek below, but don’t worry, the most the fall could be is perhaps 1,500’.  From the sides of the “mountain,” it was obvious that going straight up to the upper lakes from Slide Creek Lakes (the straightest path) was an errand for the terminally self-hating.  Although possible, the massive boulderfield, which choked out at the end into a narrow, vertical ascent, would take forever. The next day I’d walk by the same spot I was looking at, and from the first lake above the canyon, it honestly looked like it would be nearly impossible to do that scramble.

I climbed down the first waterfall below.

Right north of where I stood was a cascade on the far side of the canyon wall. It looked doable, if unpleasant, and in fact I’d be doing it soon—just didn’t know it at the time. Just to the right was another cut up the hillside, but I didn’t take that, and neither would I recommend it over the two, connected options, as it was boulder hell. Farther to the northeast was yet another waterfall, and it was so vertical that it wasn’t worth consideration. Unfortunately, my view of Slide Lake was blocked by the large gendarme, and it would be a ¾-1 mile round-trip teck back downhill to get a nice look from above, which just wasn’t worth it to me. Maybe one day.

Soon it was time to quit gawking and get moving. Though the clouds had cleared for the most part, the temperatures were ideal. I made sure to climb the tallest stack of rocks to properly “summit” the “peak,” as I had likewise done on Squaretop.  While up there, I texted my wife my plans, as there was a bit of cell service—hoped to stop at Golden Lakes for the night. Even better, my sweet daughter, trailname Sweet Potato, sent me a glorious text!

I have to say, it’s a small mercy to find gorgeous flowers in such inhospitable terrain. From a different post (militant atheists have no angst, as in such a worldview free will is entirely precluded, and I have no choice but to foist upon the world such superstitious ramblings) I made, lest you be confused:

After church assembly, I went to the business and worked there briefly, then went to ATC work. I helped out a medevac pilot while I was on shift, and he later called the airport and told them he had been flying since the 1980s, and had never worked with a better controller. 5/5 stars, he said, and wanted to know if his company could do something for me. So that felt good.

More than good, it made me feel grateful. My values orient toward a transcendent cause, so I have a reason and intention for every behavior, and feel gratitude for the small mercies. Well, at least that’s what I call them. It’s these little things that happen, like when we got our place in spring, and a beautiful pansy later grew without us doing anything. Then some of the birdseed ended up sprouting below the bird feeder, and now we have sunflowers. It’s as if God was like, “Cool, they like these little birds. Let’s throw in some sunflowers on the house!”

Unlike huge breaks one may receive, these aren’t exciting, but they are comforting. They’re the little things that make your blood pressure go down. For me, the feeling of gratitude is important for these little things. We have all seen some who seem to despise the day of small things—but that is something that strikes me as not quite right, as if there is a deep bitterness in the soul which needs great healing. I don’t know how to offer a panacea in such cases, but I do try to joyfully point out the small mercies in this life, so that others can also appreciate them. 

Bible passages not included. You can comment any that you are reminded of, if such exist.

Because Satan needs to get his barbs in, too, the last text I got was from work, regarding an emergency. I had to waste time handling that with very little cell reception and it sucked. I’m not a salaried employee, but I’m expected to not just ignore these things. I guess I should just stick to SATCOM.

I hate adding distance to a trip, so I was tempted to follow the ridge and then descend straight to Elbow Lake No 2, but the section right above the lake had a spot where the lines looked perhaps too tight. For that reason, instead of going straight east, I made my way downhill to the south. It was an easy clamber down though depressing as I had to lose 900 feet I’d fought hard to gain. It’s not worth the attempt to go straight down the hillside above the lake (too steep), so I followed the beautiful slope downhill, then cut back east to the lake. The area reminded me greatly of Powell Lakes in the Cloud Peak Wilderness, though far more vast. At 11111 feet, a spring and stream were present, but even though I was thirsty, I kept going to Elbow Lake No 2, which was only 1000’ away. Elbow Lake No 2 looks more appropriate in person than on the map, where it seems to hang in a spot designed to purposefully discourage visitation: no reason to pass by the place, no reason to make it a destination, and not near any trails, plus the only routes it supports can be done other ways without having to gain and lose elevation. In many ways, it is like the two Noel Lakes in the Winds, both of which are high, close to popular spots, yet completely out-of-the-way.  I’ll caveat that by saying I know people climb to Golden Lakes from the Green River trail, and I think that I would not prefer that way, as it has too much route-finding through dense blowdown, and also just isn’t as pretty. 

As I jogged the 1000’ toward ELN2, I could see a nice spot to camp down below me some 800’, by a small pond/lakelette. If you were heading up from down below, it would probably be more comfortable a place to stop than Golden Lakes, which is rather closed off and not as pretty as one might thing, and which also doesn’t have trees.

1. Elbow Lake No 2 from above, with Golden Lakes in the background. 2. Pond below Golden Lakes.

Elbow Lake’s outlet was pretty, with a nice cascade over smooth granite in places. Accessing the lake was quite easy. I fished for a bit while my phone and solar charger charged. There were obviously no fish, so my fishing was mostly just to give me something to do so that I could pretend I wasn’t in fact wasting time as the sun did its work, which it did heartily until 1700, which was my sign that it was time to go.

I popped over the lip that holds ELN2 in like tabaccky in the lip of a soldier and took a good look at the way up to Golden Lakes, or more factually, the way somewhat down, then back up. I could head right, towards the creek, or left, up a talus chute. I had heard through the grapevine, which do not naturally occur in this part of Wyoming (Wandering Daisy, circa 2013), that one could find a path up along some grassy cracks in between the two chutes. It didn’t look too possible from where I was, but I decided that it was worth seeing. Who knew what sort of hellishness would exist in the creek.

I headed crosshill and down toward the large, granite outcropping, losing another 400’. Blah. Thankfully the weather was nice and my spirits were high enough. Some sort of water vole creature splashed in terror into the very nice creek that descends from the east of ELN2, and other than me disturbing him, I had to think that he had quite the little life up here. 

As it turned out, getting across the boulderfields prior to the granite knob was the most annoying part of the day, though not the hardest (that was the slippery area right above Slide Lake). From there I made my way up toward what looked like sheer granite…and saw what appeared to be a narrow path I could take. It took climbing up a short section of granite shaped like a steep spoon which I would not have wanted to do when rain-slicked, once done it was a piece of cake to follow the grassy ramp. The lower of the Golden Lakes came into view less than an hour after I’d left ELN2, which I think is pretty darn good time.

Vole Creek and the easy way up.

The air was still and warm as I looked down on the lake, and no sounds of people talking or laughing made their way to me. I was alone here. Another blessing, as I could stop for the night. What seemed to be a perfect spot to camp was in fact an island that I didn’t feel like wading to (but how cool would that be?), so I looked around and chose to park it by the outlet. 

Up the drainage was another, peculiar knob. Going on the right side of the lake would take a wading to get around, and the left side seemed hard as well, possibly cliffing one out. Hmmm. An old track on Gaia showed where a person had climbed a chute on the north shore, leaving 10,965’ and going all the way up until it flattened out at around 11,700’. A small pond and perhaps some good views down toward slide exist that way, but I hoped I wouldn’t have to do it. (Spoiler: it’s probably the easiest way, which you’ll learn soon enough, and only gives you an excess climb of 200’.)

My tent was set up  by 18;15 and I enjoy looking at pictures of my family. There wish no fish observed in the lake, so I got to work on dinner. Tonight was Mountain House Buffalo Style Chicken Mac and Cheese, along with Boston Cream Parfait from PackIt Gourmet. The buffalo mac is actually shockingly good, and I’ve raved about it before. Truly yummy. The boston cream parfait is fine, though not my fave. While dinner cooked I explored and got some pictures, and by 8:20 I was ready to call it a night. The temperatures plummeted over the course of about 45 minutes, too, and with no way to have a fire, it was nicer for me to just stay inside. My small, solar pack was at 53%, so not bad at all!

As the night rolled in, wind and very dark clouds came toward me, then descended to scape along the mountain tops. It looked like it would rain. Sleep crept up on me as all the light was sucked from the planet, and as it did, intermittent flashes lit my tent—my dwindling consciousness hoped the lightning wouldn’t get to where I was. 

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⤑Day 3: Upper Slide Creek Lakes, Baker Lake, Iceberg Lake, Sourdough Glacier, Yukon Peak, Connie Glacier, Kevin Lake, and More

I slept in late, until at least 8, and woke to two horrible things: one, my SATCOM had turned on, and that was what was flashing, not the lightning. Worse, it had a low battery and the charging cable was gone—likely yanked to the same watery grave as my bear spray. What a foolish, rookie mistake. Dadgum it. I would have to be exceedingly judicious in using the blasted thing. A thing not horrible yet odd was the smell of smoke. It didn’t look too smokey, but there was a little somethin’ in the air.

By 0945 I was on my way to—where? I didn’t know. Just a walkabout, here and there, I guess. The side of the lake was a little hard to assess given how much smooth granite there was. Would it be easy to ascend out of the lake? Hard? It looked easy, but with enough overhangs, it might just be impossible. As I walked along the smooth rock, I didn’t find an easy way to go up and over; it looked like if I made it up, I’d get ledged out. Instead, I continued near the water and ended up climbing a crack in the rocks (you’ll know it, as it’s just before an inlet), which I really didn’t like. It was taller than it looked, and if I had fallen, it would have been 15-20 feet onto rocks. With my sweet, new baby, I realized that I needed to knock off even small risks like this. Perhaps I’m just a wuss. Perhaps wading the other side would have been smarter. 

Where I went. Should I have waded?

Upper Golden Lake (lakes?) was only a few minutes away. The terrain in the area was confusingly precipitous in a fun way. Unlike many areas of the Winds, if you go a little bit off track here without looking at contours, you can find yourself sandwiched in between two rock spires 800 feet tall, looking down into a 1500 foot canyon. It’s cool. Less cool was the walk along the upper lake, which though attractive enough, had almost sheer sides in some spots. The eastern edge would have required a 200-ft climb over a massive granite knob (in retrospect, it looked sketchy but doable), so I stuck to the western shore. At one point I ended up on a rock looking straight down into the water. The drop down was about ¾ of my body length into 1-2 feet of water and then rocks which might roll, and only in one spot, because the rest was very deep. I couldn’t do it with my pack on, so I slithered up the rock like a snake, hoping to not fall, and lowered my pack to the ground with a clunk. The rock was too smooth for me to get a handheld to lower myself, so I made my way back down by the water, lowered myself half-way, then did a wrenching, twisting jump (throwing of myself) and landed on a dry rock, then jumped again to my pack. It was entirely unpleasant.

Towards the end of the lake, I was presented with more smooth granite and chose to just go up 150-200 feet and avoid the lakeside. Better than tumbling down into the water like some sort of misguided seal. From the top of the knob of smooth granite, I could see a rocky slot that would lead me pretty directly to the next lakes. I hustled (no, I actually didn’t) and made it to the next lake at 1130. Despite remaining snowfields which I had to walk, it was easy enough. This lake (11460 or so) is the one directly at the top of Slide Creek Canyon. Looking toward the canyon, it appeared to have infinite drop. I would not take that route. I just don’t like steep rock piles that much. 

Upper Golden Lake and Lake 11460.

Crossing along the eastern edge of the lake I enjoyed the cuts of tall granite; they were almost a playground. From there I climbed up above Lake 11715; yes, I said above. This route meant that I didn’t have to go up the rock chute, but could instead stick to granite slabs which were not angled overly much.  The views were fine I suppose, like a Scotland on steroids, and without the Indian food. I didn’t know where I wanted to go…Bear Lake, perhaps? Nah. I decided to head toward Iceberg Lake, somewhat considering whether or not I should climb Yukon Peak. Along the way I passed Lake 11760, and it was also pretty enough and still had ice on it.

Lake 11715 and Lake 11760.

Then, passing up and over a small hump, I came across the very large Baker Lake. Because so much of the “top” of this area of the winds is lumpy rocks, rather than towering crags (the canyons are where you go for stunning elevation changes), Baker Lake wasn’t the most scenic of areas. I can say that DADGUM the pass over to the Downs/Klondike/etc. area from here is a real winner, though. Incredibly easy. I can’t believe I didn’t know that; if I had, I could have done a point-to-point hike and seen those lakes, because they’ve been on my bucket list for a long time, but the time and elevation gain required to access them from near Dubois is a real bear. (Not actually a literal bear.)

I chose to take the southern side of Baker Lake to avoid rock piles. One snowfield was challenging, but other than that it wasn’t too bad. There was more elevation gain and loss than I prefer, and going down quite a ways to Pixley Creek is unavoidable. I’ve never hiked Pixley, but I’ve heard that the initial climb is a real pain in the rump. Looking down on it, I was glad I had not come that way. It was boulders as far as the eye could see. 

Baker Lake and Pixley Creek.

But I did end up at Pixley Creek, just below Baker Lake, and there I took a break to drink water. The wind coming out of the canyon tried to blow me away, but it didn’t succeed, and I was rather refreshed after finishing my electrolytes. From there, it was an easy walk to Iceberg Lake, but the terminal moraine sucked. Where it wasn’t loose boulders rolling on my ankles, it was loose gravel getting in my shoes. Iceberg Lake and Sourdough Glacier were God’s gift to me for taking the ankle hits, but I ended up not staying too long, as now I was having to calculate whether I could make it back out on time. I left at 1450 and headed toward the pass.

If you’re going over Yukon Peak, there’s a nice creek coming out of the side. I would have gotten some more water there, but a fierce wind whipped up and battered me with hail, so I trudged on with my head down. Yukon Peak gives amazing views of the glacier, but to the east you’re just looking toward the Ink Wells and that area, which isn’t beautiful. Still, it’s only a 1000’ climb and not too challenging, with plenty of grass mixed in with the boulders. There was one section of creeks—flat, wide, separate creeks—that was as bizarre as it was muddy, but other than that, not much to note about the docile ascent. I got to the top at 1647, but that included a long stop to call my family and inform them of the foolish things I’d done. I also uploaded 2 routes into Gaia for my wife to look at, so that if something happened to me on the way down and I lost sat service, the carcass recovery team would know where to look. These routes were through either Slide Lake Canyon or via Bear, Faler, and Osbourne. Regardless, it was great to get to chat and facetime my girls, and then I hoofed it toward my next camp (after climbing a rock stack to get to the highest point I could find), and as I did, found myself tempted to upload another route toward Downs Mountains. I stopped myself. I’d done Downs before. There was no call for this! (But what an easy way to get to Bear Lake…)

My camp was going to be at Kevin Lake or the glacial lakes below Yukon Peak, and the walk there was easy: grass, rocks, a snowfield, then the descent, which had plenty of creeks. Connie Glacier was shockingly beautiful and had a massive boulder with associated fall scar that reminded me why I don’t camp right below cliffs. I traversed the northern edge of the lakes and saw some pretty waterfalls and vibrant flowers. At the end of the Connie Lakes, I sat down my pack and went downstream toward Kevin Lake. It wasn’t as attractive, so I made my way back to the outlet of Connie Lakes and set up camp there; everything was ready before 7PM. Despite the wind, an infuriating cloud of gnats stretched as far as the eye could see, and they made cooking difficult.

Dinner for the night was chicken and dumplings, peach cobbler, and nutter butter bars. Sunset was beautiful, but the wind persisted and it got rather cold, meaning that I spent most of the time reading in the tent. I was done with dinner and a washcloth scrub by 8:15PM, and ended up just going to bed early. 

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⤑Day 4: Meandering Around Vast and Confusing Lands

I woke up at 5:37 and it was intensely windy and cold, so I fell back asleep for another 50 minutes. My notes for this section were pretty funny (to me), so I’ll share them:

Woke up at 5:37 very cold and windy. Fell back asleep until 6:32. I didn’t started getting ready for the day. Very sneezy after drinking water. Sun picked over the hill at 7:32 My app said probably 7:36 so that’s pretty accurate. I have seen no evidence of the joy of clams.

All that I can divine from the last sentence is that I was not as happy as a clam about the cold temps! Ha. Anyway, I packed up and was hiking out around 0800…it smelled smoky again. It was so windy that I had to use in-ear earbuds rather than bone-conduction headphones, which were completely overpowered by the air movement. Instead of making my way down by Kevin Lake, I decided to see how Slide Creek Canyon really was (knowing I’d never do it if not now), so I followed a natural gully-like feature up toward point 12408. I did take a look down at Kevin and I’m not sure if you can traverse the shores. It looked like you probably couldn’t. 

Camp, up above camp, and the shores of Kevin Lake.

The climb up was all rocks. Unpleasant. Fit for a peasant. There was a nice snowfield that made me with ski season were right around the corner, but other than that, it was just ennui. 

I got to the highest point of the day (12342) in an hour, then started my descent. I decided to follow a drainage with ponds (northern/upper drainage, as there are two), and realized that I’d basically be at a pass to Clear Lake. Lord forbid it! The ponds in the drainage were lifeless, though I did find some cairns, as other wayward souls had made the same choices as I had.

Below pond 11415 things got WEIRD. The terrain was so vertical that it was disorienting. I was looking down on lake 10960, but that descent seemed madness. The towering granite spires and parapets around me made it seem as if 10960 were in an infinitely deep bowl from which there could be no exit. That had to be impossible, but the contours didn’t seem to match things, either. It was all very peculiar. I should note that while I love the Flex Capacitor, I have to pop the hipbelt loose a bit during certain sections of steep ascent/descent so that it doesn’t bind me up by pressing into my thigh. Not hard, and it has become second nature now. 

Anyway, I knew where I wanted to be from having climbed Lost Eagle Peak, and that was on a nice, grassy meadow, leading to a descent into Slide Lake. I encountered one cliff that I overcame (thanks to Ethan Nicolle and Michael Grumbine), and then it was a nice walk down to the meadow. An old fire ring and wood were down in the meadow…from WHAT tree??? There were also more cairns.

The cut up toward Clear Lake pass was deep and eroded, but I wasn’t going that way. Rather, I made my way to the picturesque creek, got some water, and headed on down. 

The descent following the creek down to Slide Creek was unpleasant. It was steep, bouldery, and where not filled with rocks, filled with thick trees, raspberry bushes, and the like. I made it to Slide Creek at 1300.

Descending into Slide Creek Canyon.

The going was slow, with the choice between dense forest and bushes or annoying rockpiles. For part of the trek, I just walked in the creek (there are no fish above the falls near the Slide Lake inlet), hoping to test out how my Creepers socks held up when soaked—I’m happy to report that they’re perfect. There are some areas where the terrain is basically vertical in the canyon (waterfalls and all), and in those areas I took the rock piles, as it seemed impossible to navigate near the creek. The wonderful fellows at Think Deeper Podcast (I have Christian heritage in the churches of Christ, and typically find them to be accurate in many doctrines which others ignore) kept me company as I traversed below 2000’ cliffs. 

Slide Creek Canyon. Worse than it looks.

At 9590’, I crossed the river above the waterfalls down to the inlet, then made my way along the northern shore. I found a use trail that I had previously missed, which made the going far easier.  I scoped out the ravine and creek on the other side. It looked like perhaps it wouldn’t be as hard to climb as I’d thought when at the bottom. 
From there the walk out was easy, and I got to my vehicle 10 hours (exactly) from the time I’d left camp that morning—not great, but coming all the way from Yukon Peak, really not bad. Best of all, my feet were in almost perfect shape—the only issue was rubbing from the crappy tongue of the Olympus Altras, which I would go on to solve by switching to Topo shoes. 

The best part of the hike was getting to see my baby girl when I got back home!

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➤Conclusion and Rating

Although I had a great deal of trepidation, Elbow Lake No 2 had been on my hit list since 2015, and let’s face it, you need a real reason to cross that one off the list. What can the reason be? I’d say the fastest, easiest way to Sourdough and Connie Glaciers. Although I need to go into Bear Lake at some point to say I’ve done it, the lake of distinct mountains in the area ends up being somewhat boring to me—just not as beautiful as the natural rascacielos elsewhere. It’s also often more tedious to walk—all rocks and getting cliffed out on the side of lakes. That said, this hike was a true pleasure and had some stunning views. I’m glad I did it, and would recommend it as a way to see some places that many won’t without much longer walks.

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•  My scientific rating system. I absolutely loved this hike.
• Beauty. This is not on par with much of the range, but it has its own version of beauty. Moreover, it’s wildly rugged.
• Camping spots. Areas away from the water and on grass are more difficult to find given the rocky nature of the terrain.
• Crowds. Few humans. Few creatures.
• Difficulty. Strenuous.
• Fishing. Brookies.
• History. Nope.
• Over/Under Bracket: This is hard to bracket as it’s an unusual hike and relatively short. It’s over Downs Mountain (boring, lots of vertical), matched with hiking Marten Lake, and under hiking Birthday/Pouch Lakes.

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