Over the next several days, I slowly made my way south. I hiked. I poked around the various small towns. I tried several restaurants. I hung out in parks making phone calls and catching up with people. I was thoroughly enjoying this new life style.
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| Taken on my first trail run with the new shoes. |
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| Decided to skip a mountain lake in favor of climbing a pass at the MT-ID border. Definitely made the right choice. |
There was only one problem: I wasn't meeting any new people. Not really. Yes, I would have pleasant and friendly encounters here and there, but that was about it. As and introvert, I'm usually pretty content being by myself. At the same time, I get tired of doing everything on my own. I like people and conversation. Also, I get kinda weird when I spend too much time alone with my thoughts. So, knowing I would be continuing south into central Idaho and the Sawtooth Wilderness, I decided to be more proactive about seeking people out.
One of my hopes was to connect with group that I could backpack with. While I've gone backpacking several times, I have never gone backpacking with other people. I do well, but I still have a lot to learn, mostly the subtle things that come from experience and watching people with experience. Additionally, I was incredibly nervous about the idea of my first doing first Rocky Mountain backcountry camping experience all alone. Neither the Ozarks nor even the Badlands felt so wild or intimidating.
A series of Internet searches quickly revealed I wasn't going to be able to find a group that way on such short notice. I resigned myself to sticking with day hikes, but resolved to seek out future trips to join. As I did these these shorter hikes, it was not uncommon to come across lakes and other inviting areas and find several people camping there. My instinctive reaction to this is, "Ugh. Too many people," and to move on quickly. While often this is the best course of action (like when the group of boy scouts were loudly arguing over who had messed with who's tent), I also recognize that you can't meet people if you constantly avoid people. I call this the Introvert's Dilemma.
That Sunday I hiked a loop that was at least 18 miles long and went past several lakes. As I headed out towards the first lake, several people who'd spent the night were hiking back in. Most folks were friendly but understandably doing their own thing. However, two groups in particular had an openness that led me to believe that, had I'd been camping at the same time, they would have welcomed me for at least a portion of their trip. Since I still really wanted to go backpacking, I decided to plan an outing that had me staying in one or more of the popular places.
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| Alice Lake Popular with campers |
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| Happy to reach the top of the pass; Alice Lake is in the background |
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| There were a lot fewer people on the other side the pass. I liked having the place to myself. |
Planning my route was trickier than I'd anticipated, mostly because I kept getting stuck in the tension between wanting to go and see as much as possible with my desire to meet other people. After some advice from a friend who's visited Sawtooth, and guidance from a ranger, I settled on starting at Sawtooth Lake and staying out three nights total. I liked the idea of doing a loop, but was open to setting up camp in one place, then doing out-and-backs from there. I wanted to play it by ear and see what came up.
I parked at the trailhead the evening before so I could head out the next morning. As I was getting my gear and food together, various groups and families return from their own day hikes or backpacking trips. Watching them laugh and cheer about finishing made me feel antsy to get going.
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| My route: Day 1 - Iron Creek Trailhead (#5) to Sawtooth Lake Day 2 - Sawtooth Lake to Alpine Lake (bottom center) Day 3 - Alpine Lake to Marshall Lake (near #4) Day 4 - Marshall Lake back to Iron Creek |
The next morning was very chilly. I got off to a slow start because it was hard to leave the warmth of my blankets. Fortunately the day was otherwise pleasant and warmed up quickly. It was only about 5 miles to Sawtooth lake, so it didn't take long to reach my destination. My intention was to hike to the southern end of the lake and setup camp. However, it turned out that Sawtooth Lake is nestled in amongst mountains, giving it a steep shoreline. I continued on past the lake to where the terrain flattened out. Despite there being plenty of space to pitch a tent, the narrow valley didn't feel very inviting. Between being rocky and short on plants, I felt exposed. Additionally, there was a strong wind funneling between the mountains. It wasn't the place for me. I considered venturing further south, but I still wanted to camp near others. I opted instead to backtrack to a much smaller lake just north of Sawtooth and out of the wind.
This was a very difficult decision. Not for any practical reasons - this kind of thing comes with camping - but because it hit right in the middle of my biggest emotional triggers.
Long story short, for years I have been uncomfortable with mountains and other wild landscapes. Not because I didn't want to visit them or any concerns for my safety. Rather, I have a deep-seated fear that I would arrive at the top of the mountain or some other splendid wilderness and somebody or something would tell me to leave. That these beautiful remote places were not for me to experience.
Even though I knew it wasn't rational, Sawtooth Lake not being what I expected made me feel as if I were unwelcome. It brought all these old insecurities to the surface, including the fact that over the past few years, I've become increasingly resentful of having to do so much on my own. Just to be clear, I have an amazing amount of help and support and other good things from family and friends. In fact, many of you are reading this now, so THANK YOU! At the same time, when it comes down to making big life decisions, it comes down to just me. And this feels incredibly lonely.
So here I was in this beautiful, pristine place and unable to enjoy it because all sorts of doubts and shame were in the way. Even though several friendly people greeted me and chatted for a bit, I was too miserable to really engage. All I could see was how my personality and habits had led to an array of missed opportunities, and I despaired of ever changing the pattern. Knowing there were lies in this line of thinking only made me feel more ashamed.
It was a rough day.
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| Evening view from day one's campsite. A beautiful place to feel miserable. |
After a good night's sleep, I felt better. Ish. Mostly I was relieved that I could pack up and move on.
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| Sawtooth Lake |
The first section of trail, starting from Mt. Reagan, then following along the north fork of Baron Creek (see map above), is traveled much less than the other trails I'd done so far. Therefore, they were less maintained. Long sections were full of overgrown shrubs that had to be shoved through. A dozen or more blown downs were blocking the trail, including a few HUGE Ponderosa pines, leaving no option but to climb over or crawl under. There were a couple of wide and tricky creek crossings. I was stung by a hornet.
All of this improved my mood immensely. Seriously. Scrambling through the ruggedness made Day Two a lot more fun than Day One. I still felt rather raw from the day before, but those feelings weren't so overwhelming. I knew they were being resolved. I just needed to keep going.
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| Upper Baron Lake |
After climbing the pass to the Baron Lakes, I was tempted to stay the night there. However, something told me to continue for another couple of miles to Alpine Lake. I'm glad I did. There were several other campers there and the place had the laid-back friendliness I'd been hoping for. I pitched my tent next to a girl who was on her first solo backpacking trip. I enjoyed swapping stories with her and a few other folks. I can't say that I made any life-long friends, but it was really nice to actually talk with other people.
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| Climbing the pass between the Baron Lakes and Alpine Lake |
Day Three was fairly pleasant and uneventful until I reached the area around the Redfish trailhead (#1 on the above map). I got so excited about making good time and arriving early to Marshall Lake that missed my turn. Feeling good, confident in where I was going, I totally followed a spur in the wrong direction. By the time I figured it out and got back to the turn-off, I'd added at least 5 extra miles. In my defense, the trail sign had fallen over and was hard to see, but really, my obliviousness had struck again. So much for getting to camp early!
Back on track, the correct trail was a lot steeper and the soil a lot looser than anything else I'd encountered so far. Even when it leveled out on the top of the ridge, the rocks and loose dirt made going difficult. My heels started to hurt some. Occasionally - particularly when going down the steep switchbacks - a wrong step would make me yelp in pain. Each time I'd role my eyes at myself for being so silly.
Once at Marshall Lake, I claimed the decent spot I saw. I heard people further down, but I didn't care. I was too tired. Taking off my boots, I was surprised to discover that the area all along the back of my heels and Achilles tendons was completely covered in blistery abrasions. No wonder I was yelping! Even though I'd cleaned my socks nightly, alternating between two different pairs, they had still collected too much sand. I cleaned and bandaged them up. Not wasting any time worrying about what I was in for tomorrow, I fell asleep quickly.
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| Korean deliciousness at Marshall Lake |
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| Marshall Lake |
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| A hazy view from my the 4th and final morning |
The hike back to my car was pretty and enjoyable and kind of a blur. It was a Friday, so as I got closer to the trailhead, I passed more and more people heading out for the weekend. Many of them asked me questions about where I'd been and whether or not I had any tips. As is common, several were surprised/impressed that I had gone out on my own. These brief encounters were very encouraging, but made me wish I was able to join a cheerful group that was just starting out. Next time!
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| Relaxing at "home" after 4 days on the trail |
I am really glad that went on this backpacking trip. In a way, I'm even grateful for all the crappy feelings that came bubbling up. I've untangled myself from many of the situations that had left me feeling stuck. What remains are the doubts and fears I carry with me. It makes sense that they'd be more prominent these days.
I guess I'll just have to buck up and face them.
*blerg*
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