Backpacking

Here it is in a nutshell:

• We left a vehicle at the end of the hike, which was supposed to be Jailhouse Rock inside Capitol Reef National Park.
• We got dropped off at Snow Lake on Thousand Lake Mountain at 10,500′ (on the Fishlake NF).
• We were to hike the 16 miles from Snow Lake to Jailhouse Rock Thursday afternoon through Saturday mid-day.
• “We” is defined as me, Jen’s dad Mark, and Jen’s brother Kevin.
• We camped inside the park the first night at appropriately named Paradise Flats (4 miles and 2,500 feet lower than our drop off point)
• We hiked 4 miles Friday morning until coming upon terrain not suitable for people with no canyoneering equipment or expertise. We also noticed some serious thunderstorms forming all around us. We had to turn around.
• We hiked 4 miles back to Paradise Flats and then another mile up the mountain toward our drop off point Friday afternoon.
• We endured about 14 straight hours of rain Friday night into Saturday morning.
• We had a miserable night, although I spooned Mark all night because I didn’t have appropriate cold weather sleeping equipment.
• We got up Saturday morning and hit the trail by 8am to finish the less than three miles up the mountain but 2,000 feet of vertical climb … after a few days of physically and mentally challenging terrain and decisions.
• We saw our first snow at around 8,000 feet.
• We got to the top around noon. No one was there to get us, of course — we were supposed to, after all, be at Jailhouse Rock to get our truck and drive home from there.
• We pushed a button on the Spot Tracking device Mark rented for the weekend that triggered a “Help” button for our ladies watching our adventure with amusement, fear, anger, etc., via a website. Jen called her Grandpa, Mont, who lives about an hour from our drop off point. He and his wife got in their Suburban and began the drive up the mountain.
• We didn’t know how closely anybody was watching our adventure and didn’t know how long it would be before anyone would come up the mountain.
• We figured we had about 12 miles from our drop off point to the highway, so we started walking. We couldn’t risk spending another night on the mountain given our situation (exhaustion, soaking clothing, my lack of snow gear, and limited food at this point).
• We walked a few very painful miles down the road until we saw a white Suburban coming up the road. Due to the weather, there were very few people on the mountain, so Mont was by far our best chance for a ride to civilization. When Mont saw us, he stopped and put the Suburban in reverse. It was funny but not really.
• We got to the Suburban and I kissed Mont on the cheek. This officially meant I’d been more intimate with Jen’s dad and grandpa in the last 3 days than I had with Jen. Sad. Truly sad.
• We were all very relieved.
• We called Liza, Kevin’s wife, who agreed to meet us in Salina to get me and Kevin. Mark went back to Bicknell to retrieve the truck we left at Jailhouse Rock (and our wallets, phones, keys, etc.).
• We are all home and very sore. Kevin had to speak in church at 9am and I had to run the show in our ward today because the bishop and 2nd counselor were both out-of-town.
• We will probably not hike for a while.

Pictures are below. Mark has more pictures but we haven’t done the picture swap thing yet. So much for a “nutshell”, eh? You now know more than I do. Actually, there’s a lot more to the story relating to things of a spiritual nature, other challenges we faced, things we felt, things we saw, etc. But you don’t care and I’m tired of writing.

This was about half a mile from our drop off point. We had to drop into all that gloriousness you see.

Our first night’s camp is visible in this picture; the grassy valley in the middle of a bunch of rock formations.

We hiked through rock fields, sagebrush, aspens, ponderosa pines, and juniper woodlands.

Our bushwhacking trail actually led us straight to this gate. Nice. We’re going the right way!

Our awesome campsite in Paradise Flats.

Mark and Kevin hiking into a wash

Can’t help but think of Mr. Myiagi looking for Bonzai Trees when I see this fella clinging to life.

We started in those clouds and walked through what we’re now calling “Cactus Meadows.”

Probably an indicator of things to come: this fella was ready to strike and made me nearly soil my pants.

Evidence of the rain we were hiking in.