Precipice Lake – Chagoopa Plateau
In the morning we discovered that bears were not the only animals to be heeded in the mountains, though they might be the only ones to be feared. Dad had left his sweaty, salt-encrusted shirt hanging to dry on his pack overnight, and marmots had gotten to it and found it tasty, chewing many small holes around the collar and down the shirt front.
The day started with the mid-morning sun lighting the rocks tan and dusty grey instead of the spectacular colors of the previous evening.
Precipice Lake was within 300 vertical feet of the first mountain pass we would cross, Kaweah Gap. The trail led us through a small, fragile basin that looked like Arctic tundra, though it was surprisingly lush for a landscape without trees. We stopped at the top to admire the view, take a few pictures, and feel good about ourselves for climbing to the highest point we would reach during the first week of our hike.
Over the top was the Nine Lakes Basin, which drained into a larger, gently glaciated and southeast-trending valley named Big Arroyo, which was bounded to the east by the same Kaweah Peaks we’d seen since our first day of hiking.
The trail led far down the valley and we welcomed the long downhill respite, then had to unexpectedly regain nearly 1000′ we’d lost from the Gap. I wouldn’t realize my map-reading error until hours later.
Dad grouched, but then I was sure the top was just around every bend and kept telling him it was, so he had reason to be sore.
We finally reached the high point of that section of trail in the afternoon, then took a protracted bathroom break at 5 PM, breaking out the plastic trowel I’d bought especially for the purpose. I wrapped it carefully in a big plastic bag and rolled it up tightly before putting it back into my pack.
Afterwards we made excellent time for another 2 or 3 easy downhill miles, racing to reach a campsite by dark, but when we still hadn’t reached one by sunset, we stopped at the first likely-looking spot we could find. We spent something like an hour suspending our food in a sleeping bag’s stuff-sack between two trees for the first time, and even got snappy with each other as we debated how best to do it so that it would be out of reach of any bears who might happen along. The job we did was less than perfect. Later, my stove flared and flash-fried most of the hair on my wrist, and a blister on Dad’s feet seemed as though it was getting infected. I dreamed I went out on a self-conscious date with the midget hooker from “Total Recall.” Kris Kristofferson was somehow involved.
I am enjoying my dreams. Was this what Plains Indians went through when it was time to choose a totem animal?
Backpacking With Family 