The next was a rest day, something I actually did this time. Part of the morning was spent searching for housing in Vermont, and most of the day was spent swinging in the hammock I finally set up. A Christmas gift from my sister, I have no idea why I waited so long. Lounging in the hammock was exactly what my body and soul needed, and I passed several hours swinging and reading.
The following day, ready for another hike, I set out for Wolverton and the Lakes Trail based on Ranger Andy’s recommendation. A chilly morning, hovering around 46 degrees, it was perfect for a brisk walk down the trail. It was the first time I put on a jacket in weeks, and actually pulled out my gloves too. I was in heaven!
Not to mention the splendid trees all around me. Tall pines, Sugar and Ponderosa, lengthy White Firs, and stocky Incense Cedars spread throughout the woods on both sides of the trail. Many of the pines were coated in fluorescent green moss, like a sweater protecting them from the cold. It glowed in the morning sun that trickled through the thick forest canopy. These trees may not be as grand as the Giant Sequoias, but they are still worth marveling at. Especially those that root themselves on a hillside, begin growing sideways and then pivot to reach up towards the sun. Magnificent.
The trail slowly and steadily climbed 2,300 feet across long stretched out switchbacks. Several times I crossed over tiny streams running down the crevasses, small waterfalls carrying the melted snow from above. The sound of flowing water asked me to pause each time and listen, a few moments of relaxation.
As the trail closed in on its peak, the terrain became rockier. Finally, up ahead, was the Watchtower, the first stop on my hike today. Not a real tower but a rock outcropping that supplied breathtaking views of the mountains and valley ahead. The gray, snow topped peaks jutted up from the deep canyon below, through which gushed the longest waterfall I had ever seen.
Tokopah Falls wounds down the canyon, digging a deep path, for miles. The seemingly endless supply of water sounded like a busy highway, roaring and reverberating for miles. The power of the white water was impressive, even from such a distance away. I sat for a while and admired the power and beauty, chatting briefly with a fellow hiker, and then continued on to the glacial lakes.
The path stayed relatively level as I curved around the mountain cliff. Wide and safe, although a sheer drop off on the left, I stayed close to the inside and admired the stunning views as I went along. Snow greeted me along the path, chunks here and there resisting the rays of the sun. While at home snow in May would not be welcome, here it brought a smile to my face. Snow always brings out my inner child. And it was welcome after all the heat in the desert.
The clouds danced high over the ridge line, casting shadows on the tree dotted slope sides across the way. Sometimes the clouds paused for a break, the wind letting them rest in the nooks and crannies of the mountain tops.
Soon the trail came to Heather Lake, a serene body of blue green water pooled in a crater dug pit by glaciers since gone. The water was calm and icy cold, a faint reflection of the rocky mountains behind it on the surface. It was beautiful, and quiet, just two other hikers there, but something urged me on and I continued down the path.
I was tempted to go all the way to Pear Lake at the trail’s end, just two more miles, but the magic of Aster and Emerald Lakes caught my attention and I lingered here, joyful. I had a bird’s eye view of Aster Lake, a deep blue surrounded by gray rocks. Then Emerald Lake, tucked behind the forest, abutting a looming mountain. I wandered out, was greeted by a large marmot scrounging for food, and sat down at the water’s edge, no other human in sight. Water flowed down the mountain, from melting snow above, and filled up the lake. I sat and basked in the sun warming my cheeks, eating my lunch, soaking up the private views.
Eventually I started the hike back, content that I had ended here and not pushed myself farther. The hike up to Heather Lake was hard enough, but I kept going knowing that from that point forward it would be mostly downhill. Along the way back, I passed a few hikers heading out for a later afternoon hike, but hardly saw anybody.
Personally, I was glad I was heading back and not out because the clouds had rolled in thickly and the temperature kept dropping. I started to be able to see my breath, and picked up the pace. I hustled most of the way back as it was already 2PM and I had many miles to go, but I did stop to linger momentarily at Heather Lake, watching the steam float and swirl across the surface, then again at Watchtower. The clouds hung on the peaks, like a blanket tucking them in for the night.
Finally, back at the car, I slipped off my backpack and gave my tired feet a rest. We still had a long drive down the windy Generals Highway, but no more walking for the day. It was completely worth it though, those mountains felt like a homecoming.
That evening I dined on gluten free, dairy free Mac n cheese, delish, and sat by the campfire talking to my neighbor Elizabeth. Laughter and good company made time pass quickly and before I knew it, it was dark and time for bed. A full, happy, day.
Tonelli's Travels 