Backpacker’s Guide to the Galaxy

28 July 2009 by Crystal 1 Comment

I’m thinking this would be a great title for a hiking guide (with 42 hikes of course). But alas, this post is not quite that ambitious.

In early July, when Mr. A and the Towhead were visiting my family, I had a few days to myself. Normally, this is the time I use to catch up on cleaning, organizing, watching movies, and generally relaxing. (The best is the mini-spa treatments that I know won’t be interrupted, like soaking my feet in hot water and tea tree oil and saturating myself with body butter while I watch a sappy romance or cheesy foreign film.)

But this time I couldn’t seem to find the motivation to do it. Sitting on the couch and/or cleaning just didn’t sound good to me. Which is odd. I’m normally a compulsive cleaner, and organizing the house so things are easy to find and function smoothly almost always sounds good to me. Not this time.

I wanted to get out, to do something impulsive. I had the overwhelming urge to throw some stuff in the car and find a remote alpine lake to cool my feet in. So after a bit of research I found a hike that sounded just right – fairly short, some exertion but nothing too ambitious. I had no urge to come back exhausted. Mr. A and I love to backpack, and the Bean is usually a willing cohort on day hikes – I’m sure she’ll be a great backpacking companion when she gets older. But at this stage finding time and a babysitter makes backpacking a seldom-enjoyed luxury for Mr. A and I. And while day hikes can be satisfying, there is nothing quite like the feeling of carrying everything you need on your back, walking into the wilderness and sleeping under the stars.  I’ve missed it. My family worries about me when I decide to take off even for a night to go camp, which I find silly. Studies and statistics show that you’re more likely to run into more dangerous situations in urban and suburban settings than in wilderness areas. But they’re softening, and at this point the safety precautions are second-nature – leave location info and times in and out with at least two other people, whether in bear country or not take stuff to tie up your food (or a bear canister), take enough water (and/or bring a purifier) and leave some at the car. Add poncho, safety whistle, and a Leatherman to the basics – map, food, sleeping bag, clothing layers, headlamp – and you’re good to go. I love my family, and I love taking care of them, but the ease of taking care of just me and not having to worry about logistics for three people can be really refreshing.

Revett Lake sits on the east side of a ridge that separates Idaho and Montana. Situated in the Bitterroot mountains it is one of the few alpine lakes in that area.

I will admit that I got a little turned around getting to the trailhead, but it didn’t matter much to me and the dog (affectionately termed Mutt Butt. See Cast of Characters.)  It was a beautiful drive with sun, a cool wind, and good music.

The trail was so picturesque! Complete with waterfall off to the side, ferns in the gullies, and the late season wildflowers still in bloom.  I saw corn lilies with their broad leaves, purple penstemon among the rocks, cat’s ears and their three fuzzy white petals, vetch, and bear grass. The only downside it that the hike to the lake was too short. As usual, I underestimated what the Mutt and I were capable of doing in a day. However, I overestimated what my new boots were ready for – I had blisters in spite of the moleskin I religiously place on my heels.

But really, what better than to soak your feet in a cold alpine lake? I set up camp, we hiked around one side of the lake, and then crashed out for a nap. I felt a little wimpy, crashing like that after such a short hike, but I figured it was my vacation and it felt good, so who cares, right? I justified it by promising myself I’d do an epic trip in the next year or so. I woke up to a male and female pair of pine grosbeaks sitting in the abandoned fire ring next to my tent.

The only thing that would have made the trip more perfect was if I had come 2-3 weeks later. At that point these cute little pink blooms would be sweet, ripe huckleberries. Oh well, my timing has always been a little off. 🙂

After an evening hike around the other side of the lake, the Mutt and I headed back to camp. To make things easier and my load a bit lighter I left the stove at home and opted for pbj and some carrots for dinner. But I couldn’t resit the campfire ring that had been left by previous campers. I grabbed a few dead branches and started a small blaze, then went back behind camp for a few more branches and some dried pieces of wood from a fallen tree. And I heard what I thought sounded like hooves stepping on dirt. I looked around, scanning the brush and trees. “No,” I thought, “you’re paranoid because you’re alone. It’s just the echoes of your own foot-falls.” So I kept gathering wood. Then I heard a branch crack and looked up to see a brown rump about my head/chest height go through the trees to my left and toward the stream outlet of the lake. All I could think was what Mr. A had told me about moose’s tendency to charge at barking dogs. I hurried back to camp and made sure I had Mutt Butt close. Needless to say I was very alert the rest of the evening.

We always say that the Mutt is never happier than when she’s on the trail – that hasn’t changed in 10 years and this trip was no exception. On this trip, the same was true for both of us. There are other places I am equally as happy, but backpacking is easily among the top 5. Staring at the small things that make this world so amazing, how can you help but smile? I forget about material goods, all I need is what I’m carrying on my back. Home becomes something bigger than the house I live in; working is something your muscles do to get you where you want to be, something that feels good as the blood rushes throughout your body letting you know you are alive and connected to everything you see. This backpacking trip was nothing big, but it reminded me of why I love it so much.

The PS to this is that on the way home I found myself behind two RVs that had stopped in the middle of the road for some reason. As I looked off to the left I figured out why. A moose was grazing in a gully next to the road, about 30 feet from where I’d stopped. All I could think was “Now this is how I wanted to meet a moose.”