In the company of my twenty-year-old granddaughter, we head out on a 10.4 mile hike with exuberance and determination. Our goal is an Alpine Lake in Little Cottonwood Canyon, home of Snowbird ski resort.
When we hit the canyon road, the mountains are already spectacular. The pines, the jutting peaks, the fresh air. White Pine Trailhead is just a right turn off the highway.
The preceding weeks were a thunder, lightning and rain paradise. The advisory on this hike is that we watch for afternoon storms, but the weather forecast is clear skies and just a bit of wind. I think the canyon will protect us from the wind.
As we get out of the car, clouds and wind threaten the occasion. I think that we'll probably have to turn around once the rain unleashes. Guess who left her rain jacket at home? Consciously too.
I chide myself for not at least bringing it in the car. But I have three layers of hiking shirts. Confidence is still high, and we begin our hike. Annika finishes the last of her work to secure a car loan. I remember I need to make a dental appointment. We walk and finish business. What a beginning distraction to the glorious beauty surrounding.
But we have plenty of time to enjoy the beauty. Six more hours!! Dark clouds threaten, but there is always a peak of blue, and when it starts raining, more than once, the predicted wind pushes that potential discomfort out of our way.
How blessed to have a granddaughter who likes to hike! How blessed to be a grandmother who can hike!
White Pine Lake or bust!
The elevation gain will be almost 2700 feet, so I am prepared for steep inclines. We love the slight slopes surrounded by giant trees, meadows, giant boulders, and a...
MOOSE! Annika, ahead on the trail, sees it first, she turns and gives me a nervous glance. "A moose."
I see it. I imagine it getting up from its calm incline and charging us. That's what a moose does, right?Once while hiking with my daughter, she saw a big dark moose on the road ahead. We turned and ran all the way down the mountain.
Is that what we need to do now? We remain calm. We keep walking. Quietly. Without a fuss. But I keep checking behind. I keep looking for refuge in case it does think we're a threat. A thicket of trees. A big boulder. I tell Annika I would grab her and pull her with me.
We come upon a mammoth pine tree that fell and once blocked the path. Only its remnants are left: the trunk and the towering tree at the side of the trail, its middle cut and carried away.
The hours pass. No more moose, but we are past the treeline and I keep expecting to see goats. We come to great fields of fallen rocks. "If there were a rockslide, what would we do?"
Annika surmises that we'd be safest under the shelter of one of the big, big rocks.
How long ago did the huge rocks fall? A thousand years ago or just last week? How I would have loved to hear it thunder down the mountain and come to rest.
So many questions about the surrounding beauty. We pause at the amazing vistas. We are sky-high.
A chirp. Another. It's a pika! Only heard the chirp because a friend wrote a picture book about pikas, and her pilgrimage to see pikas. The pika is a little potato shaped rodent known for living among big rock fields. Ah ha, Annika sees one. My life is complete!
We come to the last and great incline. I can't look at it for its steepness and the three and a half hours we've already climbed-- is overwhelming. The lake is too close to be overwhelmed. I look down, trudge, take many pauses, and finally reach the top, where the wind whips us into a shiver. Annika pulls out her rain and wind protector. If I keep moving I will stay warm. And there it is...a big deep blue body of water, created by nature and time. The sky is even bluer. Somehow, we didn't get rain pelted the entire hike. I look at the long declining path to the lake. I will have to climb back up, but there's no way I'm skipping the goal of sitting lakeside.
We had planned to swim. I have a bathing suit in my backpack and two quick-dry towels. But they will stay. The wind has made it too cold. But not cold enough to sit on a rock and eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Plum jelly from my friend Kristi's plum tree in the yard of her childhood.
A moment of gratitude and beauty.
But the hike back to the car is unavoidable, and we soon start our descent. But first, uphill. I don't remember it being so steep. If there were a gondola or a pack horse for rent, I would take or hire it. Hiking up the hill will take sheer grit.
The 5.2 miles of descent is difficult for both of us. Annika stops a few times to show me how her legs are shaking. Her ankle rolls not once but twice. My steps get lazy and I have a few near stumbles. I work harder to make each step deliberate. I am berating myself again because we need poles. If only I'd brought both pairs. But she is young and I didn't think she'd need help. But everyone needs help on mile eight of the journey.
The moose is still there. Ah to be a moose lying comfortably in its environment.
I say to Annika around mile nine or ten, "We should have done a shorter hike."
She turns to me and asks, "Why would you reminisce (negatively) over something we've already done?"
I am stunned by her wisdom.
***
The next morning, I ask, "Can you walk?"
A short response, "Barely."
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