A Magical Piece of Wilderness

Ever since I was a young lad, I have been hearing about Lake Alice from friends and family. Kevin, Markus, Matt, Josh, Zak, and I fished Hobble Creek back in 2010, but never made the actual hike to Lake Alice. That was pretty close.

Then, Zak and I tried to make it up there over Memorial Day 2015, only to again be foiled by a bad combination of lingering snow drifts over the road and a steady rain fall. We got within a few miles of the river crossing up to Hobble Creek Campground, but were then driven back by Mother Nature. Getting closer, I suppose.

So, all summer long, I've been salivating about getting back up there and redeeming ourselves. With a busy summer, time sped by much too fast. Moving into fall, things weren't slowing down. We chose the weekend prior to Halloween to make our bid. It was a good thing we did, because snow arrived a week after we departed.

First, we had a successful river crossing at the Hams Fork. Roxy enjoyed the washing of the undercarriage.

Yes, this is the only way. No, there is no bridge. Yes, it was fun to cross at high speeds.

We took the short, 1.5 mile hike from the campground up to Lake Alice to find beautiful, still ,azure waters.

What a reflection!

Lake Alice is the only lake in the U.S. with a healthy, naturally reproducing population of Bonneville Cutthroat Trout. Not a single planter up here. And they were very hungry. It was created by a natural landslide many centuries ago, making for a deep natural lake, that easily looks like it good be manmade. By the second cast, we were getting dialed in on them. The lure of choice was anything golden with good action, namely the Jakes Spin-A-Lure.

Sunburst fish on.

Zak on the humane release

We then made friends with the only other 2 people we saw the rest of the day on this large lake, who happened to have a boat and were tired of fishing with no luck; such good friends, in fact, that they let us use their boat since they were heading down for the day. Trolling and putting around the lake ensued.


Zak doing the double trolling

Doing some deep surgery on the fish.

And then finally a release back to the clean and pristine waters...

When the afternoon wind kicked up, we felt it was finally time to head out. The oars on this boat were unruly and homemade; besides, the boat had no personal floatation device (PFD) to speak of, as it is a communal vessel, to be left on the shores. We reluctantly left this place of solitude and peace in the late afternoon.

Till Next Time

That evening we fished the Hobble Creek proper, down below what we affectionately call The White Castle. The water was crystal clear and low, and difficult to fish without spooking them.  It was serene fishing until night fall with no other company.



Zak doing his thing at the soft light and growing shadows of dusk

Not a great pic but wanted to capture the one brown from the whole trip.

We also fished the Smith Fork down through Cokeville, WY. It's always nice when you have access to someone's private property; in this case it was the Cottonwood Ranch, owned by the Dayton Clan. The fish hadn't seen much pressure and took the woolly buggers pretty readily. All cutts on the Smithie ranged from 13-16", with a few whitey's mixed in.

Thanks Dames!

 P.S. Before the 2015 fishing season slips away, I wanted to include one more picture here from a July adventure Zak and I had up on Mountain Dell Creek up Parley's Canyon. The picture is not the greatest, but netting this 18" fish after dark sure was!

So shocking that we took a pic of our finger at the same time.

The Mighty Judges of Broads Fork

Going to the mountains for me has the distilling effect of centering myself on what's most important. Arriving at Broads Fork Lower Basin is like entering a chamber of judges of the soul. They will judge if you are worthy and prepared well enough to stand on top of them.  Each of the towering 11,000'+ peaks that surround you in 3 directions seems to look like through you, interviewing you with their piercing gaze, testing you to see if you are worthy to climb onward and upward toward their lofty summits.  It is here where you can lay down your life's trivial challenges and focus your efforts on the singular goal of The Ascent. The goal was to climb every peak along the horseshoe shaped ridge line shown in the picture below. And, as usual, the picture below just doesn't do  justice to the size and strength of these peaks.

Robinson Ridge, Twin, Sunrise, O'Sullivan, Dromedary, a.k.a. The Judges

I worked my way up to Robinson Ridge, taking a hard right at the basin, over loose talus and gravel. This cutoff is much more direct than approaching through the upper cirque. I quickly left the vegetation behind for scree and a few wildflowers.

The last water for a long time, an unnamed beaver pond.

The final scramble to West Twin

The view from Twin was a bit hazy this time.


A smoggy summer day

Passing the test of one of the Judges, I then worked my way down towards Sunrise Peak at the back end of Broads Fork. However, in my haste to climb Twin Peaks, I discovered I had nearly depleted my water supply fully. The two small water bottles on the waist belt were pretty much bone dry. And by this time, I was a long ways away from any water source. Also, I had started late so was not where I needed to be with my hiking schedule to take on another peak.  So I hesitantly decided to skip Sunrise Peak, scramble across the upper cirque and go for Dromedary Peak instead. I know I need to now get back to Sunrise at some point... On my way over to the chute, I was greeted with a pair of very tame mountain goats scrambling, even frolicking, along the cliff bands. They were so sure and steady, avoiding the loose scree and staying above me at all times. Good climbing instincts for sure to "maintain the high ground" in the face of an unknown intruder.



This one showed me the way across the boulder field

Incredibly mellow and observant, I have never been this close to these majestic creatures...

I worked my way up the chute that leads into Tanner Gulch and enjoyed great views of Broads and West Twin.

Reminds me a bit of the pyramid-shaped Everest, (without the snow)

Sweeping talus fields

I finally summited Dromedary after much boulder hopping and scrambling. I had heard from Wetzel that Ambrose was doing something extra-crazy and uber-ambitious I just learned was called the WURL that next morning (http://ambroseut.blogspot.com/). So I left him one of my granola bars on top for him to enjoy...or at least feed the high-elevation squirrels.

I was welcomed with great views into Tanner Gulch and the 3 Sisters of Mill B: Lake Blanche, Lake Florence, and Lake Lillian.

LCC Road far below

The Three Sisters of Mill B South: not as close as they seem here

Being incredibly parched at this point, I decided to take a detour and descend via Mill B South so I could re-water myself at Lake Lillian. It was a bit of a gamble, but it paid off I believe, despite the far distance. I was as parched as ever by the time I got down to the lake. I knew it because I just didn't have any more stuff to sweat out of me, I felt.

Re-hydrating, with or without iodine pills.

A nice bonus of descending through Mill B South at dusk is the gorgeous shots of the soft light on The Sundial with fish rising in Lake Lillian. Definitely a nice way to round out a very long journey.

The Sundial and a perfect reflection

I wish I could have stayed to let this soak in...

Guys Trip 2015: White Rocks Basin

Danny Boy had been telling me about how cool his other brothers-in-law were for some time already. Adventure, action, adrenaline were descriptors that were frequently thrown around to describe this group of extended family. Coyote Gulch, Wind Rivers, Uintahs were all places that they told me about frequently. Richard and Brett, both of whom Danny knew already for some time and who are great outdoorsmen in their own right, already felt like people I knew well based on all their stories.  And since I was also considered extended, I was excited to get the invitation to this year's highly-anticipated and highly-vaunted "Guys Trip". I was hoping I would and could and should make "the cut."

Chipeta Lake lies above 10,000 feet on the eastern end of the South Slope of the High Uintah's. We were to explore the entire basin over 3 days of backpacking. The route was relatively flat and covered 14-16 miles, depending on how many side trips we wanted to take off the main trail for lake exploring and peak bagging.  Danny and I arrived late at night for a first night of car camping. The fire was already lit and inviting, which was a nice touch. We woke the next morning, dissembled camp, and had everything from chocolate donuts and mountain dew to granola and oat mush for breakfast.

The Guys: Richard, me, Danny, Bret



Danny gathering strength for the journey, after his morning stretches.

We headed out into one of several beautiful high meadows, briefly following an alpine creek, off into the woods, towards one of several bald mountains (those peaks at or above the tree line).


One of many "Bald Mountains" in the High Uintah's.

Teaming with Brookies?





High mountain meadows abounded

Our first destination was White Rocks Reservoir. There were no real fish in that lake to speak of, at least not without a boat. As the afternoon wore on, we decided to explore other nearby lakes on Richard's GPS map: Sand Lake and Dollar Lake. Both of them seemed unappealing and shallow. At this point, we still had not seen another soul while up here. We did see lots of squirrels and ospreys however. By later afternoon and following a small shower, we began looking for a good campsite. We chose Ted's Lake, a few more miles downstream.

 

Perfect reflection amid total calm at Teddy's Lake

Home Away From Home...

A bathing moose to keep us company at Teds: one of many we saw.

 

Scoping out her new neighbors...

The next morning we decided to work our way over to Workman Lake. On the way down, we received some intriguing intel that Wooley Lake was the place to be for fish. It was a 1.5 mile scramble upstream from Workman, tucked away into a beautiful alpine cirque. The water color here was a bit more stale and murky since this lake was mainly snow melt and a few intermittent springs from the surrounding area, and therefore lacked a consistent inlet and consistent outlet to refresh the water volume.

 

Danny and I enjoying a moment.

 

Ricardo and Danny reading the good word

Brett in deep thought over hearing the good word

Our home away from home. Perfect spot except for the dreaded rock in the lower back during bedtime. 

We cruised up to Wooley Lake that afternoon to really get some good playing in. Backpacking is a delicate balance between motion and rest, pain and pleasure, action and inaction, survival and relaxation. You essentially have to do a lot of work in to get to the play, like most outdoor activities.  First, we all took a dip in the ice cold waters. Bathing off the toxic layers of fire smoke, blood, sweat, tears, dust, mud, and BO was much appreciated. It was a full body cleansing that was desperately needed...

 

Nice and easy into the ice melt - taking "refreshment" to a whole new level.

 

Danny taking on the first man challenge at Wooley. Gulp!

 

 

Danny and I then decided we needed to hike another 4 miles because we "needed an additional challenge." In our youthful hubris, we thought we could summit a nearby ridge and get back to camp in 2 hours, at the most.  It looked close to us and it felt like a good idea at the time.

 

The saddle looked so close at the time...the high altitude was clearly impairing our vision and judgement...

 

The rock field was seemingly eternal. We scrambled and hopped and leaped and balanced through it all until we came to this view.

 

We felt like tiny ants working our way through that boulder field.

Taking it all in from 11,000 feet (estimated)

Very cool to have a parallel view with the tree line.

The Reward: The View

We had cell reception for the first time in 2 days, and I immediately received 72 emails in 10 seconds on my IPhone. Aarrgh!!!! We left it on long enough to take a brotherly selfie to text our wives, and then shut it off again. Cursed be the electronic tether in the High Country...

 

The Stinky Selfie



Lime green lichen on purple rocks. Cool stuff.

We finally got back to the lake and finished off the day with some fishing. Ricardo had already caught 5 while we were gone.  I tried my hand on fly fishing the lake, but to no avail...

 

Lots of casting, little catching, at least on the fly rod...

We did manage to finally catch 3 on the spinning rod that we brought home for dinner that night. While they were only a whopping 6 inches, they fought hard and made for some nice excitement. Fresh trout always tastes better up at 10,500'.

 

 

 

 

 

Cooked up on the open fire

The next day we packed up and headed home. We fished the North Fork of the White Rocks River one final time on the way home with flies. We finally found some willing and hungry trout who enjoyed eating caddis, grasshoppers, and stimulators.  Richard and Brett caught a couple as well, which really livened things up. All in all, an amazing backpacking adventure with an amazing group of guys.

Homeward Bound...

 

Happy Trails

P.S. Richard had been salivating the entire trip over how tastey a double bacon cheeseburger was going to taste after we got back to civilization.  Whenever the pack got heavy, or he got homesick, or the legs started aching, we started hearing about this vaunted gut bomb of a meal from Richard. Clearly, the calories lost on this trip would all be made up in one greasy meal for Richard in the form of a nice hamburger. I began to subscribe to his thinking that a good burger really would hit the spot after roughing it for 3 days living on backpacking food. So when we got to the first available diner in Roosevelt, UT on the way home, one would think that I would have ordered what we had been talking about for the past 72 hours: a bacon double cheeseburger. So what did I order in my tired stupor? Some bizarre creation called a chiliburger. And how did it taste? Just about as nasty as it looked...

 

 

Lesson learned: stick with a meal plan you know and love so you don't gross yourself out.