It has become traditional to conclude the hiking season with some sort of incredibly strenuous bash. What better way to put one’s hard won hiking prowess to the test? With these lofty goals in mind, Wayne carefully crafted the idea of a “Marathon Hike”. Either that, or he just slapped something together one night after having way too much beer.
We started our hike before the crack of dawn, in order to take advantage of every last ounce of daylight. The breeze around Snow Lake was chilly, but the sun finally filtered through the mountains and warmed us as we climbed to Gem. Here, at our initial rest stop, the Advil bottles made their first of many appearances.
The route between Gem and Melakwa lakes is without a trail, so we made our own way. Chair Peak Lake still had mini icebergs floating in it, and we walked carefully up some hard-packed snow to Melakwa Pass, the highest point of the trip (5400′).
We hopped from boulder to boulder beneath Kaleetan Peak amidst the occasional squeaks from nearby picas. We continued to loose elevation beyond Melakwa Lake down to Tuscohatchie, knowing full well that we would need to regain much of the precious altitude we were loosing. The group stopped briefly for lunch at Pratt Lake, and took the opportunity to refill water bottles. The trail, which can sometimes be overgrown, had been nicely cleared for us by trail mainenance crews.
As engineers are wont to do, George and Wayne both took copious notes at various intervals along the way. The data will undoubtedly undergo intense computer processing to derive accurate pain and suffering factors. George made sure we knew exactly how much time we could rest at each of our stops.
Beyond Mason Lake, we were once again obliged to trudge up another ridge. This time it was Mt. Defiance. Then it was down to Lake Thompson on a path that sees very few hikers. The huckleberry bushes were turning red, and the huckleberries, themselves, were plentiful.
Climbing out of Lake Thompson, we could look back at Kaleetan Peak where we had been much earlier in the day – a million miles away. The final six miles are entirely on logging roads. This is “The Death March”, and everyone was focused on pretty much one thing – making the legs move. I found myself wishing they had made this road out of something a little more cushiony.
After 26 miles and 13 hours we made it to Will’s van, and officially concluded the hiking season. Now, it’s time for the post-season!
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