July 26: Lower Indian Basin to Elkhart Park Trailhead and Home
Morning arrived far too early for my taste just before 6:00. I wasn't looking forward to the long hike out and was still harboring thoughts of staying out one more night at Island Lake. The skies to the west were partly cloudy, but there was a thick fog rolling in from over the Continental Divide to the east, obscuring Fremont and Jackson Peaks once again.
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We quickly ate our breakfast, packed up our wet tents and said goodbye to Indian Basin at 7:30. I figured I'd have to make a decision soon so was paying close attention to the clouds over the continental divide behind us. They seemed to be stuck where they were, not moving past the divide as if blocked by an invisible barrier. To the west, however, the skies were nearly clear. Decisions, decisions.
As we climbed above Island Lake it was clear to me that I'd be hiking out with Reed and Ward and leaving a day early unless I totally bonked somewhere between Hobbs and Barbara lakes. I was still pissed, but not as much as I was the night before or even when eating breakfast.
We stopped for a short break above Little Seneca Lake and took note of a couple camped below us. They must have gotten totally soaked. Their tent was clinging to a large boulder like a wet rag, clothes everywhere including a pair of Carolina blue womens panties---something none of us had seen for more than a week. We also started meeting hordes of folks heading into the backcountry right about here. Not many at first, but they really started to accumulate once we made it past Seneca Lake.
There was a large group of college-aged kids going in that looked ill-prepared, dayhikers, a few couples and an older overweight fellow who liked like he might keel over at any time. The funny thing was that everyone I stopped to chat with was planning on stopping at Seneca Lake---everyone. I didn't think there were that many places to camp at Seneca and thought it would be fun to do a flyover and check it out. I was beginning to think that they all might get wet tonight as the sun was now nowhere to be seen. Maybe hiking out today would turn out to be the right play?
By now Reed was hiking like a man possessed, leaving Ward and I in his dust. I'd witnessed this behavior before, a year earlier and on the very same stretch of trail, when my wife Yumi was highly motivated to get to the Cafe on Pine for salad and coffee. I guess Reed really wanted to get out just as badly but couldn't figure out why the rush? He wasn't going to go anywhere until Ward and I made it back anyway, and was blowing by some decent scenery in the process.
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By the time Ward and I made it to Barbara Lake, Reed was far ahead and the threatening skies that were building all morning finally opened up and it started to rain. We stopped to put on our rain jackets but didn't see the point in putting on our pants. I remembered to take the camera out of my pocket and put it in it's waterproof case after getting a pic of the lake. There would be no more pictures for the last 6 miles of the trip. I sort of forgot about my notebook which naturally became a waterlogged clump of paper.
The rain, which started off as a cooling heavy drizzle soon began falling in earnest. For the first time during the entire trip I was in my element: hiking downhill! Not only did I finally have gravity on my side, but the temperature was a blissful 65 and getting cooler! I began to really stride out, leaving Ward to eat MY dust for a change. Everything was not as rosy as it would appear, however. The torrential rains were creating small lakes and raging streams consisting mostly of liquified of horse shit. The thought of my feet and lower legs marinating in this disgusting solution was not pleasant to me but I slogged on anyway. The temps were getting cooler but I didn't mind. My cool, wet pants, seemingly glued to my legs, were actually acting as ice packs soothing my wretched knees with every step. I'm not sure the climbing party we met hoping to tag Gannet, struggling under the weight of their packs felt the same. They looked miserable.
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At 1:30 I noticed we were hiking down the ridge line that would take us to the trailhead and could almost taste whatever meal was in store for us. We almost didn't make it past the Llama road block though. Seems that a couple of the beasts were having a bad day and didn't feel like moving. One was being coaxed by his handler while another was content to sit down in the middle of the trail, only moving when we got close to him. He'd then take a few steps, take a look back to see where we were then sit down again. this cycle repeated itself 3 times before we were able to pass him on the inside shoulder.
Finally, at 1:57 PM I spied some cars in the parking lot, and just like that, we were done. Reed was already changed and sitting in the warmth of the van. He told us the outside temp was 52 degrees which most likely meant high 40's a little further up...perfect hiking weather for me.
Exhausted from the sprint out, I was content to change into some dry shorts (figuring the heat of the van would take care of drying the rest) while Ward went to the outhouse to undergo a complete wardrobe change. Once situated in the van, Reed took us back to Pinedale, careening at breakneck speed down Skyline Drive.
I had asked two different wranglers leading pack strings where we could find the best pizza in Pinedale and both said "Wind River Pizzeria". It seemed like a no-brainer so that's where we wound up after making a quick stop at the Pinedale Visitor Center to get directions and information as to where we could get a shower.
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We were able to find the tiny pizzeria and one of two tables in the entire joint. The other table was occupied by a threesome Reed had met at the trailhead. We ordered a round of Dr. Pepper's and an 18" supreme pie which turned out to be almost as spectacular as the scenery we had seen for the past week. So good was the pizza, that the cashier/pizzamaker was proposed to by both Reed and myself. i would have married her just for letting me change out of my wet clothes and wash up in the employees bathroom.
After finishing up our dinner and another can of Dr. Pepper we started the long drive back home. It was still raining in Pinedale and the temp was a balmy 58---totally opposite weather we had experienced a week before.
The drive home was nearly as easy as the drive out with the exception of the rain rolling in over the high desert. Wyoming is in the midst of a severe drought and certainly needed the rain but this bordered on too much of a good thing.
Dark, angry clouds surrounded us as we made our way back to Rock Springs and I-80. The lightning put on a great show, even evoking a few "wows" from Reed, our driver. We even managed to sympathize with a few motorcyclists who were in for a rough time ahead.
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The driving schedule was pretty much the same as it was on the way out: I again got the graveyard shift after getting very little sleep in the back seat. I couldn't complain though as the 3-6 AM shift was all I'd have to drive.
When the sun came up we were in Iowa and began to look for another killer Sapps breakfast. We didn't find one but settled for a good little truckstop that let us experience the "real" Iowa.
The rest of the drive was uneventful save the extraordinary traffic between Rockford, IL and Madison and we arrived at Ward's house just after 1 PM.
Another great backpacking trip to the Rockies was in the books.
And I can't wait for next year!
