Fresh Trials

Bishop is the town I envisioned when I started to think about this trip:  It has a public tennis court with a backboard, world-class hiking just minutes away, tons of sunshine, at least two bakeries and a golf course right next to my RV Park.  If I didn’t have commitments down in Southern California, I would stay here until the snow begins to fall. 

As it is, I am here for four nights.  I have been trading time between hiking and tennis and, like today, lying in the sun reading a good book.

Brown’s Town RV Park is two miles from the tennis courts and dog park—a perfect morning walk.  Checking in they didn’t have any hook up spots available (this weather is incredible—70’s during the day and bright sunshine here in the middle of October.)  So I opted to take a spot in the “dry camping” area as I didn’t need any more water nor electricity (Beagle has solar) nor a dump for four days.  It is like staying in the middle of a park:   Green grass, very few other RV’ers, it is delightful. 

Maybe it is the Californians, maybe it is my new attitude toward fellow humans or maybe it just comes from being alone but my interactions with others has picked up in the oddest of spots:  The hiking trails.  On all of my hikes I have taken the time to engage people in conversation, albeit only if they start the conversation first.  But at least I am a willing participant.  Yesterday’s hike was the most prolific as well as enchanting.

I started up Rock Creek toward Long Lake.  It was a favorite of Alan’s and mine years ago and did not disappoint.  The drive to the trail head alone is stunning with the leaves turning color, a creek running along the road and a jagged, glacier filled peak in the distance.  I remember the hike to Long Lake being a very tiring one—I must not have been in very good shape back then despite how I felt.   Yesterday the hike to Long Lake felt like nothing. 

Arriving into the parking area, I could see that, as usual, everyone was in pairs or groups of humans with the exception of myself and one man with a German Sheppard.  This man, let’s call him Nick, and I parked near to each other and said good morning, smiling shyly, our eyes lighting with a sparkle of understanding as to our uncompromising natures; being alone, we were going to hike alone.  His dog was running free in the parking lot so I was keeping an eye out to make sure he started up the trail before I did. 

Unfortunately, he did not get far as, shortly after the start of the trail, I saw his dog waiting patiently outside the bathroom.  Still off leash, I figured my best bet was to let Opus and River off too—Opus could run his way out of trouble and River is always more friendly off leash.  Besides, surely no one would leave their dog off leash and unattended unless the dog was friendly.

As expected, Opus immediately ran up to the dog and they began to play.  River charged him all tough and growling; he looked at her like, “What the hell?” before returning to play.  I walked by and, unbelievably, both dogs joined me as we headed up the trail.

The day was stunning with the crisp blue sky reflected in the lakes and I stopped at Box Lake to enjoy my morning coffee.  Soon after my break I met my first conversationalists; two men who were heading up to Morgan Pass.   They asked me how far I was going and I replied that I didn’t have any idea.  My agenda was to find a nice spot for coffee (check!), then one for lunch and that’s about it.  The three of us started hiking together but it was clear that I was much faster so we parted; we chatted amiably again when I caught them on the way out.

The second couple were probably in their 70’s, a man and woman, who had clearly done this hike many times.  They too asked how far I was going (is this new?  Or is this what hikers say to each other when they, you know, speak to each other?) and when I said I had never been past Long Lake they suggested that I continue up to Gem Lakes, that I looked like I could easily make it there.  Very sweet. 

I had a bit of a start when I first saw Long Lake.  For my hiking readers, it is that kind of lake where you don’t see it coming; maybe you are hiking up a hill to it or coming through trees.  With Long Lake it is a bit of both.  When I came to the top of the rise and through the trees, there it was (it is the picture above) and it made me cry.  It is one of my favorite memories of Alan and Rosco—the first time Rosco, being blind and old, had to be “bagged and tagged” as we would say, carried in Alan’s backpack.  But not before enjoying a nap in the sunny grass alongside the shore while Alan fished.  I could almost see them there still.  It is amazing how much memories can hurt.  But I think Alan would be proud of me for being out there, almost as proud as he would be of Opus for his perfect off-leash behavior.  Almost. 

I blew my nose, dried my tears and continued on.

As it turns out, there was someone standing in the grass alongside the shore, Nick with the German Sheppard.  Opus caught sight of his friend coming out of the water and raced across the meadow to play.  River followed Opus across the meadow, I decided to keep to the trail. 

Nick walked over and met me at the trail. 

               “Hello again”, he ventured.

               “Hi, apparently Opus is in love with your dog.  He’s very sweet by the way.”

               “Yes, he’s a good guy.”  As we watched them chase each other around the meadow, Nick’s dog teasing Opus with a stick. 

               “River was a bit of a drama queen when they first met and your dog didn’t even give her the time of day.”

               “We do a lot of hiking and only where he can run free so he is well socialized.”

I had continued walking, albeit more slowly, up the trail, Nick following along as we continued to watch the dogs race around the meadow.  When I stopped, he came up alongside.

               “What a gorgeous day for a hike”, look at me starting conversations! I thought.

               “Absolutely, but it gets a little cold at night—mid 20’s and we are camping”, he replied before adding, “Actually, it is a bit nippy right now.”  Standing there in a snug, short sleeve t-shirt, the entire world could see that it was nippy.  Since my shy side was suddenly taking over, he kept talking.

               “How far are you going?”  (Again with that question.)

               “Well, I found a stunning spot for coffee and next up is finding a beautiful spot for lunch.  Despite hiking this trail at least four times, I have never been past this lake but I hear people go up to Morgan’s Pass and a couple recommended Gem Lakes to me.”

               “Hmmm, I think I am going to just hang out here for an hour or so”, he replied in an oddly inviting tone. 

I found myself wondering if that was some kind of Tindr In The Wilderness code for, we clearly have a connection, why don’t we find a nice alpine meadow and see what comes up?  After my, let’s call it Summer of Miscues, I wasn’t about to assume anything.  But I also wasn’t about to head off into the woods with a stranger.  So I wished him an enjoyable day, called the dogs and started hiking to the other side of the lake.

I found a sunny spot, dropped my pack, sat down and took out my PB&J.  Then I looked to my right and there was Nick, about fifty yards away.  He sat down.  It felt odd being in the same meadow and not acknowledging each other so when he looked over I waved, as in, “Ha, funny, turns out this is my gorgeous lunch spot.”

He clearly took it to mean something else; he picked up his pack and started to walk over. 

This was going through my head:

               Holy Shit

               But wouldn’t it be nice to share this gorgeous spot with someone?

               Life clearly listened when you had such a great hike in Seattle, here it is providing you another opportunity.

               He seems like a nice guy, good looking, nice truck, age appropriate—I think (definitely younger than me but maybe I have to get used to that as men my age or older aren’t often single and out doing what I love to do), beautiful, friendly dog—surely someone who raises a German Sheppard to be that easy going has got to be a good guy.

I will admit it was tempting to allow him to make it all the way over.  But I am not that brave.

Instead, I pretended to be fascinated with the opposite end of the lake; that I didn’t see him stand up and begin walking over.  Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him drop his pack and sit down.  It was like a referee had called a football foul and his penalty was half the distance to the goal:   He was about twenty-five yards away, sitting with his back to me.

I thought:  Damn, he is also a gentleman.

Opus and the Sheppard immediately closed the gap and resumed their play.  River lifted her head from her sunny nap to give me a look that said, “And you think I am the drama queen?”

The next time I looked over, Opus had two paws on Nick’s thigh and was getting a good head scratching.  Opus.  Willingly being loved.  Nick was studying a hiking map.

I debated about going over and asking how far it was to Gem Lakes.  Was that appropriate?  Since I clearly have zero knowledge of today’s rules regarding getting to know someone I decided to start making rules of my own. 

Rule #1:  I must be able to see their eyes when we are talking so I can take a measure of their soul.

Since Nick did not remove his sunglasses when we were talking in the meadow, there would be no further action on my part.   Oh, how I love quickly removing myself from grey areas!  Boom!  Done.

I called the dogs over, packed up my stuff and continued up the trail without another look.

The Noses and I did make it to Gem Lakes and it was well worth it.  A series of small lakes nestled under a jagged peak, with a creek running through the connecting meadow.  It was like a fairy land and I was thankful I had taken the time to talk to the couple who recommended it.  I lay in the sun next to one lake and ate some trail mix as my feet dried from their quick dip into the frigid water.

The total hike was eight miles and when hiking over 10,000’, eight miles is plenty.  We three were tired as could be by the time the parking lot came into view.  I will admit I was disappointed not to see Nick’s truck. 

But there was a note on my windshield.

Nah, just kidding—but that would make a much better ending!  I’ll save it for a short story.

-K